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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 4 months

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As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) - A Maze Runner Story

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 12,051 Warnings: death, bloody wounds, fighting, mental and physical torture, guns, suicidal thoughts and actions Spoilers: no spoilers because the books and films came out ages ago

After helping Newt recover from his ankle injury, Y/N and Newt formed an unbreakable bond that always had them looking out for each other. When they escaped the Maze, then navigated the Scorch, they always had each other’s back. It isn’t until Y/N is captured alongside Minho by WCKD and Newt contracts the Flare that he realises how he truly feels about Y/N.

Problem is, will he rescue her in time to tell her?

Note: I'm back in my dystopian future era thanks to the new Hunger Games film so of course I had to write for my original YA crush. This piece is based on the movie series mainly. Don't get mad at me, I love the books more, but I can appreciate the storylines that came out of the path they took with the films. And if there is one thing the TMR fandom can agree on, it is that the film cast was the best cast ever for the series. So enjoy - not sorry that it's horrendously long, Newt deserves it xx

‘Medjack! Medjack, now!’

Y/N recognised it was Minho was calling for help. Clint and Jeff ran out of the med hut to see what all the commotion was. It wasn’t long before they were hurrying back inside, carrying Newt of all people between them, Minho and Alby in tow.

‘Clear the table,’ Clint ordered, and Y/N quickly followed through, practically throwing off containers, bowls and medical instruments to get Newt on there as quick as possible. Once Newt was up, Y/N finally noticed the unnatural twist in his ankle and it almost sent Frypan’s sloppy sweet potato soup right back up.

She was still pretty new to her job as a Medjack, being the greenie and all. She was the only girl in the Glade of the current twelve residents, so she was intimidated at first as to what role she could play in the place. Medjack seemed the most suitable, and she seemed to have a knack for it, having stitched up some eyebrows and cleaned up knee scrapes with ease and precision.

But even though she’d seen blood, dealt with displaced bones and joints, she still got queasy doing her job. It didn’t help that Newt was hissing through clenched teeth from the intense pain, an occasional sob passing through.

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Minho said. ‘We split up for only five minutes. I thought we could cover more ground that way. And we’ve run that part of the Maze like a hundred times already. I thought we’d be fine…’

Clint held Newt down as Jeff and Y/N took a look at Newt’s ankle. Jeff only pressed gently with his fingers around the bone, but Newt’s responding howls confirmed the severity of the injury.

‘The bone is completely shattered,’ Jeff said grimly. ‘We’re going to need to reset his foot first though. Y/N?’

‘On it.’ She rushed to a shelf that held bandages, then to a cupboard with flat boards about shin length. She grabbed two of those before heading back to the table.

‘You’re going to have to hold him down,’ Y/N directed at Alby and Minho, gesturing to follow Clint’s efforts. Then she turned to Newt, whose face was slicked with tears and sweat as he continued to writhe in pain. ‘Newt. Newt, can you open your eyes for me? I need you to focus on me.’

To his credit, Newt opened his eyes and he didn’t look away from her.

‘Good. Good, Newt,’ she said. ‘Now, we have to realign your foot. It’s going to hurt a lot. We’ll go on three, okay?’

In the short time Y/N had known Newt – which arguably was no time at all, as he ran every day and she was in the Medjack hut all day. They didn’t interact unless he or another runner got hurt, or at dinner if only to say hello. Even so, she had come to know he liked it plain and straight, no bullshit. So, despite his pain, he took two deep, calming breaths and gave her a nod to say he was ready for what they had to do.

Y/N nodded back, then looked to the others, who had their hands braced on all Newt’s limbs. ‘Ready?’ she asked, to which they nodded in reply. Y/N gently held Newt’s ankle, eliciting a quiet whimper from the boy. ‘Okay, on three. One, two…’ She cut herself off as she slammed her hands either side the ankle bone, causing a loud cracking sound as the ankle snapped back into place.

Newt’s wail of pain must’ve been heard from across the whole Glade it was so loud. He writhed and pulled to sit up, but the boys held him down as Y/N and Jeff bandaged the two splints either side of Newt’s ankle. Jeff then dabbed a small dose of chloroform in a cloth and pressed it to Newt’s nose. Soon enough, the boy was unconscious, finally pain-free.

‘You guys go have dinner,’ Y/N said to Clint and Jeff a little while later as they were cleaning up the hut. Alby and Minho had left soon after Newt fell asleep, but it was almost dinner time now. ‘I’ll stay with Newt tonight.’

‘You sure?’ Clint asked. ‘We can do shifts if you’d prefer.’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I insist. You guys rest up. I can do this. Consider this my final test to becoming a fully-fledged Medjack.’

Jeff chuckled. ‘You have much more to learn, Greenie, but suit yourself.’

‘We’ll bring you back some food, Y/N,’ Clint said as he and Jeff left the hut, leaving Y/N to idly clean up.

Newt woke up from a dull throbbing in his ankle, which turned into a harsh pain, causing him to sit up in alarm.

‘Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ a voice gently said as equally gentle hands pushed him back down.

‘My ankle,’ he said, voice hoarse and dry. ‘It hurts…’

The face of the voice finally came into view: it was the Greenie. Y/N offered him a small smile as he finally recognised her. In one hand, she held a needle with clear serum. Her other she offered to his leg. ‘May I? It’ll help, I promise.’

He hesitated for a moment, but the intense pain in his ankle broke his composure as he eagerly nodded. The painkiller worked immediately, and Newt sighed with relief as the throbbing eased significantly.

’There,’ Y/N said, wiping the needle. ’That should help for a bit. Sadly, we don’t have much left for me to give you more than once a day, but I’m hoping you won’t need it beyond the end of the month.’

Confusion clouded Newt’s mind as he tried to process her words. ‘What… What happened?’ But he answered his own question as images of the Maze flashed through his mind, and he remembered it all. How he bid farewell to Minho. How he climbed as high as he could along the Maze walls. How easy it was to let go.

Then the pain fully encompassed him, and then it was just a blur. How Minho found him. How Clint and Jeff laid him on the table he realised he was still on. How angry and embarrassed he felt having his friends see him broken and miserable.

Newt managed to pull himself into a sitting position, propping a pillow behind him to cushion the hut wall. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked glumly, eyes unable to lift from his injury.

He couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. He was too tired, and, frankly, saw no point in keeping up appearances anymore.

To her credit, Y/N seemed to pick up on his mood, saying, ‘It will heal to a point you’ll be able to walk again. But it won’t ever heal properly.’

‘You mean I’ll have a limp?’

‘Potentially.’

’So I can’t be a Runner anymore?’ Y/N didn’t reply, finally drawing Newt’s attention away from the source of his pain and to her.

Newt had only interacted with Y/N on a few occasions. Mainly at mealtimes or the odd occasion he passed her by on the way back from a run, only talking as much as greeting and farewelling one another. As the only girl so far, of course he found her intriguing, but he never had time nor a reason to get to know her.

And while he’d come to think of her as the quiet and gentle Medjack in comparison to Clint and Jeff, he didn’t see an ounce of pity on her face as she looked at him. Only quiet contemplation, as if there could be any other answer but no to his question.

‘I guess that’s up to you and Alby,’ she finally said. ‘I mean, I know what I should say is no. I’m sure Clint and Jeff will say no. But it’ll more so come down to if you want to go back in or not.’ Her eyes flickered to his ankle, sadness glazing her eyes briefly before returning to him. ‘But I think I can take a guess as to what your answer will be.’

Newt’s gut twisted with guilt and shame that she’d figured it out, and his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘So, you going to tell everyone?’ he asked, words thick with hopelessness. ‘I mean, that’s your job, right? Diagnose me, then tell Alby, then the whole glade how pathetic I am?’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I think you give me too much credit. I’m not an actual doctor, you know,’ she said, coming to stand beside him. She inspected his ankle for a moment, then turned her gaze to him, and it shocked him to see such intensity in her eyes. It was as if suddenly he was the most interesting person in the world.

‘I can say it was a running accident,’ she finally concluded. ‘You can tell your truth when you’re ready. It’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it right now. That includes me.’

He stared, stunned, as she packed up the last of her things by a spare medical cot at the other end of the hut. It wasn’t until she let out a loud yawn that Newt noticed it was dark outside. The silence of the Glade told him everyone else had gone to bed so it was late. Or early, he couldn’t really tell.

Y/N fluffed a sad excuse of a pillow and put it on the cot. ‘Now that I know you’re alive, are you going to be okay if I get a few minutes shut eye? I can stay up if you’d like.’

Now that the initial shock and embarrassment of the day’s events had subsided, Newt realised how exhausted he was still. ‘No, that’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think I should rest a bit more anyway.’

Y/N nodded and swung her legs up to lie down fully. Newt went to slide himself and his pillow back down to do the same when Y/N spoke again.

‘And Newt?’ she said, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

‘Yeah?’ he called back.

She was silent for so long Newt thought she’d gone to sleep. But then she spoke. ‘For the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic. For wanting it all to end, that is. I actually think what you did was really brave. You might be scared and maybe out of hope, but at least you did something about it. The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

Newt’s breath caught in his chest as it swelled with a mix of emotions. Brave? What he did was the act of a coward. Tears streamed silently down his face, both from a deep shame, but also a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Newt had lost all hope after a year of searching for a way out and finding nothing. But she didn’t know that, and neither will the next Greenie, or the Greenie after that. Even some of the boys already in the Glade didn’t know that. That’s why they waited every day for the runners – for him – to come back with news, with a shred of hope that they’d get out of there soon.

Newt twisted himself so he could see Y/N, who was rolled away from him, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Even if he thought it would all be hopeless in the end, some truly believed they would get out of here.

And maybe that was something worth fighting for.

Two years on and Newt and Y/N had managed to forge something akin to a friendship.

Y/N had kept her word and said Newt had had a running accident, and he’d agreed with her for the sake of his worried friends. Y/N had also been right about his ankle; it healed to point where he could walk and do a decent jog with a limp. But he would never run again.

He was transferred to work as a Track-Hoe in the gardens with Zart. But it wasn’t all bad. As more boys arrived – never any girls much to their confusion – Newt developed a knack for leading others, for diffusing hard situations, and for wrangling the boys into line. Because of that, he was promoted to Alby’s second-in-command, which gave him more meaningful work to do than just the gardens – stuff that might actually get him and the other Gladers out of the bloody Maze.

It also meant he had more time to talk to Y/N. He would make sure to drop by once a day (and not just at mealtimes) to check in on her. For a time, he convinced himself he did that because it was his job as second-in-command to keep up group morale, and he would visit everyone in the Glade. Eventually, however, he realised it was because he genuinely enjoyed her company.

Since that night, Y/N had come out of her shell more. Still a little shy and apprehensive at times, but she would openly joke and play along with the boys’ antics. She was more confident in her work as a Medjack too, not afraid to boss Clint and Jeff around if she needed something from them.

Newt’s visits became longer, as they talked about any and all things. Aside from Alby and Minho, Newt considered Y/N one of his closest friends. And she must’ve felt the same – or at least in a similar fashion – as she entertained his thoughts about life beyond the Maze, and the rants he would go on thanks to whichever stupid shank put the fertiliser in the wrong place.

It was a friendship built on mutual respect and genuine care for one another, something that helped Newt convince Y/N to come with him and the others when they finally decided to leave the Maze. But he couldn’t help but feel a deep dread and guilt as he waited behind Thomas, knowing that Grievers were right around the corner.

While the others caught up, Newt turned to Y/N – who’d been helping him through the Maze with his limp – and offered her a spare spear he’d been carrying.

Her eyes widened at his offering. ‘I can’t take that. I can’t fight.’

‘Well, you can’t just go in there without something to protect yourself,’ he said, this time forcibly handing the spear over. Y/N clutched the spear awkwardly, and Newt saw the uncertainty in her eyes, in her trembling hands.

Newt felt bad for making her hold such a violent weapon. All her hands had ever done were help people, save them at times. Now he was asking her to kill. It was for the greater good they both knew, but to kill, nonetheless.

Newt placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and locked eyes with her. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘you stay with me the whole time, do you understand? I promise you won’t have to use that unless absolute necessary.’

Y/N bit her lip to stop it trembling too, but she nodded, steeling herself in preparation for the fight ahead. Newt reciprocated the action and gave her shoulder a final squeeze before turning to face Thomas as he explained the plan.

They fought the Grievers, taking down a few while some of them took down Gladers. The Gladers were backed against the door that Teresa and Chuck were trying to open with a code. Minho shouted numbers at them as he, Newt, and the others fended off one last Griever.

Before he could finish, Minho was caught by a Griever, and Clint ran out to save him. But the Griever’s tail caught him, sending him over the edge of the walkway they fought on with one flick.

‘Clint!’

Before Newt could stop her, Y/N rushed out from behind him, spear drawn back and flying at the Griever in seconds. Not being a fighter to begin with, let alone a good one, the spear bounced off its metal leg without much effect. It did, however, alert the Griever to her presence, turning all its attention to her. Minho leapt to his feet, finally free, and ran back to the group. ‘Y/N!’ he cried as he ran. ‘Run!’

Y/N seemed to finally realise her situation, looking up at the Griever frozen with fear. The horrible creature raised its claw to end her, but Newt moved faster.

He ran as fast as he could, limp be damned, past Y/N and threw his spear at the Griever’s head. It landed true, puncturing one of the creature’s bulbous eyes, drawing a painful screech from it. Newt didn’t wait to see what it would do next, as he grabbed one of Y/N’s arms and Minho grabbed the other and ran back to the group, practically throwing her behind the front line and against the door.

Teresa finally got the door open and the Gladers tumbled in, Thomas throwing one last spear down the Griever’s throat as the doors closed.

Lights flickered on to show they were in some empty room with a door on the wall behind them leading to a corridor.

Thomas looked at the group, taking heavy breaths. ‘Everyone okay?’

‘What’s left of us, that is,’ Winston said, his tone sad and regretful.

As Newt eyed the group, he noted how many they’d lost, how little their group seemed all of a sudden.

Minho stepped ahead with Thomas, pointing towards the door. ‘Well? It’s not going to open itself.’

As Minho and Thomas led the group to the exit, Newt turned to Y/N, whose eyes had a distant look glazed over them. ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked, bringing her attention to him. ‘I told you to stay behind me. You could’ve been killed.’

‘I-I know. I’m sorry,’ she stuttered out, tears teetering in her E/C eyes. ‘I just… Clint… It all happened so fast, and I was just kind of moving before I knew what I was doing.’ She looked down at her hands then, and Newt noticed a slight tremble to them. ‘I thought I could help, but I was too slow. And I put you guys in danger too. I’m just… I’m sorry.’

Newt’s guilt came back full force then. He placed a gentle hand over her trembling one, grasping her fingers to stop their shaking. When she looked up at him confused, he just said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into thinking you had to fight. You won’t ever hold a weapon like that again. I promise.’

Y/N opened her mouth to object no doubt, but Newt cut her off. ‘But you have to promise me something back. Promise me that you’ll let us protect you. You can help by keeping us alive, just like you always have. But you’ve got to listen to me, you got it?’

He used his authoritative voice this time, and it seemed to work as Y/N calmed down, her unshed tears now gone.

‘Okay,’ she said, quiet but strong. ‘I promise.’

Newt nodded. ‘Good that.’ He turned to see the others leaving through the door then turned back to Y/N. ’Do you think we’d be lucky enough not to face anything else beyond those doors.’

‘I think we should consider ourselves lucky for getting this far.’ To her credit, Y/N managed a small smile as she looked up at him. ‘But why should our luck run out now?’

There it was again; the glimmer of hope Newt had felt from her since the night he injured his ankle. Newt couldn’t deny that they’d made it this far – by design or by luck, they’d made it.

And who was he to deny that things might be on the look up for them now?

Together, Y/N and Newt followed the rest of the Gladers to meet their makers.

‘I never thought I’d say this… but I miss the Glade.’

The group around the fire grew silent at the implication Frypan’s words had, the memories they conjured up. Y/N couldn’t help but agree as she looked into the dark sky above her, peaking from behind the crumbling pillars they took refuge under.

The sky was always so clear back in the Glade, she recalled silently. But, just like their current situation, the sky was now obscured.

The people who rescued them from the Maze were actually WCKD – the people who’d put them in the Maze in the first place. The past twelve hours had seen herself, Newt, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Winston, and a boy named Aris find Teresa, break out of the facility, and enter the deadly Scorch. In their search for supplies, they’d been attacked by crazed, infected people, driving the group to hide where they were.

The Maze was dangerous, but it was familiar and the only home Y/N recalled ever having. Out in the Scorch, safety wasn’t guaranteed.

She looked to Winston, who laid back, his shirt pulled up to expose the bloody bandage she’d wrapped his torso in. Y/N tried not to think about the infected scratch marks underneath, and more specifically what gave them to him. The Grievers were one thing, but the things that attacked them? They used to be people.

Not wanting to sit in her thoughts anymore, Y/N stood up, brushed off her pants, and grabbed knife from their pile of weapons they’d found in the abandoned mall. ‘I’ll take first watch.’

She didn’t wait to hear if anyone objected, already walking around the stone that covered them so she was on top. To her relief, the others let her go without argument, putting out the fire and quickly settling down to sleep.

After half an hour, Y/N decided to get up and patrol around the area, knife tightly gripped in her hand and her footsteps quiet despite the sand.

There was so much of it, the sand. The lady in white – Doctor Ava Paige – had said in her video that the whole world was just desert now. The thought made Y/N yearn for the Glade even more. For the grass, and the woods, and the bonfires they used to have, and the games they played. The boys – Clint, Jeff, Alby, Gally, Chuck.

Y/N wasn’t a hateful person, but she clutched the knife tighter at the thought of all the loss they’d all suffered at the hands of WCKD.

It’s why she didn’t hesitate to follow Newt when he’d found her in her room – for some reason, she hadn’t been allowed to stay with the other girls from the other mazes just yet. It’s why they were now braving the Scorch searching for people that Thomas didn’t know even existed. They wanted a better life out from under WCKD’s thumb.

The crunch of sand had her whirling around, awkwardly poising the knife as if to attack, but she relaxed at the familiar person standing there.

Newt raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there,’ he said, the quirk of a smile on his lips telling her he was just joking. ‘You could do some real damage if you’re not careful.’

Y/N blew out in relief, the knife dropping to her side again. ‘Thanks, but we both know that’s not the case, Newt.’

Newt shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he did. ‘I don’t know, I’ve seen you with a scalpel. Absolutely terrifyingly precise with that thing.’

Y/N chuckled softly, appreciative of the distraction. But her smile dropped as she looked out into the dark cityscape. The moon hid behind clouds so Y/N couldn’t make out anything. ‘Is it pathetic that I’m scared to see what the world has become?’ she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a soft mumble.

Newt stepped up beside her, his body radiating the last remnants of heat from the fire and it warmed her slightly. ’Someone once told me that I was brave for facing my fear,’ he said after some quiet contemplation.

Y/N looked up at him confused, but he looked down at her with a knowing, smug smile. Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head at him. ‘I don’t recall saying that specifically. But if that’s how you saw it, who am I to tell you that wasn’t what I meant?’

Newt hummed in agreement looking back out at the dark expanse, contemplation scrunching his brows together. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared too.’

That surprised Y/N. Newt, second-in-command, casual, leader Newt was scared? ‘You are?’

Newt nodded. ‘I’m scared that we’ve made a mistake. That Thomas is wrong and there aren’t any mountain people.’ He turned back to Y/N, the most serious she’d ever seen him. ‘I’m scared we’re going to lose more of us, and then what was our escape for? But… it’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it. Including myself.’ Finally, Newt’s smile returned, and it warmed that cold pit of despair Y/N had been falling into ever since they left the WCKD facility. ‘Or, at least, I think that’s what someone very wise once told me.’

Y/N stared at him, awestruck. Hopeful. Newt was hopeful again. And she didn’t want to read into it, but she thought the knowing smile he was giving her told her that she had something to do with it. The thought alone strengthened her resolve, and she looked down at the knife in her hands, less afraid of it all of a sudden.

Y/N held it out to Newt. ’Teach me.’

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘What?’

’Teach me. How to fight,’ Y/N explained, eyes unwavering from his.

Concern flashed across Newt’s face for a brief moment. ‘Y/N, I told you, you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.’

‘If there is one thing I’ve come to know about WCKD is that it doesn’t actually matter what I want anymore. What any of us want,’ Y/N said, feeling the most certain she’s felt in a long time. ‘The one thing we have on WCKD is that we are defiant. We escaped, and are taking away the one thing they want most of all: a chance to find a cure. So, if we’re going to have any hopes of making it to the mountains alive, I’m going to have to know how to fight. So please – teach me.’

Newt contemplated her for a moment, and Y/N just prayed he wouldn’t say no. Or even worse, laugh. Instead of doing either, he took the knife from Y/N’s hand, his fingers brushing across her palm as he did.

‘All right,’ he said, moving his feet apart to get into a fighting stance. ‘First of all, you’ve got to have a wide-ish stance, and stay light on your toes so you can control when you back away from your opponent.’

He demonstrated the movement by quickly shuffling away, always keeping his feet a certain distance apart and the knife gripped tight by his hip. ‘…and when you go into attack.’ He moved so fast Y/N didn’t see his footwork, her eyes locked on his as they bored into hers, knife poised at her neck as if he’d strike.

He stepped away and gave her the knife back. ‘You think you can do that?’

Y/N nodded and took the knife, and for the next hour Newt taught Y/N basic blocks and manoeuvres that he’d picked up from Thomas and Minho and just from basic instinct. Just like she’d been with her Medjack skills, Y/N was a quick study, performing move after move when Newt asked her to.

She impressed herself. For a natural pacifist, she wielded the knife quite fluently.

They decided to finish the session on a quick sparring match. Newt took a swipe at Y/N, and she stepped back just like Newt had taught her. She then rushed in for an attack, to which Newt threw up his own knife in time to block. Y/N anticipated the pushback and twisted out of Newt’s way as he stumbled slightly forward. While he was disorientated, Y/N gripped his wrist that controlled his knife and pointed her own into his back.

‘Looks like I win,’ she said, breathless but proud.

Y/N didn’t like the carefree scoff he gave her, followed by, ‘Are you sure?’

She doubted herself for a moment, loosening her grip enough for him to twist out of her reach, knock her knife away and bend to sweep her legs out from underneath her. Y/N landed hard, groaning at the pain in her butt as Newt looked down at her and laughed.

‘I’m glad you find my pain amusing, Newt,’ she grumbled, rubbing her sore behind.

Newt laughed for a moment longer then calmed down. But his radiant smile remained on his face, brightening the darkness surrounding them. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said between remaining chuckles. To his credit, he held out his hand in an offer to help her up. ’But the surprise on your face was priceless.’

Y/N contemplated his hand for a moment, whether she should just push it away or take it. Instead, an idea came to mind, and she gripped his hand tightly then pulled him to the ground with her. He landed on his stomach beside her, getting a face full of sand.

Y/N let out a loud laugh before quickly covering her mouth to stifle the relentless laughter that wished to burst from her.

Newt spat and coughed out sand as he made to sit up. ‘Well,’ he started, spitting out more sand as he looked up at Y/N, ‘I should’ve seen that coming.’

That just made Y/N laugh even harder, using now both hands to quieten the giggles. Goodness, when was the last time she’d laughed this freely? When was the last time she’d felt such joy? After everything they’d been through, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten what was like to laugh.

When she’d calmed down, she looked down to see Newt propped up on his arms looking up at her with an odd expression on his face. Like he was in awe, maybe. Whatever it was, it made Y/N acknowledge how handsome Newt had become. His baby features had faded since she’d first met him, being replaced by a lean figure and a toned jawline from working in the gardens every day for two years. And with his big brown eyes, tousled blond hair and funny accent, Y/N wondered how he had changed so much without her realising it. How she hadn’t realised he’d grown up.

The intensity with which he looked at her brought a heated blush to her face, and so she turned away into the cool night breeze, willing the blush to cool down. Newt shuffled to sit up next to her. They didn’t speak for a minute, until Newt suddenly stood up.

‘Well, um,’ he started, and for the first time since Y/N had known him, he sounded uncertain about what to say. ‘I better let you continue with your shift. At least you know how to defend yourself now.’

Y/N hastily stood up as well, making sure there was at least a step between them. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Thank you for that. I’ll be sure to practice.’

‘Good that.’

They looked at each other for a moment, and even though Newt said he was leaving, he made no move to leave. Maybe he doesn’t want to, she thought, and the mere possibility of that being true warmed her heart.

But he took a step away, gave her a shy smile and a small wave farewell. ‘Goodnight, Y/N.’

‘Goodnight Newt,’ she said, those two words hanging in the air long after he’d left.

As she finally woke Frypan up for his shift, she clung to the knife and went through all the manoeuvres Newt had taught her until she fell asleep.

Newt was unable to sleep until Y/N woke Frypan up to take the next watch shift, and laid down to sleep herself. Newt opened his eyes to see Y/N laying across the pit they’d dug out for the fire. She faced him on her side, and Newt noticed with curiosity that she held the knife she’d practiced with close to her chest. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and paired with her heavy breathing, Newt figured she was completely asleep.

An odd sensation fluttered in his chest and stomach as Newt considered Y/N’s sleeping face. It was the same feeling that had fizzled in his chest when he’d looked up at her as she laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had laughed as freely as she had.

And he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked doing so – hiding her bright smile behind trembling hands, eyes narrowed but sparkling with joy.

All because of him.

He rolled onto his back then, not wanting to give the thought anymore weight. There’s no point getting your hopes up, he reminded himself. But like a moth drawn to flame, Newt couldn’t help but tilt his head to gaze upon her peacefully sleeping. An ache carved itself deep in his heart. How had he not realised her growing up, changing? Being the only girl for a long time, of course he and the others found her pretty. But now that he looked at her – really looked at her, and wasn’t concerned with his life for just a split second – he realised just how beautiful she was.

It was in her features, but also in her determination to be better for the group. It both hurt and impressed him when she asked for his help. He promised her she would never have to fight again, but things have changed drastically since the Maze.

It was in her ability to still find the joy in things, to still be able to laugh despite their situation.

It was how she believed in Thomas, in Aris, in the mountain people, even if she was scared.

‘The rest of us can only wish to be as brave as you,’ he whispered into the night, a silent promise that he’d tell her that sometime.

And with the fluttering in his chest finally easing into a calm warmth, he finally fell asleep.

Everything exploded with chaos as Y/N, Newt, Thomas, and Minho navigated their way through the Right Arm camp as guns fired and explosions went off.

Teresa had betrayed them. Y/N couldn’t believe it when it was revealed in front of everyone, and she still couldn’t believe it as Minho pushed her head down, sheltering her from another explosion. Teresa truly believed WCKD could find a cure, but still at the expanse of Y/N and her friends’ pain. And just when Thomas was going to blow them all sky high, Jorge and Brenda had come in like a saving grace, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

‘This way!’ Thomas yelled over the din, beckoning them behind a weapons container.

However, Minho stopped suddenly and picked up a launcher. Keep going!’ Minho called over his shoulder as he shot at WCKD soldiers around him. ‘I’m right behind you!’

Thomas and Newt reached the container, but Y/N stopped and turned at the sound of a painful cry. ‘Minho!’ she cried as her friend fell, his body convulsing from a launcher shot.

‘Y/N, no!’ Newt called after her, but she was already running back to Minho, grabbing at his jacket to drag him to safety.

But Y/N was not strong like the boys, and certainly not strong enough to move Minho in any hurry. She looked up just in time to see a launcher fire at her, then her body felt like it was on fire.

She was sure she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear anything as the electricity struck every nerve with a vicious bite. After what felt like an eternity of pain, she was granted a moment of peace as her vision went white, then in a flash was swamped by darkness.

Newt’s heart stopped when he saw Y/N shot. She convulsed as Minho had, then collapsed beside their friend unconscious. The second Y/N hit the ground, Newt found his voice again, feelings of anger and desperation clawing their way through every vein in him.

‘Y/N, no!’ His cry came out broken as he made to run to her, but a strong hand gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him back.

‘No, boys,’ Vince shouted over the din, holding both Newt and Thomas back.

‘Let me go!’ Newt protested, struggling against Vince, eyes darting between him and Y/N. ‘I need to help her! Y/N!’

But WCKD soldiers were already picking up Y/N and Minho’s unconscious bodies, dragging their feet through the red dirt and into a berg.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ Vince said, and Newt thought he sounded genuine. But that didn’t stop icy terror gripping tight on his heart as the doors began to close on Y/N, Minho, and other immunes from the Right Arm.

Thomas called for Minho, and Newt called for Y/N, but neither could do anything to help their friends as they were flown away. Back in WCKD’s clutches once again.

When the sun rose, the remaining survivors came out of hiding and began scrounging up supplies. They were moving on, Vince claiming there was nothing they could do but keep going with who and what they had left.

Newt couldn’t accept that, and neither could Thomas apparently, as he claimed he was going after Minho, Y/N and the others. Without hesitation or any further explanation, Newt was the first to sign up and join him.

And so, they went on a quest to rescuing Minho, Y/N, and as many immunes as possible. The train hijack was a huge success with immune numbers, but no Minho and no Y/N. Even so, Newt refused to accept that he’d never see either of them again. Even when they almost got killed by cranks. Even when he, Thomas, Brenda, Frypan, and Jorge were almost blown up by turret guns.

Even when he found out he was infected with the Flare.

He could feel it, his mind slowly slipping away as the Flare ate away at his sanity. He was usually level-headed and rational – it’s part of the reason he became second-in-command in the first place. Guilt and shame ate away at him as he sat on the rooftop of their hideout in the outskirts of the Last City, explaining to Thomas why he just bit his head off about being in love with Teresa.

Not that I’m one to talk, he thought as he rolled down as his sleeve, silence wrapping around him and Thomas comfortably. Newt could feel Thomas didn’t know what to say, and Newt didn’t like long silences so he broke it.

‘The crazy thing, though is…’ Newt started, a soft but sad scoff escaping him, ‘I’m not scared of dying. I used to be, back in the Maze. Because it felt like my friends were dying for no reason, without purpose. But…’ Newt looked over his shoulder, past Thomas, and to the peaking spires of the Last City. To where Y/N was being held somewhere.

‘I have something to die for now,’ Newt said, eyes never wavering from the spires.

Thomas came to sit beside Newt, a sad realisation drawing his brows and lips down. ‘You’re not just talking about Minho, are you?’ he asked.

It was how gentle and matter-of-fact Thomas spoke that had Newt’s chest tightening with fear and an immense pressure he’d been scared, until now, to acknowledge. His throat threatened to close on him as he spoke, rendering his words tight and uncontrolled. ‘I failed to protect her, Tommy,’ he managed to get out. ‘I promised I’d always protect her, and I didn’t.’

It surprised Newt how simultaneously hard and easy it was to speak about his feelings, and now that he had started, the words just flowed.

’She’s just always been there, so I never saw it coming,’ Newt continued, a melancholic smile adorning his lips as he recalls the day he met you, how you helped him with his ankle. How, since then, you’ve always been by his side, growing with him, changing with him, supporting him and everyone else around you.

’Saw what?’ Thomas asked.

‘I never saw that I could have a future after the Maze, after all of this,’ Newt explained. ‘That I would want a future… with Y/N.’ And with that, his tears finally spilled over, the pressure in his chest bursting into sobs that wracked his whole body. Newt was vaguely aware that Thomas was now holding him, and so he wrapped his arms tight around his friend, around his brother.

‘I love her, Tommy,’ Newt whispered over Thomas’ shoulder, his words obscured somewhat by his tears and holding back sobs. ‘And I’m scared I’ll never be able to tell her before I go.’

‘Hey,’ Thomas said, pushing Newt to arm’s length. He kept one hand on Newt’s shoulder and used his other to grip Newt’s neck, forcing their eyes to lock. ‘We’re going to find her – and Minho, and the other immunes. We’re going to get you that serum that helps with the Flare – as much of it as possible – and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. No one is dying. You hear me?’

No one could replace Alby, but the way Thomas was taking control of the situation reminded Newt of his old friend. How kind yet stern he could be. How hopeful yet pragmatic he was. It was something familiar that Newt was thankful for. He quickly calmed down, wiped away his tears and nodded at Thomas.

‘Good that,’ Thomas said, a small proud smile gracing his lips at his use of Newt’s common phrase.

Newt couldn’t help a chuckle as well. ‘Good that, indeed,’ he agreed, and followed Thomas back inside the hideout to finalise their plan to get into the WCKD facility.

…and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying.

There was a nagging voice in the back of Newt’s head that was telling him not to believe Thomas. That Newt was going to die, or worse, turn into a crank and hurt his loved ones. That voice had followed him from the Maze, to the Scorch, and now the Last City. It was the voice that had driven him over the edge of the Maze walls all those years ago. But not anymore.

Newt had to keep hope, just as Y/N had taught him. He just had to be brave.

Y/N sat in the corner of her white-walled cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she rested her head on top. She’d sat there for hours, perhaps days. Y/N lost track of time after her first month in WCKD’s facility.

There were no windows, and the lights never dimmed. She pressed her eyes into her knees in the hopes of downing out the incessant white light. Her eyes ached with sleep deprivation, but she refused to sleep. The nightmares were much worse to deal with, and they always came whenever she closed her eyes.

Images of her friends dying in the Maze and the Scorch, of Grievers chasing her, of her friends turning into cranks and attacking her. Images fed to her by WCKD.

She knew they weren’t real, but she could never wake herself up in time to escape them. So, she stayed awake, knowing that she’ll have no choice but to face her nightmares when the doctors and scientists come to test on her again.

Y/N shivered at the thought of seeing another needle, of seeing her blood drained from her while WCKD turned her mind against her. When will it be enough? She might’ve lost track of time, but Y/N knew she’d been in the facility for a while now. If they hadn’t found anything by now, something told Y/N that nothing she gave would ever be enough. That included her life.

She knew Thomas and Newt would be dumb enough to come after her and Minho – that’s just the kind of people they were. Her heart ached at the thought that their efforts would be in vain.

Y/N hadn’t seen Minho since they arrived, having been separated from each other and the other immunes. Something about how they were the most promising subjects, she overheard from a scientist one time. Y/N didn’t know if Minho was alive, and if he was, what condition he was in.

But Minho was strong, the strongest of all the Gladers in Y/N’s opinion. If he was being tortured like her, he would be able to hold on. Y/N highly doubted she would last much longer.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Y/N wasn’t sure if Newt knew she was actually awake that first night in the Scorch, but she’d heard him, his words so soft she thought she’d dreamt it at first. But it had been real; Newt thought she was brave.

She was too dehydrated to produce tears, but an ugly sob desperately tried to escape her aching chest. She bit her lips instead, hard enough to draw a little blood, and the sob died out, leaving her body quiet except for her mind.

I’m sorry Newt, but I am not brave.

Even so, Y/N refused to crumble to WCKD anymore. They’d taken everything from her. Her life, her memories, her loved ones, her friends. Even her hope – something she so naively believed no one could take from her. They would not take her dignity.

She raised her head at the sound of her cell door unlocking, blinking a few times as bright light flooded her vision once more. Two WCKD soldiers and two scientists stood by the door, and Y/N spied a gurney just behind them.

One of the scientists – young male, maybe in his early twenties – stepped forward. ‘Time for more testing, Y/N,’ he said in a cold tone. But he had the sense to look sympathetic as his eyes roamed over Y/N as she stood up, showing how pale her S/C skin had become, how dark the circles beneath her eyes were, how the cargo pants and grey t-shirt hung off her in areas where she used to fill.

Y/N knew it was useless, but still she ran for the door, pushing past the scientists with ease despite her weakened state. However, she hit the soldiers like a brick wall, unable to fight against them as they restrained her arms and pressed her against the wall. The male scientist recovered quickly and injected her with a serum that made her drowsy enough that she wasn’t in control of her body. She was conscious as the soldiers strapped her to the gurney and the four of them wheeled her down corridor after corridor, and all she could do was watch fluorescent lights pass her by as she stared at the ceiling.

Soon enough, she was in a familiar room: the test lab.

‘It hasn’t been that long since we last tested her,’ the other scientist – a female, about the same age as her co-worker – said, her words laced with worry. ‘We put her under again, we risk losing her for good this time.’

‘I didn’t make the call,’ the male said as he continued to set up equipment around Y/N. ‘When Janson says he wants a cure, I don’t question him. Do you?’

The female didn’t answer, switching her focus to helping her co-worker. Y/N could slowly feel the serum wearing off – it was obviously only a light dose, the scientists knowing they’d put her under when they began testing.

But just as they unstrapped her to move her to the nightmare simulator, the room shook, sending Y/N rolling to the ground as glass and steel broke around her.

Sounds were muffled briefly and her vision blurred in and out of focus. She couldn’t hear what exactly the soldiers were shouting, but she saw them run out of the room alongside other soldiers. That just left her and the scientists.

Y/N flexed her fingers, the serum completely wearing off. Before she could stand though, two hands roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on, Y/N,’ the male scientist said, pushing her towards the machine. ‘Just one more trip under…’

Fear electrified Y/N’s every nerve. No, not again. With a desperate cry, she shoved the male into the utensils table, sending him and the tools scattering across the ground. Before he could get up, Y/N straddled his upper body and slammed his arms into the ground.

‘Get off me!’ he yelled, struggling violently beneath Y/N. He managed to twist them both around until she was the one pinned to the ground. Y/N struggled but to no avail. She was significantly weaker than she was when she was first captured and he knew that.

‘You little brat,’ he spat in her face. ‘Ungrateful, selfish immunes. Your duty is to save us all! You–’

He was cut off when he suddenly went slack, falling unconscious on top of Y/N. She scrambled out from underneath him, then looked up from the floor to find the female scientist with a syringe in her hand. She looked between her unconscious co-worker then Y/N, a scared and disbelieving expression morphing her delicate features.

‘Go,’ the scientist finally said, her voice shaky, but the resolve in her eyes told Y/N that she wouldn’t chase after her. The room – no, the whole building – shook again, and when Y/N looked out the window, she realised why.

The city outside was on fire. Buildings crumbled, and Y/n could hear the screams and cries of civilians through the broken windows. The scientist wouldn’t chase her because there was no point.

This was the end.

‘Go!’ The scientist insisted, and Y/N didn’t think twice. She picked herself up, ignoring the cuts and scraps of glass it caused her, and ran out of the room.

She ran into the corridor, ignoring the cries of soldiers and other scientists who recognised her as a subject. She didn’t know where she was going, but this was the most freedom she’d had in forever.

Then a thought came to her – Minho. She had to find him, he surely had to be alive. She would run through every floor if she had to to find him. So she ran, looking into every test lab, every storage closest, every break room on the floor.

‘Minho!’ she cried, uncaring at this point if someone heard her. She just wanted to find him. She didn’t want to die without a familiar face with her. ‘Minho, where are you?’

She rounded a corner, right into the chest of a WCKD soldier. He was caught by surprise, giving Y/N an opportunity to slam him into the wall. It was like her fear was giving her a boost of strength, as she kneed him in the groin, sending him to the ground. He dropped the pistol he was holding, and she quickly picked it up and smacked the butt over the back of his head. He fell to the floor in one last scuffle and laid unmoving as Y/N sucked in deep breaths.

‘Y/N?’

She whirled around at the familiar call of her name, only to find three other people had entered the corridor. Thomas, Minho, and Newt. Her eyes scanned over them all, heart aching with an intense relief it threatened to crush her chest. ‘Guys?’ Her voice was hoarse with disuse and exhaustion. She was surprised she even had a voice after all her screaming.

Newt stepped forward, a relieved smile gracing his lips. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, sounding on the verge of tears. ‘It’s us.’

Y/N’s first instinct was to run into his arms, the only place she’d felt since leaving the Maze. But she took a closer look at him. He was paler than when she last saw him, almost sickly with how dark the circles under his eyes were. Crank.

She pointed the pistol at her friends, causing them to raise their hands in shock. ‘Whoa, Y/N, it’s us!’ Thomas exclaimed.

‘No,’ she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. ‘How do I know I’m not in that simulator again? How do I know this isn’t just another test, another trial?’

‘What are you talking about, Y/N?’ Newt asked, worry crinkling his brow.

’She doesn’t trust her mind,’ Minho said, as if in explanation. ‘Boy, they really did a number on her…’

‘Shut up!’ Y/N unlocked the safety and pointed the gun at Minho. ‘You’re just trying to trick me. Make me think everything is all right. But it’s just a lie. You’re not here. You’re not here…’

Newt stepped into the firing line. ‘We are here, love. I promise, we’re really here.’

‘Newt…’ Thomas warned, but Newt remained, eyes locked on Y/N’s.

Y/N couldn’t look away from Newt. He sounded so genuine, so much more real than previous simulations. But WCKD couldn’t be trusted, and they were wearing soldier uniforms…

Her hands shook but her voice was strong. ‘Prove it,’ she said. ’Tell me something only the real Newt would know.’

Newt swallowed thickly. ‘Okay, um… You cut yourself when you tried out being a Slicer and had to have Clint and Jeff fix you up. That’s when you thought being a Medjack would be a good idea.’

‘WCKD was watching us the whole time. They would’ve seen that,’ she countered, using both hands to grip the gun.

‘Okay, okay,’ Newt said, looking away a moment to think of something else. When he finally looked back at her, he was calm once more, eyes genuine and sincere. ‘How about how I jumped off the walls of the Maze in an attempt to kill myself?’

The world around the four of them seemed to freeze, as if the world wasn’t collapsing outside. To Y/N’s knowledge, Newt had never told anyone the truth of what happened that day. It was the shocked and tragic expressions on both Minho and Thomas’ faces respectively that had Y/N loosening her grip on the gun slightly.

Newt took a small step closer, eyes never straying from her. ‘I had lost all hope of getting out of that bloody maze. So I did the one thing I could do to control the situation. But I failed.’ He stepped closer again. ‘I was embarrassed, ashamed. I was just a coward. But you healed me and told me something I will never forget. I have held onto it like a lifeline through the Maze, through the Scorch, and all the time I was looking for you.’

He took one final step towards her, unfazed at how the gun pressed hard against his chest. Now that he was so close, Y/N saw just how sick he was. He looked like the early stage victims of the Flare they’d seen in the decrepit city they’d lost Brenda and Thomas in temporarily. And while Y/N refused to believe Newt – her beloved, sweet Newt – was infected, his eyes were the same as always. Open, honest, and truthful.

‘The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

It wasn’t the fact that he knew the exact words – again, WCKD had cameras everywhere in that Maze, they would’ve heard it. It was instead the emotion tied to the words. She felt them, felt the lifeline they’d created for him in his darkest moment. He wasn’t lying, and that meant he was real.

Finally, she allowed the sob to break free as she dropped the gun and threw her arms around Newt’s neck. He breathed out in relief, bringing her closer to his chest, face pressed into her H/C hair.

‘It’s really you,’ she whimpered, grasping tighter to the person she’s always been able to rely on. The person who has always protected her and brought out the best in her. Her closest friend, her safety net, her home.

‘It is, love,’ he said into her hair, breathing her in deeply. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, pulling away to look up at him then to the other two. ‘I can’t believe you came after us.’

‘I know right,’ Minho said, punching Thomas’ arm lightly. ‘Dumb shanks.’

‘You can berate us later,’ Thomas said, rubbing his arm. ‘Right now, we’ve got to get out of here before Lawrence brings down the whole city.’

Y/N went to ask what he meant but gripped onto Newt instead as the building shook again.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Newt said, grabbing Y/N’s hand with one hand, and holding a launcher in the other. Together, the four of them ran to escape WCKD once and for all.

‘Brenda!’

Y/N didn’t care about the rain of bullets and walls of fire around her as she ran for the berg. After hearing Teresa’s broadcast, she needed to get the cure back to Newt fast. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she has had to do. He wasn’t in great condition, but Thomas insisted that he’d take care of Newt. But the medicine Thomas had given Brenda all those months ago didn’t just buy her time, it had cured her completely. It could do the same for Newt.

If she could make it in time.

‘Brenda!’ Y/N cried as she spotted her friend. ‘The cure! I need the cure!’

Brenda understood, immediately retrieving one of the extra capsules Mary had made from Thomas’ blood before WCKD raided the camp. ‘Here,’ she said, passing over the injector.

‘Thanks!’ Y/N said, already sprinting back into the war zone before anyone could stop her.

She could feel it, the exhaustion, the strain she was putting her body under. Underfed and under trained, she was struggling. But she refused to stop. Newt had come all this way to find her, risked his life to get her out of WCKD’s clutches when he could’ve been administered the temporary cure and been safe on the berg already. No, Y/N refused to let him die without trying.

Minho, Brenda, Frypan, and Gally – Y/N was still shocked about that revelation, but that was for another time to discuss - followed around her, covering her with guns and other weapons as they ran through the war zone.

After an eternity of running, the group rounded a corner to find a sight that made Y/N feel like she was back in the nightmare simulator. Newt was leaning over Thomas with a knife aimed at his chest.

‘Newt, no!’ Y/N cried, running towards the two boys without thought.

Newt faced her at the call of his name, and she froze as she saw his black eyes. Dark veins branched over his skin and black blood dribbled from his chin. He was a full-blown crank now.

He raced at her, snarling as he swung the knife at her throat. She ducked just in time and rolled away as he slammed the knife down where her neck was. She quickly jumped to her feet, and despite her fatigue, muscle memory took over her legs, then her hands. That first night in the Scorch came to mind, how her and Newt sparred. The injector was her knife, and Newt her proper opponent.

‘Newt, it’s me,’ she said, slipping into her Medjack demeanour – calm and steady. ‘It’s Y/N. Please, snap out of it for a moment so I can help you.’

She thought he would run at her again, but his brows crinkled with concern and he looked at the knife in his shaky hands. He looked back at her, and the voice he spoke with broke her heart. It was a mixture of his sweet accent and a gargled croak where blood clogged his throat.

‘Y/N…’ he started. ‘Run away… Before… Before I kill you.’

The scene reminded her of the time he came in with his injured ankle. How desperate he was to fade into nothing because he was scared and ashamed of what he’d done. But just like then, she refused to be scared of him.

Y/N shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you, Newt,’ she said. ‘None of us will.’

Newt seemed to realise there were more people than just her and Thomas, turning around to see the others. The sight of them seemed to distress him, though, as he snarled angrily and charged at her. She shuffled back as he swung at her again and again, but as she stepped back again, she tripped on something. She fell onto her back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could gather herself up, Newt was on her, straddling her similar to how he had Thomas pinned before. Newt raised the knife to bring down on her but was tackled by Thomas.

They rolled for a little, then scrambled to their feet as they fought once more. This was Y/N’s only chance. She pushed herself up and ran for the boys, injector at the ready. Newt was bringing the knife forward in a wide arc that would gut Thomas when Y/N threw herself in between them, slamming the injector into Newt’s arm.

Right as his drove the knife into her stomach.

‘Y/N!’

She wasn’t sure who called her name, because all she could focus on was Newt as some of the blackness in his eyes cleared and she saw some of his gorgeous brown eyes. She also felt her body finally giving up. As if it knew that this was the end. After all the torture and pain, she had stayed alive so long for one reason. To save Newt – the boy who had been there from the start. So much so she hadn’t realised until he wasn’t there how much he meant to her. How he’d wormed his way into her heart and consumed it without her even knowing.

She gripped his hand that held the knife in her stomach, unfurled his fingers from the handle, and brought them to her chest where her heart was slowly slowing down. Her weak legs gave out, and she brought Newt down to his knees with her. She could’ve been imagining things, but she swore she saw recognition in his half-black eyes which made her smile as tears finally fell from her eyes.

‘It’s okay, Newt,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay because… I love you.’

Her vision blurred and she finally let go of Newt as the both of them collapsed to the ground. Her breaths were short and sharp as the pain made itself known. A rush of feet thumped around her, and she had the slightest awareness that someone was moving her, but she didn’t care. She was finally at peace as darkness, at last, consumed her.

Y/N woke to the sound of waves rolling over on sand. The first thing she saw was grey canvas, then rolled her head around to see she was lying on a cot in a small tent with tables and medical supplies similar to how her Medjack hut looked. But she wasn’t alone.

‘Oh my God.’ Brenda’s face came into focus as the girl crouched by Y/N’s cot, disbelief and relief morphing her gentle features. ‘You’re awake! You’re finally awake!’

‘Ow,’ Y/N clasped at her head at the sudden loudness. ‘Could you lower your voice please?’

‘Yes, right, sorry,’ Brenda said, but her lips split in a bright smile as she helped Y/N sit up. ‘I’m just so happy you’re okay.’

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked, all she remembered was being stabbed then falling unconscious. She pulled up her fresh linen shirt to see her wound bandaged. ‘I thought I was done for.’

‘So did all of us,’ Brenda admitted, her tone sombre as she pulled up a seat beside the cot. ‘We got you to the berg as quickly as possible and Vince got you stable, but you just weren’t waking up. It’s been a week.’

‘A week?’ Y/N made to get up but sat back down as her wound pulled in an unpleasant way.

‘Whoa, where do you think you’re going?’ Brenda asked stabilising Y/N back in her bed. ‘You’ve just come out of a coma induced by physical and mental torture. Not to mention you were stabbed.’

‘I’m fine. Trust me, I’m trained… somewhat,’ Y/N said, this time able to swing her legs over the side of her cot. Brenda didn’t try and stop her, but she did have to help Y/N when she stood. ‘Now, where is Newt?’ Brenda didn’t answer right away, and tears threatened to pool in Y/N’s eyes at what her silence could mean. ‘Brenda… Is he… Is he alive?’

Brenda, again, didn’t answer, and her face didn’t give anything away either. Instead, she just held back the flap of the tent and motioned for Y/N to exit. Y/N took cautious steps forward as she followed Brenda into a completely new place that had her staring in awe.

It was a bustling camp where sleeping quarters and other spaces were mapped out by canvas strung up on carved wood pillars and posts. Y/N spied a kitchen area where she swore she heard Frypan laughing with some others.

There was a gathering area where a giant stone stood in front of the seats. There were names carved into it, like what they used to do in the Glade. Y/N tried to make out if a certain blonde’s name was on it. She caught familiar names like Alby and Chuck, Clint and Jeff.

‘Y/N?’

She swung around to find Brenda smiling as she was joined by Thomas, Minho, and Jorge. The three of them ran at her, arms wide open to capture her in a hug.

‘You crazy shank, Minho said, laughter on his lips. ‘Look who finally decided to join the living again.’

‘And here I thought I was the lazy slinthead for sleeping for so long,’ Thomas said jokingly, pulling Y/N in for another hug. ’I’m so relieved.’

‘Welcome back, hermana,’ Jorge said, a warm smile gracing his lips as he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

‘Good to be back,’ Y/N replied, smiling at the three males. ‘What happened after I thought I’d died?’

Thomas went to reply, but Minho cut in. ‘We’ll explain later. Right now, I think you should go say hi to someone else.’

Confused, Y/N followed Minho’s gaze to Brenda, who stood atop a hill and was staring over the other side of it. Y/N quickly reached Brenda’s position and followed her gaze to a large garden that people were working on. But her breath caught at the sight of a familiar blond at the edge of the gardens talking and pointing in all directions to people.

‘Hey, Newt!’ Brenda called out, causing the blond to turn around and look up. At first, he saw Brenda, but his gaze soon fell on Y/N and his whole face changed into disbelief.

With the other gardeners forgotten, he started climbing up the hill, and Y/N couldn’t wait another moment so she started walking down the hill.

They met in the middle, with Y/N standing at Newt’s height on the uphill. Neither said anything to begin with, both in disbelief and awe at who stood in front of them. Y/N looked over Newt, noting he still looked pale and somewhat sickly. But the dark veins were gone, as was the black blood and his black eyes. And the sun shone so brightly that his hair looked golden. It was as if he was never infected to begin with.

With a shaky hand, she reached out to rest her hand over his beating heart. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered, too scared to voice it too loudly in case this was also another nightmare.

But he proved her doubts wrong as he rested his own hand on top of hers. ‘I am,’ he said, and the usual warmth of his voice truly convinced her he was real.

His face pinched suddenly with concern and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, Y/N,’ he said, his hand tightening slightly over hers. ‘I hurt you. I almost…’

‘It’s okay,’ she interrupted, using her free hand to cradle is cheek and keep his eyes on her. ‘You didn’t. I am here, too. Looks like we both saved each other.’

To her relief Newt smiled. It was a genuine, happy smile, something she hadn’t seen on him in a long time. He nuzzled into her hand briefly, before bringing it down with his free hand so he held her hands between them.

‘Before I passed out,’ he started, ‘I remember you saying something.’

‘Oh.’ A blush heated upon her cheeks, but she refused to look away from him. ‘Right. I did say something.’

She was trying to play it cool, but as soon as his deep brown eyes fixed on her, she knew he could see right through her. But he didn’t smile smugly, he didn’t tease. He actually looked scared as his jaw clenched, fighting to find the next words to speak.

‘You said you love me,’ he finally said, words tight but hopeful. ‘Is that true?’

Y/N’s mouth dried up suddenly, constricted by all the things she wished to say but couldn’t say all at once. It’s not like she was scared, she just never thought she would live long enough to have a future, let alone one with love. One with Newt.

But she had – she had survived WCKD’s cruelty, she had survived the terrors of the old world, she had survived when so many of her friends hadn’t. And it was her duty to live her gift of a life to the fullest.

‘Yes,’ she finally said, and it was like breathing in fresh air after being underground for so long. ‘I love you, Newt. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I do. I love you.’

There was a second of hesitation, but then Newt broke out into a wide smile, and Y/N swore she saw tears brim in his eyes. He suddenly reached one hand up to cradle her neck as he pulled Y/N in for a sweet kiss that simultaneously knocked the air out of her and breathed new life into her. He held her neck and hip, and she pressed her hands against his chest, satisfied to feel his heart thundering beneath her hands. The heart that almost never beat again, the heart that had saved her over and over again.

The kiss was short but was no less breath-taking, and when they pulled apart neither could stop the smiles on their faces.

‘I love you, too,’ Newt said. ‘If that wasn’t already obvious.’

Y/N threw her head back in a hearty laugh. She slung her arms around Newt’s neck, a cheeky grin dancing across her lips. ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe we could try that again to make sure?’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers again. Y/N sighed into the kiss, grasping the baby hairs at the base of his head.

They pulled apart at the sound of their friends whooping and clapping atop the hill. Y/N felt her face erupt with embarrassed heat, to which Newt laughed as she ducked her head into his chest.

‘All right, come on lovebirds!’ Minho called out. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’

As they walked down out of sight, Y/N went to follow but was stopped by a loose grip on her wrist.

‘What is it?’ she asked as she turned back to Newt.

‘I just…’ Newt turned to the gardens below, then to the water, then to the sunset that bathed the whole camp in beautiful hues of orange, pink and purple. When he finally turned back to Y/N, she thought he couldn’t look any more handsome with that pure sunshine smile and sparkle in his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’ she asked.

‘For teaching me how to be brave,’ he answered.

Y/N gave his hand a squeeze. ‘You were always brave, Newt,’ she said. ‘It’s how I learned how to be brave in the first place.’

Newt squeezed her hand in return, then they walked hand in hand back up the hill and down to dinner to where their friend awaited them.

Where the lives they never imagined they’d get a chance to live awaited them.

#maze runner newt x reader #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #the maze runner #minho #tmr frypan #tmr thomas #tmr minho #tmr newt #tmr gally #tmr brenda #tmr jorge #the death cure #the scorch trials #romance #angst #friends to lovers

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Another Man’s Treasure

Max Verstappen x Reader + Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Charles made the worst mistake of his life when he threw away his relationship with you. Max … well he’s learned to take advantage of others’ mistakes both on and off the track

Warnings: cheating (not the main pairing) and pregnancy

“Please, Charles, why can’t we just talk about it?” you implore, the two of you standing on the balcony overlooking the glimmering lights of Monaco. The city shines brilliantly but your eyes are clouded with frustration and disappointment.

Charles exhales deeply, his jaw clenched as he avoids your gaze. The silver lining of the night —the glimmer of stars overhead — contrasts sharply with the tension between you two. “I told you already, it’s not the right time.

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “Every time I bring up having children, you just push it away. Why can’t you see how much this means to me?”

Charles runs his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to have a family with you someday,” he begins, his gaze distant. “But right now, with my career at its peak, I can’t risk distractions.”

“Distractions?” Your voice breaks, the hurt evident in your tone. “Our children would be a distraction?”

He flinches, clearly not expecting that response. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I need to focus on the championship. The pressure is immense. Racing is my life. Ferrari is my life.”

“I understand your dedication to your career, but ...” You pause, your gaze searching his. “Don’t you think we can find a balance? Am I not part of your life too?”

He looks at you, those hypnotizing eyes you’ve always loved flinching away from yours after no more than a second. “I wish I knew how,” he murmurs. “But every time I think of the late nights, the early mornings, the endless travels ... I’m afraid I won’t be there for our children.”

You reach out, holding his face in your hands. “We can figure it out together. But not if you keep shutting me out.”

Charles leans into your touch for a brief moment, his warmth radiating under your fingers. But then he pulls away, taking a deep breath. “I just need time,” he whispers.

“You always say that,” you reply, voice almost inaudible. The weight of the situation presses down on you both. The future, once so clear and bright, is now clouded in uncertainty.

But one thing is clear to you. You love Charles Leclerc. Despite the pain, the hurt, and the disagreements, you still believe that one day, you’ll both find common ground. So, you nod, taking his hand. “Alright, I’ll give you time. But please, don’t take too long.”

He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

But deep inside, a gnawing feeling of dread starts to grow, leaving you wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

***

The soft hum of the espresso machine at your favorite café in Monaco is the only thing that brings comfort these days. You take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the momentary solace as you sip on your coffee. But today, the calm is quickly disrupted by the muted buzz of your phone.

An unknown number flashes across the screen. Hesitating for only a moment, you decide to pick up. “Hello?”

A hesitant voice responds, “Is this ... is this you? I’ve seen you with Charles.”

Confused and on guard, you ask, “Who is this?”

The voice falters, “It’s Elise.”

You wrack your brain, trying to figure out who she might be. But before you can respond, Elise continues, “I think we need to meet. There’s something you should know.”

Agreeing to meet up, you find yourself waiting at the edge of the Fontvieille Park, the minutes feeling like hours as you try to decipher what could be so important.

Elise finally arrives, her demeanor nervous, eyes darting around. She’s visibly pregnant.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” she begins, looking down at her swollen belly, then up to your eyes, searching for understanding. “This is Charles’ child.”

The world seems to spin, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What? How? Why?” The questions blur together, each one as painful as the last.

Elise sighs, taking a moment before she speaks, “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I thought he loved me ... but then I found out about you.”

You’re at a loss for words, feeling a mix of betrayal, anger, and pain more complex than you can describe. The very foundation of your relationship with Charles feels like it’s crumbling beneath you. “He said he wasn’t ready for children,” you whisper, more to yourself than to Elise.

Elise looks genuinely pained. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve never—” she stops herself, tears forming. “I’m so sorry. I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur. Elise shares her story, and you listen, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Charles she describes isn’t the man you thought you knew.

By the time you part ways, the Monaco sunset paints the sky in shades of gold and purple. But its beauty does little to lift the darkness that has settled over your heart. Charles had been unfaithful, and now a child — a constant reminder of his betrayal — was on the way.

***

With every step you take towards the apartment you share with Charles, your emotions churn and crash like tumultuous waves. You have practiced the confrontation in your mind countless times, yet as you reach the door, your hands tremble. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you push it open.

Inside, Charles looks up from the couch, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he starts, attempting a smile but his eyes give away a hint of nervousness. Perhaps he senses the storm brewing.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

Charles swallows hard, pushing himself up to stand. “About?”

“Elise,” you state simply, watching as his face pales.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you hope for an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret. But when he speaks, his words are cold and detached. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” You shoot back, trying to hold back tears. “Is it true?”

Charles avoids your gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he finally admits.

“And the baby? Is it yours?”

Again, he hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”

The weight of the revelation feels like a physical blow, and you stagger back slightly, gripping the back of a chair for support. “All those times … when you said you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time …” Your voice cracks, pain and betrayal evident in every word.

Charles finally meets your gaze but there’s no warmth, no apology in his eyes. “I didn’t plan this,” he says but it’s not a justification, merely a statement.

“That’s supposed to make it better?” you scoff, voice rising in disbelief.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you recognize as one of discomfort. “I never wanted to hurt you. But things just ... happened.”

“You think that justifies anything? Things just happened?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I gave up so much for us, Charles. I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to be with you. And you threw it all away like it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but his apology feels hollow. His eyes betray the truth.

The room is thick with tension and heartbreak. The man you loved, the life you envisioned — both seem like illusions now. You didn’t even know if they were ever real.

“You know what?” You say, a new determination rising within. “I deserve better. I deserve someone who truly values and respects me.” With that, you turn, making your way to the bedroom to pack a few essentials.

Charles doesn’t stop you. And that, more than anything, cements the truth. Your future lies elsewhere. The chapter with Charles is closed.

***

Rain begins to drizzle over Monaco, each droplet reflecting the city’s luminescence. With a bag slung over your shoulder and a broken heart, you wander aimlessly. The streets that once felt like home now seem foreign and cold.

As the rain intensifies, you duck under an awning, the gentle hum of a nearby bar providing a temporary reprieve. You’re lost in thought when a familiar voice breaks through, “Is everything okay? You look a bit ... lost.”

You look up, surprised to find Max Verstappen looking genuinely concerned. His bright blue eyes study your face, searching for an answer.

“Max ...” Your voice trails off, unsure of how much to reveal.

He gestures to the bar beside you. “Want to come in? We can talk or not. Up to you.”

Gratefully, you nod, and the two of you find a quiet corner. The dim lighting offers a cocoon of privacy, away from prying eyes.

Over a glass of wine, words start to tumble out. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty of the future. Max listens intently, his gaze never leaving yours. His silence offers a comforting presence, allowing you to unburden your heavy heart.

“I can’t believe Charles would do that to you,” Max says after you finish your story, his voice laced with anger. “You deserve so much better.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I thought we had something special. But I guess I was just naive. And stupid. So stupid.”

Max reaches out, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “No. He was the fool for not seeing what a treasure he had.”

The evening wears on and you find solace in Max’s company. The conversation shifts from heartbreak to hopes and dreams. He opens up about his childhood, the pressures of racing, and his aspirations for a family — one where he could offer his children a better upbringing than he had.

The connection between you two grows, the raw vulnerability drawing you closer than you could have ever anticipated over just a few hours.

“It’s getting late,” Max observes, glancing at his watch. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

You hesitate, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I ... I hadn’t planned anything.”

Max looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “I have a penthouse not far from here. You’re more than welcome to stay. No expectations, just a place to rest.”

Gratitude swells within you. “Thank you, Max. I really appreciate that.”

The two of you leave the bar together, the rain now a soft drizzle. As you make your way to his place, the weight of the day begins to lift, replaced by an unexpected feeling of hope. You couldn’t have predicted this turn of events but perhaps, just maybe, the universe has a plan for you.

***

The penthouse apartment is a sanctuary, perched high above the city’s twinkling lights. The soft glow of lamps bathes the room in warmth, contrasting with the coolness of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer an unobstructed view of Monaco’s beauty.

Max hands you a plush robe and gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to freshen up. I’ll make us some tea.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding and hospitality. The hot shower washes away the day’s troubles, and when you emerge, wrapped in the robe, you find Max in the sleek kitchen area, preparing mugs of tea.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you a steaming cup. “Chamomile. Good for relaxation.”

You take a sip, the warm liquid soothing your frayed nerves. “Thank you, Max. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”

He smiles gently, his eyes meeting yours. “Sometimes, unexpected moments bring people together for a reason.”

The two of you settle onto a surprisingly comfortable leather couch, gazing out at the night sky. Silence envelops you but it’s a comfortable one.

“You know, I never expected to connect with someone like this,” Max says, his voice soft. “Especially not after what you’ve been through.”

You look at him, seeing a depth of sincerity that surprises you. “It’s been a strange and difficult day,” you admit. “But talking to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

Max’s gaze holds yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has conspired to bring you to this very place, to this very person.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. A loving home, something I didn’t really have growing up. I want to give my kids the stability and happiness I never had.”

Tears well up in your eyes, touched by his vulnerability and his willingness to share his dreams with you. “That’s a beautiful aspiration.”

He shifts closer, a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And what about you? What do you dream of?”

You lean back, contemplating the question. “I dream of a family too, a partner who’s truly invested, children who grow up knowing they’re loved and supported.”

Max's fingers brush against yours, a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve that. You deserve to find happiness.”

As the night deepens, the emotional intimacy between you grows. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared connection, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. The chapter with Charles might be closed, but perhaps, with Max, you can start to write a new one — one filled with shared dreams and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow over Monaco as it begins its ascent into the azure sky. You wake up, wrapped in the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, with memories of last night’s conversation playing on a loop in your mind.

Exiting the bedroom, you find Max in the open-plan kitchen, whipping up a breakfast spread. “Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

As you eat, Max discusses his plans for the day, mentioning an upcoming summer break in the F1 calendar. “A few friends and I have organized a yacht trip during the summer shutdown. It’s a tradition,” he explains. “A way to escape and recharge.”

You nod, picturing the glittering sea and warm beaches. “That sounds wonderful.”

He hesitates for a moment, then, as if taking a leap, says, “Why don’t you join us? It could be a good distraction. Get away from all this ... chaos.”

The offer catches you by surprise. The prospect of a holiday is tempting, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. Plus, the idea of spending more time with Max, getting to know him outside the confines of Monaco, is equally appealing.

After a moment’s contemplation, you reply, “You know what? I think I will. Thank you so much.”

The days leading up to the trip are a blur, filled with shopping for swimsuits and sundresses and a growing sense of anticipation.

When the day finally arrives, you find yourself aboard a lavish yacht, surrounded by Max’s close friends. Laughter and conversations flow easily, the crystal-clear waters providing the perfect backdrop.

As the yacht sets sail, you and Max find a secluded spot on the deck. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you talk, laugh, and occasionally, just sit in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment.

During a sun-soaked afternoon, Max teaches you how to steer the yacht. Your fingers brush against each other, and there are shared glances, stolen moments, and an electric charge between you that’s impossible to ignore.

Each day deepens the growing bond between you. There are sunrises watched from the deck, dinners under the stars, and long conversations that last into the early hours of the morning.

One night, as the yacht anchors near a secluded cove, Max takes your hand, leading you to a quiet spot. The moonlight dances on the water, creating a magical atmosphere.

“You know,” he begins, his voice soft, “this trip has been special. Not because of the destinations but because of the company.”

You smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A tender moment passes between you, one filled with promise and the potential for something more. The yacht trip might be coming to an end but both of you sense that this journey, this new chapter in your lives, has only just begun.

***

The gentle lull of the waves against the yacht rocks you as the moon hangs low in the sky. The night air is warm and fragrant, carrying with it a sense of peace. Tomorrow, the yacht will dock back in Monaco and reality will catch up with you once more. But for now, you’re content to savor these final moments of the trip.

You find Max leaning against the railing, gazing out at the sea. As you approach him, he turns, his expression softening into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, standing beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other.

“I can’t believe the break is almost over,” Max muses, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.

You nod in agreement, casting your gaze out to the horizon. “It still feels like a dream.”

Max glances at you, his eyes holding a certain intensity. “You know, I’ve had an amazing time with you.”

A flutter of warmth ignites in your chest at his words. “Me too. The best time.”

The moment is charged with unspoken feelings, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing day. Max’s fingers brush against yours and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t want this to end,” he confesses, gaze never leaving yours.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, so understood.”

He cups your cheek with his hand, his touch tender and affectionate. “I feel the same way. And I don’t want this to end.”

The tension in the air is palpable, heavy with anticipation and longing. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the emotions that have been building between you, a kiss that bridges the gap between friendship and something more.

As the kiss deepens, Max’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths mingling. Max’s voice is a gentle murmur against your lips. “I don’t want to rush anything. But I also don’t want to pretend that this connection we have isn’t real.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the same sincerity. “I don’t want to pretend either. Max, I want to give this — give us — a chance.”

A genuine smile graces Max’s lips and he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

***

“Where to now?” Max asks, his hand lightly touching your arm as the yacht crew busies themselves with docking procedures.

You hesitate, the reality of your situation setting in. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I … I moved here from my home country to be with Charles.”

Max looks concerned. “You can’t stay with him, not after everything.”

“No, definitely not.” You exhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe find a hotel for a few days.”

Before you can say more, Max interjects, “Stay with me.”

You look at him, a bit taken aback. “Are you sure? We’re still navigating whatever this is between us.”

He nods, his gaze steady and sincere. “I know. But I also know you shouldn’t be alone right now. You can take the guest room or,” he pauses, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “the master bedroom, if you prefer.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his teasing tone but his offer feels genuine. “Alright but only if you promise not to snore.”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off the yacht. “Deal.”

The familiarity of Max’s penthouse greets you as you step inside. It's comforting and safe, an oasis to escape the shattered memories that line the Monaco streets.

While you unpack, Max makes dinner. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a soft glow through the apartment.

“Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing around the dining room, the food, the moment. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.”

Max meets your gaze, his blue eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

The night unfolds, a sense of peace settling between you. Whether it's the soft hum of the city below or the comforting presence of Max beside you, you drift into a deep, restful sleep.

Waking up the next morning, the events of the past weeks feel like a distant memory. But the man beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, is a calming reminder of new beginnings.

With Max by your side, you feel ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that no matter what, you’re not alone.

***

“Are you ready for the madness?” Max asks, offering you a hand as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd at Zandvoort Circuit immediately evident.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the paddock, drawing attention from fans, crew, and media alike. Whispers spread like wildfire but neither of you flinch. Together, you are a united front.

Suddenly, Charles appears from around the corner, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. “So this is the big reveal?” he asks, dripping with condensing sarcasm.

Max steps protectively in front of you. “It’s none of your business anymore.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes darting to the Red Bull VIP pass around your neck. “Jumping ship already? You always were fickle.”

Ignoring the jab, you retort, “You lost any right to an opinion about my life the second you threw away our relationship.”

Charles’ eyes flare with anger. “And you,” he snaps, turning his attention to the reigning world champion, “you think you can just swoop in—”

Max cuts him off sharply, “I think you’ve said enough.”

“You two deserve each other,” Charles hisses before storming off.

Max wraps an arm around you, his touch reassuring. “Ignore him. Today is about the race, about us. Nothing else.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The race itself is thrilling. From Red Bull garage, you watch as Max masterfully maneuvers his car, leading the pack with unparalleled skill. Every turn, every overtake steals your breath. And when he crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd painting the grandstands orange is deafening.

As Max emerges from his car, he’s immediately surrounded by his team, celebrating yet another victory. And then, spotting you in the crowd, he breaks away, making a beeline towards you. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. As you pull apart, Max’s eyes shine with triumph and love. “For you,” he murmurs, holding up the trophy.

Laughing, you pull him close once more. The challenges and confrontations of the day pale in comparison to the joy of this moment. Together, you and Max are unstoppable. And as you celebrate his victory, you know that this is just the beginning of many more triumphant moments to come.

***

The familiar sounds of roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the vibrant energy of the paddock have been a part of your life for years. But being around the Red Bull team feels like a different world compared to your previous experiences with Ferrari.

Christian Horner welcomes you with open arms. “It’s great to have you on board,” he says during a quiet moment in the Red Bull motorhome. “Max seems happier than he’s been in a long time.”

You smile, thinking of the nights spent laughing with Max, the whispered conversations, and reflected dreams. “I’m grateful to be here. And to be with Max.”

Helmut Marko, although initially intimidating with his sharp gaze, soon warms up to you. “Just take care of our champ,” he jokes one evening after another successful race.

As the weeks pass, the bond between you and the Red Bull team strengthens. Daniel Ricciardo becomes a close friend, often joining you and Max for dinner or movie nights. Sergio Perez, with his playful humor, keeps everyone laughing, while the mechanics and engineers teach you the deeper intricacies of the sport.

Yet, it’s not all smooth sailing. The media, always hungry for a story, constantly probes into your relationship with Max. Rumors swirl, some true, most fabricated. Yet, through it all, Max remains your anchor, always supporting and defending you.

One evening, as the two of you relax in his suite after a grueling race weekend, Max turns to you, his eyes serious. “I know this world can be intense, the scrutiny constant. But I hope you know that you’re not alone in this.”

You nod, feeling a swell of emotion. “Being with you, being part of this team, it’s incredible. Like finding a family I never knew I needed.”

Max smiles, pulling you close. “That’s because you are family. And I promise, no matter what, we’ll face everyone and everything together.”

The season progresses, and as Max inches closer to clinching the championship title once again, the excitement within the Red Bull team reaches a fever pitch. Through every high and low, every victory and setback, you stand beside Max, cheering him on.

***

“Easy there!” Christian says, catching you just as the world starts to spin and your vision blurs.

The sound of concerned voices surrounds you as you struggle to stay conscious but it’s too much. Everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re lying on a couch in Red Bull hospitality, Max’s anxious face hovering above yours. “Hey,” he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. “You scared me there.”

“What ... what happened?” you ask, your voice weak.

“You fainted,” Daniel chimes in from nearby. “We’re getting a doctor to check on you.”

True to his word, a doctor soon arrives, performing a series of tests and asking various questions. He recommends a more thorough examination and you find yourself being whisked away to a nearby clinic.

As you await the results, Max holds your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m right here,” he assures you. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

The doctor returns, a knowing smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he says, looking at both of you. “You’re going to be parents.”

The room goes silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You turn to Max, searching his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t expect this. It’s so soon.”

Max pulls you close, his eyes glassy with tears of joy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he murmurs. “But I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”

Your emotions swirl, a mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Are you sure? What about your career? The media?”

Max silences you with a gentle kiss. “None of that matters. The only thing I care about is us. Our family.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, touched by his words. “I love you,” you whisper, heart full to overflowing.

Max grins, his blue eyes shining. “And I love you. This might be unexpected but it’s the best surprise of my life.”

***

“Three-time World Champion! How does that feel?” A journalist thrusts a microphone towards Max moments after his astounding win in Qatar.

“It’s surreal,” Max responds, his gaze seeking you out among the crowd. “Every championship is special but this one ... it’s different.”

The winter months are a haven of privacy for the two of you in your own little bubble. As the world speculates about the upcoming racing season, you and Max nest away from prying eyes, savoring the anticipation of your growing family.

However, when the 2024 season kicks off, it’s impossible to hide your baby bump any longer. Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk through the paddock with Max for the first day of preseason testing.

“It’s so obvious now!”

“They look so happy together.”

“She’s glowing.”

But one voice rises above the rest from the sea of murmurs, filled with venom. “So this is your grand plan? Trap Max by getting pregnant?”

You turn to find Charles, his face contorted with anger. You take a deep breath, preparing to face the storm. “Charles, this really isn’t the place—”

Max steps forward, partially blocking you from Charles’ view, his voice colder than ice. “What do you want?”

Charles scoffs, looking you up and down with disdain. “Just wanted to see the spectacle for myself. You always did know how to play the game.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger, his posture tense. “Let me make this clear. You don’t get to disrespect Y/N or our relationship. You lost that right a long time ago.”

“You think this will make him stay with you?” Charles sneers towards you. “That he won’t get tired of you just like he did with all the others?”

Before you can respond, Daniel steps in, his presence commanding and the joking smile that usually graces his face nowhere to be found. “Enough. Show some respect.”

Christian, overhearing the commotion, joins the fray. “Is there a problem here?” he asks, voice firm.

Charles hesitates, glancing around at the united front against him. “No,” he finally mutters, turning on his heel and walking away.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens, his expression stormy. “You know you’re never alone in this, right?” he asks.

You nod, your voice soft but resolute. “I do. And I know you’ll always have my back. Just like I’ll always have yours.”

He squeezes your hand. “Always. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Our family is the most important thing in my life.”

***

The soft hum of chatter surrounds the preschool’s main entrance. Parents eagerly await their children, discussing the excitement of the first day. You stand beside Max, his hand resting protectively on your protruding belly.

“Look, Mama!” A little voice exclaims and two giggling children rush towards you — your daughter, Sophie, and a boy with familiar dark hair.

Before you can respond, another voice joins the fray. “Henri! Over here!”

You turn, finding Charles standing there, Elise by his side, her arm entwined with his. Their eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition.

Sophie hugs her little friend, Henri. “This is my new best friend!”

Max bends down, ruffling Sophie’s hair. “That’s great, liefje.” He then stands and addresses Charles, his tone neutral, “Seems our children have taken a liking to each other.”

Charles nods, attempting a smile. “It appears so.”

There’s an awkward silence, the past hanging heavily between you all.

Finally, Elise speaks, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry ... for everything. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

You meet her gaze, seeing genuine remorse. “Life is full of surprises. But it led me to Max and he is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

Max adds, “What’s important is that we’re all here for our kids. Let’s not make our past their burden.”

Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. I regret many things but right now, Henri is my world and I want the best for him.”

You place a hand on your belly, feeling the tiny kicks. “Our children have a chance at a fresh start, a friendship untainted by the history of their parents. Let’s not stand in their way.”

The two children, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment, tug at your arms. “Can we go to the park? Pretty please.” Sophie asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

You smile down at her, “Of course.”

As your two families part ways, there’s a sense of closure. The past, with its pain and betrayal, has been acknowledged, but the future, the innocent laughter of your children, holds promise. Life has moved on, leading each of you down different paths, but in this moment, there’s newfound unity in the shared hope for a brighter tomorrow.

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wttcsms · 7 months

Text

we play our fantasies out in real life ways ; shouto todoroki.

pairing shouto todoroki x f!reader word count 2.7k synopsis knocking up his sugar baby seems (and feels) like a dream come true for the future ceo and youngest son of japan’s richest conglomerate family. content contains sugar daddy!shouto, yandere themes, car sex, creampie, breeding kink, quirkless au, ceo!shouto, tiny daddy kink author’s notes this is a repost of an old fic but pls tell me we are still horny 4 shouto. also ignore the Tesla promo, i was feeling silly when i wrote this </3

He can have anything he wants, you know.

And of course you know this. Of course you do. It’s hard to ignore this fact whenever he’s the exact reason your closet is overflowing with more dresses than you know what to do with; why your dresser can barely stay shut due to the amount of lacy lingerie you’ve had to shove in them; why you’re a third year college student driving to campus with a brand new Mercedes that technically isn’t even supposed to be out on the market ‘til next month.

He can have anything he wants, and because you’re his, by extension, you have the power to make all your material wishes come true, too. All you have to do is ask him.

All you have to do is look up at him and give him those puppy dog eyes of yours and say, “please, daddy, can I cum?” and he’ll let you. You know he will, because stoic Shouto Todoroki, the future CEO and prized son of the Todoroki clan that happens to be one of the most famous conglomerate families in all of Japan, just can’t seem to say no to you. He signs off multi-billion yen deals as easily as one blinks and running multiple companies is just something he’s been born to do. It’s no easy feat to give commands to such a powerful man.

And yet, one look and a tiny whimper is all it takes to turn him into putty in your hands.

It’s always an out of body experience when you’re with Shouto. Being with him is like constantly being the main character of a movie. He rents out entire restaurants so the two of you can dine away from prying eyes. He sends you good morning and good night texts every single day. (One time you joked about him forcing his assistant to do it because there’s no way a busy man like him would ever have time to do something so insignificant; he didn’t like that you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the concept of you being someone very important to him.) Shouto is incredibly good to you, incredibly good for you.

He’s incredibly good with a lot of things. Taking care of you, for one. Taking care of all his businesses, for another. And right now, he’s taking real good care of your cunt when he’s got three of his fingers knuckles deep in you.

The windows to his sleek, outrageously priced car are tinted so dark, even you struggle to see through the windshield. You always tell him it’s dangerous, but he reminds you that there are always reasons for the things he does. You wonder if getting tinted windows so he could fuck his college student sugar baby with some semblance of privacy is the reason.

And then all thinking on your end comes to a stop when he nips at the skin of your neck, biting down softly and getting you to let out a tiny whimper. It doesn’t hurt. You don’t think Shouto is even capable of hurting you; not because you’re some unbreakable being, but because you don’t think the calloused hands that have caressed every centimeter of your body is capable of harming you.

The two of you are currently parked in the lot right outside the building where his main office is located. In about ten minutes, the parking lot will be flooded with employees who have just clocked out and are getting ready to speed home. In about ten minutes, anyone could accidentally (or purposely) become a little voyeur to the activities going down in the future CEO’s luxury car.

Your back is pressed against his chest. More often than not, you find yourself naked while he’s practically still dressed, and it’s the same thing that’s happening right now. The buttons on his shirt are digging into your back, but you can’t find it in you to complain. Instead, you focus on gripping the wrist of the hand that’s in between your thighs. The sleeves of his button down shirt are rolled up, and if you take your tiny fingers just a bit higher, you can feel the veins running down his arm.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” The baritone of his voice is smooth, calm, collected — in control. Because you can make any request in the world, and Shouto will fulfill it for you, but that does not mean that you are the one who makes the final decisions. At the end of the day, everything you have, everything that is given to you, is because of him, because of the decisions he makes for you.

His eagerness to gift you the world thinly veils the true depth of your submission to him. A subconscious part of you is well aware of the power imbalance in this relationship, but if all has been well these past two years, then surely it’ll only be smooth sailing from here?

You lean back, leaning into his warmth, breathing deeply to inhale the scent of his spicy cologne that costs more than your textbooks (that he bought for you).

“D-daddy.” You moan out, trying to coax him deeper in your tight little cunt, as if his fingers aren’t already as deep as they can go, spreading out your hole to prep you for what he knows you truly crave.

“You’ve got to speak up, love. I can’t give you anything if you don’t tell me what to give you.” His breath is warm against your ear, and it’s so hot in the car. So, so hot. You wonder if it’s just you feeling the heat, though. Shouto seems as collected as ever, not the least bit uncomfortable at all.

“Mmm — w-want you.” You wriggle a bit in his lap, but his free hand grips your side and squeezes you with a firm, nonverbal command to stop moving. You do, immediately. Because that’s what you always do: follow his command.

“I know you do.” He coos, finally moving his fingers. It’s agonizingly slow, too slow. The car is silent save for your little pants and the obscene wet sounds that come as a result of his fingers thrusting in your wet cunt.

“Faster, daddy.” You whine out, looking up at him. The sun is setting, and despite the tint of the windows, the orange glow from the sun still shines against his smooth skin, casting his face into something that’s half sunset/half shadow. It’s a good look; a sharp contrast that matches his hair. Seeing your blatant admiration of him only spurs him to give in and go faster. He had planned on drawing this out for as long as he possibly could. He had originally wanted to coax you into as many orgasms ‘til you were nothing but a fucked out little mess, too worn out to pay attention or even care when he finishes your little session with you plugged up with his cum.

The lives of children born into the Todoroki family are more cursed than it is blessed, and Shouto had, a very long time ago, made a vow that he would never continue the bloodline. He would have no children, which would be easy because he planned on never having a lover.

And then he met you, started providing for you, realized how much he enjoyed providing, and realized even more that the only way to strengthen this transactional relationship is by forcing your hand. He likes to think that you would stay with him willingly, but there are some chances that he’s just not willing to take; there are some extremes that he’s all too entirely happy to go far to, though.

Your sweet moans mix in well with the lewd sounds of your pussy getting thoroughly fingerfucked. His fingers are so much longer than yours, can reach spots inside of you that you can’t quite reach yourself. He’s efficient with anything and everything he does, and you’re not surprised when he doesn’t slow his pace. The consistent strokes of his fingers, your lowered inhibitions when around Shouto, and the look on his face (equal parts concentration and adoration) all help in making you cum all over his hand.

“Good girl.” Shouto whispers, removing his fingers and holding his hand up. The sunlight beaming through makes his digits glisten even more, and you’re enraptured as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips to suck your essence off of them. Piercing heterochromatic eyes never leave yours as he sucks on them, and you have to turn away from embarrassment. How can he keep such a straight face when literally licking your cum off his fingers?

“Don’t turn away from me.” His hand — still wet — grips your chin and forces you to look at him again. “I don’t like it when you shy away from me.”

You nod meekly, and Shouto sighs.

“You shouldn’t be shy around me. I don’t like making you feel uncomfortable, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod again, a subtle, barely there move. He’s not impressed.

“Answer me properly.” There’s a hard edge to his tone, and you sit up a little straighter. Shouto would never lay a hand on you with the intent to physically harm you, but he’s not above roughing you up during sex. You’ve heard him get this way before, and the imprint of his fingertips and the purple hickeys littering your poor body took three days to fade properly.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You say with a pout, trying to conjure up any sort of leniency he can spare. Judging by his facial expression and the wavering look in his eyes, he’s already softening up. You just have to make it up to him now to have his complete forgiveness.

Maneuvering in the limited space the driver’s seat gives is no easy task, but you manage to shift positions to where you’re straddling his lap, finally facing him properly. He’s leaned back, watching you with a hungry glint in his eyes that makes you feel like the most wanted girl in all of Japan. A surge of heat flows through your body, from the tips of your ears to your cheeks and all the way down to between your thighs. If you were in a different position, you could clench them together, try to rub your thighs in an attempt to ease the need for friction.

Your fingers make quick work of his belt and his zipper, pulling down on both the waistband of his slacks and his briefs to finally free his cock. He’s already hard, and you admire the way your hand can’t even wrap fully around him. The tip is flushed red, pearly beads of precum already present.

This is the part where you look up at him, almost as if you’re unsure about what to do. You don’t know what it does to him, to see you sitting on his lap with his cock looking outrageously large in your tiny hands. He can see your pretty pussy practically dripping all over his slacks. Now’s not the time for you to be playing the role of an innocent, unsure little girl, but then it hits him: you’re asking him for permission. He almost lets out a bark of laughter.

“You’ve already taken it upon yourself to tear into my pants and make a grab for my cock. Surely you don’t expect me to beg to fuck your little hole now, do you?” He has a cold smile on his face as he brings you closer to him. “I thought this was my apology. Don’t tell me you’re going to make me do all the work?”

“O-of course not!” You look startled at the suggestion, eyes going big and round. He looks at you expectantly, as if telling you to do something.

It always burns when you first take him. It doesn’t matter how many times he makes you cums, doesn’t matter how long he spends stretching you out on his fingers. By now, your pussy should have memorized the feel of his dick, should have been moulded to fit him and only him. And while there’s a tiny flash of pain and discomfort for you (which Shouto hates), it’s hard not to be in love with the feel of just how tight you are.

The stinging pain is brief, though, and is easily replaced by one of satisfaction from being stuffed by the prettiest, fattest cock you’ve ever taken in your life.

You moan, rocking your hips back and forth. Maybe this was originally supposed to be an apology to him, but it feels more like you’re using him as your own personal toy, and Shouto really couldn’t care less. After all, if it brings you pleasure, it brings him pleasure.

“Are you enjoying yourself, baby? What would happen if I never met you, hmm? Are you willing to spread those pretty legs of yours for any man?” He says the last sentence with a tone sharper than usual. You shake your head as you continue to rut against him, chasing after your own high because you might not be a simpleminded slut for anyone, but you are nothing more than a cockslut when it comes to Shouto.

“Ah — fuck, fuck, fuck!” You moan out, falling against his chest, burying your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. “D-daddy, fuck!”

He holds you close to him as you cum, not even minding the mess you’ve made of his work pants. “Daddy’s got you.” He coos, his hand finding the back of your neck and squeezing you there, gently. “You must be tired now…”

You’re still too fucked out to really comprehend what’s exactly going on ‘til it’s happening, but even with your slow reaction times, you still manage to let out a slutty moan as you feel Shouto thrusting up into you. It must be uncomfortable, you think. This position doesn’t make it exactly easy for him to chase after his own pleasure, but then you remember that Shouto Todoroki doesn’t back down or break down when it comes to challenges.

He perseveres.

You’re like a rag doll, like a personal little fucktoy, made for him to use (and maybe even break) as he pleases. Every thrust is sharp and intense, and his teeth are clenched as he continues to use you, enjoying the warmth of your tight walls and admiring the ring of white that coats and clings to his dick every time he pulls out.

It doesn’t take him much longer to finally finish; he grabs you by your hips, raising you slightly before abruptly pushing you down on his cock, making sure that he’s nestled as deeply in you as he can be when he finally cums. He’s breathing a bit harder as he comes down, and then he’s grabbing you by your hair, making you stare at him.

His cheeks are flushed, there’s some slight sweat building up on his forehead, his shirt is wrinkled. He’s never looked better. You’ve never felt better.

Or, more accurately, never felt fuller.

“Shouto, did you c…” You can’t even finish the sentence. Did you cum inside? Not like you have to; you know the answer. Some of it is dripping out of you.

All he does is give you that small smile, the one that he rarely lets anyone see, and starts up the car.

If he doesn’t want to talk now, there’s no way you can get him to answer properly. You try to remove yourself from his lap and make your ungraceful, disgusting journey to the passenger seat, but Shouto places a firm hand on your waist, forcing you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Shouto, you can’t possibly drive while I’m sitting here on your lap.”

“I bought a Tesla for a reason.”

Right. Because everything Shouto does has a reason for it.

You think about this on the drive back to his penthouse, a little bit of fear building up in your lower belly. Shouto does everything for a reason, and what’s the reason for any man cumming inside?

#shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #one shot #yandere #smut #shouto todoroki smut #drabble #imagine

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gucciwins · 1 month

Text

Harry is in awe of his girlfriend

A/N: something short and sweet while I work on other stories.

Y/N loved her students.

It was obvious by all the care she put into her classroom. She got help every year to set it up with a new theme. The motivational posters, the reading chart decorated with her student’s doodles. Every detail in her room tells a story. It’s her second year, but Y/N knows it is something she wanted to do. The impact she is making may not be seen now, but years down the line they’ll see it started during their time in school.

Y/N was in charge of planting the seed, she knew she didn’t always get to see the flower flourish.

This week, Y/N had students invite parents to read the children a book of their choice. Y/N had many parents come, it allowed for the student to show off their parent during this time. It reminded her of when her dad made time out of his busy schedule to come in for her.

Today, Harry was coming in to support his niece as he loved being involved. He was eager too because Harry knew Isabela was in her class. Of course, there was no special treatment but Isabela did get to enjoy lunch with her some days.

Harry got here early, and entered the classroom quietly as to not disturb the class but Y/N noticed him. He took a seat at her back table knowing he’d have to wait until they were home to have all her undivided attention.

“My friends, you’re all doing great. I know math is not our favorite but I appreciate the volunteers that wanted to come up. You can always come to me during for support. ” Y/N knows what it was like to be anxious in class not knowing if it was okay to ask for extra help. She goes over a few math problems, allowing the students to asks questions.

From the back of the room, Harry sees how Y/N manages to make every student feel seen and heard. Not once does she raise her voice to get their attention, the class stays focused on her every word and Harry is in awe. He always knew Y/N was good at her job but seeing it in person was something different.

Y/N had always been a kind soul, he knew that from the moment he met her. Yet in the classroom it seemed as if she only became more open, softer he’d like to say.

People go in look of their true calling, some find it in dancing or art sometimes never at all but he can say that Y/N found her gift in people. More specifically students. She was helping our future genteration grow and that is something he will always be proud of. Harry decides to text her to share all the joy he’s feeling seeing Y/N flutter around teaching her students.

Harry

You are so pretty.

Your room feels safe and comforting.

You are amazing. I’m in awe of you.

I love you.

Harry knows she won’t see it until lunch time and he’s okay with that for now he’ll remain admiring his girlfriend.

“Now, I’ve got a special guest here today,” Y/N gestures to Harry to stand and make his way next to her. He does so while giving Isabela a small wave. “This is Mr. Styles.”

“Hi Mr. Styles,” the class greets in unison.

“Hello, thank you for welcoming me into your class. I’m Isabela’s uncle.”

Isabela cheers, rushing over to give her uncle a hug after Y/N gives her the okay. “Now friends, let’s remember to be respectful to Mr. Styles. While he gets settled in, why don’t we sit criss cross applesauce on the carpet.”

The children begin to file in, careful not to push each other making sure they sit next to their friends. While Harry reads the title of the bookY/N walks over to her desk. She checks the time on her phone when she catches a glimpse of Harry’s text. Y/N turns her head to see if he’s watching her but finds him deep into the story, using a new voice for each character. The students are hanging on to his every word. Y/N knew Harry was happy to be here to support her. She felt the outpouring of his love from the moment he walked in.

Yeah, Y/N was lucky to have him.

this was the inspiration behind the story

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot

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angelwhisp3rs · 3 months

Text

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 obsession

Pairing: ID!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Training the rookies was a pain until he met her. His sweetest new obsession, he wouln't stop till he was buried deep inside her.

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap (not too much! i imagined leon being 37 and the reader being 23-25, so everyone is legal and consenting! Its not his age in ID but i use it only bc of the character background), p in v, eating out, riding, breeding kink, leon is obsessed!, a small housewife kink.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ on repeat: exo - obsession

Notes: Got too excited and posted without proofreading it! If i missed anything, please let me know so i can correct it! Also, when will tumblr make a pastel pink theme for the dashboard? I hate that everything we have is either a sad/gloomy hipster or raging gothic theme.

From all his years working at the D.S.O, Leon was stressed pretty much all the time, never catching a break, too exhausted. That showed on the increasing wrinkles forming from his frowns, and the occasional white hair that appeared on top of his head. In his non-existent breaks, he had another thing on his belt: training the new agents.

At first, it was a pain in the ass, watching those morons do the same mistake over and over, it really made Leon think it was getting too easy to be a D.S.O agent. Some repeated the same mistakes over and over again, and because of it, Leon frequently lost his patience, soon getting known as a hardass.

As time went by, he began losing hope for the future of the department, until she came through. Pretty body, voice as soothing as a canary and delicious lips that called for him. And the best thing was that she was better than all of these morons, throwing down even the experienced rookies.

Since Ada, Leon didn’t know what it was like to be this obsessed with a woman. He wanted to know her next step, have her by his side all the time, know how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips. He dreamed of her, and caught himself checking her out more than he should. Chris always teased him in private, telling him “his star student is making him turn back to his twenties”. God, they had a small age gap, but thinking about it only made his cock throb. Maybe dealing with rookies made his mind turn him back to his twenties.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

As their “graduation” got closer in time, all the new agents began training more, but none were like her. She came in first and left after all of them, always using the training gym by herself the most she could. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Leon offered private training, becoming a private tutor to her.

Instead of making things easy, it just caused him to become even more addicted to her - he now knew her thoughts, her quirks and her perspectives. As they spent more and more time together, it was clear that she found him attractive too - he knew he was still successful with women, after all (even if he was more dumped than anything). Leon had cemented in his mind that he needed her, and now he just needed to find a way to approach her.

She will be all his.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One of the nights, he had to spend in his office reading and filing boring documents, Leon heard a gentle knock on his door. “Come in” he simply answered, and to his surprise - and excitement, it was his little star. She entered his office, and her usual sparkly eyes were dull, the poor thing was too tired, working herself too much.

“What happened, rookie? You look exhausted. Working too much to bring me down?” Leon said with a smirk

“Ha, you wish, sir.” Oh, how that term made his pants tighten. “I just came for help, I don’t know. I’ve been focusing on sharpening my skills for the admission test, but I don’t know…” she said unsure

“Hey, don’t tell the rest, but you’re the only one that I would bet on getting in” he reassured her, standing up and taking a seat beside her in his couch “You’re too much in your head, agent”

“I know, I just can’t turn it off…” she whined, making Leon think how she would sound if he made her cum around his cock

That 's it. That was Leon’s chance to get his favorite student. He put a hand on her thigh, not too close to her precious cunt and said quietly to her “It’s alright, sweetheart… I can help you, if you want”

She knew where this was going, and it turned her on more than she thought. Feigning innocence, she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding “But… How, sir?” and looked at his lips

Leon smiled, caressing her jaw “let me fill your mind, rookie. Why don’t you sit at my desk, hm?”

She stood up and slowly went to his desk, sitting on it and letting her head fall to the side, as if to question him “what’s next?” with her body language. Leon follows her, standing between her legs and letting his hands caress the outer side of her thighs. His face lowers to her neck, his kisses and his stubble causing a warm sensation to run through her skin. A soft gasp left her lips, her hands caressing the back of his head.

Feeling him smirk against her skin, he kept placing slow and gentle kisses, adding some nibbles on the mix “That’s what my best student needs, right? A real man to touch her”

He lays her on his desk, pushing his papers aside, pulling her hips into his - his cock adding a nice weight to her sensitive wetness. He slowly pushed her shirt up, watching her beauty for a moment “You’re perfect, baby”. As he whispered the praise, her cheeks blushed more, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He finally kissed her lips and both were hungry for each other, to quench the thirst they had been accumulating after months.

Leon swiftly undoes her bra, not wasting any time and circling his tongue around her nipples, sucking and lightly nibbling it. Underneath him, her breath quickens, as she whines freely as he teased her. Trying to ease their ache, Leon grinds their centers together, his cock so hard that his zipper presses against his member.

Soon, he removed her pants, kissing as her skin showed - inch by inch. Again, his stubble creates goosebumps in her legs, as he worshiped her body - she deserved it, after all, he wanted to make her addicted to him and his taste. Watching her panties so drenched as they were glued to her pussy, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her bundle of nerves, causing a gentle jump on her. He kissed and licked the wet spot, as if trying to eat her up.

“F-fuck, please take them off, sir” she whined, not even realizing that she kept the term. Leon, deciding that he wasn’t in a teasing mood, guided the clothing down, letting his pretty star all spread on his desk - his to take, to tease, to fuck, to breed.

“Shit, baby girl, you are so wet for your teacher… you wanted me to take you, right? You wanted me to go crazy and drench my face with you. huh?” He teased her as he got on his knees, aligning his face against her cunt. She was so red, puffy and wet, not even the most delicious candy could compare to her.

His tongue tasted her at first with kitten licks, causing a loud moan to rip from her mouth. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone coming here and seeing you spread out like a needy slut, right?” at his comment, and as if teasing her, he finally sucked and rolled his tongue around her clit, letting his index finger circle her wet entrance. Almost as if she was distressed, she cupped her mouth with her hand, rolling her eyes back at the pleasure.

Pushing his finger forward, slowly, until he's entirely inside her, he kept eating her out with gusto, as if he was a starved man. Soon, what was one finger turned into two, her juices were flowing through his palm as he began to be more desperate for her - but he wouldn’t stop till she let him taste her entirely. “It feels good, doesn’t it, my doll? I’m the only man and only one for you, gonna make sure to keep this pussy satisfied till I die”.

His fingers and mouth worked more ferociously, pussy drunk wasn’t even close to describe how he was feeling.On the other end, she had tears in her eyes as one hand didn’t leave her mouth as the other one tugged his hair hard, making him moan against her drenched cunt. “S-sir, o-oh g-god…need to c-cum!” she pleased, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

“Do it, baby girl, give it to me” he ushered her, maintaining the pace till she finally coated his fingers, tongue and mouth with her essence. As her ‘little death’ came, she felt as if fireworks erupted inside her mind - none of her exams daring to creep up on her mind.

He praised and marked her thighs as she came down from her high. The girl pulled Leon into a passionate kiss, smiling in contentment, reaching cloud 9000. Pulling away, she whispered against his lips “Let me repay you, Leon. Wanna make you feel just as good”

“Not today, doll.” He whispered, sitting back in his chair and pulling his pants and underwear down, patting his lap “I know how to help you even further”, he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Like an excited bunny, she hopped off his desk and jumped into his lap, resuming her kisses on his mouth - casually descending into his jaw and neck, enjoying the pleased hums that he lets out. He palmed her ass and firmly grabbed it, giving some gentle smacks as she had his fun with him. To Leon, in all of his life, that was his happiest moment: having his pretty princess on his lap, all naked, hypnotized in kissing and feeling him up.

“Go ahead, baby, let me finally empty your mind and use you” he calmly ordered her, caressing her cheeks adoringly. Soon, she positioned herself and slowly sat down on his cock, rolling her eyes back and holding into his chair behind him.

“S-so b-big…” she moaned, her head falling into his shoulders as the girl swallowed all of him. She was so tight, wet and perfect, Leon almost came deep in her cunt just by her inserting him. His head got dizzy for a moment, his hold on her ass tightening, as he grunted and pressed his eyes closed.

Dedicatedly, she began jumping up and down on his cock, their skin slapping as the woman looked directly into his eyes. If anyone saw them at that moment, they would attest that both had heart in their eyes. her tits jumped up and down in front of him, making his tongue and fingers play with them as the couple lost their minds in pleasure.

“Good job, doll… jumping on my cock like the good girl you are… it’s all for you, always for you” he said rambling in pleasure, busying his mouth to tell her praises and roll her sensitive nipples on his tongue, as her cunt drenched his cock, causing a white ring at the base.

Holding tightly into the back of his chair, her hips worked even faster on him, making Leon moan more frequently in pleasure, slapping her ass, leaving behind his handprints on her pretty skin. His head falls back as he watches the goddess in front of him taking what's hers and milking his cock into her hungry pussy. He would make sure that she passed her admission check, so every end of shift he would breed her cunt, till she is finally all of his - the mother of his children, his pretty wife. But that’s a talk for later.

After some minutes pass, Leon takes over and thrusts from below, making her body turn into his own ragdoll, her moans flowing freely into his mouth. Some minutes passed, and both were on the brink of their orgasm, so close to reaching their true paradise “Will you let me fill you, doll? Make your womb so full of me, gonna make you get home with me drenching on your legs” he taunted her.

Not handling much more teasing, and his words serving as a catalyst to her peak, she nods and coats his cock with her sweet arousal, biting down on his shoulder to drown out her sounds. Her roughness and the new tight hold on his cock makes him spill into her gummy walls, emptying himself. Finally, he marked her as his. His doll, his love, his property.

Both were coming down from their highs, trying to control their breathing, letting their heartbeat slow down. He caressed her hair, kissing her cheeks and nuzzling their noses together, all smiles. “So, did I help?” he asked jokingly.

“Didn’t even know why I came here” she answers teasingly.

From now on, Leon would never be exhausted for the wrong reasons ever again.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #infinite darkness #leon kennedy infinite darkness

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lovingmattysposts · 3 months

Text

You don’t know me 16

P1 P2 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P17 P18 P19 P20 P21 P22 P23 P24 P25 P26 P27 P28 P29 P30 P31 P32

pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: you and chris came from two different sides of the spectrum when it came to the social scale. You had the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect parents, but when you start to peal back that layers things got messy. Your life was set and stone, your future was set and stone. That was until he comes and changes everything.

warnings: MENTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP. Not in super detail, just her grabbing her and saying some hurtful toxic things, mentions of alcohol, mentions of losing a loved one

chris pov

Do you know how it feels when you light up a cigarette? I know it might sound stupid to non-avid-smokers, but the feeling you get when you light the flame and breathe in the nicotine and tobacco through your teeth.

It’s almost like a deep breath. Like you’re finally getting your deep breath after you’ve been drowning.

That’s how it felt being with y/n

I guess that’s why I started smoking.

I guess that’s how I got addicted to it.

It’s how I got addicted to her.

She laid against me snoring softly as she held onto me for dear life as she slept. I ran my hands through her perfect hair as she laid there.

I glanced over at the clock.

4:47am

God, I’ve been watching her sleep for a while. She’d been talking about her day, her week. What she’d been doing. I just listened smiling and nodding at her as she spoke. Until she stopped talking and her breaths came, noting she was asleep.

Sometimes I really do wonder how it felt being in her position. Me a couple months ago couldn’t see the situation she was going through anymore that rich people problems. But that was stupid. That was naive.

Shallow minded.

She was kind. She had a good heart. She had dreams.

She wasn’t some stuck up rich girl, she was a person. Believe or not.

She shifted in her sleep, rubbing her face against me even more as her hand shifted under my shirt and rested her smooth manicured hands against my bare chest.

“Mhm Chris”

I glanced down to her eyes. She was still dead asleep. I smiled down at her, pushing the hair out of her face as her mouth parted breathing again.

She even thought about me in her sleep.

I couldn’t stop smiling. Sure, the situation at hand wasn’t ideal. She was in a relationship with the last person who deserved her presence. I just tried not to think about it.

I looked up at the ceiling.

We had spent the rest of the night jumping on her bed trying to place the stars on her ceiling. They glowed softly, being the only light source in the room.

A part of me does feel guilty about the situation. Cheating was never something I stood behind, and clearly at the beginning of whatever we were, she didn’t stand behind it either.

But things got complicated. Things got messy.

And here I was, knee deep in a open relationship.

I wondered what Rose would think about all this. I wondered if all of it never happened, if she stayed, would I still be in Boston? Would I have never moved here? Would we still be together?

Would I have never have met her?

I glanced down at y/n.

I loved Rose, I’ll never not love Rose. But why do I feel guilty for loving someone else now? Someone who’s nothing like Rose.

My heart clenched.

“It’ll always be you Chris. Your heart is so pure” Rose whispered up at me. I pushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her face.

“I’ll never love someone who isn’t you” I whispered back. She smiled and kissed the tip of nose before laying against me. She ran her hands up my chest.

“If something ever happens to me, will you be okay?” Her small voice spoke. I shifted under her.

“Rose, don’t say things like that” I mumbled. She didn’t look up at me. “Chris, I’m serious” She whispered. I furrowed my eyebrows. “Would you fall in love again?” She whispered.

I blinked down at her.

“No” I stated blankly. She looked up at me. Her eyes not smiling. I shook my head. “What are you on about?” I asked looking at her. She took in a breath.

“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else” I shook my head. She swallowed and kissed the side of my face, but her face was twisted. I couldn’t read her.

She laid against my shoulder.

“I don’t want to love anyone who’s not you” I whispered. She stayed silent. I looked down at her, tears were lining her eyes. I shifted.

“Hey, listen to me” I whispered pressing my hands against her face. She looked up at me. “I love you, you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with someone else” I shook my head.

She took in a breath laying back against me, but something didn’t feel right. We both stared at the ceiling as my stereo played softly in the background. Just both of our breathing being the sounds in the dark room.

“I’m not” She mumbled.

“I’m worried you won’t”

That was the last time I saw her. The police found her the next morning.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears pouring down my cheeks. I swallowed. Y/n’s hand moved out of my shirt and wrapped around my body.

My arms were around her, and I didn’t want to wake her up by leaning up and wiping the tears from my face. It’s been years. Years since that conversation. Years since the funeral. Years since I moved here.

I wasn’t lying. I didn’t want to love anyone else.

But I realized something. You don’t choose your life, what happens to you, who you lose, what parents you have, who you fall in love with. It just happens. To try to control that is trying to tell the sun not to shine or the clouds not to rain. It’s impossible.

I meant it when I told her that I didn’t want her to be Rose. I don’t. I never wanted anyone to try to be like her. I loved her for the reasons I loved her and that had nothing to do with Y/n.

It was just harder to admit to her or myself that I had fallen in love again. Especially in a situation like this. I looked up to the fake stars wondering if Rose was proud of me for falling in love again or if she was angry for the way that I fell, the situation I put myself in.

I looked down at Y/n.

“Is it a horrible thing that I feel horrible about falling in love with you?” I whispered down at her sleeping figure. She didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t speak, she was asleep.

I sniffled and looked back up at the ceiling. “It’s killing me that you’re still with him” I whispered next to her. The sounds of her breathing being her only response.

“It’s killing me that I feel like I’m betraying Rose” I said almost not audible. I swallowed staring up at the stars.

I’m so scared. I’m so scared that it won’t work. I’m so scared that she won’t break up with him. I’m so scared of losing someone else. I think it would hurt even more knowing she was alive and still left.

“M’ love you”

My eyes froze at the ceiling, my body stiffened. My gaze trickled down to her. She sighed, her eyes closed. “Chris” she breathed shifting lightly before falling back into the deepness of her sleep.

My breathing became uneasy as I looked down at her. I closed my eyes. I released my arms around her being careful not to wake her up as I grabbed her wrist, prying her from me.

Her eyes didn’t open. I couldn’t breathe. I sat up rolling her over, placing a pillow in the place of me. She hugged the pillow, still not rustling awake.

I stood off her bed as she laid fast asleep. I just stared down at her.

“You love me?” I whispered. No response. Just her chest rising and falling in her sleep. I placed my hands over my face. A sharp pain in my chest.

It scared me to fall in love, but it was even scarier knowing the pressure of her falling in love with me too.

y/n pov

“Y/n!” Sydney yelled wrapping her arms around me. I smiled hugging her back. “Not too bad huh?” I smiled down at her. “No, it’s fucking great!” She yelled over the music. I smiled and nodded.

“And your makeup!” She gushed looking up at me. I smiled and looked down, running my hands through my hair. “Not too much?” I breathed a weight on my chest. She shook her head.

My eyes glanced over my living room, scanning each face. Some I knew, some I didn’t.

“Are you okay?” She asked loudly. I looked back down at her. “Yeah! Have you seen—“ I started to yell before leaning down to her. “Chris?” I whispered. She just stared at me.

“Are you serious?” She glared at me. I swallowed and shrugged. “I don’t know I invited him but—“

“Y/n! It’s your birthday! Forget about that kid” She shook her head. I forced and nod and smile, but still looked around the room. I looked down at my phone.

10:10 pm

The party’s been going on for an hour now. I sighed putting my phone down. “Now, come on. Cayden and Max are in the kitchen taking shots” She dragged me towards the kitchen. I followed her.

I walked into the kitchen catching Max’s eyes. “My birthday girl!” He cheered, pushing people out of the way as he walked over to me. I smiled softly up at him as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

He kissed the top of my head.

“Come on, a shot for the birthday girl!” Max said towards Cayden who was playing bartender. He smiled tipping the vodka into a shot glass. I looked up at Max.

“Max I don’t—“

“Come on babe, it’s your birthday. It’s a hall pass” He said leaning down and kissing me. I pushed away from him. “It’s not about a hall pass, I just don’t-“

He grabbed the shot putting it in my hand. I looked up at him. “Stop being a buzz kill and take the shot” He said staring down at me. I swallowed feeling everyone’s eyes on me.

Max grabbed a shot glass pouring his own. “Ready?” Max said staring down at me. I blinked at him. “Max I don’t want to” I whispered softly up at him.

He took in a breath before reaching down and grabbing the shot out of my hand, turning and looking at someone behind him.

“Shot?”

I tilted my head seeing a blonde push up off the counter and nod. He smiled handing her the shot and they both looked at each other before tapping the glass on the counter and downing the shot.

I just watched them, my mouth slightly parted. Cheers echoed through the kitchen. Max exhaled before looking down at me smiling. I looked over at the blonde who turned and looked at her friends giggling.

“Seriously?” I mumbled looking at him.

“Come on babe it’s not that serious” He said wrapping his arms around my waist. I glanced over to the girl. “She’s a freshman” I mumbled. He raised his eyebrows. “And can take shots better than you” He said.

I glared at him.

“Max” I heard Sydney’s voice say. He turned his head. “What? I’m just saying” He shook his head. I grabbed him arms around me, pushing him away from me walking away.

“Babe! Come on” I heard his voice as I walked away. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I walked through the party.

Where’s Chris?

I felt someone grab my arm. I look up meeting Sydney’s eyes. I pulled my arm back. She sighed looking at me. “Y/n, let it go he’s just drunk” She mumbled. I shook my head.

I turned my head before meeting a pair of familiar eyes.

Nate.

“I’ll be right back” I said looking at her and then walking through the crowd of people. If Nate was here, Chris can’t be that far. “Excuse me” I mumbled as I moved through the people crowding my house.

I ran up to Nate.

“Nate”

He turned from the sound of my voice. He let out a breath as he saw me. “Y/n” He nodded. I smiled slightly and looked around. “Where Chris?” I asked softly. He just looked at me before looking down at his feet.

A bad feeling came up my throat.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. He’s not coming, I didn’t want you to wait up on him” he said looking at me. I just blinked at him. I cleared my throat.

“What—what do you mean? He told me last night, he said he was coming” I shook my head confusion all over my face. He just looked at me.

“Is he okay?” I asked my chest clenching. He just looked at me. “Is he at his house?” I asked looking towards the door.

“Just give him time y/n, he gets like this sometimes” He explained. I shook my head not understanding.

“Gets like what? Nate we were fine yesterday. Is he okay? Did something happen?” I asked shaking my head my pulse quickening. He just stared at me.

“Y/n just calm down” He said looking at me. I shook my head, feeling my heartbeat way too well. “I c-can’t Nate. I can’t lose him, Nate I—why isn’t he here?” I said feeling heat come up my neck.

“He just didn’t want to come”

I stared at him. I shook my head. “No, he told me he would come Nate” I swallowed. He sighed looking at me. “He’s coming” I nodded looking at Nate as he stared at me, pity all over his face.

“I wouldn’t wait up” Nate mumbled before walking past me. I just watched him as he walked out of the house. I stared at the door.

I felt arms come around me once Nate’s presence was gone. I swallowed as I stared at the door. “You didn’t open your present from me” Max said pressing his lip against my ear.

“Max I need to talk to you” I said staring at the door. He sighed as he walked around me. I looked up at him with a straight face.

“Here, I got you a sprite” He said handing me a solo cup. I looked from the cup to him. “I’m not thirsty” I said looking up at him. He rolled his eyes.

“Babe, I’m sorry about before. Just take the drink it’s just sprite” He shook his head looking down at me. I stared at him.

“Max I have to talk to you about something” I said almost a whispered. He took a deep breath looking down at me.

“Take the sprite, open my present. Then we can talk” He said staring down at me. I glanced to the sprite before taking it out of his hand and looking down at it.

“Presents upstairs” He motioned towards my steps. I looked towards then stairs and then back at him. He smiled and grabbed my hand as he led me up the stairs.

I took a drink out of the cup, before rubbing my lips together and looking down at it. It tasted weird. Not like bitter alcohol weird. Like too fizzy weird. I looked up at Max as we made it to the top of the steps.

We walked into my room and he closed the door. I set down the drink turning back to him.

“Look Max I—“

“Present” he said walking over to my dresser and handed me a small box. I looked up at him as he watched me. I sighed as I undid the box.

A small necklace was on display in the box.

A gold necklace.

I don’t wear gold.

I looked up at his smiling face. “Do you like it?” He smiled. I sighed setting the box down. “It’s beautiful Max” I said looking up at him. He smiled as he stepped forwards and pressed his lips to mine.

I kissed him back softly as he gripped my hips. I wiggled out of his grip on me. “Max you’re gonna wrinkle my dress” I said looking up at him. He just shook his head smiling.

“I don’t care” he chuckled moving back over to me and kissing me again and grabbed me. I moved my face away from him and he just started to kiss my neck. “Max, the party I have to-“ I breathed. His hand came up around my throat. “Stop talking” his grip tightened. I whined at the grip he had on me. I hated it.

I wiggled my arms between us and it just caused his grip to tighten against me. This didn’t feel good. This didn’t feel like how I felt when I was with Chris. This felt like the exact opposite.

I tried to swallowed. I felt dizzy. I managed to get my arms between us before shoving him off of me.

“Max!” I cried as I pushed him, as my fingers came up to my neck. “What?” He breathed looking at me. I felt my eyes start to water.

“Why were you grabbing me like that?” I said looking up at him, trying to lower my heart rate. “Like what? It was to turn you on” He said shaking his head. I glared at him.

“Why the fuck would that turn me on?” I said shaking my head. He just stood there and stared at me, like he didn’t know what to say. My throat ran dry and I walked over to the sprite before drinking some more, but there was a weird taste to it.

I looked up at him, he just stared at me.

“Is this diet or something?” I asked setting the cup down. He just looked at me and shrugged. I shook my head looking away from him.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought we would—“

“We would what? Have sex?” I asked glaring at him. He just blinked at me, before his gaze hardened.

“You’re acting like that’s out of the question, you’re my girlfriend and I can’t remember the last time you let me touch you” His voice raised.

I turned away from him.

“That’s not the y/n I know—and to be honest? It’s really pissing me off” he said grabbing me, making me turn to him. I looked down on his grip on me. “Max” I breathed bending slightly from the pain.

“What? Are you getting it from someone else? Cause you’re not getting it from me” He spat down at my face. I winced and attempted to pull from him.

“You’re hurting me” my voice broke. He pulled me closer to him. “Answer the question” he said through gritted teeth. I swallowed and shook my head.

“Huh? Are you cheating on me? Are you that much of a slut?” He spat down at me. “Max” I cried pulling against his grip. He fought me, before grabbing my other arm and pushing me against the wall. I winced from the pain of the impact. I turned my head as he leaned his face to mine.

“Max you’re just drunk snap out of it” I cried as I squeezed my eyes closed. “You’re a slut. You know that? You’re a slut” He screamed at me as the door pushed open.

Max turned his head before he let me go and I fell slightly.

I blinked my eyes open seeing Sydney standing there, slightly in shock. Her eyes widened looking between us. She swallowed.

“Uh, I was just gonna tell y/n that the cake’s here. Everyone’s waiting” She whispered. Max sighed and looked down. I just shook against the wall.

Max looked at me before looking back at Sydney.

“Just give us a second” He mumbled.

I pushed myself off the wall before walking past both of them and out of my room, tears burning at my eyes.

I was so embarrassed. So fucking embarrassed that Sydney saw that.

I walked down the steps wiping my eyes, and I felt the werid feeling of dizziness come over me again. I shook my head as I made it to the end of the steps.

I looked up seeing everyone looking at me. The noise of them singing happy birthday washed over me. I just stood frozen as Cayden walked over to me holding a cake with candles, but his voice altered when he saw my face.

I scanned the room as I looked at every face. Not one of them being the face I wanted to see.

Cayden stood in front of me as I looked down feeling the flames from the candle way too much as the song finished.

I just looked up at him before pushing past him and out of my front door. I just needed Chris. He could make it all better. I just had to get to Chris.

As the cold air washed over me, I felt the dizziness again. I shook my head as I reached down, pulling the heels off my face as I sprinted down the street.

Chris’s face being the only thing I could see as I ran.

tag list: still waiting to do this i dont have the time rn, love you all

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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b3gger · 10 months

Text

König’s Eyes

eye contact with shy König (2500+ words)

“I can’t focus when you’re looking at me like that.”

How cute. For a man as big as König, you didn’t expect him to be so… shy? But he wasn’t shy. You’ve seen him engage with others, but then again they were always the same two or so people. Even now as we you watch him sitting, his frame seemingly taking up the entirety of the couch, he seemed to be relaxed and chill, exchanging a few words here and there with his friends.

Maybe you’d know if he was shy if you could see his face. After all, facial expressions showcase a lot regarding a person’s behavior. But it was always hidden under that stupid headgear of his.

But honestly? Who cares? Not when the fabric of his pants were clinging on for dear life around his thighs. It seemed to bunch up around his crotch, fabric riding up at every movement König made. You don’t know if you’re going crazy but you could’ve sworn that the pure tightness of the pants showed every movement of his muscle, contracting and flexing at every turn.

If you touched his thighs, do you think you could feel it? The sheer strength and power that lays right underneath those pants weren’t too far. The pants were the only barrier, a thin one at that, separating you from gripping his thighs as tightly as the pants were at this moment. If they were off, you would have access to his bare skin. His bare and contracting, powerful thighs….. stop.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Counting to 3, you slowly exhale before opening your eyes, staring up at the ceiling deciding whether or not to call it a night and go home. You weren’t too keen on staying out late and just drinking all night knowing there was work to be done tomorrow. But that sounded like it was a problem for future you.

Your mind wonders again on what König is up to. You look away from the ceiling to glance at him and oh? He’s looking at you. But just as you catch him, he looks away quickly. Was he pretending that he wasn’t looking? Cute.

You finished your drink before signaling to your bartender you were leaving the bar. They gave you a nod before picking up your empty glass to put away. You look towards where König is sitting. Your stare must’ve been heavy because he soon glanced at you. You saw his eyes slightly widen before once again he started to look elsewhere. That wouldn’t do.

You got up and started walking towards him. König tilted his head in curiosity at your approaching figure, eyes darting back and forth from his friends to you. He felt his vision shake as you leaned down close to his face.

“Can I sit here?” you asked. He nodded and so you slid in beside him. You moved around a bit to get comfortable and glanced at him, almost laughing when you realized how stiff and still he was. You poked him a little but it sent him flying up, huge eyes turning to you fast in question.

“Just making sure you weren’t dead by how frozen you were,” you grinned at him. He huffed before relaxing his body, leaning back on the couch with you,” You could’ve called my name.”

You let out a laugh,” Where’s the fun in that?” König glances at you and rolls his eyes. You settle further into the couch, the soft cushions doing wonders to your back. You feel tears gathering in your eyes, blurring your vision as a yawn creeps upon you. You blink them away before settling your gaze on König’s side profile, wondering what expression he was making under the mask.

Was he as tired as me? Hmm. You felt your gaze lowering as they once again settled on his thighs with those tight, tight pants on. You weren’t that far away, just a hand away and you could feel it pulsing under your fingers. “You’re staring,” König muttered.

“Huh?” You look up, kind of embarrassed at being caught at this close proximity. However, the embarrassment quickly went away as soon as you caught a hint of red under that gear of his. It seemed to blossom suddenly, making it seem like his face was flushed and rosy. Even the gear couldn’t hide the fact that he was nervous from your stares. It could conceal it, sure, but the tiny evidence was seen on the eye sockets of the gear as well as his nervous, stumbling demeanor.

His eyes also revealed his nervousness. They seemed to be doing flips, darting from you to elsewhere, not able to keep eye contact or look at you in general, “I-I said you’re staring.”

You can feel a smile creeping onto your face at the small stutter,” Sorry, what was that?”

König huffs a little and stays quiet much to your disappointment. You wish and want him to say more but you don’t want to push him. He has trouble enough interacting with others, you don’t want to add to the number. You were content with the small exchanges knowing that this conversation, although dry and short, was good. Unsatisfying, yes, but still good progress. Maybe with more interactions like this, you could decrease his shyness around you so you could talk with him more freely.

You stand up, stretching to release the tension in your body to prepare for the trip back to your place. You check your pockets to make sure you have your wallet and everything else on you before digging your keys out. You then turn to König, giving him a smile,” I think I’m gonna head back now. I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

König looks at you, blinking rapidly as if he was trying to process your words. You tilt your head, questioning him with your eyes to see if he would say anything. It didn’t have to be grand, but you did hope he’d say bye verbally, just to hear his voice.

Eventually, he stopped blinking and looked up at you, but at the same time not at you? It seemed like he was just staring at your forehead or something beyond you. He then nodded. You squint your eyes knowing this was his response to your goodbye. You feel your nerves hitting you but gather yourself quickly, knowing König just had a hard time talking and you shouldn’t get upset. You gave him a small smile again,” Alright, good night, Konig.”

You turn to leave and start walking towards the exit of the bar, saying your goodbyes to your other friends on the way out. As you reach the outside of the bar, you pause to look up at the night sky, stars decorating every inch of the world above you. It reminds you of König’s eyes, how they seemed to sparkle and twinkle when he found something he liked. How his eyes seemed to carry his thoughts and feelings, but were always closed off to you due to the lack of eye contact from him.

Your mind then wonders to your small interactions with König. You know you said tonight was good progress, but it was still frustrating. You let out a sigh of disappointment but looking at sky would do for now. You considered it to be König’s second pair of eyes and would gaze at the night sky, imagining it was him looking back at you, showing you his inner self and leaving himself to be dissected by you so you could understand his thoughts and feelings.

“Hey.”

You turn quickly in surprise at the sudden voice calling out for you, stumbling a bit in the progress. You let a breath out in relief when you realized it was just König staring down at you in worry. He managed to mumbled out an apology while you gathered yourself from your previous shock and stumble, wondering what the man was up to. It wasn’t like him to suddenly come after you.

“Is everything alright, König?”

His eyes darted around, seemingly going up and down and sideways and just about anywhere that wasn’t you. You squint your eyes at his strange behavior as you analyze him, noticing how he seemed to be slouching and crouched as if trying to make himself seem smaller. He was fumbling with his fingers, not to the point where it was noticeable but the small taps and sliding gave it away. You stared at the man in front of you, worry starting to creep in at his bizarre behavior. This wasn’t the usual nervousness he displayed and you were starting to feel anxious yourself, “König, seriously, is everything alright? You’re starting to freak me out.”

“I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like that.”

You take a small, sharp breath in, body freezing in shock as you try to process his words,” What?”

König looks down at his feet, his hands tightly wrapped around each other,” I try my best, but I can’t. You just… do something to me. I-I try to talk but your gaze just makes me clam up and then I can’t focus or talk and-“

“Okay, okay, big guy. I get it,” you laugh at his rambling, knowing he’d continue on and on if you didn’t interrupt. And as tempting as it was to let him continue, the man in front of you looked like he was about to die of nervousness. Coming up to you and saying all this must have taken great courage and you were proud of König for taking that step.

“König, I understand it takes you time to feel comfortable and speak with people. So please don’t worry too much. I value our small conversations,” you reassure him, reaching out toward his hands to take them apart to instead hold each of his hands in yours. You hold it between the both of you before squeezing it, waiting patiently for him to look at you.

And while it took a minute, he looked down at his hands that were held together with yours and then looked at you shyly, “ I just feel like I chased you away. I wanted you to stay, but in the end, even saying goodbye was too hard. I’m sorry.”

You grin at him, looking at his twinkling eyes that conveyed his regret,” As long as you continue to look at me, I’ll forgive you anytime for anything.” You see the familiar red settle around his eyes through the sockets of the headgear, knowing König was blossoming once again. He quickly looked away from your gaze but kept his hands conjoined with yours. Your grin widens into a big, fat smile at this tiny victory.

You bring his hands towards your lips, softly kissing at his knuckles,” Looking away so soon?” You loved the way his knuckles felt on your lips, hoping the shape, texture, and feeling of the small kiss would be ingrained in your brain. But what you wished and hoped most of all was that your brain would remember the way König turned to look at you, eyes wide in shock at the sudden kiss on his hands, a small noise escaping his mouth as he jolted in surprise,” W-what?!”

You lowered his hands down from your mouth, but did not let go. Instead, you clasped your hands around his and pulled causing him to stumble towards you. The small stumble caused the two of you to stop holding hands as he fell into your embrace. Your hands held onto his waist in order to stabilize him while his hands were on top of your shoulders, holding onto you for support. The position was laughable as the roles should’ve been switched due to König’s size. But you didn’t want to switch the roles, this felt right. It worked for you because having him lean onto you for support was doing something to you.

It made you want to take care of him. It made you want him to see you as a safe and open person that he could go to and depend on. You didn’t realize you were subconsciously gripping onto his waist more and more until he tapped your shoulders. You looked up at him loosening your grip but not letting go, giving him a small, bright smile,” Clumsy, aren’t you, König?”

He huffs as he rolls his eyes and then looked down at you trying to make eye contact. He seemed like he was smiling back by the way his eyes seemed to crinkle and become shaped like crescents. You bring him closer to you by pulling on his waist,” If I knew it only took a small stumble to have you on me, I’d have done it sooner.”

He gives a small laugh at that,” I’m surprised you held back this long. I know you stare.”

You tilt your head in curiosity, wondering what he was hinting at. He must’ve seen your confused look because he cleared his throat and looked away from your questioning gaze,” You know… the stares. In there. At my.. you know.”

You blink trying to process at what he was trying to convey. His slow, delayed speech was making your brain short circuit. Hmm, lets see. In the bar staring at his what? Oh! Oh. You let out a loud laugh and he crouches down and rests his head on your shoulder as if trying to hide his embarrassment. You lean the side of your head onto his head and continue laughing,” Should I stop staring? Maybe it’ll help you focus.”

You felt him shake his head no as he began to switch from holding your shoulders with his hands to wrapping both of his arms around you, his head still buried on you neck as he hid in embarrassment. He muffled something and you lifted your head a little from his and turned to try to look at him, your hands softly squeezing his waist in question,” I can’t hear you, König.”

He rose up from his hiding place and looked down at you, arms still around you,” I said continue staring….looking at me. Please, have your eyes on me at all times.”

As you gaze into his eyes, you see it twinkle and sparkle. You could have sworn they were brighter than the night sky at that moment. No, you don’t swear, you know. His eyes are the brightest.

His eyes seemed to be like a door made for you to unlock, so that you may gaze inside his brain to see it filled with feelings and thoughts of you. But you felt the same way. It felt as though nothing but König filled your head. It was overflowing and you could not think or imagine anything else. Your plans of going home were destroyed and you honestly didn’t know what to do anymore. All you wanted to do was stay here with König in your embrace, your hands on his waist, his arms wrapped around you, his eyes gazing down into your eyes for what seemed like the longest time ever. This was where you wanted to be forever.

#konig #konig x reader #konig fluff #konig call of duty #call of duty #dom!reader #sub!character #sub konig #konig fic #fem!reader #gender neutral reader #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #könig cod #cod x reader #konig imagine #könig fluff #könig modern warfare #könig x reader

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 4 months

Text

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: mention of an emotional affair

Word Count: 3143 words

a/n: the chapter I have been waiting for. :') it is time. I look forward to your reactions and feedback! It'll definitely help me work on my writing for these types of scenes in the future! :D Enjoyyy! <3

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Chapter 7

When you thought about it, you had a lot of feelings going on at the moment. Your emotional state felt like a merry-go-round that was never-ending. There were times when you didn’t know what to think when it came to your situation with the boys. This was one of those times.

All your life you had learnt that the bond between mates was sacred and predestined. You were taught that it was something that couldn’t be explained with logic, it was a connection so heavenly and divine, you were tied to one another for forever and more. To a point, you believed that there was indeed a revered and sanctified essence to the bond you and your mates created. But was it really unbreakable?

When you sought therapy from Chan’s friend Ryunjin, she didn’t give you a complete doom and gloom outlook on things. She reassured that there could be a possibility of reconciliation but, not everything was necessarily foreordained.

“Is it even worth it to continue? I feel like it’s all been a lie.” you dispassionately asked.

“In a perfect world, there would be no mistakes. So then, it might be fair to walk away in that case. But realistically, we are all prone to committing errors, and if we were to always leave and continue searching for perfection, we’ll always be searching and never satisfied.”

“I don’t know if I could trust them.”

“That’s fair, you don’t need to immediately off the bat, you should first talk to them and take it from there. I‘ll be honest, you know deep down the right answer, it’s up to you to decide what is best for you.”

Yes, fate allowed you to meet the boys.

Yes, fate brought you all together as each other’s mates.

Yes, fate played a significant role in your relationship when you thought about it.

But fate also played a harsh game with you, as some would say. You were thrust into an emotional upheaval and everything you ever knew and were told about love and relationships was far from the truth. So yes, you believed a relationship was sacred and you believed people were meant to come into your life and cross paths for a reason. But it did not mean they would necessarily always be a part of the journey.

Ultimately, you still loved the boys. And deep down, the thought of just walking away felt unacceptable given that there was still a lot that you wished to communicate, discuss and get off your chest. Once you had gotten past the anger that simmered inside of you like a boiling pot, you felt more reassured that you could have a civil discussion with a firm and determined but also calm resolve.

It surprised you just how much anger there was contained in you. As you continued your sessions and Ryunjin continued asking questions and poked you for answers, it all erupted like a volcano.

And it felt really good to let it all out.

However, you didn't expect things to happen so soon. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren't really sure when the right time would present itself, so you decided to leave it up to fate. If anything, your belief had been further strengthened given the last few months. Life may have been harsh, but it resolidified the courage and strength that you didn’t realize you had in you.

Minho had informed you that your bond to the boys would remain passive as if it was in a deep slumber until you chose to communicate with them. With no communication in the past six months, they could not sense where you were but rather feel your lingering presence somewhere.

At the window, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho all stood with glassy eyes as they peered inside. Only Hongjoong wore an unreadable expression.

Your mind wandered to your past.

Kim Hongjoong was the reserved but charming boy in your primary school who you befriended as it was just the two of you who sat at a table alone, everyone else in their own little groups. He looked at you occasionally and you thought he was weird. It wasn’t until during lunch when you heard some of your classmates snickering about you behind your back, he passed you a cookie, sat next to rather than opposite you, and told you he liked your hair which was in a pretty French braid. He then attempted to engage in a conversation about which games you liked to play and things you liked to do. Though a bit apprehensive, you became comfortable with him after a while and from then on, the two of you were two peas in a pod.

As you got older, it wasn’t necessarily a romantic bond. Being the two introverts that you were, both of you spent time fairly often together and hardly with anyone else. You were best friends and wherever one of you was, the other was sure to be there or nearby. When both of you attended high school, Hongjoong was the center of attention for most girls. They would gift him lavish presents on his birthday and any holidays that came by, hoping that he would return their feelings. He didn’t but you found it amusing how well liked he was.

“They don’t know how annoying you really are.” You joked.

He would respond by playfully pulling your ear and ruffling your hair. Hongjoong never told you this, but as much as he liked to mess with you, he also liked to take care of you. When you would question if your hair looked good, he would gently fix it and tell you how beautiful you looked. He would wait for you outside your classroom when your classes were separate and treat you to delicious snacks and treats from time to time. He couldn’t explain it at the time, you were special to him although you weren’t bonded, and it irked him when someone would try to woo you off your feet.

Like the time you received a rose from a classmate for your birthday, Hongjoong was not amused. He latched onto you and followed you everywhere you went, and then brood at the person trying to sweet talk you.

Then on your 16th birthday, you both bonded and realized you were each other’s better half. It all made sense now in your minds and Hongjoong adored you more than anything.

The next two years were just the two of you, filled with fondness, devotion and tenderness.

Snapping back to the present, you were frozen in your spot. There they were, and excluding Mingi, it had been six months since you last saw them. They all still looked the same as far as you could tell in contrast to yourself, who now sported blonde highlights and layered hair complimented with a small nose ring on the right side of your nose.

You invited them in, joined two tables with their assistance and brought out eight cups of peppermint and chamomile tea. You sat at the head of the table with four boys each on either side. No one attempted to break the lingering silence.

Until Seonghwa did.

"Your hair looks very pretty." He complimented in a sweet soft voice.

"T-thank you." You slightly bowed, touching your hair. It caught you off guard, they seemed to be so calm and that puzzled you.

"Mingi told us about you being here," Yunho stated, "We felt your bond after a long time."

"Mhm," You nodded in response, "When I got cornered, I initiated it to alert Mingi."

"Who were they?" San asked.

"Humans turned into rogues actually. My friend Changbin did some research, just like what we heard back home, some of the rogues managed to escape here and turned anyone who offered their loyalty and liked to wreck havoc."

You heard slight snarls emitting from some of the boys. Given everything that happened with the rogues, each of them was ready to tear any of them apart if given the chance.

"We're so glad you're okay. When Mingi told us what you've been doing, we felt comforted to know you were somewhere safe." Jongho declared.

Hongjoong scoffed.

There it was. If there was anyone out of eight of them who wouldn't hesitate to hide his annoyance and anger, it would be Hongjoong.

"Are we done with the small talk and pretending like we aren't mad?" He announced.

"Hongjoong." Seonghwa warned.

"No, I will not keep quiet," he seethed, turning to you with pure, fiery anger in his eyes, "Tell me Y/N, was it fun? Frolicking around and pretending like you didn't have any mates waiting for you."

"Hongjoong!" Wooyoung yelled.

But Hongjoong ignored everyone and continued, "We were worried sick, we were broken, we needed you and here you are living your life without any regret."

"It's not like that Hongjoong." You started.

"That's enough Hongjoong!” Mingi exclaimed.

"No, it's not enough, don't you remember the pain you were feeling Mingi? The aching feeling and sleepless nights. We were all miserable, and not just us, the young ones at the daycare were pining for her too but she didn't even care."

"You don't know..."

"Don't know what? Tell me what I don't know Y/N. Because it seems my mother was right about you."

That one statement paused everything. For a moment, you reeled yourself at Hongjoong's words. Kim Hongjoong was the first one you met, the first one you bonded to and the first one you kissed and shared most intimate moments with in the beginning before meeting the others. It was just you and him before meeting Mingi and now, he sat across from you saying the one thing you hoped you would never hear him say.

"Maybe my mom was right."

Mrs Kim hated you and you never knew why. But those sessions with Ryunjin revealed something.

“She hates you because you have what she couldn’t.”

It didn't take long for you to see red. The anger you once thought you had come to terms with erupted again and in your subconscious you slowly put the pieces together. Hongjoong's mother was the reason for the majority of your insecurities and while the boys did carry their own faults in neglecting you, she was the cause that made you spiral further. She was the one pushing Lila and she was the one who would make comments about the boys not liking a whining Luna, and the "fact" that a Luna is supposed to not be a nuisance to her mates. All because, in her eyes and mind, she saw you as an embodiment of what she could never have again.

And just like that, you snapped.

"You're a real piece of work Kim Hongjoong," you snarled viciously.

Hongjoong's eyes snapped in surprise along with everyone else’s by your tone. No Luna as far as it was known would use that kind of tone with her mate. And the fact that you did was extremely shocking to them.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me," you bit back ferociously, "You have the guts to sit there and accuse me so shamelessly as if you are a saint who never messes up or makes a mistake."

Hongjoong didn't respond, he glared at you trying to assert dominance but failed.

"You're talking about the pain you felt, okay fine, I won't dispute your feelings. But what about how I felt? What about my sleepless nights and my aching heart. Does none of that matter? You’re completely disregarding my feelings? I was falling apart Hongjoong! I was crushed and at my wits end and you know more than anything how hard I tried to get your mother's approval, only for you to sit there and tell me she was right? Was she really? Because I sacrificed a lot more than you did Kim Hongjoong and you know that. What do you not know Hongjoong? You know everything and you know exactly what you did." You barked.

"Wait..." Yeosang interrupted, "Y/N what do you mean?"

You narrowed your gaze at Hongjoong who looked everywhere but at you, poking his cheek with his tongue. Tears streamed down your face uncontrollably and you felt your resolve breaking apart slowly but you held your ground.

"Do you remember what you told me Hongjoong? I should dress up more like Lila. Kind of funny how you were so into how she dressed and what she wore. I knew you two had a similar interest in fashion, so I tried to write it off, but then the way you hugged her, the way you were so into what she was doing, your "harmless" messages…you knew exactly what you were doing."

"What are you trying to say—"

"YOU WERE HAVING AN EMOTIONAL AFFAIR!” You shrieked. “You were emotionally cheating on me Hongjoong and you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew my insecurities but you didn't care, you expected me to keep quiet and still be there for you because "I'm your mate" and I was supposed to listen to you and obey. You were using me Hongjoong exactly like what your mother did to your father."

The breaking of this revelation sent everyone in a spiral. They hadn't realized till all the pieces clicked together. That's why Hongjoong had Lila around so much, that's why he would keep suggesting they all should stay out late and do things. He was trying to cover his tracks because not only was he emotionally cheating on you but also on them. But it would have only been clear when you found out.

Hongjoong's mother did the same thing to his father after Hongjoong was born. It was during the sealing of the realms and his father, being clan leader, was away majority of time as a witness to the sealing. Mrs Kim found solace in another clan member until Mr Kim found out and denounced his bond with her. They continued to live together for the sake of their children as having separated parents was frowned upon and subjected the child to unfair treatment, but Hongjoong’s father built up a lot of resentment for years to come and never considered rekindling the connection. He wanted nothing to do with her romantically.

As such, Mrs Kim didn't like the way you were living such an idyllic life — you had a blissful relationship that she would never have again.

And she rathered Lila because she was the daughter of the clan member, the one who was exiled from the pack, her former love affair, and who joined another pack on the other side of town. No, she wasn’t Mrs Kim's child, Mrs Kim just simply preferred her over you.

Your voice broke the boys out from their dazes.

"I loved you Kim Hongjoong and I still do. Gosh, I still care so much about you even though I shouldn’t and I still want to make it work because I know, I know you aren't a horrible person, at least I thought you weren’t. But now I'm wondering if I really know you at all."

And that's all it took for Hongjoong's facade to break. He thought you wouldn’t find out. He knew what he was doing was wrong but his infatuation got the best of him. Truly, it started off as any ordinary friendship. Lila was kind and nice and that was that. But there were times when she would subtly flirt with him. At first, he paid no heed and rejected her affections. But after a while, when work and meetings became a bit overbearing and his mother would annoy him with the same old tell-tale of you not being good enough for him despite his reprimands that you meant everything to him, he allowed some reciprocation now and again but without any physical attachment. He thought that wouldn’t define it as him cheating…

But it did and he knew it. So he would rope in the other boys to go to lunches or dinners. They were friendly with Lila too so it wouldn’t come off as too odd, in contrast to if it was just the two of them. Hongjoong was aware that the boys did not really care for Lila like they did for you, and it would take a bit of coaxing to get them to join. Heck, even he didn’t care for her like that but it was such a spur of the moment, he couldn’t help it. He had a feeling some of the boys were questioning him before you disappeared but after your disappearance, they had all hit a wall and it was never revealed.

“I hate you.” You seethed.

Those three words broke Hongjoong from his daze. You, his best friend, first love, his first in many things, hated him and it was all his fault. He wronged you and continued to do so because he was trying to run away from the fact that his actions were damning and inexcusable. In his mind, still communicating with Lila would mean he hadn’t really done anything wrong. It was a twisted and poor attempt of trying to absolve himself from taking accountability. He could feel Mingi and Seonghwa’s fiery gazes and he was too terrified to look up to see the others.

You got up and stormed out of the café. The others just stared blankly in shock and despair from what they just heard. Hongjoong didn’t deny it and it felt like a ton of bricks hitting them all at once.

As you rushed out, Chan, Jisung, Minho and Jeongin passed by. They came to check on you but when you brushed past without acknowledging them and Chan saw your mates through the window, he immediately asked Minho to go after you. Jisung turned all around to figure out what just happened, but when he saw your mates on the other side of the window, he was not pleased. Chan felt Jisung's shift in aura. It was much darker than Jisung’s usually fun and joyful temperament and character. While Jisung may not be very good at fighting, he was very good at magic and spells, and at using strategy and wit over bod. And when someone hurts a person close to him, well, it doesn't usually end very well.

“Since when does Jisung float?” Jeongin asked.

Jisung began levitating with a menacing glare piercing through the window. Good things the streets were clear for the night.

“Oh dear,” Chan muttered, “This isn’t good.”

Jisung left the two behind, stormed into the café and scowled at the eight men.

"So,” he retorted with one hand in the air and a dark and purple cloud engulfing the room, “Which one of you is Hongjoong now, hm?"

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Tag list:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush @lomons @explorewithd @chatsgotmytongue @scarfac3 @popcatx0 @angrynightnight @sannieluvrr @idfkeddieishot @alicia-dpa @park-simphwa @puppyminnnie @mysticfire0435 @sundayysunshine @chngbnwf

(I just got the chance to go through my activity and add all who requested to be on the tag list. There were quite a few notifs so if I missed you, firstly, I'm really sorry!! Please send me a private message so I can add you to the list! It'll be easier for me to catch!)

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez series #poly!ateez

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greg-montgomery · 7 months

Text

any other world - part 1

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader - soulmate au

series masterlist

prologue

once again a huge thanks to this angel @criminalskies 🥹🫂🩷

(38)

“Haley, I said no.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to that name.” She smiled; Aaron assumed it wasn’t a genuine reaction, but more of an attempt to lighten up the mood.

This happened a lot. She’d say something that made him think of you, he’d have a reaction, and she’d pretend she didn’t notice. It broke his heart, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“If you have a different name in mind I’m open to suggestions,” she added, taking his hands in hers.

He leaned in to kiss her. “Just any other name besides Jack. Please.”

“Okay.”

(20)

“Aaron…” you whined, kicking one of the pillows that decorated your bed on the floor. “Be done with it already.”

“My exam is at 8 am. I won’t have any time to revise in the morning. Just give me thirty more minutes.”

“I can’t sleep without you.”

“I know. But if I come to your bed to study, I will not be studying,” he argued, since there was no need of you to say anything for him to get what you were insinuating.

“I’ll just lay my head on your chest. I promise I won’t even talk to you.”

“Fine,” he said, always unable to say no to you; even though your weight on him and your sweet scent would definitely make the letters on his papers start dancing.

But you kept your promise. You carefully laid on him, letting him wrap one of his arms around you. The only thing you did before closing your eyes was kissing the inside of his wrist, just like you did every night.

“Good night.”

“Good night, tulip,” he whispered and turned his attention back to his notes. He’d ace the test and then he’d get to hear the words ‘I’m so proud of you, baby!’ from your sweet lips. Then all the sleepless nights of studying would be worth it.

(21)

That couldn’t be right. There was no way that was right.

H.B.

Aaron would never forget the heartbroken look on your face when you saw those letters. The way your excited smile faded into an expression that went straight through his heart and made it bleed.

He was desperate to comfort you, but how could he find the right words to say when his whole world was crumbling in front of his eyes too? Every single dream, every single plan for the future, every single promise had vanished into thin air.

“These are not my initials,” you said quietly. You were still holding his hand in yours, staring at the new mark on his skin.

“Baby…” he whispered, cupping your cheek.

“No, Aaron,” you said, your eyes slowly filling with tears, “These are not my initials.”

Aaron pulled you into his arms as you broke down crying. You were holding onto him with a strength he didn’t know you had. He rubbed your back, trying to clear up his own thoughts.

How could the girl in his arms not be his soulmate? His best friend, his lover, his partner in everything? You were his family.

“I don’t care,” he whispered in your ear. “I don’t care what the mark says. You’re my soulmate.”

“I’m not,” you sobbed, pulling back so you could sit face to face again.

“You are. You’re the love of my life.”

“Apparently I’m not though,” you raised your voice. He knew you weren’t angry at him, you were angry at life. “God, Aaron, what the fuck? How could we have been so wrong?”

“We haven’t been wrong. I’m not gonna let an unknown fucking force decide who I’m spending my life with. You’re the one I want and I’m staying with you.”

“That’s not how it goes.”

“That’s exactly how it goes.”

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, the way you always did to calm yourself down.

“Maybe we’re just meant to be friends.”

Aaron grabbed your jaw with his hand and pulled your face close to his, “Tell me when I was inside you earlier making you cry about how good you felt, did it feel like we were meant to be just friends?”

You wrapped your hand around his wrist and removed his hand from your face. “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“That’s actually all that matters to me.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips. “What are we going to do, Aaron?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out, as long as we’re together.”

“This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.”

“I know, my tulip.”

“It’s unfair,” you added, like a kid whose toy was stolen by their sibling.

“I know. But I love you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Aaron was grateful you let him hold you when he pulled you into a warm embrace. But it was impossible to keep the thoughts from running into dark places. Like the clear skin on your own wrist which would be soon stained with initials that weren’t going to be his either.

(21)

It felt like the mark on Haley’s wrist was mocking you.

A.H.

The two letters you had been craving all your life to have them written on your skin, were decorating her wrist instead.

Haley was beautiful, smart, popular. The perfect girl next door.

You and Aaron had met her in high school. She was staring in a school play he was forced to participate in because of a bet he’d lost. You got along with her pretty well, and so did Aaron.

Back then you weren’t worried over the way they both used to geek over Star Wars – which you simply couldn’t get into, no matter how hard Aaron had tried to make you love – during rehearsals. You weren’t worried when he’d invited her to his birthday party that year and you had noticed her eyes sparkle when he had played his favorite Beatles’ song.

Back then none of that mattered. Because back then, Aaron was your soulmate.

Yet you still couldn't hate Haley, because she was in pain too.

Her birthday only a month after Aaron’s had confirmed your suspicions that his soulmate was her. And you could relate to her heartbreak, when Aaron had to break the news to her. When he informed her that no matter what their wrists said, he was choosing you instead.

Neither of you truly had him, and in that way you understood her.

(21)

“Here.” You placed the hot cup of coffee you’d made for Aaron, next to his book.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, reaching out his hand to touch your waist under your shirt. With that motion he pulled you close to him, so you were standing right in front of his chair.

He wrapped his arms around you and your own hands got lost between his hair. Aaron left a tiny kiss on your stomach and looked up at you. “I’m anxious.”

“You’re going to do great. You’ve been studying non-stop for days now.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing enough,” he admitted.

“You’re always so hard on yourself.” Your thumb rubbed the short hair on his temples as you kissed the tip of his nose. The nose kiss was followed by a soft one on his lips, before you pulled away again. “You’re doing more than enough. And I’m so proud of you.”

His dimples made an appearance and your heart smiled at your success. “There’s my boy.”

“Shut up,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. You could just pinch his cheeks every time you made him shy.

“Do you want me to help? We can go through some questions together. I’ll ask, you’ll answer.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking through his notes. “Haley gave me-”

At the realization of saying her name, he paused.

“It’s okay, you can mention her around me, I’m not gonna break,” you said, hoping you successfully hid the fact that you were annoyed.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Her cousin took the same exams last year, so she gave me his notes. He has written down all the questions that were on the test.”

“Good then. Let’s get to work.”

(45)

“Good night, buddy,” he whispered, leaving a sweet kiss on his son’s forehead. Jack usually replied with a ‘Good night, daddy,’ but he was already fast asleep.

As Aaron made his way to the living room in order to clear up the floor from his son’s toys, he heard a knock on his door.

He walked towards it as silently as he could, and looked through the peep hole; the fear of a possible intruder still poisoning his blood.

But the face he saw on the other side of the door took his breath away.

A face he hadn’t seen in years. A face he saw every night in his sleep.

He didn’t let a second more to pass before opening his door.

“Y/N?” he said in a breath.

Your eyes were red, and full of tears. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

tag list: @magical-spit @lilsunshine1092 @hiraethrhapsody @cult-of-enji-todoroki @emo-markie

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch 🪐#any other world

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spookyserenades · 8 months

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Trouvaille - Chapter Nine

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; 21.8k

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Updates on the 7th of each month

Dana here! Hope you all had a lovely summer, and are excited for the autumn months. Welcome to Chapter Nine! A fairly fluffy update, I hope you all enjoy. Just a bit of spookiness at the end, and a fair bit of witchiness going on on in this chapter. As always, I love to hear your thoughts and feedback, and thank you for reading Trouvaille! Stay tuned for the October Samhain update ;)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Y/N! Right on time, dear, come on in,” Judy exclaimed as soon as the rattling witch bells on the door to her shop clattered against the glass with Y/N’s arrival.

The shop was hazy, filled with syrupy palo santo smoke, and the CD player was already pulsing hypnotic Enya through the speakers. Eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, Y/N headed towards the back of the shop while dodging the crowded tables of inventory, where Judy was poking her frizzy head of hair out from behind the beaded curtains to the reading rooms. Y/N deposited her tote bag and lunch on the counter behind the register, hurrying after Judy who had disappeared into the recesses of the reading rooms.

“Good morning, Judy, how have you been?” Y/N cheerily greeted the older woman, who was sorting through a large piece of furniture with many drawers in the smallest room closest to the back of the building. The darkened room was filled with candlelight, at least thirty different potted plants, a low table littered with crystals and two round cushions to sit on.

“Just fine, just fine…” Judy replied distractedly, Y/N unsure as to what she should be doing. She didn’t even know when the shop was going to be open for business, let alone what her responsibilities for the day were yet. Judy made a noise of triumph, locating something she was fishing around for in a deep drawer with a grin on her sun-weathered face. “So, Y/N. I hope you don’t mind, but every time I hire someone new, I like to do a little reading on them beforehand. Think of it as a free psychic check-in.”

Judy lithely positioned herself on one of the cushions, using one hand to gesture towards the free seat across from her, a deck of cards in the other. Card reading, Y/N thought– that’s what started the last disaster for her, and it had her stomach roiling with acid. It wasn’t like she could decline, however, so Y/N nodded politely, sinking into the lumpy cushion on the floor and twiddled her thumbs as Judy lit up yet another stick of palo santo to burn.

Twitching with nerves, Y/N observed Judy shuffle her ancient looking Tarot cards overhand, mentally demanding the clusters of clear quartz and amethyst on the table to protect her from a janky reading.

“How’s your mom? Haven’t seen her in a few weeks,” Judy asked conversationally, a couple of cards flying out of her grip and floating onto the table face-down.

“Oh, she’s well. Very busy with the book club lately, and when she isn’t busy with that, she’s been into oil painting recently,” Y/N blinked, wondering if the reading would be about family matters.

“Did she ever tell you about that reading we did for you last year?” Judy paused her shuffling, selecting a card carefully from the back as if it was on fire and placing it on the table, once again face-down.

Grimacing, Y/N shook her head. Y/N didn’t usually feel comfortable doing readings about other people when they weren’t aware of it, but her mother held no such opinion. In fact, for most of her life Y/N’s mother performed all kinds of readings for Y/N; career, love, success… Judy often helped out, since she was a more practiced card reader. Y/N assumed that her mother had finally listened to her and stopped going behind her back, as she had stopped telling her about readings a little over a year ago, but apparently she had been mistaken.

Judy was quiet for a few moments, selecting a few more cards seemingly at random, until there was a grand total of ten of them in front of her on the table, Judy finally sparing Y/N a kind, but mysterious smile.

“I know you’re not fond of her snooping around with the cards, she hasn’t been doing it lately, I assure you. Last August was the most recent reading we did for you. It was a love reading,” Judy informed her, brushing a curly lock of hair from her face. Grimace deepening, Y/N internally groaned– was it that depressing that her mom finally gave up on trying to find her someone to date?

“Oh… It’s probably best if I don't hear anything about it. My dating life is drier than the Sonoran Desert, especially over this past year,” Y/N chuckled weakly, Judy nodding in understandment.

“That’s quite alright, dear… relax, Y/N, this is just a basic reading,” Judy soothed, beginning to turn over the cards. They weren’t traditional Tarot, so Y/N was unable to cheat and read them herself, but the images on the cards were spellbinding and radiated a primordial energy.

Y/N focused on the Enya track playing from the front of the store, Judy staring at the cards and occasionally shutting her eyes as she read them. Judy had a very careful poker face, from years of practice and carrying out readings, so Y/N wasn’t able to glean anything from the psychic’s expression.

“There’s been a lot of change for you recently. Most of it good change,” Judy spoke at last, as Y/N began to fiddle with one of the quartz points on the table. “Definite conflict. Something uncomfortable happened on the full moon. There are many strong personalities around you right now, complicated people.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Y/N’s breath whooshed out as she agreed, trying not to think about the ‘uncomfortable’ full moon event.

“This reading matches up with the one from last year. Seven different male energies. Two of them I met last week,” Judy murmured carefully, Y/N’s eyes going owlishly wide. Clearly, she was referring to Namjoon and Jeongguk, during their outing for ice cream and the music shop.

“I thought you said that reading was a love reading? I adopted seven male hybrids about a week ago,” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. Never in the history of ever did she have seven men after her affection at once, especially a year ago, and her hybrids were companions, not her lovers.

Judy stared at her expectantly, brushing her fingertips over a couple of the cards. She pointed to two cards with confidence.

“Here, The Green Man and The Stag. They were with you that day, the latter bought those lovely red candles,” Judy tapped on the cards as she spoke, Y/N’s curiosity climbing with every word she spoke. “These men have been in your orbit for over a year. For whatever reason, the eight of you are all connected… I haven’t seen anything like this in a long time. Each of you is represented by a Major Arcana archetype.”

“You’re saying these adoptions I’ve made have been a year in the making?” Y/N whispered in bewilderment, thinking back to when she had broken the news of the adoptions to her mother. Now that she had this new insight, her mother’s reaction did seem a bit rehearsed– had she known about it all this time?

“I think it’s no coincidence that the cards are the same as they were back then. The energies are all the same, masculine, wild… a few of them darker, mysterious, others troubled, sad… Like I said, you are surrounded by complicated people. Or hybrids, as we now understand it,” Judy studied the cards, Y/N leaning over to take a better look at them herself.

The Seer, the most feminine card– was her, undoubtedly. The faint energy of the card she could detect felt familiar to her, like peering into a glassy lake and spotting her reflection. There was The Shaman, The Archer, The Hooded Man, The Guardian, and The Woodward, apart from the other two Judy had mentioned– The Green Man and The Stag. She could hardly guess who was who besides Namjoon and Jeongguk, as she was unfamiliar with that Tarot deck and she hadn’t practiced energy work in years; she hadn’t even attempted to get a good energy reading on herself lately, let alone any of her hybrids.

“I still don’t understand why it came up as a love reading last year. I hadn’t even met any of them yet, romance… that’s just–” Y/N began, rapidly shaking her head.

Sure, her hybrids were kind, affectionate, handsome, and she cared for them deeply already, but considering a romantic relationship with any of them was something she usually shut down within two seconds. She was more focused on getting to know them, establishing solid friendships, getting them involved with fun clubs and activities they enjoyed, and helping them work through some of their tricky pasts. Still, it was increasingly harder to deny that she wasn’t falling for a handful, if not all of them lately, and her attempts to push away the possibility of romance blooming between her and any of the hybrids had become harder and harder.

“I haven’t seen something like this in a long time,” Judy repeated lightly, a strange look on her face. “It’s almost like you’re soulmates…”

“How can one person possibly have seven soulmates,” Y/N started laughing in utter disbelief, praying the floor would open up and suck her into the pits of hell. Accepting this job was a terrible idea, now she was consumed with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts.

“Besides that, Y/N, there’s another element. You’ll be stepping into a period in your life where the spiritual realm is more important to you and your path than ever. Here, take this,” Judy offered her the guide book for the deck she was using, Y/N accepting it like it was a live pipe bomb. “Take a picture of this spread with your phone, and look it over later. You may find it enlightening.”

As Y/N did as she was told, Judy merrily carried on after the picture was taken and put the cards away, stubbing out the palo santo and standing. Y/N didn’t quite know how to process what she’d been told, but Judy acted like she had just read off of a phone book, leading her back out into the main shop and showing her the basics of operating the 1950’s register. Judy explained that she only had two readings that morning, then she’d have to pop out for the rest of the day to go to a crystal auction, so Y/N would have to lock up at 4PM. Her day seemed straightforward, simply ringing up any merchandise sales and answering basic questions (she had studied the packet of wares a bit before bed the past two nights, so at least she was prepared). Judy told her to expect it to be slow for a Monday, and encouraged her to get any reading done. Thankfully, she brought a random hybrid guidebook with her, so she was excited to get cracking on that.

Y/N was in her head a little bit for most of the morning; nobody came in to buy anything and only the scheduled reading appointments showed up, so Y/N was able to busy herself with plucking items off the shelves for the wards she’d place around the property the following week, as well as things she’d need for the banishment if it came to it. She also found a beautiful deck of Tarot cards, printed with earth tones and woodland creatures, thinking it might be a nice gift for Namjoon for his birthday, and was able to check herself out and move onto scrolling on her phone for a bit after Judy departed for the crystal auction.

Trying to put the card reading out of her mind, she decided to put all of her attention on tying up loose ends from her to-do list; starting with looking for clubs for the hybrids to join, preferably while she was at work. At the local rec center near her house, she found basketball, track, and swimming teams, fine arts, pottery and photography classes, even film and music clubs, all hybrid specific. There were a few other tabs she brought up; how to establish a paranormal investigation group, horse riding and boarding for beginners, and junkyards near me.

She had her first customer after lunch, which turned out to be a delicious Japanese-style egg salad sandwich, some chips in a plastic Ziploc bag, a string cheese, and a tangerine with a mini bottle of water, and she made sure to text Yoongi and thank him again– a selfie attached with a segment of tangerine between her fingertips.

Directing the customer to a shelf full of herbs that can be scooped by the store patrons themselves, pointing out where the mugwort was, Y/N hummed, feeling somewhat at home in the metaphysical shop, even after the mind-boggling reading she received from her new boss. Knowing that it would be a few days before she could delve deeper into the meaning of the reading, likely after Jeongguk’s birthday and in between her next piano lesson with Yoongi, Y/N pushed it into the further recesses of her mind. There was simply no space to entertain romance, as tempting as it was, at this point– that’s what she told herself, as she dove into the first chapter of Kodiak Bear Hybrids for Dummies.

The next few days were relatively mundane; Y/N had picked Namjoon and Seokjin up from the book club Monday evening with $195 worth of Greek food in her trunk, each of them sporting little smiles and beat-up copies of The Stranger. The weather was stormy on Tuesday and was made up of her practicing Twinkle Twinkle in the music room and reading in the parlor with the hybrids while they watched mindless superhero movies, before she returned to another slow day at work the next morning.

From there, Wednesday had her presenting the teams, classes, and clubs she had amassed in a big spreadsheet to the hybrids, which she printed and stuck to the fridge, telling them to think about it and mark down anything they’d be interested in. Come Thursday, Jeongguk’s birthday, nothing had been marked up at all, simultaneously dampening her spirits but also frustrating her with how stubborn her hybrids could be. For Christ’s sake, the activities were free, so long as they resided in the area with their adopted guardian, which had them covered. Y/N wasn’t going to let it get her down though– Judy had let her go at 3PM to prepare for Jeongguk’s birthday dinner, which had her practically vibrating as she arrived home and kicked off her shoes.

She planned to make the rice bowls that he had enjoyed so much closer to when she first adopted him, all of the prep already done with a little proactive measures she had taken in the weepingly early hours of the morning. Y/N hadn’t seen very much of Jeongguk in the past few days; true to his word he had been ‘gory as hell’ with his velvet shedding, and kept mostly to his room to contain the mess of the blood and flesh from getting all over the house.

“You want me to make some tamagoyaki to go with this?” Yoongi began picking up chopsticks she’d placed by a bowl of eggs, appearing out of thin air with his ears perked up in her direction. These days, Yoongi was her constant companion, making her lunch to take to work, presenting her with her coffee in the morning, and was clinging like glue, not to mention.

The leopard hybrid always materialized into the kitchen prior to dinner, and Y/N didn’t know whether or not it was an unspoken game to see who could make dinner first, but she didn’t complain. Especially when they often shared a wine glass, and he’d constantly put a hand on her lower back when navigating around the kitchen.

“Please, do. It was so good the last time,” Y/N encouraged, scraping her stir-fried veggies into a dish to be microwaved later. Yoongi nodded while rolling up the sleeves of his satiny black button down, getting to work. So far, it seemed like Seokjin and Namjoon had kept their promise of keeping the secret of Jeongguk’s birthday under wraps.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Yoongi commented while pouring beaten egg into the rectangle pan, his spotted tail winding around her thigh as she worked on the steak at the stove. “You seem more spirited than usual.”

“Hmm. Pass the glass,” Y/N covered the pan she was working on, an obscene amount of steak resting within. She had made more than enough rice for 20 people, trying to ensure Jeongguk had a pleasant birthday celebration with plenty of food. She’d even stopped on the way home from work for a rather large order of pork dumplings that were crispening up in the air fryer as an extra treat. After a beat, Yoongi handed over their shared glass of pinot grigio, skillfully rolling up a batch of tamagoyaki. “It’s Jeongguk’s birthday, I’m throwing him a little party between all of us.”

She whispered the latter part of her statement directly into Yoongi’s human set of ears, hoping that the elk hybrid stowed away in his room couldn’t hear. Yoongi, freezing for a moment before breaking out into laughter at her serious expression, placed his roll of tamagoyaki on a plate before beginning another helping of it.

“No shit. You’re full of surprises, sweetheart,” Yoongi managed over his chortling, Y/N rolling her eyes and leaving the leopard hybrid by the stove.

She didn’t go all out, no balloons, streamers or banners; but Y/N had her wrapped gifts for Jeongguk clumped together on the coffee bar, which she had stashed in the back of her car for two days and wrapped at work during her lunch break. She kept it simple; just his cheesecake, which was getting room temperature in the hardly used dining room and out of sight to bring out at the last moment (complete with candles), the gifts, and the meal she noted he enjoyed the most since she met the elk hybrid. Y/N had gone as far as picking up a small, foiled order of the baked ziti from Sal’s on the way home for Jeongguk along with the dumplings, the little boat already warming up in one of the ovens for him.

She felt like it was time, Yoongi had finished the tamagoyaki, and everything was practically in place. Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin were in the parlor watching Indiana Jones, and the remaining three hybrids were in their bedrooms, so all Y/N had to do was stand in the foyer and slightly raise her voice to call everyone to the kitchen. Despite Jeongguk’s graphic goriness with his velvet shedding, even making Y/N shudder with the blood, torn ligament, and loose flesh hanging from his antlers, the elk hybrid always appeared for dinner, and she was feeling giddy.

“Smells good! You two have worked hard, as always,” Hoseok commented while his slides slapped noisily against the tiled floor, strolling in from the entrance from the parlor, Seokjin and Jimin close behind. If anything, her hybrids loved to eat.

In the spirit of celebrating birthdays, Y/N popped open two chilled bottles of champagne to divide into eight glasses, smirking at the surprised sounds of the various hybrids coagulating in the kitchen and finding random seats. No one ever sat in the same spot, which was something she really found interesting.

Taehyung and Namjoon made their appearances at the same time, both of them with poorly masked disdain for one another painted across their faces, but Y/N refused to have her mood be dampened. The week was going by smoothly, the hybrids were adjusting, and she was focused on surprising Jeongguk. He was, after all, the last to enter the room.

While waiting for the elk hybrid, and listening to Seokjin trying to stave off some of the other hybrids from digging into the food before everyone was present, Y/N snuck into the dining room and brought the cheesecake out onto the island with a smug grin. Everything was set once she put the gifts around the cake, slightly ignoring some of the confused noises coming from Hoseok at the breakfast nook.

“Is it a holiday?” Hoseok finally vocalized, round cocoa eyes zeroing in on the cake and gift bags on the counter. At the same time, Y/N heard the heavy, stomping tread thundering down the main staircase, indicating Jeongguk’s arrival to the kitchen at any second. She shook her head, absently rummaging for matches in the drawer by the cake to light the candles after dinner.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jeongguk appeared in the threshold of the kitchen, his smoky voice agitated and suspicious, and a thick trail of blood smeared against his cheek– his antlers a crown of gore. Startled, Y/N felt the matchbook slip from her fingers and clatter to the granite countertop, taken off guard by his blood staining his face and cream colored tee shirt, his expression stormy and guarded.

“Oh! Uh…” suddenly at a loss for words, Y/N felt seven pairs of eyes on her pausing for her explanation as to why they were indulging in cheesecake and champagne on a random Thursday evening. There wasn’t much to say other than the obvious, even if it somehow felt odd now that she was meeting Jeongguk’s wary gaze. “It’s your birthday Jeongguk, I thought we should celebrate!”

Aside from Yoongi’s muted amused snickers from the sink, where he was soaking pans, no one spoke, apparently waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Jeongguk to react. The elk hybrid appeared frozen in time, staring at Y/N with the intensity of one thousand suns, a shred of velvet unceremoniously shedding from a bony and bloodied antler and promptly landing on his shoulder. The timing would have made her laugh, had she not been so distracted by how perturbed Jeongguk looked.

“Seriously? How old are you today, elk? 23?” Hoseok finally broke the silence with impatience underlying the questions, eyeing a champagne flute from his spot on an island barstool with impatience.

“I–” Jeongguk coughed thickly, eyes tearing from Y/N’s face to stare at the wrapped gifts on the counter, his face draining of color. “What…?”

“He’s 25 today, Hoseok,” Y/N replied offhand, not only too busy watching Jeongguk go from bristly to flabbergasted, rooted to his spot in the threshold of the kitchen, but also realizing the elk hybrid had surpassed her in age already. Officially, she was the youngest in the house, and the one responsible for everyone within it.

Acting before she could think too much about it, she moved towards Jeongguk, actually able to herd him over to a seat at the island with a hand wrapped around his strong forearm, the elk hybrid apparently too stunned to react to both her touch and the surprise. Promptly, she shoved a flute of champagne into his tattooed fist as his ass hit the barstool before divvying out glasses to everyone else, thankful for the light soft rock playlist she had playing from her portable speaker on the coffee bar to make up for lack of conversation.

“Okay, who needs rice?” Yoongi either sensed Y/N’s nerves or was voracious himself, wielding a rice paddle and plopping great servings into large cereal bowls, his champagne glass pinched in his other hand delicately as he worked.

All at once, the tension broke– Jimin, Seokjin and Taehyung had crawled to the island for their rice, and the room was full of dodging one another to stack ingredients into their bowls so they could dig into dinner. When Y/N pulled the enormous helping of dumplings out of the air fryer, it was as if she had handed all of them one million dollars, and before she could even place the baking sheet on the counter, there were less than a dozen dumplings left. She was thankful that ever since Taehyung and Namjoon’s fight, it seemed that whatever tense or awkward situation would dissolve soon after it cropped up– but Y/N was still observing Jeongguk out of the corner of her eye, robotically filling his bowl of rice with steak and vegetables with the faintest blush dancing across his high cheekbones.

“Happy birthday Jeongguk,” Y/N repeated, planting herself in the barstool beside him once she had elbowed Hoseok away from the oven, the hot foiled dish of ziti in her mitted hand sliding across the island as she placed it beside the elk hybrid.

Jeongguk paused, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth with a clump of rice and half of a dumpling, eyeing both her and the little covered tray she offered sideways. At least he wasn’t violently angry that she had surprised him with a party, she concluded.

“What’s this?” Jeongguk muttered gruffly, using his nose to jerk towards the foil.

Behind her, she could hear Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jimin talking about films they had watched together that week at the breakfast nook while Namjoon listened quietly beside them, as well as registering some open-mouthed chewing that made her cringe. Taehyung was on her other side, silent of course, and Hoseok decided to cut his losses and sit beside the Kodiak hybrid– though, Hoseok seemed quite content with pouring himself a second glass of champagne and occasionally shouting over his shoulder to join in on the conversation from the breakfast nook.

“Can’t you tell with those senses of yours?” Y/N teased, Jeongguk rolling his eyes as he chewed. “Sal’s ziti. I picked some up for you after work– your birthday only comes once a year, after all!”

Jeongguk must have known what it was, but he still appeared taken aback, ignoring the inferno-hot temperature of the foil as he reached over to peel it back and examine the ziti. His face became unreadable, lip ring pulled between his teeth as he jabbed a noodle with his chopsticks.

“Why?” Jeongguk questioned softly, the raspiness of his voice still audible over the Steely Dan song that was pulsing over the speaker, even if she had to lean closer to hear him. His question puzzled her.

“What do you mean, ‘why’? It’s your birthday, Jeongguk,” Y/N replied equally softly, trying not to dissolve into sand when her eyes locked with his own inky stare. “I noticed how much you liked it at the cookout, so consider it a birthday gift from Sal’s family. Save room for dessert though, there’s still cake.”

With her last statement, she nodded towards the cheesecake that was sitting a few feet away from him, Jeongguk looking like he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind as he looked from her, the cake, the wrapped gifts obviously for him, and the meal he was currently enjoying.

“Y/N,” Hoseok snatched her attention for a moment, the fox hybrid leaning over Taehyung with the champagne bottle, topping her glass off and lifting an eyebrow at the Kodiak hybrid leaning back in his barstool to put space between them. “That chart you put up on the fridge, with the clubs. Can you tell me more about some of them?”

She clinked glasses with Hoseok as he smirked at her, pleased that he’d actually brought it up. Hoseok was definitely the most extroverted and outgoing hybrid she had adopted, while the rest of them were a bit more on the reserved side. It was one of the many reasons she and Hoseok got along so well– he was often the one to engage her in sarcastic banter, shriek at the TV at the same time she did, and initiate drinking games or conversations during mealtimes– their personalities were pretty similar.

“Yeah, sure! Any ones you were interested in, particularly, honey?” Y/N took a sip of her champagne, the fruity bubbles popping and peppering her upper lip with moisture.

“The sports teams,” Hoseok replied simply, Y/N noting that Hoseok was acting like there was nothing but air between him and her, Taehyung all but an apparition as he glued himself to the back of his barstool and nursed his own glass of champagne while he soaked in the conversation.

“Thought that would be your answer,” Y/N chuckled, stirring some rice around in her bowl with an easy smile. “Well, all their teams run year-round, but they’re broken up seasonally so you get week-long breaks between each season. I read on the rec website that they’ll move teams indoors during the fall/winter seasons, the basketball and track teams, I believe. There’s also a swimming team… if you pick one, they provide the athletic wear or swimsuits, and practices are four times a week, games or tournaments every couple of weeks depending on the sport you choose.”

Hoseok munched on a crispy bit of pork dumpling in deep contemplation, Y/N almost able to see the wheels turning in his head as he processed her words. Suddenly, he leaned backwards in his barstool, craning his neck towards the breakfast nook to catch the attention of some of the hybrids seated there.

“Hey. Jimin, Jin? What do you think, should we join a team? How about the swimming team– Jinnie, you have the shoulders for it,” Hoseok mused, Seokjin spitting out a bit of champagne on the floor as a look of pure horror and dread crossed over his fine features.

“N-no!” Seokjin gasped, almost appearing as if he was petrified that Hoseok would even ask him something so outrageous. “Please, no–”

“Jesus, Jin, okay, just say you don’t want to wear a speedo next time,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, his signature whistle tone following the jab.

Y/N, however, found Seokjin’s response to Hoseok’s offer completely out of character for the jaguar hybrid. He looked genuinely disturbed and frightened over the mere suggestion of swimming, his complexion on the side of green, his hands visibly shaking as he clutched his chopsticks with whitened knuckles.

“Sorry, Hoseok. I think I’ll be busy working on the stable, for now. Maybe in the spring I’ll take up a sport with you,” Jimin added to Hoseok’s disappointment, the fox hybrid’s ears drooping a little in response.

“Whatever, you guys are boring. I was leaning more towards the track team, anyways…” Hoseok brightened up after a beat, once again letting things roll right off of his shoulders. “Is it alright if I sign up for that, Y/N?”

“Of course it is! Whatever you guys want to sign up for is totally fine with me,” Y/N blushed, feeling a little odd about her role in the household once more. She wasn’t used to people asking for her permission to do things they wanted to do with their lives.

“What a shame, Foxy. I was thinking about joining the basketball team,” Yoongi vocalized from his spot beside a still queasy looking Seokjin, a lazy smirk curling his pouty lips up into the apple of his cheek.

“You play basketball, Yoongi?” Y/N asked, turning her body to gawk at the leopard hybrid with surprise. She would have bet a large sum of money that Yoongi would have been interested in the music club over sports, but then again– she learned something new about each hybrid every second she spent with them.

“Yeah, you know that outdoor court over in Chinatown? There was a kind-of team of a few guys I knew by the bar I worked at, I played with them whenever I was off the clock. Which wasn’t very often,” Yoongi responded, his hazel irises glittering in the low light of the kitchen as he met her eyes.

“Oh yeah, Reggie Wong Memorial Park? God, I used to walk by there all the time in college…” Y/N murmured mostly to herself, that nagging feeling that was more frequently popping up that she must have seen Yoongi around before. Boston was a small city, and the fact that he hung around in an area that happened to be within her old college stomping grounds seemed like no coincidence to her.

Hoseok began to bicker with Yoongi from across the room, the fox hybrid apparently not a fan of basketball and attempting to convince Yoongi to join the track team with him. Giggling, Y/N turned her body back to her meal, but her attention was snagged once more by Taehyung, who tugged lightly at the sleeve of her blouse.

“Mm? What’s that, Tae?” Y/N shifted closer to the Kodiak hybrid, unable to hear his quiet voice over the banter from behind her and the music still playing from the speaker.

“Photography? Was that one of the clubs?” Taehyung repeated into her ear, some of his curls tickling the cartilage making up the shell as his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Taehyung kept mostly to himself since the night of ‘The Incident’ or so she had deemed it, so having him so close and speaking to her directly was something that had her heart speeding up in her chest.

“It was. Do you want to give it a try?” Y/N cocked her head, searching Taehyung’s face for a crack in his stoicism. It was there, as much as she believed he was trying to mask it from her, but his eyes rounded out in vulnerability as she read his expression and it was his give away.

Taehyung nodded slightly, biting down on his lip softly as he returned to his dinner, ceasing to say anything more. Deciding to let it go, knowing that Taehyung had opened up before and would again in his own time, she focused on finishing her rice and making a mental note to tackle filling out all of the forms for the clubs each hybrid wanted to join the next day; she’d have to do it promptly so they could participate for the autumn season.

Y/N was usually the last to finish her meal. The hybrids always ate with such speed she often worried that one of them would wind up choking, and that night was no different. She kept one eye on Jeongguk beside her, who had ended up not only finishing his entire rice bowl but was currently plowing through the last third of the ziti.

Heaving herself off of her stool, she assisted Hoseok and Taehyung with loading up the dishwasher and wiping down the counters in preparation for serving the cake. Namjoon had managed to sneak his way to the island, taking Y/N’s former seat once Taehyung had got up, surreptitiously glancing at the cake every once in a while with longing. Y/N noticed the wolf hybrid had a bit of a preference for sweets, though she believed he was unaware of how obvious his preference was. She could tell by the way his tail would wag a little faster at the sight of a baked good, his amber eyes becoming just a bit sparklier. It was a trait that softened some of Namjoon’s rougher edges, in her mind.

“Aw, we’re out of champagne,” Hoseok whined, shaking an empty bottle in one of his fists once he finished wiping down the counter by the sink. Snorting, Y/N shook her head.

“I have the rest of the case in my car. I’ll go grab it before we have cake,” Y/N reached up to pat Hoseok’s head fondly, her fingertips gliding through his soft mahogany strands. Hoseok shuddered, though an amused smile stretched across his face at the contact.

“I’ll take care of the rest of the clean up with Taehyung,” Hoseok promised in response, going as far as wiping down the faucet with the rag he was holding.

“That eager for another glass, huh? Alright, alright, I’ll go now,” Y/N teased, visually sweeping the kitchen for the other hybrid’s glasses– most of the flutes were drained.

She hadn’t drank all week, herself, and it was officially the start of her long weekend… Y/N figured she might as well get buzzed if they were going to celebrate Jeongguk’s birthday properly. She side-stepped around Taehyung, who was placing pots back in their rightful spots, while she used a hand to soothe down his flannel-clad back with a pleased grumble coming from his chest as she did so.

Humming along to the Pink Floyd song that had come on, Y/N headed towards the foyer with her car keys swinging around her pointer finger, ready to stick a straw in one of those champagne bottles after the jam-packed week she had. She made it about three steps into the foyer before a hand clasped hers from behind, Y/N startled that she realized exactly who it was without even turning around. Tender grip, interlaced digits, crooked fingers slotting between hers, the scent of eucalyptus. Seokjin.

“Hi Jin, want to get some fresh air?” Y/N peered up at his gorgeous face, his ears fluttering slightly. Nodding, he let her tug at his hand, pulling him to the front door.

“You said there was a case of champagne in your car. I thought you might need some help,” Seokjin offered once she led him out to the porch, the sun finally slipping beneath the treeline and the sky a dusky purple.

“Aw, you know I can lift things, right?” Y/N bumped her hip into Seokjin, even though she was appreciative to have a moment alone with him. She hadn’t really had a chance to spend one-on-one time with the jaguar hybrid in a while, he had been quite enraptured with the book club selection of the week, and she had been busy at work and running around preparing for Jeongguk’s party. Truthfully, she missed the sweet moments she shared with Seokjin.

“Doesn’t mean you have to,” Seokjin muttered cutely, waiting for her to pop open the trunk to the Land Cruiser. Giggling, she squeezed his hand, his thumb brushing over her wrist bone before she released him, sitting down on the back of her car and gazing up at the sky. She had some nagging questions for Seokjin, and wondered if it would be wise to bring any of them up while she had this moment alone with him, away from the other hybrids.

“Seokjin,” Y/N uttered softly, feeling the car bounce with his weight once he sat beside her, similarly admiring the twilight sky. He hummed, indicating he was listening, Y/N able to feel his body heat with how close he was to her; their shoulders mere inches away. “How did the book club go on Monday? I’m sorry I haven’t asked until now.”

Distantly, Y/N could still hear music coming from inside of the home, as well as Hoseok’s loud, boisterous laughter, but all she could focus on were the crickets in the grasses of the front yard and the sound of Seokjin’s soft breathing beside her. There was an underlying sound, a sort of muted rumble that came from beside her, making her cheeks flush– she noticed that both Seokjin and Yoongi often purred quietly when in close proximity to her, like overgrown house cats.

“Oh, don’t be sorry, you’ve been so busy this week,” Seokjin shook his head, scooching a bit closer to her as he spoke so that their thighs touched. “I enjoyed it. I didn’t participate much because I hadn’t read the book they were discussing, but listening to everyone’s thoughts was fun. Your mom was kind though, I didn’t feel out of place like I thought I would. Namjoon… it was interesting, seeing him like that.”

“Namjoon? How so?” Y/N wondered, eyebrows furrowing.

“He’s insightful, he sort of led the discussion. He’s more quiet and calculating, here, at home,” Seokjin commented, leaning back on his hands. Y/N hummed, trying to conjure up an image of Namjoon engaging in elaborate conversations amongst a group setting– the thought was mystifying.

As always, there was a comfortable lull in conversation between her and the jaguar hybrid; one that felt cozy, like they were sharing a space to soak in surroundings and enjoy each other's quiet presences. Still, there were so many things she wanted to know about Seokjin– while she felt quite close to him already, the jaguar hybrid had yet to offer her any kind of information into his past. Y/N didn’t feel like she was owed personal information from Seokjin, however, she was interested as to why he had been so horrified when Hoseok had brought up the prospect of joining the swim team together.

“Hey, Seokjin… can I ask you something?” Y/N lowered her voice, wanting the conversation to be as private as she could make it, considering Seokjin was certainly one of the more shy hybrids.

“Sure,” Seokjin replied after a moment, likely sensing her hesitancy. Y/N could feel the sleek, silky black fur of his tail curling around the bare skin of her lower back under her crop top, and the weight of his fiery eyes studying her profile analytically.

“Earlier, I noticed your reaction to Hoseok asking about you joining the swimming club. You looked upset, and I was wondering why…” Y/N fidgeted with her hands in her lap, recalling the day she brought Seokjin home.

Y/N had offered him her copy of Lord of the Rings the afternoon he had woken up from his fever the day she met him, and she could still picture his heartbroken expression in her mind. The last thing she ever wanted to do was upset Seokjin in that way again, but she had long since accepted that in order to establish deeper bonds with her hybrids, she’d have to have difficult conversations and risk touching upon raw nerves. That didn’t mean she enjoyed it, however. As the words left her mouth, she could not only feel the way that Seokjin’s tail had wound around her body tighter, but the way his thigh began to tremble against her’s. He was quiet, so she spoke once more.

“Are you afraid of water, Seokjin?” Y/N continued gently, fearing that if she spoke louder, the small bubble she found the two of them in would burst and the moment would slip away.

“N-... not exactly,” Seokjin finally breathed, after what felt like an eternity of silence as they both gazed up at the violet sky. “Not always. When you adopted me, when I was injured… that was a result of an accident, involving water. It’s stupid, but I’ve been wary since.”

Seconds ticked by, Y/N letting his words sink in. It wasn’t a whole lot to go on, but it made a lot of sense. On Seokjin’s profile from the hybrid database, it had mentioned he suffered from many phobias, PTSD. He didn’t know that she was aware of this, let alone that she knew a bit about his past in the circus business, but the pieces were coming together for her.

“It’s not stupid, honey. Everyone has fears, especially after a traumatic brush with one in particular. I just want you to know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and I’m here for you,” Y/N wrapped her nearest arm around Seokjin’s wide shoulders, attempting to pull his larger body into her side. Seokjin was normally quite pliant with her, so it didn’t take much effort to maneuver him despite his size and mass.

“I, um… I used to be a performer, before you adopted me. That’s when it happened, a few weeks ago, the accident? I did stunts, acrobatics, for Cirque–”

Seokjin went ramrod straight, flinching away from Y/N as the front door swung open with a great groan five yards away, music, voices, and light flooding into the front yard. Shuddering from the immediate absence of Seokjin’s comforting warmth, Y/N squinted towards the porch, peeved that Seokjin was interrupted as he was about to open up.

“Did you two get lost? It’s been forever!” Hoseok shouted from the threshold of the door, Y/N able to make out the triangular shape of his ears with the light coming from inside the house, the fox hybrid’s arms crossed over his chest.

Groaning, Y/N eased herself off of her perch on the trunk, Seokjin already gathering the case of champagne in his arms, the corded muscles flexing as he lifted it out of the car and started towards the house. Shutting the trunk of the car, Y/N trailed after Seokjin closely, a tightness in his back muscles straining against his lavender tee shirt that she knew had little to do with carrying the box held in his arms. Y/N wondered if it would be wise to create a schedule on her phone, so she could allot specific times to spend one on one with each hybrid, or if she was simply salty that Hoseok had interrupted.

As soon as she hauled herself into the house, Hoseok locked up the front door behind her, the strange three-note whistle he often crooned tickling her ears as she watched Seokjin disappear into the kitchen. Raising her eyebrows at Hoseok, who was grinning down at her like he knew something she didn’t, Y/N reached out to teasingly poke at his tummy, the fox hybrid giggling and nimbly dodging the attack.

“What’s with that tone you always whistle, Hoseok? Is it your personal trademark, or something?” Y/N attempted to chase Hoseok around the foyer, even though he was far too swift on his feet for her to ever catch him even by the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Oh, do you not like it?” Hoseok paused, examining the way her chest heaved as she leaned against the banister of the grand staircase, expression playful. However, there was something about the way his smile didn’t completely reach his eyes, making Y/N backtrack.

“No, that’s not it at all,” Y/N insisted immediately, not wanting to make him feel insecure about a quirk that truthfully endeared him to her. “I like it. If I ever lose you in a grocery store or something, I’ll whistle that same tone until I can find you.”

Cocking his head, Hoseok apparently not expecting that response, Y/N felt her cheeks flush as the fox hybrid looked her up and down, appearing serious for a moment, lost in thought. He opened and closed his mouth, as if to say something clever in response, but the words appeared to die on his tongue as Y/N grinned at him slyly. Finally, chuckling once more while shaking his head, Y/N exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Was that perhaps too forward, or embarrassing? Hoseok rarely found himself at a loss for words around her, so clearly some part of the exchange threw him off guard.

“Come on, darling, let’s go celebrate your long weekend,” Hoseok used a pointer finger to beckon her towards the entrance of the kitchen, his russet tail swishing as he spun on his heels, whistling his signature three notes once more. “And the elk, or whatever.”

Suddenly remembering that she had been anticipating this exact part of the evening for the past week, Y/N unfroze from her spot by the staircase, speeding past Hoseok with a smirk and bounding into the kitchen. A loud pop came from her right, Y/N managing not to flinch as Yoongi broke into a fresh bottle of the champagne, passing the bottle to Jimin so the coyote hybrid could refill glasses around the room.

Jeongguk seemed more relaxed now that the shock of the surprise celebration had worn off, leaning his forearms on the granite of the island as he spoke with Namjoon beside him. Y/N found it interesting that those two had managed to become closer over the past week; considering Jeongguk was the one to haul Namjoon away from Taehyung the night of The Incident. She couldn’t deny the similarities between the two– both a tad surly and serious, common interest in paranormal or occult subject matter, and not to mention face-melting glares she had been on the receiving end of on occasion or two. Secretly, she hoped they’d grow even closer as time passed, as it would be nice for each of the hybrids to have at least one other in the house they could bond with besides her.

Swirling the room-temperature champagne around in her flute, her eyes flickered to Taehyung, who was peering out at the backyard from the slider by himself, and wished with all of her heart that with time, he’d be able to connect with the other hybrids and they’d accept him as well. The Kodiak hybrid seemed so lonely in a room full of people, his lips moving as he mouthed the words to the song on the speaker, staring out at the half-moon in the sky.

Feeling a familiar hand on her lower back, Y/N brightened up, Yoongi stepping around her with a silver pie server, setting it next to the cheesecake and quietly watching Y/N stick candles on top of it.

“I remember you saying you used to do ‘cleansings’ with a group of paranormal investigators,” Namjoon’s voice came to her attention, addressing Jeongguk over the rim of his champagne flute.

Trying not to snicker, Y/N pretended she wasn’t listening– Namjoon was doing two things that amused her; asking questions in forms of statements again, and likely beginning to persuade the elk hybrid into helping her and himself with the protective wards the following week.

“Weren’t you in your room studying when I said that?” Jeongguk asked dryly, pierced brow lifting as he used a crooked finger to swipe blood from his cheekbone distractedly.

Namjoon ignored the elk hybrid’s comment, his bitten ear twitching with agitation, before setting his champagne flute down and leveling the most friendly look he could muster at the younger hybrid. Coming from beside Y/N as she continued to place candles on the cheesecake, she felt a silky tail smack the back of her thigh lightly, which was Yoongi’s way of non-verbally asking her if she was listening to the peanut gallery in front of her. Glancing at the leopard hybrid from her peripherals, he bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing at her ‘act natural’ telepathic plea, Y/N forgetting to find it odd that she could communicate with Yoongi in this way; without ever uttering a word.

“Are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to pry?” Namjoon deadpanned, clearly annoyed that he had to actually ask for information from Jeongguk.

“There’s not much to add. I’ve only been in the Boston area for a little over a year. I was hiding out in some old-ass abandoned church to keep away from agents sweeping strays off the streets, and one night a bunch of fucking nerds with cameras and holy water broke into the church. I was about to beat the shit out of them for waking me up, but they were squealing so much when they saw me that I took pity on them.”

“And?” Namjoon knit his eyebrows together while drawing out the syllables of the word, clearly not hearing what he wanted to quite yet.

“And what, you nosy fuck? They thought I was some kind of cryptid until I turned the lights on. They were so harmless it was laughable, so I made them tell me what they were up to. I knew a fair bit about what paranormal investigators do, so we talked for a bit. After that, they’d seek me out every few weeks for my thoughts on random occult topics until they scraped up the courage to ask me to go with them on investigations from time to time, mostly when the investigations involved exorcisms or more malevolent entities.”

“Did you guys have a Youtube series or something I can watch later when I want a good laugh?” Hoseok interjected by the fridge, lazily overseeing the conversation as he downed the rest of his champagne.

“No, dipshit,” Jeongguk grumbled, taking a hearty swig from his own flute and appearing to compose the aggravation off of his face. “I think Mark and Jude, the two camera geeks, had some kind of podcast, but I never participated in that crap. Hopefully the team hasn’t gotten themselves killed in my absence…”

Y/N studied Jeongguk’s face carefully. While delighted that he had willingly shared some details of what he’d been up to prior to his adoption, she didn’t miss the near imperceptible way the corners of his mouth turned downwards when he spoke about the paranormal investigation team, as much as she knew he was trying to make it seem like they were just a bunch of bothersome people from his past. She would bet a fair bit of money that Jeongguk actually missed the team, though there was no doubt he would deny that speculation up and down if she ever mentioned it to him.

Catching Namjoon asking Jeongguk if they could talk the next day, Jeongguk nodded, lost in his thoughts as the wolf hybrid seemed temporarily satisfied with what he had gotten out of Jeongguk. Y/N sensed Seokjin’s presence again, craning her neck upwards as he offered her a gentle grin, setting a stack of little paper plates down on the counter for the cake. She supposed it was about time to dig into dessert, Namjoon was eyeing the cake again, and Hoseok and Jimin were getting a touch rowdy with the champagne they were putting away like water.

She struck a match, swiftly lighting the five candles she stuck around the icing script reading Happy 25th Birthday Jeongguk, leaning on her tip-toes to slide the cake in front of the elk hybrid across the island. The flames from the candle had light reflecting off of the silver jewelry threaded through his ears and face, and sharpening his already strong features. Everyone quieted down a bit, Jeongguk reading the top of the cake with the faintest twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Okay, make your wish!” Y/N encouraged once the elk hybrid looked at her for direction, for once not really seeming to mind that he was the center of attention. Namjoon, from beside him, seemed utterly confused with what was going on, as if he had never celebrated a birthday before.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes before hurriedly blowing out the candles, Y/N clapping with excitement as Yoongi made the first move to pull the candles from the cake and begin to slice it with the pie server.

“What’d you wish for?” Jimin asked from the breakfast nook, sitting in between Taehyung and Seokjin with an easygoing smile.

“Jimin, don’t you know if he tells you, it might not come true?” Y/N gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over her chest for added theatrics as Hoseok and Yoongi snickered at her antics. Jimin, however, became the picture of apologetic with his ears drooped; until Y/N waved her hand and mouthed I’m joking.

Yoongi placed the first slice of cheesecake in front of the birthday boy, before Y/N helped him ferry it off to the other hybrids, making sure she dropped the second slice in front of Namjoon before he began drooling. She thought about making an array of desserts for his birthday, since he apparently liked them so much. Once everyone had a slice and a fork in front of them, Y/N sat on Jeongguk’s free side with her own plate, promptly digging into the dessert and watching Yoongi trudge over to the breakfast nook to sit beside Seokjin.

“Oh, this is good,” Hoseok’s voice came from across the island, hip leaning on the granite as he ate standing up.

“Thought you didn’t like cheesecake,” Jeongguk accused around a forkful of dessert, the fox hybrid shrugging in response, his sharpened teeth biting down on his lower lip as he stifled a laugh.

Once dessert was squared away in between Y/N divulging more details about the clubs at the rec center and discussing tentative weekend plans, she nudged the gifts closer to Jeongguk, who quickly became skeptical and wary once the gift bags were in front of his face.

“Here, open this one first. It’s from my parents, my mom picked it out,” Y/N tapped the little black box closest to his inked elbow while sipping on her champagne, heat pooling in her cheeks as the alcohol began to dizzy up her head.

She had talked to her mother for a few minutes when she picked Namjoon and Seokjin up from the book club on Monday and mentioned Jeongguk’s birthday in passing. To her surprise, her mother showed up at Judy’s the following Wednesday during her shift with a gift for the elk hybrid, which honestly she should have expected. While her mother and father hadn’t interacted with Jeongguk too much, Y/N secretly peaked at the gift– it was strangely suited to his tastes.

Yoongi was bickering with Hoseok at the sink, both of them hissing in surprise as Jimin popped open yet another bottle of champagne, his almost childlike giggles making Y/N’s heart squeeze. Jeongguk took up the small black box, examining it like it was going to explode between his fingertips.

“Y/N, do you mind if I run upstairs and shower? I’ll be back in a little bit,” Seokjin tapped her shoulder, Y/N nodding with a thumbs-up, noting the way Seokjin seemed a little on edge still. Watching the jaguar hybrid go, Hoseok stole her attention next.

“We’re gonna go figure out what movie to put on,” Hoseok called from the entrance of the kitchen into the parlor, his arm slung around Yoongi’s elegant shoulders as the leopard hybrid glared at Hoseok out of the corners of his eyes. The fox hybrid began to haul Yoongi away, Jimin close behind with two bottles of champagne tucked into an ice bucket. “Join us after?”

“Sure thing, angels,” Y/N chuckled, Jimin’s tail wagging more quickly at the term of endearment as he hurried after Hoseok and Yoongi. Part of her new nighttime routine was ending the evening with a movie or two with the hybrids in the cushy parlor room, usually over a cocktail or a bowl of ice cream.

“Whoa,” Y/N was brought back to the events unfolding beside her, Jeongguk finally opening the gift from her parents as strange emotions danced over his face.

It was a sterling silver necklace, one that would likely sit below the dip of his collarbones; the pendant a medieval looking sword. It was edgy, gothic, masculine– all the things Jeongguk embodied effortlessly. Her mother must have caught all of the silver jewelry Jeongguk already wore through his countless piercings, and went out to buy a necklace to match. Namjoon leaned closer to the elk hybrid to take a look, his head cocking contemplatively as he stared at the jewelry.

“Pretty. Do you like it? They probably got it from the craft fair that’s been going on in Boston Common this week,” Y/N was practically bouncing on her barstool, fighting back the urge to take the necklace from the box and fasten it around Jeongguk’s neck herself, just to see what it looked like.

“Mm,” Jeongguk hummed, cheeks pink with potential embarrassment, keeping the box open and setting it to the side. “It’s really nice. I need to thank them.”

“They’ll probably pop by at some point this weekend,” Y/N replied, a tad distractedly.

Taehyung had slipped from the room under her nose, and she wondered where he had wound up– doubtful that he’d followed the three in the parlor currently yucking it up loudly. All that remained in the kitchen were herself, the elk hybrid, and Namjoon. She had the feeling Namjoon had stuck around just so he could possibly coerce Jeongguk into setting wards with them (or possibly have another slice of cheesecake).

“Okay, this one next,” Y/N pushed one of the remaining two gift bags in front of him, Jeongguk immediately diving his hand into the bag, whether to speed up the process to escape her attention or out of eagerness to find out what else he was getting, she didn’t know.

Jeongguk pulled out the book, leather journal, and pack of pens she picked up from him at the bookstore, faintly snorting at the cover of The Paranormal Investigative Field Guide. His eyebrows furrowed as he passed his palm over the carved leather journal, fiddling with the intricate clasp as he set the pens and book aside.

“I don’t know what you keep in that other journal of yours, but it looked like it was almost filled up the last time I saw you writing in it. Maybe this one will last you a bit longer,” Y/N explained, trying not to grin too widely at both Jeongguk’s growing fluster and Namjoon not-so-subtly leaning across the island to steal Y/N’s plate of half-eaten cheesecake she had long since abandoned.

“What do you write in that journal? You carry it around everywhere,” Namjoon inquired over a mouthful of cheesecake, his half-bitten ear flickering at the sound of someone clinking champagne flutes together in the parlor.

“It’s just where I keep my notes. One of the investigators I knew gave it to me. I write down what I see and how I think I can get rid of it, the results of any ritual I do, etcetera etcetera,” Jeongguk shrugged, eyeing the last gift. “This is the last one, right? You didn’t buy me a car or anything, I hope.”

Snorting, Y/N shook her head, enjoying her time spent with Jeongguk and Namjoon. While the two of them had given her a bit of grief in the past, she found she had quite a lot in common with both of them, and they had seemed to soften up significantly over the past week.

“Holy shit, a camera?” Jeongguk pulled the video recorder out of the final blue gift bag, turning the box around in several directions to read the specs on the side of the glossy cardboard.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I was going for a paranormal investigation theme. Who knows, with this old house, there might be some ghosts in the attic you can capture on film,” Y/N smiled widely, Namjoon humming in agreement.

The wolf hybrid was twitching in his seat, desperate to mention the entity he had banished from the house with Jeongguk, and the possibility that it was still hanging around. Y/N believed he was possibly waiting to bring the subject up the next day, which she thought was a nice gesture on Namjoon’s part– letting Jeongguk enjoy his birthday without it being tainted by the idea that his ritual hadn’t been a total success.

“I wonder… Would you ever consider contacting that team of investigators? They’d probably be relieved to hear from you, and that you’re doing okay,” Y/N pondered, considering Jeongguk hadn’t expressed any interest in the rec clubs she had compiled on the spreadsheet. Jeongguk put his camera down gently, his features cloaked in mystery.

“I could, I have the lead investigator Jeremy’s number,” Jeongguk began slowly, sucking his lip ring into his mouth in thought. “I’d have to think about it. With the way I was brought into that shithole shelter, there’s a strong possibility one of those fucks reported me to some agents. Not sure why they would do that, as they’re pretty fucking useless without me, but it makes the most sense. I’ve been on the streets for a while, so I know how to dodge agents. There’s no way I would have been caught unless someone called in a report.”

“Oh,” Y/N squeaked, not really expecting such a lengthy answer to her offhand question. “Well that would be pretty shitty of them, if that’s the case. I hope their podcast tanks.”

Jeongguk chuckled with this, Namjoon finally getting off of his barstool to toss his cheesecake-crumbed paper plates into the garbage drawer, pushing up the sleeves of his forest green henley as he slid the scant remains of the cheesecake into the fridge.

“I hope you liked everything, the food and the gifts! Oh, and thanks for being a good sport about the surprise. I know some people hate them,” Y/N gave Jeongguk a friendly pat on his shoulder, trying to avoid areas of the cream colored tee shirt dappled with blood.

Jeongguk paused, letting her words sink in as Y/N plucked a few pieces of shredded velvet off of his tee shirt and dropped them into a crumpled piece of blue tissue paper, her eyes on his antlers that seemed to be almost completely stripped of the rich brown velvet they were once covered in. She wondered how long it would take for the velvet to grow back, though admittedly, there was something a bit hauntingly beautiful about the way the bones were stripped raw.

“Uh, thank you. This was actually really nice, you didn’t have to plan anything, but you did. Tell me when your parents are coming by here so I can thank them, too,” Jeongguk managed after a moment, his voice sounding the most gentle she had ever heard it, and it was a rare moment where he didn’t slip an expletive into his speech.

Grinning, Y/N resisted the urge to give him a hug– both him and Namjoon had yet to initiate that kind of skinship with her, so she didn’t want to cross a boundary– and opted to give him a soft squeeze on his shoulder before hauling herself off of the barstool.

“You’re welcome, Jeongguk– I actually have a blast planning birthday parties, so it was my pleasure,” Y/N rounded the island, inching towards the entrance to the parlor. From the sounds of it, the three hybrids already in there hadn’t settled on a movie selection yet; talking over one another about their favorite sports.

Namjoon was staring at her from a few feet away while he downed the rest of his champagne; she could feel his gaze without even looking at him. Still, she couldn’t resist; turning to face him, she assessed his handsome face, the flush settled over his cheeks from the sparkling wine, the fullness of his lips that seemed to be naturally (and unfairly) rimmed with liner, and the orange honey color of his irises. All of his injuries from The Incident had long since faded, thankfully.

“And you…” Y/N began slyly, Namjoon’s tail swishing a little faster as she leaned towards him, “You’re next! In a little over a week, too. I’ll have to order your cake in the morning.”

Before the wolf hybrid could react, he flinched, a loud, pitchy whine coming from the parlor.

“Y/N! Yoongi won’t let me put on The Hangover!” Hoseok complained, his speech loosened from what was likely his seventh glass of champagne. Rolling her eyes, Y/N used a crooked finger to beckon Namjoon and Jeongguk so they could settle in for their before-bed movie.

“Hoseok, we watched that on Tuesday,” Y/N reminded him calmly, standing in front of the TV and evaluating the three tipsy hybrids sprawled out on the couch. “All three of them.”

“Well, what are your suggestions then, darling?” Hoseok leaned a cheek heavily on his palm, a shaky elbow balanced on the armrest of the sofa as he blinked at her innocently. She knew better than to give into the act, however.

“Let Jeongguk pick tonight,” Y/N wrestled the remote from the fox hybrid’s free hand, heavily plopping down between him and Yoongi, the latter of which seemed grateful for the barrier of her body between himself and Hoseok.

With the fox hybrid muttering beside her, though worming his body closer to her side ever so slightly, Y/N waited for Jeongguk and Namjoon to find seats: Namjoon on the floor in front of her with a spare pillow to sit on, Jeongguk on the leather recliner that was rarely free. Feeling Yoongi begin to hook a hand around her elbow, Y/N leaned forwards to toss Jeongguk the remote before she lost all function of her arms.

“I can pick the movie?” Jeongguk caught the remote mid air, a devilish expression shadowing his face ominously, dark eyes flickering between Hoseok and Namjoon.

Y/N felt Yoongi’s hand shift from around her elbow, pulling her back against the cushions of the couch so he could thread his arm through hers, tucking her into his side. Hoseok similarly arranged himself, his nearest arm slung along the backside of the couch behind Y/N, angling his body so he could face her slightly. Biting back a chuckle in response to the clinginess, increasing not only by day but with boldness as well, Y/N let the two hybrids beside her curl into her frame.

“Oh, Jin! I saved you a spot, come here,” Hoseok called happily once Seokjin appeared in the doorway between the foyer and the parlor, his raven curls damp from his shower and dressed in his pajamas. Promptly, the jaguar hybrid slunk into the room, stepping around Namjoon at Y/N’s feet and squeezing in between Hoseok and the armrest of the couch. He brought a cloud of eucalyptus and mint with him.

“Alright. We’ll watch this,” Jeongguk announced after a few moments of flicking through Y/N’s digital movie collection. Complaints came from every direction at his choice, Y/N peering at the flatscreen with confusion to see what the ruckus was about.

“Ooh! I love this movie!” Y/N exclaimed, and Jeongguk promptly pressed play and the eerie opening music of The Conjuring began to flood through the surround sound.

She hadn’t watched a horror movie in ages, even though they were amongst her favorites to lounge around and binge, and she certainly hadn’t watched one with the hybrids yet. They seemed to gravitate towards action or comedy movies, and she recalled Hoseok’s and Jimin’s aversions to The Bride of Chucky the night she brought them home and she scoured her movie library in search of something to watch with them.

“Of course you do,” Yoongi muttered from beside her, his chin hooking over her shoulder as he snuggled in closer to her, hazel eyes narrowed at the creepy Annabelle doll currently filling the large flatscreen.

“Fuck me, why do you want to watch something about a dirty old possessed doll?” Hoseok groaned, his tail curling around his front and across his lap, almost as if he was protecting himself with the thick fur.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re afraid, Hoseok. It’s just a scary movie,” Jimin suddenly interjected, his speech a little garbled after all the champagne he drank.

“Shut it, Jiminie. You’re telling me that thing doesn’t creep you out?” Hoseok replied, his arm around the back of the couch slipping lower to curl around Y/N’s shoulders, effectively trapping her between himself and Yoongi.

“This is based on a true story?” Namjoon wondered aloud, the tips of his ears fluttering against Y/N’s bare calves from where he was sitting between her legs, likely in response to Taehyung appearing in the room, finally. “The Warrens… I’ve read a book about them. The Demonologist.”

Even though Taehyung kept his distance from everyone in the house these days, he would still participate in mealtimes and the nightly movie routine. The Kodiak hybrid quietly entered the room, rounded behind the sofa, and took his usual seat at the back of the room by the window and entrance to the kitchen.

“Are you all going to talk through the entire film?” Jeongguk hiked up the volume, Y/N cringing in preparation for how loud it would get later on in the movie when jumpscares appear.

At her feet, Namjoon growled lowly, but ceased to talk any further. Y/N theorized that Namjoon was attempting to open himself up to Jeongguk, at the very least, considering their shared interests, and she thought he was doing pretty decently so far. In fact, it filled her with warmth that Namjoon was beginning to show a little bit of trust between not only herself, but some of the other hybrids as well. She could only hope the same for Taehyung, over time. Now that everyone settled into silence to watch the film, apart from Hoseok’s periodic disturbed yelps in response to suspenseful scenes, Y/N relaxed into the couch, letting the two hybrids beside her tangle themselves even more closely to her.

After the movie, Y/N managed to convince Jeongguk to save the second Conjuring movie for another day, and they switched back to New Girl reruns in order to calm not only Hoseok down, but a sufficiently creeped out Jimin as well. As it turned out, the coyote hybrid wasn’t as fearless as he had alluded to earlier in the night.

She had said her goodnights; which were drawn out thanks to how she had to comfort spooked Hoseok and Jimin, pry a drowsy Yoongi off of her, and navigate her own hazy tipsiness. Y/N had just given her final hug to Taehyung, who held onto her so tightly she wheezed, before he ruffled her hair and walked her to her bedroom door.

Pulling on her pajama shorts, Y/N chuckled to herself, wondering exactly when she was going to be driven insane in the near future due to the overwhelming amount of affection she was receiving from most of the hybrids lately. She knew that hybrids tended to get quite clingy and possessive over their adoptive guardians over time, but she wasn’t expecting many of them to warm up to her so fast. She couldn’t have imagined that she’d have five of them hugging her goodnight within two weeks of having them in the home– if someone had told her that the morning she made the adoptions, she’d laugh in their face.

Extremely satisfied with how well Jeongguk’s birthday had gone, Y/N yawned into her hand, images of the new array of emotions she saw on the elk hybrid’s face that night making her smile; his faint fluster, gentle amusement, and even a glimmer of fondness. Thinking about how soft his voice sounded when he thanked her for the celebration temporarily distracted her from the messy pile of notes she had strewn about her vanity that she was lurking over once she pulled her tank top over her head. Biting her lip, she leaned a hip against the piece of furniture, squinting at the nonsensical scrawl she had managed to pen down that week, the abandoned and dog-eared copies of hybrid guide books scattered across the surface, and the general lack of organization of the entire area.

She had planned on using the vanity as an altar for her practice, but in the past week, it was used for jotting down facts she had siphoned from the guide books, storing items and materials for the wards she was going to place around the property, and keeping a thin notebook she had used to make sense of the reading Judy had given her on Monday. Admittedly, there wasn’t much time she had dedicated to the latter subject over the past week– and truthfully, she had tried her best to push the reading out of her mind for as long as she could. Now that she had fewer things to distract her (such as planning Jeongguk’s birthday) and a wide-open long weekend, there was really no excuse for her to avoid dissecting the reading’s contents further. In a way, it would be practice for her rusty divination skills, and it would certainly scratch the itch she had been feeling since Judy sat her down for the reading in the first place.

Perching on her vanity stool, Y/N opened up the notebook with a small sigh, listening to the familiar and comforting sounds of Jeongguk’s heavy tread from above her bedroom. Based on the direction of his footsteps and the faint thrumming of the pipes overhead, Y/N deduced he was taking a shower before heading to bed. Switching on the twinkle lights draped over the vanity mirror, she narrowed her eyes at the few notes she had taken on the reading; starting with the cards Judy had indicated as being Namjoon and Jeongguk.

The Green Man - Namjoon, apparently (?) One who is a “father” of nature, represents summer (the ‘height’ of the wheel of the year). Patient. Perceptive, can see through what others cannot. Generous, proud, protective, masculine. Fearsome protector of nature, can be frightening? Known for a particularly strong and intense glare.

The Stag - Jeongguk (?) An individual concerned with the collective and the environment. Conscious of actions and consequences. Has great integrity. Keen judgment. Connected to the cosmic aspects of life, as well as the organic (understands how those are both linked…?) Shield. Bringer of change; for better or worse. Forgiveness is hard to earn if betrayed. Intervenes with the divine. Spring. Fire. Morality.

Biting down on the cap of her pen, Y/N looked from the frayed card guide book to her chicken scratch notes, distantly wishing she had the deck with her. It was always easier for her to connect to energies when she was physically holding the cards, soaking in the artwork. From what she gleaned from the meanings written in the guidebooks themselves, certain characteristics seemed to match up with things she had noticed in both Namjoon and Jeongguk’s personalities. As much as she wanted to write off the reading as a fluke, it was undeniable that the more she read into the energies, the clearer it was that the two hybrids were represented in the spread. Perhaps, in learning that truth, it led to her putting off digging into the meanings of the other cards, and putting together who was who.

Shivering, Y/N tried to ignore the slight queasiness curling in her gut, chalking it up to feeling guilt over looking into a reading that involved her hybrids without their knowledge. It was still difficult to wrap her mind around Judy’s implication that her meeting, or adoptions of the hybrids, were over a year in the making. Not only that, but the reading she wasn’t present for a year ago was surrounding romance. It was a dangerous game, to let herself think about any romance between herself and the hybrids at the present time. Everything was so new to her, to them, and easing the hybrids into their new life and tangling romantic feelings into that process would be irresponsible of her.

Rubbing her temples, Y/N pondered the conundrum she was in. She was well past the point in trying to deny her attraction to all of the hybrids, as well as the startlingly accelerated growth rate of her affection that seemed to double each day she spent with them. Her greatest fear was the hybrids realizing her budding feelings, and in turn coming to a conclusion that she had only adopted them for that sort of relationship– which couldn’t have been further from the truth. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

To distract herself from spiraling for too long, Y/N began to fill out forms on the rec center website for Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung, the mind-numbing task of plugging in names, measurements, and writing down equipment each of them would need effectively pulling her thoughts away from the reading. She’d tackle the nitty gritty of deciphering the other card meanings she had listed in the notebook at some point during the weekend. She was in the middle of jotting down some items she’d need to order for Taehyung to participate in the photography club, when she heard her phone chime on the charger across her bedroom.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she wondered if Alice was sending her Tiktok edits of Pedro Pascal again– it was pretty late, and she doubted it could be anyone else sending her a text message at two AM. Tiptoeing to her nightstand, Y/N rubbed her eyes and opened up her messages.

Seokjin: Y/N, are you still awake?

Seokjin: I hope I didn’t wake you up by sending that…

Y/N: LOL, it’s okay, honey, I haven’t gone to bed yet

Y/N: What’s up ? Need something? I can bring you some water or whatever

Straining her hearing to see if she could register any movement in the house outside of her bedroom, Y/N realized it was futile to try and listen for Seokjin. His bedroom was on the second floor and the opposite side of the house. Even Jeongguk had finally gone to bed; she heard him flop down heavily onto his bed about forty minutes prior. It was a windy night, so all that she could hear was the reedy willow branches whacking against the roof and sides of the house.

Seokjin: I was wondering if we could talk.

Pausing, Y/N blinked at the message thread between her and the jaguar hybrid. He had mentioned recently that he sometimes had trouble getting to sleep, so perhaps he was looking for a conversation to lull him into unconsciousness. Or, perhaps he wanted to continue their chat from earlier, which was interrupted by Hoseok.

Y/N: Of course we can! Want me to come to you?

Several minutes passed without a response from Seokjin, puzzling Y/N. She was in the middle of tapping out another message to him when the light drumming of fingertips against her bedroom door had her halting. Running a hand through her hair to make sure it wasn’t a nest on top of her head, Y/N started towards her door as quietly as she could, conscious of Namjoon on the other side of the wall and not wanting to wake him if she could help it.

“Jin? That’s you, right?” Y/N whispered as she carefully opened her door, met with the blackness of the hallway and eyeshine staring down at her. It was a little eerie to say the least, but the instant she caught a whiff of Seokjin’s eucalyptus shampoo her racing heart calmed a few beats. “Here, come in.”

Seokjin slunk into her bedroom lithely like a passing-by shadow, now completely visible in the purple glow of the fairy lights that illuminated the space. He looked a little twitchy, shifting from foot to foot, as Y/N shut the door behind him after she made sure no light was peaking out beneath the threshold of Namjoon’s bedroom door. The wolf hybrid, from the looks and sounds of it, appeared to be asleep, which brought her comfort– the last time another hybrid visited her in her room after hours, he had eavesdropped and flown off the handle.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so late, I really should have waited until tomorrow… this isn’t important or anything,” Seokjin immediately blurted as soon as she turned to face him, her mouth dropped open to ask him what he wanted to talk about.

“You’re not bothering me,” Y/N quickly assured, tucking hair behind her ear and giving him an inconspicuous once-over. Physically, he appeared to be just fine– in his pajamas, clean, complexion clear and healthy. His only tell that something was on his mind was the way his tail flicked back and forth anxiously. “Let’s talk. You mentioned last weekend that sometimes you have trouble getting to sleep. Is that what’s the matter?”

Seokjin swallowed thickly, the action making his Adam's apple bob in his throat, using a couple of fingers to tug at the loose neckline of his sleep shirt as if it was suffocating him.

“No… Well, partly. I couldn’t fall asleep, but that’s not why I wanted to…” Seokjin broke eye contact with Y/N, inching towards the side of her bed and fiddling with the carved wood of the bedpost. “I feel like I need to tell you about what happened to me before we met, before the adoption. I started to, but then Hoseok interrupted– that’s besides the point though. I wanted to tell you for a while, um, just in case you were wondering why something is so off about me.”

Y/N gawked at the jaguar hybrid with utter disbelief. He was under the impression she thought there was something “off” about him? Absolutely horrified, Y/N moved closer, motioning to her bed so they could sit down together.

“Hold on, Seokjin. First of all, I don’t think there’s anything ‘off’ about you. Secondly, you don’t have to tell me anything about your past if it makes you uncomfortable,” Y/N murmured firmly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to ease him down onto the mattress.

There was a beat, where Seokjin settled down onto her mattress and processed her response, his chest rumbling with light purrs as she lowered down beside him, an earnest look on her face as she soaked in the jaguar hybrid’s side profile.

“No, I know that. But there’s another reason I want to tell you. I think if I talk about it to someone I care about… someone like you, maybe the anxiety surrounding it will begin to ease,” Seokjin started softly, his eyes becoming far away like they were the afternoon she first spoke to him, staring out her window with the same mist clouding over his fiery irises.

The sentiment of Seokjin admitting she was someone he cared about was not lost on her. Her pulse was racing, warmth flooding her body from head to toe, Y/N squirmed in her seat. That aside, it had her heart aching that Seokjin had been through something causing him so much anguish it was causing him to lose sleep. Seokjin was an absolute sweetheart, and there was nothing more he deserved than peace of mind– the fact that he chose her to open up to had the gravity of the situation crashing down on her.

“So… I mentioned it earlier, but I performed stunts for big top shows. I trained for it my whole life, in labs– that’s what I was created for. Eventually, I was selected by a company, a traveling circus, and had been working there for a while,” Seokjin cleared his throat, running a hand through his curls, which appeared almost violet under the fairy lights in the room.

“A traveling circus,” Y/N confirmed, trying her best to remain as composed as possible. Something, in the back of her mind, rang like a bell. Her grandparents used to take her to a traveling circus, one that arrived city to city by train, every summer when she was growing up. Surely, though, it couldn’t be the circus Seokjin performed for– to her knowledge, hybrids weren’t part of any of the acts. “You did acrobatics, right? Along with stunts?”

“Yeah. We went coast to coast, year round. Things were slower in the winter, that’s usually when they’d have us learn new stunts for the summer shows. This past winter, the stunt directors wanted me to do something new, something fresh for the upcoming season. They said ticket sales weren’t what they used to be, and that we needed a new, shocking act to bring people in again,” Seokjin recounted, his rounded ears flattening against his skull as he spoke. “For a while, I thought the stunt directors had forgotten about bringing it up to me and some of the other acrobats, but things became even worse after our July shows in New York. We couldn’t even fill half the tent with showgoers.”

“So these stunts you’d do… I take it they were dangerous? And the stunt directors wanted what, to up the stakes for ticket sales?” Y/N tried to keep the agitation out of her voice, towards the stunt directors, obviously.

While Y/N loved the circus shows she had gone to growing up, as she got older, the glittering fantasy of it all rotted away into the reality she had come to be familiar with during her time at the animal hospital. Circus animals, and from what she could imagine, hybrids as well, were treated like nothing more than dirt by these companies. Their entire existences depended on performance, quality of performance– the training and the long hours were inhumane and the living conditions were just as dismal.

“Well, the stunts weren’t risk free. But my training throughout my life was very thorough, so accidents weren’t ever a concern,” Seokjin softly chuckled, leaning down to nudge Y/N’s shoulder with his own. “After the shows in New York, we headed here, to Boston. There were five days before the next show, and the stunt directors were already advertising for the new act. Usually we’d have weeks to prepare for something new, but not this time. It was just supposed to be me, too… I was a favorite, um, of the crowd, apparently.”

Discomfort washed over Seokjin’s lovely face as he murmured the latter part of his statement, his fingertips winding into the material of his sleep shirt. Y/N noticed that this seemed to be a habit of his when he was anxious or unsure.

“The accident, was it caused because you didn’t have enough time to practice?” Y/N asked after a moment, soaking in the way Seokjin’s ears fluttered with the sound of her voice.

“I suppose it was one of the many causes,” Seokjin mused, still seeming quite far away– Y/N wondered if she reached out to touch him, if her hand would pass through his body like an apparition. “I primarily did aerial acrobatics and the occasional wire walk. This stunt involved both of those things, and it was one of the most dangerous stunts I’ve ever been asked to perform. I was supposed to do an aerial performance on the wire, suspended above a pool– no net to catch me if I fell. I’ve never fallen, so the stunt directors weren’t concerned about that possibility… but things happen.”

“There was no net to catch you?” Y/N all but squawked, finding it hard to keep her voice down. As long as she’d live, she’d never go to another circus. Again, Seokjin chuckled, despite everything.

“No net. That isn’t why I fell, though,” Seokjin continued, leaning backwards on his palms so he could peer down at Y/N better. “At the last minute, the day before the show, they added one of my close friends to the act. She had little to no time to learn the aerial choreography, let alone get comfortable doing it on the wire; but she was also a ‘crowd favorite’, extremely talented, too. We were pretty used to performing together, but I could tell she was nervous about the whole thing. It was unlike anything either of us ever did.”

Pausing, Seokjin’s ear perked up, listening to the willow branches thwack against Y/N’s bedroom window, his orange eyes flashing as the wind picked up.

“Opening night in Boston, we ran the stunt twice beforehand to make sure we had it down, and we did. While we were practicing, they were testing the lighting and pyrotechnics, which was normal. They didn’t tell us they were trying out new effects, though, and no one told us what to expect prior to the show,” Seokjin caught Y/N’s eyes, slightly gnawing on his thick lower lip with pointed incisors as he paused to gather his thoughts.

“We were halfway through the act, and the tent– it was packed, I mean, we hadn’t sold that many tickets in months. Things were going well, I was just about to, uh… do the wire walk. I was supposed to go out halfway, catch my friend from where she was on the aerial hoops, then balance her on my shoulders and walk the rest of the way. As I stepped out on the wire, the pyrotechnics went off but they were much, much closer to where I was by the ladder than I was used to. Um, it startled me so much, I lost my footing, but I was able to hang on for a moment until I realized the top of the tent caught fire. Once I saw the fire, my grip loosened, and I was falling… The last thing I remember before hitting the water was my friend jumping after me, her arms stretched out.”

Y/N froze as soon as Seokjin mentioned the fire that had broken out. She remembered learning about that fire via the TV in the breakroom at the animal hospital weeks ago. Up until then, she hadn’t made the connection that Seokjin was involved in the tragedy– not only were several circus workers, but showgoers as well, were injured. She thought back to some of Seokjin’s behavior during the time she had spent with him; jitteriness around fire, anxiety in crowds, mortification when the swim team was brought up. Everything fell into place.

“So that cut on your side… all the bruising, it happened because of that fall, because the fireworks were too close to where you were performing?” Y/N whispered, trying to process everything. Seokjin hummed, flinching a bit when the air conditioner clicked on noisily. “I’m so, so sorry, Seokjin.”

“I finally woke up, at the shelter, and I met Hoseok and Yoongi. But… I don’t know what happened to my friend. I’ve been trying to find any mention of her in articles about the fire since you gave me my phone, but honestly I doubt the circus company would disclose, um, a d-death of a hybrid performer.”

“What was the circus company’s name, again? And your friend’s name, too? I could have Ben track down information. He has lots of connections, and is very persuasive when it comes to situations like these,” Y/N was desperate to help Seokjin in any way that she could, and wanted to make good on her mental promise to Seokjin when she adopted him that she’d find the people that injured him and slap them with a lawsuit.

“My friend’s name is Hannah. The company– it was Cirque Mystique,” Seokjin responded, eyeing Y/N with vulnerability as the blood drained from her face.

“No way,” Y/N breathed, memories coming back to her so suddenly and vividly it nearly took the wind out of her.

Seokjin was a part of the circus her grandparents took her to all her life. The magic of Cirque Mystique had long since evaporated for her; between the injured circus animals she treated at the animal hospital and now Seokjin’s revelation– the memories of the buttery scent of caramel corn, enchanting lights of the big top, and adrenaline-pumping performances had disgust welling up in her gut as the sensations washed over her. Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Cirque Mystique had incorporated hybrids into their acts, but she had a suspicion that it had to do with not having to actually pay them for their labor.

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin furrowed his eyebrows, his tail instinctively wrapping around her lower back protectively. Damn, Y/N was supposed to be comforting him.

“Seokjin, I used to go to Cirque Mystique shows all the time with my grandparents when I was younger, whenever the train would arrive in Boston. I mean, I haven’t been in a couple of years, but…” Y/N shuddered as she felt the jaguar hybrid lightly drag his palm down her spine, likely in an attempt to soothe. Damn, again.

“Our shows used to be really popular. They only started employing hybrids into acts a few years ago. Perhaps, when you used to go to the show, the company wasn’t so–”

“Terrible? Irresponsible?” Y/N offered immediately, knowing that Seokjin tended to be a bit too kind or dismissive when describing horrible things that have happened to him. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Seokjin, and your friend Hannah, too. I promise, if Ben can dig up any information, I’ll let you know right away.”

Seokjin’s chest rumbled, the movement making him deflate a little bit. He appeared as if a weight was lifted off of him, though the melancholy was certainly still present around the slightly-drooped corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, Y/N, that means a lot to me,” Seokjin bumped his shoulder against her again, his lips pulling up into a tiny smile. “I’m glad I told you, I feel a lot better.”

“I’m glad you told me too. I hope confiding in someone makes it easier for you to fall asleep,” Y/N reached up to push a stray curl out of Seokjin’s eye, squeaking softly when the jaguar hybrid caught her wrist before she could pull it away.

She watched, transfixed on his movements, as Seokjin pressed her palm to his cheek, leaning into the caress with his eyes drawing shut. Stunned, Y/N felt the warmth of his cheek and the weight of his hand over hers, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. Seokjin hummed, his ears fluttering, and Y/N found herself at a loss for words.

“Y/N?” Seokjin murmured, eyes still shut.

“Hmm?” She managed, too busy memorizing each detail of his angelic face and begging her heartbeat to slow in her mind.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Seokjin sounded small, unsure. She’d shared a bed with Seokjin before, when she needed comfort, and she wasn’t about to turn him away after everything he just shared with her.

“Of course,” Y/N agreed quietly, running her thumb over the swell of his cheekbone delicately. “Want to lay down? It’s getting pretty late.”

Seokjin nodded, reluctantly releasing her hand and watching with rapt interest as Y/N got up and began rearranging her quilt on her bed and shutting off the lamps scattered about her bedroom. Something in her chest was squeezing; the strange sensation of being watched by someone waiting for her to make the first move, and everything Seokjin had said and done since he knocked on her door had her head positively spinning. Shimmying out of her slippers, Y/N switched off the fairy lights over her vanity, her ears perking up as she heard the sound of Seokjin making himself comfortable in the bed.

“Need an extra blanket?” Y/N grinned at the jaguar hybrid, who had wrapped himself up to his neck in her quilt so tightly he looked like a burrito.

He shook his head, staring at her expectantly through the darkness as she began to get into bed herself, wondering why she didn’t feel awkward about the whole situation. If only her friends could see her now: months ago, if Y/N had told them she was climbing into bed with a man she’s only known for just shy of two weeks, they’d probably drop her off at her old shrink’s office.

Seokjin didn’t leave much of the quilt for her, but she didn’t mind. She could feel his body heat from inches away, smell the familiar fragrance of his shampoo, and hear his light purring. Honestly, she hadn’t felt that immediately drowsy and comfortable in her bed since the last time Seokjin was in it with her, which was somewhat of a startling realization.

On her back, she tried to make out the shapes of the moldings on the ceiling, listening to the wind and Seokjin’s gentle breathing. The jaguar hybrid shifted, pulling more of the quilt over Y/N’s body, now resting on his side to face her. Shivering with his proximity, she stayed as still as she could, feeling him tentatively tuck his face into the crook of her neck, his forearm lightly slung over her midsection. Y/N was positive he could hear the way her heart was racing, but he didn’t seem to mind, his eyelashes brushing the column of her throat as he shut his eyes.

“Tired yet?” Y/N inquired, her voice hardly over a whisper. In response, Seokjin’s tail curled around her hips, his lips ghosting over her skin as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Mm. I like this quilt,” Seokjin mumbled, his speech slurred with sleepiness. “Smells like you.”

Y/N couldn’t help but bashfully giggle, using a hand to trace patterns over the skin of his forearm softly. Her father used to do something similar to her when she was anxious or couldn’t sleep, and subconsciously she knew that it was an attempt to comfort Seokjin even further.

“Hope that’s a good smell,” Y/N joked, Seokjin weakly humming, the vibrations of his voice tickling her neck.

“Hmm…” Seokjin tightened his hold around her waist, barely audible as he teetered on the precipice of consciousness. “… it’s the best.”

Y/N froze, her fingertips stilling their path over the smooth skin of his elbow. Heat bloomed over her cheeks, and she felt herself falling– hurdling, past the point of no return. Her heart was in trouble, and there was nothing she could do about it. Seokjin’s breathing became slow, mellowed, and his tail grew lax around her hips, and Y/N felt more awake than ever.

“Goodnight, Jin,” Y/N whispered upon deaf ears, and although she knew she’d be turning endless thoughts around her head for a while, it was nice to have someone to hold.

The next day, Y/N woke up by herself, but she expected as much. Unlike the first time she’d slept with Seokjin, she was relieved to not have him beside her as she woke up. It was probably best for her poor heart that she opened her eyes to just the indent of where his head had rested on her pillow, and she definitely had a bit of a champagne hangover that was currently pulsing through her skull as she watched Taehyung blow dust off of an old Led Zeppelin vinyl.

From her spot, laying haphazardly on the leather couch in the music room, she groggily passed a hand over her face as Taehyung murmured to himself, organizing his little collection of records in alphabetical order on the shelf.

“That’s a nice color on you, Tae,” Y/N complimented the Kodiak hybrid from her slumped position, lazily leaning over towards the coffee table to take a sip from her lukewarm coffee. He was wearing the cobalt blue v-neck long sleeve she had gotten for him, and it picked up the warm tones of his skin and eyes beautifully.

Taehyung ducked his head, a small smirk curving his lips, peering at Y/N through his peripherals. She noted that Taehyung was beginning to follow her around again, as he did prior to The Incident, so she was hoping that he was starting to move forward once more.

“Thank you,” his baritone voice still sent tingles down her spine, no matter how many times she heard it. “Where’s Yoongi? I thought he was supposed to be teaching you.”

“He wanted to take a shower after breakfast, he’ll breeze in any moment,” Y/N stretched her arms upwards, rolling her wrists like she had seen Yoongi doing before he’d start playing.

Taehyung nodded, criss-crossing his legs from his spot on the floor and curiously looking through some of the items on the shelf with the records. The shelf was mostly filled with her uncle’s old things; he was kind of an audiophile, and collected all sorts of musical equipment– Taehyung began to pull an ancient pair of Audio-Technica headphones nestled on top of a dusty radio, turning them over in his hands.

“I think you can use those with the turntable. My uncle used to hang out up here listening to records during family functions, and my grandmother had him wear those headphones so he wouldn’t disturb the Christmas party with Dio’s “Holy Diver”,” Y/N informed Taehyung, sitting up as she felt her phone buzzing away in her pocket. Eyebrows furrowing, she checked the screen– it was a number she didn’t recognize.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Yoongi stalked into the room, dressed in an acid-washed hoodie and dark jeans, his long hair damp and sticking to his cheeks. He paid Taehyung little to no mind, stepping around the Kodiak hybrid’s body as Taehyung tried to plug the headphones into the record player.

“One second, I’m gonna see who this is and then I’m all yours,” Y/N squeezed Yoongi’s hand on her way to slip out into the hall while holding up her phone, secretly hoping Yoongi would try to engage Taehyung in conversation in her absence. A girl could dream, after all.

“Hello?” Y/N traced her fingertips along the banister of the staircase, peering down into the foyer as she answered the call.

“Hi, is this Y/N? This is Ralph, from City of Boston Towing Impound Lot. I’m answering an inquiry from an email you sent earlier this week,” a gruff voice boomed from the other end of the line, the busy sounds of city life threatening to drown out his speech.

“Oh! Thank you for getting back to me so soon,” Y/N exclaimed, nervously tapping her foot. This was the last impound lot or junkyard to contact her back since she sent out several emails looking for Namjoon’s trailer on Monday, and her last hope to find it for him. “Any luck finding the trailer?”

“Well, we have one trailer in the lot, picked up during the timeframe you mentioned it was impounded. I’m not sure if it’s the one you’re looking for, though,” said Ralph, with a note of skepticism. “You didn’t give a description of the trailer, but this one is pretty beat up. Covered in moss, real old.”

“Um, okay. Can I ask a favor?” Y/N replied after a moment, sneaking into one of the unclaimed bedrooms that overlooked the backyard. Ralph grunted, Y/N scanning the backyard from the window to catch a glimpse of Namjoon, who she had last seen reading a book under the tree by the picnic table. To her relief, the wolf hybrid was still there, sitting in the grass and enjoying the shade. “Could you take a look inside? There should be tapes, lots of books. That’s how I’ll know it's the trailer I’m looking for, and if it is, I can pick it up sometime next week.”

There were noises of movement and heavy breathing on the other end of the phone, the jingling of keys, and the rusty sound of a door opening. Gnawing on her lower lip, Y/N prayed to the universe she’d finally get lucky, especially considering Namjoon’s birthday was fast approaching.

“Yep, there’s tapes and books alright. Looks like a nutcase was using this trailer, though, ma’am… all kinds of alien posters and… Christ, is that a picture of Bigfoot?” Ralph seemed amused, rifling through items in the trailer. Bingo.

“Ha, that’s me, the nutcase conspiracy theorist, and that’s my trailer! Can I pick it up next week?” Y/N fist-bumped the air, swearing to the sky she’d light a candle in thanks for the stroke of good luck. It was a miracle his trailer hadn’t been compacted at a junkyard yet.

“Yeah, you’ll have to pay a fee, though. Thing’s been collecting dust for a couple of weeks,” a surprised Ralph replied incredulously, to which Y/N expressed was of no issue. She hung up with glee, all but blowing a kiss to the wolf hybrid from the window for having so many identifying objects in his trailer.

Back in the music room, Yoongi was shuffling through a loose stack of sheet music, and Taehyung was lounging on his side on the floor, headphones on and a Soundgarden record on the turntable. Delighted that the Kodiak hybrid appeared to be staying while her and Yoongi had their lesson, Y/N skipped to the bench where Yoongi was sitting, promptly taking her seat beside him. Compared to last week, she was much more comfortable with being so close to the leopard hybrid, even finding it difficult to not lean into his sweet spiced warmth.

“Something good? Call from a boyfriend or something?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow at Y/N, using a pencil to scribble down musical notes on the staff paper. Taken so off guard, Y/N sharply snorted, covering her mouth with her hand.

“A boyfriend? Good one,” Y/N chortled, elbowing Yoongi lightly in the ribs. He screwed his mouth up, gauging her reaction, his eyes slitted. “When, exactly, would I find the time to date, angel? I’ve got my hands full with you all, at the moment.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, leaning over the sheet music so his hair curtained his face. Rolling her eyes, Y/N began to play the melody of Twinkle Twinkle, which she had mastered at an embarrassingly slow rate over the course of the week. Yoongi made a surprised purr in the back of his throat when she didn’t make any mistakes and was exactly on tempo, recovering from her retort.

“It was good news, however… looks like I found the perfect birthday present for Namjoon,” Y/N relented upon Yoongi’s silence, a smug smile on her face once she finished playing the melody. Perhaps, with the added motivation of wanting to please Yoongi, she had tried a bit harder with her piano practice than she would have otherwise.

“With how he acted last week, it better be a lump of coal,” Yoongi muttered, his spotted ears turning backwards against his skull as he placed the sheet music on the shelf above the ivory keys. “Alright, sweetheart. Great job practicing, I think you’re ready to learn some music theory; how to read notes.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N cracked her knuckles, narrowing her eyes at the line of notes Yoongi had penciled in on the staff paper. Taehyung yawned from across the room, singing quietly to the track he was listening to through his headphones, paired with the light crackling sound of the needle passing through the vinyl’s grooves. “Where do we start, teacher?”

Yoongi sucked his teeth, appearing to bite back laughter, before extending an index finger towards the staff paper.

“This is the treble clef, notes you’ll typically play with your right hand. There’s a mnemonic that can help you remember the order of the notes…”

Y/N listened closely, pressing each key down as he named them, enjoying the mid-morning sunshine through the windows and the company of the two hybrids. It was nice to share a love of music between the three of them, and Y/N had the faintest glimmer of hope that one day, her, Yoongi, and Taehyung could spend time together like this more often.

The following day, after learning a simple lullaby with Yoongi on the piano and ordering items for the hybrid’s rec center clubs online over a Friday night cocktail, Y/N woke up to a beautiful Saturday morning, complete with early autumn temperatures and golden sunlight. She started off the morning with a couple of texts.

Y/N: Morning, Namjoon! I think I want to do the protective wards around the property today- Saturdays are good for these kinds of rituals

Y/N: Does that work for you? I’m going to ask Jeongguk if he wants to help over breakfast :) oh, and pls wear black if you can

Y/N pulled on leggings and a loose, thin black sweater, taking soothing, deep breaths to center herself. The color black was associated with protection within her practice, and she’d made sure the ritual was performed on the best day of the week based on what her, Namjoon, and potentially Jeongguk were trying to accomplish. Her phone chimed as she heard a thump and a muted ‘fuck!’ from the other side of the wall, Y/N choking back a giggle at Namjoon’s clear stumble out of bed.

Jimin: Hi, Y/N, I put coffee on - Hoseok and I are going out back to work on the chicken coop this morning

Y/N: Sounds good! Thanks for making the coffee, make sure you and Hoseok wear sunscreen pls

Surprised that Hoseok had willingly gotten up so early, Y/N dared to peek out her bedroom slider to catch the fox or coyote hybrids heading to the back of the property, but caught nothing but the overgrown hedges taunting her for being such a poor landscaper. Tutting, she turned her attention back to stacking ritual items into a basket to carry outside, tuning into the sounds of the house coming alive with the hybrids moving about their morning routines– Jeongguk stomping into his bathroom, Namjoon fumbling about his bedroom and opening up one of his windows, the scent of Yoongi making bacon in the kitchen, and the sound of someone (Seokjin or Taehyung, perhaps) making their way down the stairs.

With everything she needed in her basket, Y/N set off for her morning cup of coffee. Passing by Namjoon’s bedroom door, it promptly creaked open as soon as she skipped by, Namjoon appearing with neatly combed-back silver hair and a tiny smile, contrary to the seemingly hectic start of his day Y/N had listened to on the other side of her bedroom wall.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted cheerfully, Namjoon’s tail swaying behind him as he shut his door and joined her in the hall.

Clearly, he had heeded her request to wear black; he had on black dress pants and shoes, along with a black wife beater and a dark gray cardigan pulled over it. Swallowing thickly, not used to seeing Namjoon in much else other than light earth tones, Y/N tried to push aside how attractive he looked in the dark outfit by averting her eyes to the foyer in front of her.

“Is there a reason behind wearing black for a protection ritual?” Namjoon asked her after repeating back her greeting, following her in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s color magic– each color can represent a different element or intention. Traditionally, in witchcraft, the color black corresponds with protection and banishment. Think of it as an extra shield, absorbing any negativity we may encounter. Really, it's just another layer of insurance,” Y/N relayed, the wolf hybrid clinging onto every word.

His presence, while still a bit intimidating to Y/N with his height and musculature, radiated power. Perhaps, as her mother had begun to theorize at the cookout, Namjoon had practiced some kind of occult magic before… she still hadn’t had the courage to ask him. Maybe when she’d reunite him with his trailer, he’d be more comfortable opening up about himself to her.

“Do you think I can convince Jeongguk to help us?” Namjoon spoke again once they had made it to the kitchen, Y/N leaning against the coffee bar as she watched him fill up a mug for himself. “I thought he’d say something before now. If he’s dealt with these kinds of things before, wouldn’t he… sense that more needed to be done to break up the energy?”

“If you can’t convince him, I might be able to. However, I think he’s warming up to you, so let’s wait and see,” Y/N smirked, finding her mug of coffee on the island where Yoongi had already fixed it for her. The leopard hybrid himself appeared to be in the pantry; Y/N spotting the light of the closet on and a flash of his spotted tail from behind the half-closed door. “Also, there’s been a lot going on around here lately. He could have noticed but chose not to mention anything, but who’s to say.”

Namjoon’s cheeks grew a bit pink, nodding to himself and shuffling off to the breakfast nook with his coffee. Yoongi emerged from the pantry with a bag of dry pancake mix and the waffle iron, saying good morning to Y/N by catching her off guard and pulling her in for a side-hug. She could feel Namjoon gawking at her and Yoongi from the breakfast nook, a strange look on his face when she finally stole a glance of him, trying to shake off the tingles dancing down her spine at his steely expression.

“Any sign of Seokjin, Taehyung, or Jeongguk this morning?” Y/N cracked a couple of eggs into the bowl of waffle batter Yoongi was working on, reaching up to dust a bit of flour off of the leopard hybrid’s face. Blinking, Yoongi registered her question as her thumb brushed the debris off of the slope of his nose, licking his lips.

“Seokjin just joined Jimin and Hoseok outside, Taehyung is upstairs listening to records. No sign of the elk yet,” Yoongi murmured, resuming his task of stirring the waffle batter.

“Wow, you’re all up early today,” Y/N remarked, noticing Namjoon going through the contents of the basket of ritual items curiously. “What do you two think about going out to dinner tonight? There’s a brewery in town, good pub food. I can ask Alice if she’s free, too– we’ve been meaning to go together.”

“Sounds good to me,” Yoongi mused, pouring batter into the hot waffle iron. “I could go for some wings and beer. We don’t have many groceries, anyways.”

“Who’ll drive, if we all drink?” Namjoon frowned at Y/N, a bundle of rosemary in one of his fists.

“We’ll take a cab,” Y/N wanted to childishly stick her tongue out at the wolf hybrid, but managed to keep it together. “Don’t worry, I’m not that irresponsible, Joon.”

Namjoon immediately clammed up, hastily placing the bundle of rosemary back into the basket and turning to stare out the window. Yoongi’s tail smacked the back of her thigh, predictably, and Y/N was about to flick him in the shoulder when she smelt a cloud of smoke enter the room. Once checking to make sure the waffle iron wasn’t up in flames, she relaxed, when the cloud of smoke came with familiar notes of leather and musk.

“Hey Jeongguk, hungry?” Y/N spun on her heel, pleased to see the elk hybrid already dressed in his signature all-black attire, eyeing Namjoon and the basket on the breakfast nook suspiciously.

Y/N bit her lip, noticing Jeongguk was wearing the necklace her parents got him for his birthday– the sword pendant indeed resting perfectly between his clavicles above the loose collar of his Metallica tee shirt. Additionally, it looked like his velvet had finally stopped shedding; his antlers completely bare and his face and hair free from any caked-on blood droplets. Ignoring Y/N, he stalked over to Namjoon and the mysterious basket, Y/N able to see a bit of the tattoo on his back that creeped up the nape of his neck due to the looseness of his shirt. She wondered exactly what the tattoo depicted, as she had only seen a brief, hurried glimpse of it before. It was hard to make out with only about an inch of it exposed at the present moment, and she certainly felt like she was leering at the poor elk hybrid.

“What’s this for, Y/N? Not planning on doing another ritual to attract demons to the house, are you?” Jeongguk asked dryly, a note of bemusement coloring his tone. Yoongi grumbled from beside her, slicing through the flesh of a strawberry a little too aggressively.

“We’re placing wards around the property today. You and I didn’t do that the night banished that entity from the house, and both Y/N and I noticed that the energy still seems off,” Namjoon answered for Y/N, looking thankful for the elk hybrid’s arrival in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I know. You two aren’t exactly quiet or subtle when discussing this shit,” Jeongguk sunk into the breakfast nook across from Namjoon, fiddling with a stray cigarette poised behind his ear. “You want me to help, right?”

“Only if you’re willing,” Y/N piped up, obviously not wanting to force Jeongguk to hang out with her and Namjoon.

“I’ll come out with you. I want to know why this thing is so persistent, anyways,” Jeongguk waved an inked hand, flicking through his phone disinterestedly.

“Great, it won’t take long,” Y/N grinned, her phone once again buzzing a hole in her pocket. Before she could excuse herself to take the call, Yoongi caught her by the hem of her sweater.

“Before you go out there, I want you to have some breakfast, okay?” Yoongi stared at her gravelly, Y/N nodding dumbly as he clicked his tongue and released her.

She answered the phone call from her dad out on the front porch, hopefully away from eavesdropping hybrid ears. Thankfully, he agreed to a favor she had asked of him and her mother; to go together and pick up Namjoon’s trailer and store it at their house until his birthday, as she’d be a bit busy the following week between getting herself to work and each hybrid to their clubs at the rec center and library. Relieved to have most of the plans for the wolf hybrid’s special day out of the way, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and headed back into the house to scarf down breakfast, clean up, and retreat outside to place the wards with Namjoon and Jeongguk.

“What’s your plan? Banging pots and pans, making salt lines?” Jeongguk asked over a drag of cigarette, gazing out at the small pond in the backyard distractedly.

There was a definite breeze in the air; one that carried the scent of sun-scorched grass and smoke coming from the neighbor’s chimneys. Y/N chose to let Jeongguk’s sarcasm amuse rather than annoy her, setting up a sort-of “center” of a circle for the ritual on a large, flat rock by the pond. It was smack-dab in the middle of the property, so it was a good place as any to focus the protective energy and send it outwards.

“Putting salt on the grass and soil is a no-go, it’ll kill everything. And banging pots only works in the house and if you’re dealing with a simple human spirit,” Y/N set up a large black pillar candle on the rock, using the end of a sewing needle to inscribe protective sigils she’d created when she was a teen into the wax. “We’ll use a combination of smoke cleansing with a simple prayer, and burying these protective jars in the four corners of the property. If this doesn’t work, we’re looking at a banishment ritual on the New Moon, at the end of this month.”

Lighting the candle with a match, Y/N mumbled a prayer to her spirit guides for additional protection and assistance. Standing from her crouched position, she handed out a bundle of rosemary to both hybrids behind her, as well as a tiny spell vial she had pre-prepared to bury at each corner of the property.

“Okay, Jeongguk, Joon– you two can take the front two corners of the property and halfway up either side. I’ll do the backyard, and meet you back here when we’re done,” Y/N passed her bundle of rosemary through the flame of the candle to light it– Namjoon mimicking the action– while Jeongguk used the lit end of his cigarette to ignite his own bundle with an air of indifference. “So here’s the prayer, just recite it as you see fit, and use your hand to waft the smoke around the edges of the property. When you reach a corner, just use a stick to dig a little hole and drop the spell jar into it, cover it, and come back here after. I think that’ll do it.”

Y/N equipped the two of them with a scrap of paper with a small prayer on it each, knowing that both of the hybrids were clear on the directions based on how they listened with intensity. It was quite nerve-wracking to have such close attention from both Namjoon and Jeongguk at once, but her heart felt warm knowing that they’d both willingly come outside with her to help out.

“Be careful, Y/N. Shout if anything happens, and we’ll be there,” Namjoon surprisingly laid a tender hand over her shoulder, bending low so he could look directly into her eyes, while Jeongguk had begun to purposefully stride away towards the front-right end of the property with the smoking rosemary already raised in his fist in a swaying motion.

“You too, Joon,” Y/N patted his hand over her shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. With that, he departed with a flicker of his half-bitten ear, and Y/N hoped that the protection ritual would go by without an issue. In all of the similar rituals she had performed in the past, they’d gone off without a hitch, but something was tugging at her gut, annoyingly so.

Y/N made sure the sigil-carved candle was well sheltered against the wind before heading off towards one of the back corners of the yard, steeling herself as she went. While she felt centered, this was the first formal ritual she was conducting since picking her practice back up again, so she definitely felt a bit of beginner’s nerves.

Crossing the bridge by the “guesthouse”, Y/N happily waved to Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin, who were in the middle of pulling rusty chicken wire down from around the coop, tools scattered around the beaten-down earth. Jimin looked positively in his element; his golden hair shining in the early morning sunshine, and once again her heart squeezed looking at him.

“Y/N! Good morning! What are you up to?” Hoseok hollered, his ears fluttering playfully as he tore down a section of chicken wire with ease. Y/N decided to pause, considering she’d have to smoke out the stable for the ritual, as well, shuffling over to the dilapidated chicken coop and the three hybrids surrounding it.

“Morning, you three,” Y/N greeted, using her free hand to brush some dirt off of the light material of Jimin’s linen shirt, able to smell the unique combination of his lavender shampoo and perspiration due to the proximity. As always, Jimin maintained intense, unrelenting eye contact with her, his butterscotch irises sparkling.

“What’s up?” Hoseok repeated, glancing pointedly at the burning bundle of herbs in her hand.

“Just doing a little protection magic. Namjoon and Jeongguk are helping, too,” Y/N replied, following the fox hybrid and Jimin into the stable. Jimin was telling Hoseok to stack up the old, rusted chicken wire in one of the vacant stable stalls.

Y/N wafted rosemary smoke around the old building, admiring the way beams of sunlight filtered through the weathered slats of the roof. She couldn’t wait to see how Jimin would fix it up, and planned on using every spare minute of her free time helping him. If they could get everything squared away before November, when the frost would begin to crystalize the backyard, they could definitely board horses throughout the winter. Y/N knew that having horses in the stable would make Jimin happy, and that was all she wanted, truthfully. Honestly, the possibility of extra income paled in comparison to the idea of bringing Jimin joy, and seeing his pretty smile.

“Y/N, would it be alright if I come into town with you on Monday? There’s a few things we’ll be needing right away to repair the corral and some of the stalls, maybe we could go to the hardware store after your shift?” Jimin approached her after several moments, leaning his hip against an ancient looking ladder leading up to the stable loft.

“Yeah, that’s totally fine,” Y/N grinned, trying her best to direct the rosemary smoke away from Jimin’s face. “I think, in order to accomplish that, I’ll have to drop you off with Seokjin and Namjoon at the library for the afternoon, is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” Jimin replied immediately, returning her grin. Jimin was so effortlessly gorgeous, even after performing manual labor in the thick humidity all morning, it took her aback. “I’ve already read The Stranger, before, so I think I’ll be able to hold my own in the book club while I wait for you.”

Y/N was struck once more with how extensive the coyote hybrid’s taste in literature was. Sure, Namjoon definitely came across as very bookish, but Jimin seemed to be an equally avid reader. She never even asked him if he wanted to join her mother’s book club, which would pretty much be a perfect fit for him.

“Wow, I think you’ll make my mom’s month come Monday,” Y/N chuckled, reaching out to give Jimin’s shoulder a fond pat and squeeze. He leaned into the touch, once again flashing her an Oscar-worthy smile, his sandy ears fluttering delightedly. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be able to come out here tomorrow and Tuesday to help you with anything, too.”

Jimin had followed her around the stable as she both conversed with him and smoke cleansed the area, until the pair of them made it back outside and Y/N figured it was time to move on. Before she left the three hybrids, she asked Seokjin how his morning was going; his cheeks flushed from the heat and exercise and shy purr leaving his chest. Between the three hybrids milling about the chicken coop, Y/N felt her heart swelling, each of them so focused on their tasks it helped her to re-center, wanting to make sure they were all well protected by the wards she was placing.

Paired with Hoseok’s bright laughter and Seokjin’s grounding energy, Y/N felt invigorated to move further past the stable and to the slightly forested area where she would bury her first spell jar.

Fanning rosemary smoke around as she walked with her free hand, Y/N chewed her lip as she noticed a storm cloud darkened her half of the yard ominously, the temperature seemingly dropping and wind picking up. She couldn’t decide if she was simply overanalyzing natural occurrences or if something was stirring now that she was taking action, but she was unsettled to say the least.

Reaching the left-hand corner of the property, Y/N knelt to dig the hole for her first spell jar, placing the burning rosemary on a stray boulder while she recited the prayer from memory. She had just plopped the jar into the earth, when every hair on the back of her neck rose to attention, and a whispery voice from behind curdled her insides.

“If you dare…”

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damiansgoodgirll · 1 month

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can you please write angst with damian priest where him and reader break up because she wants a kid and he doesn’t but deep down he knows he wants a family, but he is scared because he doesn’t want to give up his wrestling career because he thinks he can’t handle family and work together please❤️❤️

damian priest x reader

‼️angst, mention of pregnancy and mention of sex but no actual smut (don’t know if there’ll be a part two sorry)

what i always wanted

it was the way becky told you that you would have been an amazing mother and the way damian was trying to change the topic that you realised that maybe, all you ever wanted wasn’t the same for damian.

you spent an amazing night with becky, seth and their adorable daughter. actually, you spent more time with roux than with becks and seth and you loved every second of it

the ride back home was silent, only music playing in background, knowing that once home you had to talk about it because it was too evident in your eyes the need to talk about the whole situation, about damian changing the subject when becky complimented you on how good you were doing with roux, about you wanting to be a mother and about damian, apparently not wanting to be a father.

“can we talk about it?” you asked him once you both changed for bed.

“about what?” he asked you, sitting in bed.

“about tonight dam…why did you change the subject when becky said i was good with roux? it looked like you were annoyed…” you said.

“what? i didn’t, and i wasn’t annoyed i promise” he said reaching to cup your face with his hands and gently kissing your lips.

“don’t you think it’s time to talk about it?” you asked him, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

“what do you want to talk about love?” he asked, getting curious.

“us…the future, a family”

he didn’t reply at first.

“dam?”

“you’re not happy with me?” he asked.

“i’m so happy with you dam and i love with all my heart, we’ve been together for four years now and i wouldn’t change it in any other way…but we never talked about having a family…i feel like we should have this conversation” you said , slowly sitting in bed, facing him.

“why now? i thought everything was fine…it was because of roux?” he asked.

“i don’t know, maybe…everything is fine damian but i was wondering if it’s time for us to start a family…” you said softly.

“i don’t know mi amor…i don’t even know if it’s the right moment to have this conversation, it’s midnight and we’re both tired…shouldn’t we have this conversation another day?” he asked yawning and maybe he was right.

so weeks passed.

months passed.

and you both went on with your lives.

he took you on some fancy trips. you had the best sex, like always. you had dates every week. you had sex again. you had your little fights that always ended up with make up sex and damian apologising. everything was normal, except you never had that conversation again.

and in all honesty, you were getting tired of it.

in these past months you’ve spent more times helping becky with roux and the desire of being a mother grew. your best friend son, who was now 5 said how you were his favourite aunt and how he loved spending time with you. you even babysat your neighbour’s daughter when she needed a little help with her work shift.

you needed to talk about it with damian but you never knew when or if it was the right time. when you tried to talk about it last week, he stopped you, not even letting you finish and began to talk about wrestlemania.

that comported a fight between the two of you, that ended up having sex on the kitchen counter.

and then on the kitchen table.

one night, after dinner, you’ve been cuddling on the couch while watching a show that in reality neither of you were paying attention to.

damian knew something was wrong the moment he came home from training. how you both sat in silence while eating your dinner, but he was too scared to ask.

“dam?” you called him.

“yes?”

“can we talk?” you asked him now sitting on the couch in front of him.

“sure…”

“i’ve been thinking…we’ve been together for a while now, we have this amazing home together…what do you think about kids?” you were patiently waiting for his answer.

“us? having kids?” he asked you.

“yes! i mean, not now…we could wait for a few years but i really wanted to talk about it with you…do you want a family?” tears were gathering in your eyes when you saw how hesitant he was being.

“y/n…”

“dam” you said standing in front of him “it’s an easy question. yes or no? do you want a family?”

“it’s never an easy question if it’s involving kids…it’s not a yes or no type of question. it takes time raising a child…mi amor, it takes a lot of time and effort and money and…i don’t know…i never pictured myself being the type of father guy…i don’t see myself with kids”

his answer broke you.

“do you want kids y/n?”

“yes…” you whispered “more than anything…”

“why did you never talk about it?” he asked, leaving you speechless for a second.

“i tried damian, i tried…but you stopped me…taking about wrestlemania or your training with dominik…”

“no i mean…why you never said that when we started dating” he asked you.

“what? why? would it make any difference now?” you were shocked.

“you always knew i wasn’t the type to settle with a van, kids and dogs running in the house, the type of guy with a normal job, coming home every night and kissing you good night…i’m always travelling and luckily you’re able to follow me everywhere but how would it be with kids? they need stability, they need a home and we both know we can’t…i can’t provide those things with the type of life i have…i don’t wanna settle with leaving you pregnant and home alone, i don’t wanna settle with being away all week and coming home just for the weekend…i don’t want that” he said. his words breaking all the hope you had left.

in reality, damian wanted to have kids, a family with you.

he was scared.

scared of failing.

as a partner. as a father.

scared of being too old for raising kids now.

he knew his job was a hard job, especially if kids were involved.

he didn’t want kids before but everything changed when he met you. he was just too afraid of having something good happen and now he was pushing you away. he could tell how broken you were, how disappointed you were.

being a parent is a completely new experience and he was sure he wasn’t good at it. maybe because of his rockstar lifestyle before meeting you. maybe because he never saw himself with kids before. maybe because he was scared of not being able to focus on family and career at the same time.

he was just too scared and he was pushing you away.

“dam…please…we can’t let this thing break us apart…i love you so much and i want to spend the rest of my life with you but”

“but what?” he asked, watching you crying. seeing the damage he just done “i love you so much y/n but my answer is no. you asked me if i wanted kids and my answer is no.”

“so it’s over?” you asked him, not even being able to look at him in the eyes.

“you want to be a mother y/n” he came closer to you “i can read it in your eyes, i can see it when you’re playing with roux or holding our neighbour’s daughter, i feel it everytime we walk by to a kids store or a playground, how you admire all the kids playing with their friends…i love you so much y/n, that’s why i have to let you go…you deserve to find someone who shares the same wishes as you” he said, taking your face in his hands and slowly kissing your head.

i want to be that man - his mind kept screaming.

but fear stopped him.

so that’s how you ended up in your best friend’s guest room. rhea was the first person you called when you and damian broke up and to say she was mad - no, she was pissed at damian for being so stupid to let you go.

three weeks have passed since you last spoke with him and the pain you were experiencing was too much. damian wasn’t good either - rhea said - staying away from you was hurting him too.

three weeks of no contact. three weeks of feeling like shit. you were eating less and throwing up more. always sleeping in, never going out. no matter how hard rhea and buddy tried to get you out of the bed, you always refused. you felt like shit but you never felt like that shit. you had no energy, always tired and sick. you blamed everything on the break up but deep down you knew there was something off.

rhea blamed it on damian. on how he was hurting you and on how stupid he was.

but curiosity kicked in when you realised something was more than off as it was the first time you were feeling so weird.

that’s how you found yourself, sitting on the bathroom floor with a test in your hands.

“pregnant.”

243 notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 1 year

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: September 26th, 2003

Plot: There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Word Count: 12.8k (longest chapter yet)

Warnings: tlou ep.1 spoilers, language, canon-typical violence, gore, blood, guns, death, loss of a child, injuries, implied smut (16+)

A/N: Well, we’ve arrived at that fateful chapter…this took so long to even be emotionally able to write. There are so many small details that I hope people catch, and plenty of things to remember for future chapters.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age/range is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this one, and thank you so much for all the kind words, theories and general love I receive throughout the week 💞

————————

September 26th, 2003. Austin, Texas.

There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Families of the terminally ill are given a vague timeline of when they’ll lose their loved one.

Soldiers are told before marching into battle that they may lose their life.

But a car crash does not announce itself before causing the collision.

A heart attack doesn’t prepare its victim before it steals their breath.

Nor did Cordyceps feel it owed the world any notice before it arrived.

On the morning of September 26th, Y/n was awoken by strips of sunlight coming through the blinds of Joel’s bedroom window. She was the early riser out of the two and she never minded, it gave her more time to admire the handsome lump weighing her down.

Y/n brushed a strand of hair off her boyfriend’s forehead and pressed a feather light kiss to it. Joel didn’t wake easily, but she liked to say she at least tried the sweet way before having to go nuclear. She gently rubbed his back, running her palm up and down the warm skin, but it only made him settle deeper into her chest. Y/n smiled and shook her head, knowing that in mere seconds….

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

It truly was miraculous how deep Joel could go into his rest. Y/n rolled her eyes and tried to reach across the pillows to switch off the clock, her fingers wiggling in the air as she strained. With his arms firmly wrapped around Y/n’s body, Joel didn’t even budge.

Finally, salvation came in the form of Sarah banging on the bedroom door, jolting Joel awake.

“Alarm,” the girl called, raising her voice the second time, “Alarm!”

“Thank you,” Y/n called back.

Joel rolled over, barely aware of his surroundings, and switched off the clock. He pushed up on one arm and turned back to his girlfriend, watching him with a smirk.

“What?”

Y/n shook her head, “You must be great in emergencies.”

Joel rubbed at his eyes, “Maybe I’m a little tired because someone wore me out last night.”

“Oh, don’t blame me for this,” Y/n laughed, “A year and a half and I’ve never seen you wake up when your alarm goes off. Not once.”

Joel looked down at her, squinting from the sunlight, a small smile playing on his lips, “Maybe I hear it, but there’s a more compellin’ reason to ignore it.”

He slipped back down into the sheets, resting his head once again on Y/n’s chest.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Y/n began to shimmy out of his arms, “We gotta get up.”

Joel tightened his hold around her torso, “My birthday, I make the rules.”

“No, it’s your birthday and Sarah and I make the rules,” Y/n corrected. Joel had never been one for celebrating the day, meaning it was up to Sarah and Y/n to make the day special, “What you want actually ranks very low on the list.”

Joel was paying very little attention to his girlfriend’s words, trailing a line of kisses up the chest of his t-shirt she was wearing and across her neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbled against her skin.

“No,” Y/n denied, her pulse speeding up the further his lips travelled.

“Yes,” Joel ignored her protests, making his way up to where her jawline met her ear.

“No,” Y/n laughed, her words not lining up with her reaction as she ran a hand over Joel’s hair.

“Say it again, honey,” Joel whispered against her ear, “And mean it.”

Y/n was teetering on the edge of letting him take what he wanted, but her loyalty to Joel’s daughter won out. “Sarah’s cooking you breakfast,” she said, slipping her hand between their chests, “And I’m not gonna be the one to tell her that her dad missed out on her efforts because he was horny.”

Joel snorted, dropping his head and laughing against Y/n’s chest.

Y/n pulled his face up to hers and laid a kiss on his lips, “Happy Birthday.”

“Just another reminder I’m gettin’ old,” Joel grumbled.

“True,” Y/n smiled, taking his scratchy cheeks into her palms, “But you’re my old man.”

Joel chortled, running his hands over Y/n’s body one last time before reluctantly rolling off of her. Their day had to begin, whether he wanted it to or not…

The two got dressed for work, while Y/n hadn’t officially moved in with the Millers, it was her second home. She kept practically one of everything in Joel’s room because of how often she slept over.

Y/n was the first of them down the stairs, landing in the kitchen where Sarah was already laying strips of bacon in a pan, “Can you take this so I can get the eggs?”

“You got it,” Y/n responded, switching places with the girl.

Sarah opened the fridge doors, getting a whiff of the inside, “When was the last time we cleaned this out?”

“Uh, two weeks ago, I think,” Y/n replied.

“Well, something died in it recently,” Sarah stated, grabbing a bowl to whisk the eggs in.

Sarah and Y/n’s relationship had stayed as steady as her and Joel’s. She’d expected some sort of pushback eventually, Sarah had just hit the teenage years, but it had yet to come. Y/n theorized it was because the young girl was just happy to have a woman in her life, but she felt like that was giving herself too much credit.

With the protein cooking on the stove, Sarah started searching through the cabinets. Joel had just come downstairs, still buckling his belt.

“Where’s the pancake mix?” Sarah asked her dad.

Still groggy, Joel scrunched his brows. “Oh, I was-” he’d forgotten the trip to the store he was supposed to take the night before, “Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

“I was gonna make you birthday pancakes,” his daughter complained, marching to the fridge and muttering to herself, “I swear…”

Joel ignored the smell of the food cooking and headed straight for the coffee pot, “You know, I don’t really like pancakes.”

“I know you don’t,” Sarah replied, pouring a glass of orange juice, “It was for my and Y/n’s benefit.”

“We’ll survive,” Y/n said, working on the eggs while Sarah was away, “Though pancakes are a weird thing to not like.”

Joel bristled at his girlfriend’s remark, turning around and facing Sarah with the glass of juice extended towards him.

“Vitamin C,” she explained.

For as much as Joel took care of his daughter, the roles were beginning to shift the older they both got. Sarah could spot his bad habits and tried to fix them wherever she could, the biggest one being his lack of actual nutrition. The man existed on coffee.

Joel took the glass from her, setting his mug down and humoring Sarah with a sip.

Y/n chuckled as she watched his expression turn sour, “Look more enthusiastic. I dare you.”

Joel grimaced, proceeding to pick up the coffee as soon as Sarah was back at the stove.

“You get your, uh, homework done?” Joel asked Sarah, waiting for her smile when she turned around, “Fractions?”

Sarah laughed, it was fact not only that she was ahead of her classmates, but Y/n was her tutor when it came to math. Joel wanted nothing to do with the subject.

Y/n and Sarah plated the feast and the three of them sat down at the table, as they did most mornings. Between Y/n and Joel’s work schedules and Sarah’s extracurriculars, it was the only guaranteed time they had each day to spend together.

“How old are you again?” Sarah asked her dad.

“Thirty-six,” Joel answered with a mouthful of egg.

“Gonna have to start wearing diapers soon,” Sarah joked, her tone remaining remarkably even.

”Who says I don’t already?” Joel replied, it wasn’t hard to track where Sarah’d gotten her humor from. He proceeded to pick something out of his teeth, looking to his daughter, “Shell.”

“Calcium,” she said, grinning wide with a mouthful of eggs on display.

“Lovely,” Joel muttered, looking over at Y/n as she laughed, “You’re encouragin’ bad table manners.”

Y/n shrugged and held her coffee mug to her lips, ”I see it as supporting a potential future as a comedian.”

The truck engine in the driveway signaled that Tommy was there to pick his brother and Y/n up for the day.

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Joel asked Sarah.

“There would’ve been,” Sarah grumbled into her plate, still bitter about the lack of pancakes.

“I can whip him up something, if we’ve got time,” Y/n offered.

Joel shook his head, “Nah, we gotta get going.”

Tommy entered through the garage door, the most carefree of them all. “Ay,” he clasped Joel’s shoulder, “You’re still alive, you old fucker.”

“Language,” Y/n chastised, she’d been trying for months to curb Tommy’s soldier’s mouth around Sarah. It wasn’t working.

“Aw,” Sarah cooed to Joel, “He loves you.”

“He’s dependent on me,” Joel watched his brother begin to raid his kitchen, “Not the same.”

Sarah shrugged, “I think it’s the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” Tommy said, examining the countertops for food, “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.”

“The age started to take his memory last night,” Y/n’s tone turned serious as she pressed a hand to Joel’s bicep, “We’re meeting him where he is.”

Joel’s smirk contradicted the glare he shot his girlfriend, letting her hand stay on his arm through the teasing. “We’ll pick you up somethin’ on the road,” he addressed Tommy, “Concrete guys gonna be there?”

“Yeah, they said maybe,” Tommy replied as he opened up the fridge.

“‘Maybe?’” Joel echoed, “We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.”

Tommy started sniffing through various leftovers, “Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.”

“No, no,” Joel shook his head and cut up another bite of eggs, “I’m not splittin’ this job, I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.”

Sarah and Y/n both turned to him.

“Literally?” Sarah asked, “Today?”

“Joel, come on,” Y/n agreed, “Not today.”

“I know,” Joel was quick to remedy the moment, “I’d be done by nine,” he called to Tommy, “By nine, right?”

Sarah gazed across the table to Y/n, the two of them sharing a disbelieving look.

“I’ll bring back a cake,” Joel looked between the girls, “I promise.”

Y/n sighed, holding her coffee cup to her chest. Joel had been pulling double shifts more and more recently. She’d been meaning to talk to him about it, how she and Sarah had been missing him, but she was in no position to stop him from working. Money was tight and contract work was never a sure thing.

A news broadcast broke up the top 40 station Sarah had turned the radio on to while cooking. “Continued disturbances in Jakarta…” the voice announced, the clinking of silverware against plates breaking it up, “But are advising U.S. citizens-“

“Jakarta?” Joel repeated, “Where is that? Middle East?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Tommy shook his head, holding a coffee cup, “It’s definitely a country. Or maybe a part of Asia?”

Y/n smiled and tilted her head at Sarah, who was already prepared to answer.

“Jakarta isn’t a country,” she interjected, “Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country and in fact, it’s the capital of Indonesia.”

“That’s my girl,” Y/n said proudly.

“Shit,” Tommy grinned, “Hope for us yet.”

Joel took a final sip of his coffee before slapping his hand against his bare wrist, still expecting his broken watch to be there. He, instead, dug into his pocket checked the time on his cell phone.

“All right,” he announced to his daughter, collecting his and Y/n’s plates, “Finish up quick. We’ll drop you off.”

“I’m still eating my eggshells,” Sarah said.

“You got seven minutes,” Joel replied, dumping the dishes in the sink for later.

“Your t-shirt’s inside out.”

Joel looked down, deflated at the trip he now had to make back upstairs, “Shit.”

Sarah waited till he was out of the room and cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Y/n.

“Pop that thing down, missy,” Y/n pointed downwards, “Your dad just pays shockingly little attention for someone who works with power tools.”

Tommy smiled over the wings he’d taken for himself, “He’s losin’ it.”

Y/n laughed and nudged Sarah’s leg, “C’mon, finish up.”

Sarah scooped the last bite of egg into her mouth and handed her plate to Y/n, who brushed past Tommy on her way to the sink. She reversed a few steps to get a whiff of the chicken.

“Found the smell,” she called out to Sarah, patting Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Stomach of steel,” he replied, setting his plate on the edge of the sink and planting a kiss on Y/n’s cheek. The two of them had become as good as siblings.

Y/n climbed up the stairs and down the hall to Joel’s room. He emerged just as she approached, brushing his hand across her hip as they passed one another. As much as they both loved pouring out the fullness of their affection, the casual intimacies were their favorites.

Grabbing her keys and wallet off Joel’s dresser, Y/n peeked out the window and waited till she saw Joel outside with Tommy. “Sarah,” she called down the hall.

Sarah tiptoed her way in, just to be safe, “Good?”

“Yep,” Y/n nodded.

Sarah found the assigned drawer, digging through Joel’s possessions to pull out his broken watch. She’d developed the plan to fix it as a birthday present last month and had gotten Y/n in on it.

“You’ve got the money?” Sarah checked.

Y/n flipped through the bills in her wallet, “Should be enough.”

Sarah thumbed through Joel’s cash and pulled out a few extra, smiling mischievously, “Now we can be sure.”

“Sarah! Y/n!” Joel called from the truck, Tommy was honking the horn.

Slipping the watch into her backpack, Sarah and Y/n quickly left the bedroom and headed down the stairs. Y/n hung back to make sure the coffee pot and stove were off before exiting out the front door. From the porch, she could see Sarah was in conversation with Mr. Adler next door. Or rather, dodging conversation.

“Make ‘em happy,” Joel encouraged, passing Y/n to grab another load of tools.

“I could come by after school, but just for like, a little bit,” Sarah offered.

“She’ll take what you got,” Mr. Adler replied as he fed his elderly mother-in-law, “Y’all can bake or whatever. Speakin’ of,” the man held up a plate, “We got a lotta extra here, y’all want some biscuits?”

“Dad,” Sarah masterfully tossed the ball to Joel, “You love biscuits.”

“I do,” Joel replied cheerily, “But Y/n’s got me on Atkins.”

Y/n snorted, watching the exchange go down from the bed of the truck.

“On what now?” Mr. Adler asked.

“It’s uh-“ Joel stopped himself, “You know, we gotta run but Sarah’ll be by later. She’ll stay as long as you want,” he smiled genuinely to his neighbors and smugly to his daughter, “Tell you all about Atkins.”

“Great, I’ll let Connie know,” Mr. Adler called back as Joel took Y/n’s hand and led her around the truck, “Hey, Y/n, you’re invited too.”

She peeked over the truck’s flatbed, “I’ll be working, but I’ll come grab Sarah on my way home.”

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled at her dad’s girlfriend, glaring at her father himself, “Solid.”

Joel held the door open for them, smirking at Y/n. “Thirty minutes, then you can rescue her,” he instructed.

“I never suggested Atkins,” she replied, sliding into the backseat beside Sarah.

“Can’t tell you how exciting it was listenin’ to that fuckin’ conversation,” Tommy commented, his speech molding around the cigarette between his lips.

“Put that out,” Joel said, a second before Y/n could form the same words.

Tommy flicked the smoke out onto the driveway, “Happy birthday to you.”

The truck pulled out into the cul-de-sac, carrying each of them off to their separate days.

Once Sarah had been dropped off at school and Y/n at the hardware store, Joel and Tommy headed across town to their construction site.

“Y’all got plans for tonight?” Tommy asked as they rode.

“If I don’t bring a cake home, they’re gonna string me up,” Joel answered, “Other than that, nothin’.”

His brother chuckled, “Least they gang up on you together. I got a buddy who just brought his girl home, his kid can’t stand her.”

Joel wasn’t an idiot, he knew how lucky he was that his girlfriend and daughter got along. No, they did better than just get along. They were practically inseparable. He’d take as much shit as they could give him, so long as they did it together.

“When’re you gonna marry that girl?”

It wasn’t the first time Tommy had asked that question. It had been increasing in frequency over the last few months. After they’d passed their one year anniversary, it became a thought consuming more and more space in Joel’s mind. It had taken enough time to sort out his thoughts and fears on the subject of going into marriage again, but it had been something that week that had settled him on the matter.

Monday night, Y/n had dropped by after her shift to help Sarah with homework. Joel had been at work, but when he got home, he expected to see them waiting for him at the kitchen table. Finding only silence, he climbed the stairs and peeked into Sarah’s room. Y/n was sitting against the headboard of Sarah’s bed, the young girl tucked into her shoulder, the math homework spread across their laps.

In the seemingly meaningless display of affection, Joel saw so much more. He saw the rest of his life. He could finally give Sarah a crucial piece of happiness that she’d been deprived of. He could have the love he’d craved and denied himself for so many years. The three of them, a family.

He was going to ask Y/n to marry him that weekend.

“I was gonna head to that place in the mall tomorrow morning,” Joel replied, his fingers rubbing together in anticipation. The last few weeks of working double shifts would pay off if he could find the perfect ring.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy grinned, “You’re actually doin’ it.”

“No reason to wait,” he said, staring ahead as if he could see his bright future.

“Think she’ll say yes?” Tommy asked, practically bleeding from the daggers Joel shot at him. He heartily laughed, “You get Sarah’s blessin’?”

A small smile stretched across Joel’s lips, “I know I already got it. But yeah, I’m gonna show her the ring, ask her officially.”

“Girl’s not gonna say no,” Tommy replied, making a turn onto the street the construction site was on, “She’s as crazy about her as you are.”

Joel couldn’t see any reason why Sarah would reject Y/n, she liked her better than she did Joel half the time. But he’d still never make such a big decision without consulting his daughter.

“You fucker,” Tommy chuckled, smacking Joel’s chest, “Won the damn lottery.”

Joel smiled out the window, he knew it too.

——————

Y/n’s day went by as slow as possible. She kept moving around the hardware store, helping employee and customer alike with anything they needed. All she needed was to stay busy until 3PM when she’d clock out an hour early, pick Sarah up at the house and they’d head downtown to the watch repair shop.

She absentmindedly spinning down one of the aisles, passing Melinda, one of her co-workers.

“Head outta the clouds, kid,” she chuckled.

“I’m on the ground,” Y/n replied, doing another twirl, “I just need this fucking day to end.”

Melinda went back to hanging inventory, “You and Joel got big plans tonight?”

“I was gonna grill us up some steaks,” she shrugged, “Cake. He’ll get squirmy if Sarah and I spoil him too much.”

“I got a question,” Melinda rested her arm on a shelf, “And if it’s too personal, you tell me. I won’t care, but you can tell me.”

Y/n giggled, “Okay.”

“Are you two ever gonna get married?”

Y/n’s movements came to a stop in the middle of the aisle. She’d been thinking more and more about what it might look like to marry Joel. It wasn’t like she was daydreaming about meaningless details like what dress she’d wear or what color roses would serve as centerpieces. She thought about waking up in Joel’s arms every morning, cooking breakfast for Sarah, being there for every moment, big or small. That was what she cared about.

Joel had eventually opened up to her about his ex-wife and what her abandonment had done to both him and Sarah. Y/n knew it was a scar that was as healed as it could be. She would never rush Joel into making a decision about their future, but she’d have been lying if she’d said she didn’t want to eventually wear his ring on her finger.

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Well, he needs to lock you down,” Melinda pointed towards Y/n with a hammer, “My cousin, came in last week, got one look at you, he’s been asking me for your number all week.”

Y/n laughed, “Ring or no ring, I’m locked down. This is it for me.”

The women turned their attention down the aisle to a man, taking sloppy steps down the aisle. It was barely two in the afternoon, a little early to already be drunk, but Texas took the rules of happy hour very loosely.

Melinda groaned, “Ugh, you want me to take him?”

“No, I got it,” Y/n put on her cheery voice and walked up to the customer, “Can I help you find any-“

The man spun to face her, snarling, and took a swing at Y/n. She jumped back just in time.

“What the f-“

Growling, he charged towards her again, this time using her shock against her and tackling her to the floor. Y/n screamed, shoving her hands against his chest in an effort to push him off of her.

“Fuck!” Melinda yelled, pulling at the guy’s legs, “Help! We need help!”

Y/n stared into the man’s eyes, they were glazed over entirely, filled with pure, animalistic rage. He snarled and bit at the air before wrapping his hand around her neck. She used all her strength to push him away, her breath stuck in her throat. He lunged to burrow his face where his hand lay, Y/n couldn’t get him off her, but she kept him from getting any closer.

The manager, Don, sprinted down the aisle with a few other guys and pulled the attacker off of Y/n. The man fought back, growling and clawing relentlessly at her. One of the employees dropped him on the ground and sat on him, ensuring he didn’t go anywhere.

Y/n scrambled to her feet, Don came to embrace her.

“You okay?”

She was fighting to catch her breath, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m callin’ the police,” Melinda announced, rushing off to the phone at the front desk.

“What happened?” Don asked, moving to hold Y/n’s arms.

“I-I don’t know,” she ran a hand through her hair, “He came down the aisle and just lunged at me. I-I just offered to help him.”

With the man still fighting to break out of his hold, making sounds that made him seem possessed, Don pulled Y/n out of the aisle.

“I’m sorry, Don,” Y/n apologized, her voice still trembling.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he quickly shook his head, “Men gotta learn they can’t go gettin’ rough on a woman just cause they’ve had a bad day.”

The police arrived within ten minutes, running down the aisle and cuffing the monstrous man. Y/n stayed far away from her attacker as he was dragged out of the store, residing between Melinda and Don. She’d been asked if she wanted to press charges, but she declined. She just wanted the whole thing to be over.

“Take off now,” Don offered after the officers left.

“No, I-I’m okay,” Y/n smoothed her apron down with shaking hands.

“Don’t even try,” Don shook his head, “Get on out of here.”

Y/n took the first breath she could actually feel, wasting no time in dashing back to the break room and grabbing her purse out of her locker. She wanted to be as far away from anything about the afternoon as she could. Plus, it would mean she could pick Sarah up straight from school instead of the Adlers.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Y/n bid her co-workers farewell on the way out.

Don rasied a hand alongside Melinda, “See ya tomorrow. Wish Joel a happy birthday from us!”

The mention of his name got a smile out of Y/n, “I will.”

With Joel and Tommy having dropped her off, she had to call a cab to take her back to her apartment. She held in her tears until the front door was locked and she knew she was safe.

Why hadn’t she fought back? Fought harder? She was great with her words, but she’d never been able to physically defend herself. In the world they lived in, it was becoming more and more necessary for a woman to be able to throw a punch. Y/n felt weak for not fighting for her safety with the ferocity that Joel or Tommy would have. It just wasn’t in her nature to be violent, even if her own life was on the line.

She managed to collect herself, drying her tears and heading back down to her car. She was determined to put the incident behind her and not let it ruin her day.

Y/n parked directly outside the front of the school so Sarah couldn’t miss her. She waited against the car door, tapping her heel against the asphalt until a barrage of kids came pouring out of the building. Sarah clocked her just before she headed for the bus.

“I thought you were picking me up at home,” she called across the street.

“My shift ended early,” Y/n explained, excluding the reason why.

Sarah opened the passenger side door and jumped in, “Can we grab ice cream or something after?”

“Nice try,” Y/n started up her car, “I’m dropping you off at the Adler’s after this.”

Sarah let her head fall against her seat, with a small groan.

“Half an hour and then there’ll be some big birthday emergency,” Y/n offered, turning onto the next street over, “Seatbelt.”

It was these small domestic moments that showed just how good of a parent Y/n would make. She still didn’t believe she was doing anything exceptional, but the smallest acts of care meant the most. Making sure Sarah walked on the inside of the street, making sure she’d eaten enough, helping her with homework…all of that equated to Sarah knowing she had someone else looking out for her.

They made it downtown to the jewelry-clock repair shop within minutes. Their part of Austin was small enough that everything was five minutes away.

The owner at the front counter examined Joel’s watch, “Twenty.”

“That’s it?” Sarah asked, surprised.

“Okay,” the man smiled, “Thirty.”

“My little negotiator,” Y/n looked down at Sarah, smirking, “Let’s stick with twenty.”

“It’s a spring,” he explained as Sarah pulled out the twenty she’d taken from Joel, “I’ll do it right now.”

Y/n put an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and tugged her into her side, the two of them absentmindedly hugging as they glanced around the store. Behind them, a line of police cars followed by a fire truck sped down the street. It pulled Y/n back to an hour before.

“All day, I swear,” a woman emerged from the shop’s back room, switching between speaking in English and Arabic, “We’re closing.”

“It’s 3:15,” the owner responded, “We close at 7.”

The woman anxiously stood at the window, staring down the street. She lapsed back into Arabic as she addressed her partner, before putting her hands on Y/n and Sarah’s arms, “I’m very sorry, he cannot finish.”

“I already finished,” the man replied, holding out the boxed watch to his wife.

She pressed the box into Y/n’s hands, “You should go home.”

“W-wait,” Y/n stuttered as the woman rushed them out of the shop, “Wh-“

“Go home,” the woman urged, staring into Y/n’s eyes with a desperation a child could never understand.

She shut the door on Y/n and Sarah, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ after and pulling the blinds.

“That was weird,” Sarah muttered.

“Yeah,” Y/n watched as the woman continued shutting the blinds in the windows.

Successful in their quest, Y/n and Sarah loaded themselves back in the car and headed home. On the way, they passed four more police cars and one more fire engine. Austin had its fair share of crime, especially downtown, but this was out of the ordinary.

“What do you think’s going on?” Sarah asked at one point.

“No idea,” Y/n answered, pulling them into the driveway of Joel’s home and unbuckling, “I’ll check the news. Go be a good person.”

“I’m timing you,” Sarah said firmly.

Y/n smiled, “Go.”

Sarah dragged herself and her backpack out of the car and trudged across the Adler’s lawn. Y/n watched her lovingly, she had the biggest heart of anyone she knew, it was just butting heads with teenage hormones.

Y/n let herself into the Miller’s house, her body relaxing as soon as the door shut. She kicked off her sneakers and headed for the living room, switching on the television. She changed the channel to the local news station, expecting to see a fire or mass shooting. All the anchors said was that there had been reports of heightened violence throughout the day and that citizens should avoid going downtown. That lined up with what Y/n had experienced at the store, apparently the city of Austin was acting like a collective asshole.

Satisfied, Y/n busied herself with laundry and taking care of the dishes from breakfast until she scanned the clock, seeing it was ten past the time she said she’d pick Sarah up at.

She went outside, crossed the shared lawn and knocked on the Adler’s front door. Connie was the one to open it.

“Well, there she is,” the woman exclaimed, “Come in!”

They entered into the hallway, which smelled like cookies and mothballs, and Y/n spotted Sarah sitting in the kitchen, bag packed and a barely concealed frown on her face.

“I’m sendin’ you two home with some cookies,” Connie said, bustling around the kitchen for a Ziploc, “They’re raisin.”

“Oh, yay,” Y/n feigned excitement, following her in and stroking a hand across Sarah’s hair, “Those’re Joel’s favorite.”

Sarah fought the laugh caught in her throat, Joel would’ve rather died than touch anything with raisins in it.

Connie handed Y/n the bag and took her other hand, “You tell him happy birthday from us.”

“We will,” Y/n smiled before they headed down the hall and to the door.

“Wait,” Sarah mumbled just as they were walking out. She stopped to see Mercy, the Adler’s dog, whining at Nana Adler, seated in her chair as usual.

“Dogs are super tuned into their owners,” Y/n explained, “Some studies suggest that they can sense if their person’s in pain.”

Sarah hummed and accepted the answer, exiting out the front door with Y/n. “You were late,” she stated.

“I was doing your laundry,” Y/n replied, dipping her hand along Sarah’s through a lawn sprinkler, “So I’d say we’re even.”

The sun was just setting, a warm pink taking over the sky as night’s opening act. Kids, home from school, were playfully screaming a few houses down. Everything felt perfectly in place.

An overhead thundering encroached on the peaceful scene, drawing Sarah and Y/n’s attention skyward. Three fighter jets in formation blew over their heads, flying in the general direction of downtown.

“Air Force base isn’t too far from here,” Y/n commented, it was the only explanation that made sense.

Sarah didn’t seem too concerned, cutting ahead across the lawn and up to the front porch.

Inside, Y/n busied herself with cooking dinner while Sarah sat at the table finishing up homework. The steaks she’d bought a few days prior had gone bad, and she was searching the fridge for anything she could turn into something special.

Pressing her forehead to the appliance’s cool steel, she admitted defeat.

“You know Dad’s not picky,” Sarah tried to comfort her.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to do something nice for him,” Y/n replied, kicking her foot lightly against the fridge, “But I suppose ordering Chinese is just as special.”

“We could always run by the store,” Sarah suggested.

“Mm-mm,” Y/n shook her head, digging through the takeout menu drawer, “No one’s going anywhere while there’s all those cops on the road.”

They ended up ordering enough for themselves, Joel and Tommy, if he decided to stay for dinner. As the night went on, the food grew cold, and by eight o’clock, Y/n and Sarah grew too hungry to wait and sat on the couch with their cartons.

“If he’s home by nine,” Sarah thought the next part of her sentence over carefully, “I’ll give you a whole week off of helping me with my homework.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of a win,” Y/n shrugged, picking at another piece of orange chicken. They were coming up with bets for when they thought Joel would actually return home, “I don’t mind being on homework duty.”

“Okay, fine, um…” Sarah continued drafting, snapping her chopsticks together, “I’ll do the dishes for a week. Every load.”

Y/n waved a chopstick at the girl, “Done. But if he’s home past nine, I will…get him to learn one of the Halican Drops’ songs,” she tilted her head, “That’s a win for you and will definitely cost me.”

Sarah laughed, “Deal.”

They spent the evening talking and watching tv, the later hours eventually tiring them. Sarah leaned up against Y/n, lost in a magazine while Y/n read a book she’d left on the coffee table. The television played lightly in the background, though they’d stopped paying attention long ago.

Eventually, five after ten, a pair of keys jingled in the front door lock, signaling Sarah had won the bet.

“You locked the door this time,” Joel said, addressing his daughter, “Good job.”

“Yeah,” Sarah switched off the tv and sat up, “Y/n reminded me.”

Y/n scooted over to give Joel a spot on the couch, he flopped down on the cushions, digging his palms into his eyes.

“It’s 10,” Sarah said what they were all thinking.

“I know,” Joel groaned, pulling back up to take off his boots, “They…gave us the wrong size for the headers,” he looked over his girlfriend to Sarah, “That doesn’t mean anything to you, barely means anything to Y/n. I’m sorry.”

Y/n’s fingers walked across Joel’s leg, “And dessert would be…?”

Joel slumped forward, “Shit.”

“Come on, man,” Sarah bemoaned.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” Joel promised for the second time that day.

“Swear,” Sarah replied, “Or you don’t get your present.”

Joel turned, brightening up adorably fast. “You got me a present?”

“Swear,” Sarah continued.

Y/n smiled, eyeing her boyfriend with the same loving frustration as Sarah.

“On my life,” Joel swore.

Deeming it an acceptable answer, Sarah rotated and dug behind a pillow. Joel slid his hand over Y/n’s, flattening it down against his knee.

Sarah presented the box, holding it out to her dad.

“Wow,” Joel said, making a theatrical face before opening it. He hadn’t expected what was inside.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah beamed with reserved pride.

Joel ran a thumb over the watch and held it to his ear, furrowing his brows, “Did you?”

“What?” Sarah reached for his hand.

“I don’t hear anything,” Joel continued.

“It was working four hours ago,” Y/n exclaimed, adjusting herself to sit up and examine it for herself.

The two girls barely had to raise it to their ears before they could hear the strong ticking. Sarah groaned and lightly shoved Joel, who was heartily laughing.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Screw you, man.”

“That was lame,” Sarah smiled, “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel chuckled, taking another second to admire his gift, “Where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs,” Sarah answered, “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“It’s better than what I do,” Joel slipped the watch onto his wrist.

“It was only $20, which I stole from you.”

“Which I had,” Y/n interjected, “If you’d have given me two seconds...”

“I could have stolen $60, but I put the change back,” Sarah defended herself against Joel’s parental stare, “Because I’m an honest thief. Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it for yourself, so…”

Joel, never one to be selfish, looked on lovingly at his daughter and co-conspirator, before turning his head downward. “Thank you.”

Sarah smiled, looking to Y/n victoriously. “Oh, there’s one more,” she dug behind the pillow once again and retrieved a DVD case, “Borrowed it from the Adlers.”

Joel wasted no time in taking it from her, it was Curtis and Viper, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasure movies. “Oh, this is the one with the deleted scenes.”

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be,” Sarah commented, “Come on, pop it in, while it’s still your birthday.”

Y/n got up alongside Joel, “I’ll go heat up dinner and brace myself for the cinematic masterpiece I’m about to experience.”

“I showed it to you a while back,” Joel called out to her, “Remember?”

“I remember,” Y/n swung into the kitchen, “And yet I’m still with you.”

Joel smirked to himself, setting the disc in the tray and jogging off to join Y/n. “Chinese?”

“There was going to be something home cooked,” Y/n scooped some food onto a plate for Joel, “But the grocery gods were conspiring against me.”

“Kidding? This is great,” Joel replied, coming to hold Y/n’s hips and move around the kitchen with her. He settled his chin against her head, “Thank you. For all of it.”

Y/n leaned back into Joel’s chest, “I don’t see how crappy Chinese food and aiding your daughter in thievery deserves thanks but,” she twisted her neck to plant a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll take it.”

Joel absentmindedly ran his hands up Y/n’s arms, gazing down at her skin. His eyes drifted to her exposed neck, the glow of the microwave illuminating a purple splotch across her throat.

“What’s this?”

Y/n was watching the timer, “Hm?”

Joel pulled back the rest of her hair and lightly ran a finger over the skin, “Where’d you get this?”

Y/n pulled away, confusedly grabbing a spatchula out of a drawer and relfecting it back on her. Sure enough, there was a large purple bruise developing where the psycho in the hardware store had choked her.

“Hm,” Y/n thought, she hadn’t intended to ruin the levity of the night, “Uh, are we sure you didn’t put that there?”

Joel bristled at the idea, even at his most passionate, he wasn’t rough like that, “I’d never do this to you.”

Y/n sighed, pressing the ‘stop’ button on the microwave before it could beep. She pulled Joel’s food out, set it down and leaned up against the counter.

“A guy attacked me today at work,” she said softly, not wanting Sarah to hear.

Joel’s eyebrows raised two inches, his voice got low, “What?”

“He came down the aisle and just,” Y/n gestured suddenly to herself, “Tackled me to the ground. It took three of the guys, plus Don just to get him off of me.”

Joel surged forward, hovering his hand over Y/n’s neck and examining her, “How bad is it?”

“I’m okay,” Y/n gently took Joel’s hand, bringing it down to his side, “Headache from smacking my head on the floor, little sore, but fine.”

“Please tell me you called the police and pressed charges” Joel asked, fully in protector mode.

Y/n shook her head, “I didn’t wanna drag it out, I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The cops took him, they can deal with it.”

Joel braced himself against the counter to Y/n’s side, halfway-caging her in. “And you weren’t gonna tell me about it?”

“It’s your birthday,” Y/n smiled softly up at her boyfriend, “I just wanted to come home and have a normal evening with you guys. Forget it ever happened.”

Anger swelled in Joel’s stomach for whatever freak had gone after her, but his gaze stayed soft. Her pain was his pain.

“Wanna know what the worst part was?” Y/n asked, looping a finger through Joel’s and smiling sadly, “I could have fought back…but I just laid there. I tried to push him off but…”

There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Joel’s mind flashed back to the night they’d met, when that creep had laid his hand on her and she hadn’t fought back. It was one of his deepest worries, that one day someone would come at her and he wouldn’t be there to protect her.

“Can you please,” he begged, “Enroll in a self-defense class?”

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, saying whatever she could to get the night to return to normal, “I think there’s one down at the community center.”

Joel’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her into his body. She wrapped her arms around his middle, digging her face into his pec.

“I hate the world sometimes,” Joel said over her shoulder.

Y/n scoffed, “You and me both, bucko.”

They stood in each other’s arms a moment, letting the stress of the day melt away.

“Your daughter’s waiting,” Y/n smiled into Joel’s chest, “And she’s been waiting all night.”

Joel broke from her, stroking a thumb over her cheek. He was looking forward to revealing the reason for his late night hours.

With dinner in hand, Joel and Y/n headed back into the living room, where Sarah was waiting with the remote. Joel settled down in the middle of the couch, giving him room to be surrounded by his two favorite people.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he warned, as Sarah snuggled into his shoulder.

“‘Course I won’t,” she said, “It’s too riveting.”

“I make no such promises,” Y/n replied, hanging one of her legs on Joel’s knee.

Both of them were out cold within an hour.

Joel couldn’t complain even if he tried. With Sarah passed out on his leg Y/n tucked under his arm, it was the happiest he’d been the whole day.

While watching the movie, Joel’s mind kept spinning around proposal ideas. If he got the ring in the morning, he could do it that night. Or did he need to spend more time, crafting some elaborate idea involving doves and roses and all the movie shit? Y/n wasn’t fancy, she probably wouldn’t care if that was missing. All he cared about was that she said ‘yes’ and that the ring was something she could cherish the rest of their lives.

Joel gazed down at his daughter and soon-to-be fiancé, fast asleep on him. A lifetime of that was a thought he could get used to…

The vibration of his cell phone broke Joel out of his daydream. He reached forward, trying not to wake either girl, bur Y/n stirred enough to come to.

“Sorry,” he whispered, picking up the call, “Hello?”

“Joel, it’s me,” Tommy’s voice cut through, Y/n’s head was close enough to hear the call, “Uh, I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Joel asked.

“But I’m in jail.”

Y/n sat up groggily as Joel arched back into the couch, rubbing his eyes in stress.

“Wasn’t my fault this time,” Tommy was quick to defend himself, “I was at the bar, some guy goes crazy, starts swingin’ at waitresses, I stepped in, knocked him out, cops showed up-”

Joel and Y/n shared an exhausted look, both from true tiredness and Tommy.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Tommy hurried, “You gotta bail me out.”

“Now?” Joel hissed.

“It’s Friday,” Tommy said, “You don’t get me out, I’m in here all weekend. It’s a fuckin’ madhouse, Joel. I gotta get out.”

Y/n rubbed the sleep out of her eye, and lowered her voice, “I’ll go get him.”

Joel’s hand shot out across Y/n’s legs, “No,” he switched conversations, “Well, which jail. Travis County?”

“Yeah, on 10th,” his little brother answered.

“Damn it, Tommy,” Joel shook his head.

Tommy took a breath, “I’m sorry…please.”

Joel waited before answering, “Okay,” he hung up his cell, “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Joel, just let me go,” Y/n offered, gesturing to Sarah using his leg as a pillow, “You got him last time.”

“I don’t want you out this late,” Joel shot down the idea a second time, “Especially in that part of town. I’ll be back, hour tops.”

Carefully, Joel eased Sarah off of him and lifted her into his arms. He carried her upstairs to bed while Y/n stayed on the couch, trying to get her bearings.

Joel came back downstairs, grumbling to himself as he collected his wallet and keys.

“We do all this,” Y/n gestured to the empty dinner plate and gift box, “And Tommy’s still gotta one up us.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel muttered, throwing his cell phone in his pocket, “I shoulda just left him in there.”

Y/n looked up amusedly at her boyfriend, “Yeah, like you’d ever do that.”

Joel’s instinct was to protect, he couldn’t have left his brother to rot for the weekend if he tried.

Y/n got to her feet and slid a hand up Joel’s chest, bringing his restlessness to a halt. She wrapped her other hand around the base of his neck, rubbing at the permanently tense muscles.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she sleepily smiled.

Joel leaned forward to connect his lips to Y/n’s. In an ideal world, he’d carry her upstairs and they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. But after rescuing Tommy, they’d have the whole weekend for that. Still, he poured as much love as he could into his kiss.

Neither of them knew it would be the last one they shared.

“Be safe,” Y/n told him once they broke apart.

“I will,” Joel replied, heading for the front door, “Go to bed. Be back soon.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes following him till he was out of the house. In her stupor, she wasn’t thinking of how packed the streets had been earlier in the day with cop cars. Or how the news had said there’d been increased violence in the city. Or how the story Tommy had recounted sounded eerily similar to hers. She was just tired enough that all that made sense to her was climbing into Joel’s bed and going back to sleep.

Slowly climbing the staircase, Y/n made her way down the hall. She paused outside of Sarah’s room, poking her head in to make sure she was settled. Joel had thrown a blanket over her and she was rolling over. Satisfied, Y/n pushed off of the door frame to leave.

“Mom?”

She froze in her tracks, she’d barely moved out of sight before Sarah had called for…someone. Not her. It couldn’t be her. But who else? She had no memory of her birth mo-

“Mom?”

Y/n’s chest fluttered, it could only be her. She hesitated to answer, “Yeah?”

“Where’s Dad?” Sarah asked, her eyes were still scrunched but she was looking to Y/n’s silhouette.

“He had to run by Uncle Tommy’s,” Y/n answered, saving the full answer for the morning, “He’ll be back soon.”

Sarah seemed to accept the response, nodding a little and settling back into her pillow.

“Goodnight,” Y/n wished, her hands awkwardly fidgeting against her chest.

“Night,” Sarah mumbled.

Slipping against the nearest wall, Y/n’s breath trembled with joy, shock…she couldn’t tell. Sarah had made up her mind as to what Y/n was to her…and what she was was a mother.

Feeling like she was floating, Y/n made her way down the hall to the bed that was as good as her own and slid underneath the sheets. Her smile stretched so wide, she thought her cheeks might split. She couldn’t wait to tell Joel when he got home….

—————————

First came the sirens.

Then came the choppers.

Then the car alarms.

And the flares.

Y/n was the first to wake, the sound of helicopter blades and the sensation of the house rattling waking her. She reached over in the dark for Joel and grasped air. The clock read 2:15AM, he’d left at 11.

That was enough to wake Y/n the rest of the way up.

She rolled out of bed and went to the window, peeking through the blinds to see flares being shot into the sky. Though her vision was blurred from sleep, she could see the smoke cloud in the distance. It was coming from downtown.

“Dad?” Sarah called down the hall, “Y/n?”

“In here,” Y/n said, still watching the sky as another round of helicopters flew over their neighborhood.

Sarah came through the door, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n answered, her stomach twisting in confusion, “Go check if your dad’s downstairs.”

Sarah left, calling for Joel as she descended the staircase. “He’s not here,” she yelled up.

Y/n’s chest sank, anxiety beginning to creep its way up her throat. Was this some kind of invasion? It had barely been two years since 9/11, was something of that scale happening in their backyard?

“Y/n!”

The urgency in Sarah’s voice got Y/n moving out the bedroom and down the stairs as quick as she could. “What is it?”

Sarah had switched on the tv, the emergency broadcast signal was on every channel, delivering an ominous message to stay indoors and wait for law enforcement.

A thud against the window had Y/n pulling Sarah to her chest, the girl wrapping her hands around Y/n’s wrists. Mercy, the Adler’s dog, had his paws against the window and was trying to get inside.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, heading to unlock the front door. She crouched down on the porch and the dog leaned against her legs, whining. “Shh, Mercy, shh…”

“Is he okay?” Sarah asked, right behind Y/n.

“I think,” Y/n answered, clueless as Mercy panted furiously under her touch. She looked across the street, finding nothing out of the ordinary visually. Audibly, there were car alarms coming from all directions and the chopper was making another circle around the subdivision. Something felt very, very wrong.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, “I’m gonna take a look around.”

“No, I’m coming with-“

“No,” Y/n’s tone firmed up, “Take Mercy inside and stay-“

Mercy started barking as if he knew he was being discussed. Y/n knew nothing she said would get Sarah to listen, she was out of options.

“Let’s get him back home,” she said.

Sarah led Mercy by the collar across the lawn and onto the Adler’s driveway. Once he realized he was back at his house, Mercy began to whine and pull away from Sarah.

“C’mon, Mercy, please,” Sarah begged.

Mercy pulled one final time, the collar unclipping and letting him loose. He took off into the night.

“Mercy!” Sarah called, he was too far gone to hear her.

“It’s okay,” Y/n quickly tried to smooth Sarah’s heartbreak over, “We’ll find him. But first, we’re going home and-“

Clanking from inside the Adler’s home drew their attention.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah called, receiving no answer, she looked to Y/n to decide their next move.

Y/n was torn between following the noise and running back home to call Joel.

“Stay behind me,” she decided, placing herself in front of Sarah as a barricade.

They crept up the Adler’s porch, letting themselves in through the ajar door. The carpet runner was scrunched up, something the meticulous Connie would have never allowed.

“Connie?” Y/n announced their presence.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah repeated, the two of them frozen in the hallway.

Another loud sound from the kitchen, followed by a distant gunshot and chased by a car alarm.

Y/n tried to inhale steadily, but the trembling came anyway. The long stretches of silence broken up by what sounded like war were creating a steady pit of fear in her chest.

She reached backwards, pulling Sarah closer to her body. The girl was already holding onto Y/n’s hips. They took soft steps through the hall and to the kitchen.

“Con-“ Y/n held on to the room divider as she stumbled, looking down to see the slippery substance across the floor.

Blood.

Sarah and Y/n’s breaths caught in their chests as their eyes followed the trail of crimson through the kitchen…to Mr. Adler, laid against the cabinets.

“Help me,” he whispered, a particularly gory wound to his neck oozing blood down his body.

Y/n moved to help him but was yanked back by Sarah, who already had eyes on the next terror.

Nana Adler was hung over her daughter, her face burrowed into her neck.

Y/n eased Sarah back, making no sudden movements, as the elderly woman slowly looked up to them. There were strands of something springing from her mouth, it was something out of a horror movie.

Nana rose to her feet, her movements choppy and careless, and Sarah wrapped her arms around Y/n’s torso.

The woman, animalistic, shrieked and ran towards them.

Y/n shoved Sarah back towards the door, racing out of the house and onto the lawn. She was pulling the girl toward their house when the roar of a pickup truck came barreling down the street.

Tommy’s truck.

Tommy pulled the truck up onto the curb, Joel jumped out before it had even stopped.

“GET IN THE TRUCK,” he yelled at Y/n and Sarah, “RIGHT NOW!”

With Sarah in her hands, Joel grabbed Y/n and pulled them to the vehicle, “Move!”

Nana Adler came screaming out of the house, Y/n and the Millers watching the bones in her body violently crack under her skin before she fell to the ground. They waited in anticipation until she startled back to life with a gasp, stumbling to her feet and charging towards the family.

“What are we doin’, Joel?” Tommy yelled, his rifle pointed at the grandmother.

Y/n wrapped Sarah in her arms, shielding her body from any harm, but not her eyes.

Joel wasted no time in making the decision, it was either her, or the women he loved. He slashed the wrench he was clutching into Nana’s head, the life leaving her as she dropped.

After, he turned to Y/n and Sarah, their tearful eyes widened in horror. He rushed to them, bending to cup Sarah’s cheek.

“You killed her,” the girl said, unable to form a deeper thought.

Joel pulled his daughter and partner into his arms, “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Joel, we gotta go,” Tommy warned.

“Joel,” Y/n shook, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” he looked to both his girls, “It’s not just the Adlers,” he took Sarah’s cheeks into his hands, “But we’re gonna be brave, and we’re gonna get out of this.”

A flash of green to their left and Joel was covering them with his arms. The transformer at the end of the block had exploded.

“Hey,” Tommy rounded the truck, “Let’s go. C’mon!”

Joel and Y/n hurried Sarah in front of them, “Get in.”

Y/n stopped before joining her, gripping Joel’s arm, “Joel…”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, posessing no more answers than she did, “I don’t know.”

Y/n dove into the truck, pulling Sarah into her arms the minute she was seated.

Joel slammed the door shut, his neighbor calling his name out in concern.

“Denise, you get back inside the house,” he yelled, “You lock your doors! Now!”

“C’mon, c’mon, get in,” Tommy urged.

The second Joel’s door shut, Tommy was already pulling them around the cul-de-sac. As he rounded the turn, Mr. and Mrs. Adler came across their lawn and into the street, in the same possessed state as Nana had been.

“Get your seatbelt on,” Joel told Tommy.

“Hold on,” his brother said, accelerating the engine and ramming into the Adlers head on.

Y/n tried to pull Sarah’s head into her shoulder, but the girl was too quick, already looking out the back to see Mrs. Adler on her feet.

“You take 70-“ Joel began to give directions.

“71,” Tommy finished, “I know.”

A line of police cars blew down the opposite lane, speeding towards more chaos they didn’t even understand.

Sarah’s breath had steadied enough where she could speak clearly, “Daddy-“

“We don’t know,” Joel cut her off.

“They’re saying it’s a virus,” Tommy explained, “Some kinda parasite.”

“What parasite does that?” Y/n asked, knowing none of them had an answer.

“Is it from terrorists?” Sarah asked, her voice getting watery.

“We don’t know,” Joel repeated himself, watching his brother as he drove.

“A-are we sick?” Sarah’s panic was growing.

“No, we’re not sick,” Y/n answered immediately.

Joel fiddled with the radio, getting static back in return.

“Why did things blow up?” Sarah asked.

“No cellphone, no radio,” Tommy mused, “Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up.”

“They were broadcasting emergency signals on the tv,” Y/n recalled, as if it made any difference now.

“How do you know?” Sarah kept up her questioning.

“What?” Joel acknowledged her.

Sarah couldn’t hide her tears any more, “How do you know we’re not sick?”

Y/n stroked her hair, offering what little comfort she could while also sharing Sarah’s terror.

“They’re sayin’ it’s mostly people in the city,” Tommy explained, “That’s why they got the highway blocked off.”

Joel craned his head to meet Y/n’s eyes, “This what happened at the store today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, flashing back to 12 hours before. Her attacker hadn’t had the strange strands hanging from his mouth, but he’d had the same animal-like rage.

The car fell silent again as they passed a house, the whole structure consumed by flames.

“It’s Jimmy’s place,” Tommy said as they drove by.

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city,” Sarah continued to try and solve the puzzle, “To the hospital for stuff.”

“That’s right,” Joel agreed, “They would. That’s probably why.”

“But…” Sarah’s brain worked double time, “You’d have to go a lot…right?”

Tommy shook his head slightly, “We’re fine, trust me.”

Through the dashboard mirror, Y/n’s worried eyes met Tommy’s. He was saying a prayer rather than stating a promise.

On the side of the road, a car was pulled over, a family standing outside it waving their hands wildly. “Here! Right here!”

Tommy began to slow down, drawing Joel’s confusion. “What’re you doin’?”

“They got a kid, Joel,” Tommy gestured to the family.

“So do we,” Joel said firmly, “Keep drivin’.”

The father panicked as Tommy followed orders, screaming for them to stop.

“We could put them in the back,” Sarah offered just as they passed them by.

Y/n’s heart sank as the father’s cries echoed in her ears, her eyes drifting to the back of Joel’s head.

“Somebody else’ll come along,” he said to the car, but mostly to himself.

Sarah, trying so hard to remain calm, let her tears fall silently. Whatever shred of reality they could make of the chaos around them was starting to sink in on Y/n too. She pulled Sarah deeper into her arms, feeling the girl’s sadness land on her skin.

Tommy sped down the lane, trying to get on the freeway, and meeting the sea of likeminded cars.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Everyone had the same fuckin’ idea.

Panicked drivers were speeding towards them, the little white lines on the asphalt ceasing to matter.

“I can’t get through this,” Tommy said, dodging the cars.

“All right, all right,” Joel tried to remain calm, “Let’s think it through, we’ll think it through.”

“Tommy!” Y/n cried as another reckless driver nearly clipped them.

“All right, take the field,” Joel directed, “We’ll cut across and pick up on the-the west side.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy’s breath shook, “West, west, all right. All right, hang on.”

Sarah held onto Y/n a little tighter, bracing herself as Tommy went off road into the tall grass. The truck dipped and bounced with the land, until they met smooth dirt…giving them a view of the freeway. The military had already set up shop.

“Shit,” Tommy exclaimed, “Fuckin’ army!”

“Isn’t that good?” Sarah asked

“It’s good for them” Tommy said, “But that’s the highway we’re tryin’ to get to.”

Joel’s brain was spinning with roads, “All right, keep movin’. Head north.”

“Could be a lot of people,” Tommy pointed out.

“Well, we can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west,” Joel replied, “Hell else we supposed to go?”

Tommy hesitated, his hands nervously gripping the wheel.

“Tommy, come on,” Joel yelled, his own anxiety beginning to show itself.

Listening, Tommy turned the truck north, leading them towards the distant light of a small town.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that place,” Joel said, “This can work.”

“Joel,” Y/n spoke up, “What then? Where are we going?”

He didn’t know, he barely could remember the numbers of the highways. All he knew was he needed to get his family to some sort of safety. “I don’t know, Mexico,” he blurted out, “Just far, far as we can,” he looked to his brother, “How much gas?”

“Three quarter tank,” Tommy answered, it was enough to make it to the border.

“Go through town,” Joel began to list off directions, “Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade…” he exhaled, “Then we’re out.”

“Maybe it’s everywhere,” Sarah theorized, trying so desperately to make sense of what was happening, “Maybe there’s nowhere to go.”

Joel and Yn’s worried eyes met in the dashboard mirror, they were both wondering the same thing. Illnesses didn’t stay quarantined to just one city in one state, they spread like vines, reaching for any life they could. What if this parasite worked the same way?

A loud roar began to encroach on the truck from above.

“What the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed.

Sarah and Y/n shielded their ears from the noise, looking up through the roof’s glass top to catch a low-flying plane directly above them. There were a line of three more trailing the sky behind them.

“Shit,” Y/n whispered, her facade for Sarah was fading.

Down the road, the red white and blue lights of a police car became a stumbling block. “Son of a bitch,” Tommy complained, “Gotta go around. Grab somethin’!”

Joel reached an arm back, both to brace himself against Tommy’s seat and give Y/n something to hold onto. Sarah held fast to Y/n as Tommy made a hard right down the next street. The town they’d turned into had descended fully into chaos, its residents running wildly through the streets, either screaming for help or attacking one other.

“All right,” Joel talked his brother through the roads, “Keep goin’, keep goin’,” he looked to his left to see a truck barreling towards them, “Shit, Tommy!”

The tire screech had Y/n flipping Sarah’s body over hers, making herself a human shield. Thankfully, the crash never came.

The next street Tommy turned them down was even worse. People were beating each other senselessly in the street, the screams of the wounded piercing their ears.

“Tommy, you can’t stop here,” Joel said as his brother slowed the car.

He gestured to the crowds, “I can’t drive through ‘em.”

“Are you serious?” Joel yelled, “Just keep goin’!”

Up ahead, an explosion shattered the windows of a building, eliciting every person inside to run for their lives, all headed towards the truck.

“Go, go, go,” Joel urged, smacking the dashboard a little harder with each utterance, “Back, back, back, back, back, back, back!”

“I’m tryin’!” Tommy yelled back.

Y/n caught the faces of people as they ran past, the terror, the confusion in their eyes. One woman had blood streaming down her chest, the deep red turning her white blouse deathly crimson.

“Tommy, go faster,” Joel berated, “We gotta go!”

“I’m tryin’, there’s nowhere to fuckin’ go,” Tommy said, maneuvering them backwards.

“Tommy,” Y/n couldn’t stay quiet, “Fuck, anywhere!”

“Find an alley!” Joel added.

“What alley?! There’s people everywhere!”

“Roll the fuck over them,” Joel ordered, “We gotta get off this street.”

Sarah had shifted out of Y/n’s arms and was staring out the back, watching as the humanity was sucked out of her city. In the sky, she could spot bright, blinking lights headed straight for them.

She blindly reached for Y/n’s hand, “Dad?!”

Y/n and Joel both turned, their eyes falling on the same sight. One of the planes was headed straight towards them.

“Fuck,” Y/n uttered breathlessly.

“Move…” Joel managed to say, “Move!”

The plane completed its nosedive into the road behind them, exploding in a fiery inferno. Joel reached back to grab hold of Sarah, Y/n shoved her down into her lap.

None of them saw the piece of debris heading for the truck.

—————————

Joel was the first one to wake up. He struggled out of his seatbelt, dropping to the roof of the flipped truck and looking into the back.

Y/n and Sarah were out cold.

Sarah’s leg was elevated, her foot caught in some part of the truck. Y/n lay in a terrifyingly still ball.

“Sarah…Sarah…” Joel weakly called, tugging on her free leg and startling her awake, “Stay right there. Don’t move,” he looked to Y/n, “Y/n, wake up.”

No response.

“Rosebud,” Joel urged, his voice betraying him and turning to a whine, “Honey, get up.”

“Y/n,” Sarah disobeyed her father, fear-stricken, and stretched her arm out to shake Y/n.

Y/n gasped, waking up the same way she’d passed out; panicked.

“Joel,” she cried out, “Sarah?”

“We’re here,” Joel reassured her, a hand to her arm, “We’re here. Tommy? You okay?”

Tommy grunted, trying to free himself, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

With a pounding headache, and the feeling of air hitting small cuts across her face, Y/n struggled to her knees. Nothing felt broken inside her, just weak.

Sarah’s breathing began to pick up, turning her body to stare out the busted window. Twenty feet away, someone was heaving over a body, draining it of blood the same way Nana Adler had.

“Sarah,” Joel moved to the back of the truck, “Don’t look. You look at me or Y/n, okay?”

Y/n was at Joel’s side instantly, gently holding Sarah’s calf so he could free her leg. The girl winced as Joel worked.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I know,” he apologized profusely, letting her leg drop into Y/n’s hands.

“Come here,” he urged his daughter, “Put your arms around me. Come here, come here,” he pulled Sarah into his embrace, “I got you.”

Y/n was crawling past, into the driver’s half of the truck, “Tommy?”

Tommy was already out, kneeling down at the window, “Come on, take my hand!”

Straining to reach him, Y/n slapped her palms against his and he dragged her out. She could feel the glass scrape against her skin, trying to hold her cries in for Sarah’s sake.

Tommy and Y/n pulled each other to their feet, Tommy reaching for his rifle after. Joel and Sarah had made it out on the other side. Y/n rushed around the wreckage of the truck to reach them, grabbing them both, “What’s wrong?”

“My ankle,” Sarah strained.

“We gotta get off the street,” Tommy urged, a fast approaching siren sending him diving for the asphalt, “Shit!”

A police van slammed into their truck, creating a fire between the two vehicles. Joel and Y/n shielded Sarah from the flames, “Tommy?”

Y/n wrapped her arms around Sarah, trying to take some of the weight off her ankle and freeing Joel.

“Tommy!” Joel screamed again.

Separated by the two totaled bodies, the brothers found each other.

“Head to the river,” Tommy shouted, “I’ll find a way!”

Joel hesitated to leave his brother behind, regardless of his competency.

“Get ‘em out of here,” Tommy insisted, “Go, Joel!”

It was the mention of Y/n and Sarah that snapped him back, he immediately turned and bent down to Sarah’s eye level.

“We can’t leave him,” she argued.

“Joel-“ Y/n began.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, “Can you both run?”

“No,” Sarah said as Y/n nodded.

Joel bent over and swung his daughter into his arms.

“You keep your eyes on us,” Joel half demanded, half begged Sarah, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed.

“And don’t look anywhere else,” he finished, his panicked gaze moving to Y/n, “Don’t let go.”

Y/n locked one arm around Joel’s shoulders, the other under Sarah’s legs, needing one hand on them both.

The three of them rushed through the street, lost as to how to get to the river. Joel stopped in fear when they found a grouping of bodies, groaning, writhing, devouring one another on the ground. He guided Sarah’s head back into his body, but she’d already seen too much.

One of the monsters popped up, eerily fast.

Y/n and Joel’s hearts collectively stopped, anxiety kick starting them to run for the back door of a building. They dove inside, Y/n running ahead to bang on the locked door.

“Move,” Joel cried, kicking down the wood and pulling them through it, “Get ahead!”

Y/n jumped in front of them, racing down the length of the diner. She could hear the frantic footsteps and growls of the monster chasing them.

Slamming her body into the second door, Y/n cleared the path for Joel, the two of them sprinting away from the encroaching death nipping at their heels. The monster snarled as it came after them, too quick for Y/n or Joel even at their fastest-

BANG!

A shotgun fire silenced the animalistic sounds, Joel spun around to see the creature laid out in the grass, blood spilling from its head.

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured Sarah, “You’re safe.”

Y/n’s hands dropped to Joel’s arm, resting her head against his shoulder in an effort to catch her breath.

“C’mon,” Joel urged, turning around for the way of the river.

A searchlight hit them.

“Don’t move,” a stern voice commanded, through the light, Y/n and Joel could make out it was a soldier.

“My daughter’s hurt,” Joel explained, “Her ankle.”

“Stop right there,” the soldier ordered, they’d barely moved in his direction.

Y/n and Sarah both trembled, in shock at the sight of the rifle pointed at them.

“Okay,” Joel backed down, taking them the slightest step back, “Easy now. We’re not sick!”

The soldier reached for his radio, reporting into it, “I got three civilians by the river, one of ‘em injured,” he waited for a response, “Ankle.”

“What about Uncle Tommy?” Sarah looked up to Joel.

“We’re gonna get you somewhere safe first,” Joel panted, “Then we’ll go back for him, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah accepted.

Y/n rubbed a hand over Sarah’s uninjured leg. The horror still had yet to be named, but they were so close to asylum from it.

An impatient Joel took a step forward, earning another up and close look at the rifle’s barrel.

“Hey,” the soldier shouted, “No one told you to move.”

Y/n trembled against Joel’s arm as they waited, why was it taking so long?

“Yes sir,” the soldier said into his radio, his voice having shifted and making Y/n and Joel’s stomachs tighten.

The gun came back up.

“We’re not sick,” Joel echoed, knowing what was about to happen.

“W-w-wait,” Y/n’s lips began to shake, she held out a hand to the soldier, “We’re not sick.”

“Sir,” Joel urged again, his voice rising with every second of silence, “We are not sic-“

Bullets rained down on the three of them, the force of the lead sending them rolling down the hill.

Joel pushed himself off his stomach, a harsh light on him drawing him onto his back. The soldier was mere inches from him, his rifle trained on Joel’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, he almost sounded genuine.

“Please don’t,” Joel begged, raising his hands.

Y/n had rolled farther than Joel, already weak from the crash and now with a pain radiating in her side. One of the bullets had definitely grazed her. She was able to push up onto her arms, dragging her gaze across the dirt and spotting the position her boyfriend was in.

“JOEL!”

The soldier was thrown forward, a bullet from behind lodging in his chest. Joel looked up to see Tommy, marching forward with his rifle still trained on the dead soldier.

Joel hurried to sit up, running a hand his side, a bullet had scraped across the skin.

Y/n let out a breath as she watched Joel move, her eyes scanning around her for Sarah.

“Oh, God,” Tommy breathed.

Frantic breaths could be heard, closest to Y/n and furthest from Joel.

Y/n froze at the sight.

Then she was rising, racing to the spot.

Joel was right behind her. “No…” he mumbled, “Oh, no.”

Y/n made it to Sarah first, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes ran over her body. Her attempts at breath were wracking through her violently.

“No, no, no,” Joel shushed his daughter, pressing a hand to her neck, “Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay, move your hand, baby.”

“Sarah, move your hand,” Y/n rubbed the girl’s cheek, “We gotta take a look, babe.”

Sarah let her hand drop to her side, revealing the blood that covered her entire lower abdomen.

Joel felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Y/n felt her entire body lock up.

Joel was the first to move, slipping an arm under Sarah’s shoulders. She let out the most heartbreaking cry, pain flooding her body as she reached to push her father away.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel agreed, “I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts.”

Sarah’s breaths came quicker, groans accompanying them as she strained to take in air.

“Eyes on me,” Y/n urged, taking her face into both palms and rubbing her thumbs across the skin, “Don’t look down. Look at me.”

Sarah struggled to move her lips, barely pressing them together and humming. She was trying to say something.

“Shh, shh,” Y/n tried to keep her calm, “It’s okay.”

“Come on, baby,” Joel soothed as he examined her wound, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Another wave of unbearable pain hit Sarah as Joel pressed down on her wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

“I know, I know, I know,” the panic finally reached Joel’s voice, “I know, baby. I know, I know. I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay.”

Sarah’s breaths grew ragged.

“You’re okay,” Y/n fought back the relentless tears, keeping her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, “You’re okay. I promise. You’re okay.”

“All right, baby, baby, baby,” Joel tried to talk over and in between Sarah’s noises, “Listen to me, I gotta get you up, okay?”

Sarah shook her head, her eyes widened with terror she couldn’t physically put into words.

“Babe, we have to get you up, okay?” Y/n continued, “It’s gonna hurt like hell for a second, but it’ll be alright.”

“All right,” Joel couldn’t wait any longer, “You come on.”

Y/n moved around to help lift Sarah’s back, her and Joel working as a team to raise her. Sarah groaned and wept as they shifted her body.

“I know, baby,” Joel was on the verge of tears as Sarah strained to help herself up, gripping his neck. “I know, I know, I know,” his voice rose in fear, “I know, I know, I know.”

Joel turned to where he’d left his brother, “Tommy, help me!”

Tommy didn’t move, “Joel…”

Sarah’s body stopped shaking under Y/n’s hands, her chest went still.

“Sarah,” Y/n begged, “C’mon, babe.”

“C’mon, baby girl,” Joel whimpered, moving frantically to loop an arm around her, “I gotta get you up. Come on. Come on, we’ll get up.”

Rising on her knees, Y/n hung her head over Sarah’s. The girl’s eyes were blank, her lips were parted.

“Come on,” Joel sobbed, his pleas dropping off as reality began to invade his blind hope, “Come…please…”

It was too late.

Joel took Sarah fully into his arms, wrapping around her so tight, he thought he might be able to physically put her back together.

Any air Y/n still had in her chest left her body, her hands resting in midair as if she was still holding the child.

She crawled to Joel, covered in blood, rocking Sarah’s body and sobbing breathlessly over her shoulder.

It was real.

“Sa-“ Y/n whispered, tears starting to flood down her cheeks. Her voice dropped to a whimper, “Sarah.”

If the universe could grieve a human being, it was Sarah Miller’s passing that brought it to tears. No part of the Earth would be spared from the chaos that had claimed her. No corner of the planet would ever bloom and flourish as it had when she was alive. When she ascended, she took humanity and all of its beauty with her.

And the souls of the two people cradling her corpse, screaming into the night, went with her.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @itwasallinmyhead1 @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags continued in comments)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #twenty years later

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kazumist · 2 months

Text

EPISODE 22 ✿ IT CAN'T HAPPEN

YOU + ME = LOVE — A DILUC SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 526.

“stop following me.”

“(name), if you could please just let me explain," he reaches out to you, trailing behind you hastily.

you stopped in your tracks and faced him, fighting and praying for your voice not to crack. “explain what? explain that you’re leaving the country in, like, what? three weeks?”

“i was going to tell you," he says, attempting to gently grab your arm but you pull yourself back out of his reach. “and when would that be? when you’re about to board that goddamn plane? when you’re about to take your first step into another country? when, diluc?” this is precisely why you didn’t want to fall in love. the attachment that comes with it is enough to make you go insane.

“i—”

he was speechless. for once in his life, diluc was speechless. he always knew what to say; there was never a moment where he would be found hesitating in his words. but for some reason, ever since he met you, this is the first time he actually didn’t know what to say. he knew that if he said another word, it would hurt you—the both of you—more.

“thought so.” your words were cold enough to feel like bullets on his skin.

he calls out your name, unsure if he’s making the right decision right now. but you ignored him, taking this as your chance to speak up.

“you know? i knew it was a bad decision. to let myself fall for you, that is. i should’ve kept my balance before succumbing to whatever the hell this pit is, because fucking hell, diluc ragnvindr—i love you. there, i said it. i love you, diluc ragnvindr. even when i don’t want to, i do.”

silence.

say something—do something, anything, diluc. you thought.

he swallowed. “i can’t, (name). we both have bright futures ahead of us and i’m not sure if i’m ready to juggle a relationship with that. you deserve someone who’s willing to take risks for you, and i’m just not that person. i’m a coward. i’m no risk taker. i’m too scared to even take that leap of faith—even if it means that i get to be with you.”

another moment of silence.

diluc continues, moving closer. his steps were cautious, trying to read if you’d let him (which you did). he grabs your arms on both sides at first, then a hand travels to your face, caressing your cheek ever so gently. “i can still help you and continue being your tutor until the semester ends, but this… us…” a deep breath.

“it can’t happen, (name).”

tears started to sting your eyes when you pulled away from him.

“you know what? let's just end it. finals are over, the semester is ending and you'll be graduating soon. thank you for your help, diluc. i really couldn’t have done this without you.”

you walked past him, not even sparing him another glance back. diluc wants to say something—to do something—but no words come out of his mouth and his feet are glued hard to the ground.

so he just watches you leave, lowering his head down after you leave his sight.

extra notes.

i wrote this chapter when i was still working on ep 9. and this is literally ep 22. i was wayyyyy too excited LOL

anyways this is actually one of my favorite parts. hope you guys liked it as well, happy valentine's <3

taglist (open): @ryuryuryuyurboat @g4bbyyy @kizakiss @quackimilktea @mochiboo123 @thystarsshine @cerisescherries @jamieexistss @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @aethion @dottoreworld-page @naishite @sleepyeri @staaarhin @eroxotckv @kiyiiaarchived @fallenssun @lolmeowing @dorryx @astolary @kissingkzuha @axerrri @a1-ic3 @lottierulez @livelaughlovekuni @sorcerersseestars @whipped-for-fictionals @morganadorodo @briluvspnk @venderretta @xiaosoneandonly @angeilix @morgyyyyyyy @kazioli @the-massive-simp @qtange @tiredjxnna @yuminako @acheronie @sn1perz @akitokisser @siu-ssi @artri-ad @hyeinszn @saeskiss @bubblegum-angelquartz @boomie-123 @moni11032 @sandwichmyonetruelove @cherrybb-ily @itztaki @dontmindtheevie @hotgirlshit5 [1/2]

#( smau — you + me = love ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc smau #diluc #x reader #genshin smau

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wannabeschyulersister · 8 months

Text

not a goodbye

“I think you should go to New York.”

Carmen had been staring at the huge whole on the side of the house for the last twenty minutes. The cold air rushing through didn’t phase him at all.

Your words did.

“What? Wh-what are you talking about?”

“I overheard your conversation with Michelle. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I was actually trying to avoid Fak. He was trying to talk to me about those damn baseball cards.” You stepped closer to Carmen and he grabbed your hand.

“I’m not going.” He simply said.

“Carmen, look around. This is chaos. Your future is so fucking bright but this-“ you waved your free hand around, “isn’t what’s good for you mentally. I love your family and I know that you do too but you have to put yourself first.”

Carmen was a stubborn man. After the fiasco that you both witnessed at dinner, you hoped that he would take up Michelle on her offer.

“I can’t put myself first. I need to be here for my mom and Sugar. Michael is just- he’s a mess. I can’t just leave everyone. I can’t leave you. I won’t- I won’t leave you. I need you.” Carmen felt like he was beginning to panic at the sheer thought of being away from you.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up faster. “Carmy, we wouldn’t be saying goodbye for long. I’m graduating in a few months. I’m sure there’s plenty of marketing agencies I can apply to work at in New York. And I can visit you as much as I can.”

Carmy shook his head stubbornly, “No, (Y/n). Didn’t you see what just happened here? I can’t leave them like this!”

“You can’t put the weight of the world on your shoulders,” you told him, hoping he would listen to your words, “You can’t fix everyone’s problems especially if they don’t want to help themselves.”

Carmen rested his forehead against your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you. He knew deep down you were right. In that moment, it all felt so overwhelming. His family was a disaster.

He didn’t want you to attend his family’s dinner tonight but he still invited you anyways. He knew how badly things could turn out to be but he selfishly wanted you there for support.

Carmen held your hand during dinner when everything went to hell. He honestly didn’t even know how he would’ve sat there and handled anything without you by his side.

You’d been around his family dozens of times. Sugar adored you. Michael made you feel welcomed as soon as he first met you. Donna was another story. You understood the situation and avoided her as much as you could. You were always respectful and spoke to her, but you didn’t go out of your way to strike a conversation. She had the ability to completely snap on someone and you didn’t want it to happen to you.

“You really think I should go?” He asked you softly.

“Yes, I do. I believe in your future. In our future. I know you’re going to do amazing things, Carmy.”

You felt him kiss your neck, “I love you.”

“And I love you. I know it’s going to be hard but we can make it.”

He nodded before kissing your lips, “We can make it.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#the bear x reader #the bear imagine #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto

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formulaforza · 9 months

Text

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. spring and the lovely silence of growing things. minors dni. nsfw warnings under the cut. 7.6k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: oral (m receiving, rough), spit, hair pulling, drunk drunk drunk get crunk

“Goodnight Arthur,” you said, lingering behind as your family started off down the road in the opposite direction that he and his were.

Your dress, long and linen, blows in the evening breeze and draws goosebumps to your skin. Your hands clutch your phone and a small purse, the cross body strap wrapped around your hand three times. Your ponytail sways with your hips when you walk. Turning to Charles, you nod, purse a smile. “Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replies curtly, perfectly polite.

“The two of you are still talking after a whole day together? Did Hell freeze over while we were out there?” Arthur laughs.

A strange silence, one that only you and Charles are aware of, swallows the lull of the cicadas in the streetlights. It’s early in the year for them, typically holding out on their spring song until a bit further into the season. Charles drags his feet on the concrete, drawing out every step to be a beat too slow. “Stranger things have happened,” he remarks under his breath, his middle finger picking at the cuticle of his thumb before shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Have they?” Arthur continues to poke fun at the two of you, at the unlikeliness of a quareless evening. You’re surprised, too. Never would have guessed a few hours earlier that the evening would end up the way it had.

(Five hours earlier)

He’s sulking and it's becoming pathetic. Every single thing about his body moves around the yacht like a kicked puppy, all sullen and blue and hosting another private-pity party. His sighs grow more and more dramatic, less and less patient with each moment that passes without someone feeling as bad for him as he feels for himself.

You knew, maybe better than anyone, how fiercely competitive he is, how much pressure he carries on his shoulders. You'd seen the highs and the lows of it all, and despite the underlying annoyance that was Charles, you still wanted what was best for him. It’s just human nature to hope.

This season has been beating him up, you knew, even if you didn’t follow it the way some of your friends did. Strategy has been shit, you’ve heard, luck somehow shitter. He’d talked such a big game before the start of the season, quietly confident and subtly cocky in a way that almost makes you believe he can predict the future.

Usually, you would relish in his annoyance, but today you’ve found yourself feeling oddly concerned. You refused to let him ruin the beautiful day, ruin the moods of your siblings and his. It’s the determination to save the day that leads you to the yacht railing, feet away from his brooding, lost in thought expression.

“You seem a bit off today,” you remarked, voice lades with a teasing tone, a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

He glances up at you, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “You always have such a way of pointing out the obvious, don’t you?” He retorted, but his annoyance is all bark, no bite, softened entirely by the playful glint in his eyes.

“Well,” you shoot back, minorly annoyed, massively amused. “It’s not everyday you look like a sulking child.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And always full of delightful compliments,” he replied, gaze lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he tears them away.

You smirk, lean in a bit closer. “You love it,” you taunt.

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Oh, do I now?” He quips, leaning in just enough to make your stomach sink. You feign indifference to his words, but your body betrays you, leaning in a fraction closer.

“I know you better than you think,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

He chuckled again, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine. There’s something so deflated about him. “Is that so?” He muses, breath grazing against your ear, making your pulse quicken.

You take a step back, attempt to find some sort of composure. “Maybe,” you replied with a playful shrug, not daring to meet his gaze.

He leans in, fills the space you’d just created, mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re always under my skin,” he admits, a hue of vulnerability in his voice leaving you unsettled.

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. “You love the challenge, though, don’t you?” You countered, tone serious now, hinting at something more, something deeper.

He hesitates, a flicker of emotion crossing his features before he masks it with a smirk. “Maybe I do,” he replied, voice low and suggestive.

The conversation drolls on, seconds between your words filled with charged silence. The subtle dance of glances and touches only adds to the tension, and you found yourself unable to break away, to return to the rest of the family on the upper deck. No, no, you have a feeling you’ll be going lower, even, farther away from them and closer to some private silence.

“Do you ever wonder?” he asks, voice soft and full of curiosity. You have no interest in entertaining his words.

“I don’t,” you reply, trying to keep your tone guarded.

His brows furrow, challenging you. “Really?” Charles questions, his skepticism evident.

You shrug. “It’s just easier this way, isn’t it?” you retort, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitter that he feels entitled to ruin something that’s working just fine.

“Easier?” He echoes, curiosity evident as he leans in even closer.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you meet his intense gaze. “Yeah, easier,” you say, the words spewing out with a touch of frustration. “It’s just a game.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. You hope you’re talented enough to conceal them, that your secondary school drama class teacher taught you well. “You think it’s that simple?” he challenges, voice just painfully soft.

“It’s not simple at all,” you admit, guard slipping for only a moment. “But it’s just what we do. It’s comfortable, in its own way.”

He nods, seeming to understand your reluctance. “So, what?” He asks, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “We just keep using each other whenever we feel like it?”

A mess of emotions swirls inside you as you meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe,” you remark, defiant. “But it’s better than facing the alternative.”

He seems to consider your words, the wright of your unspoken history. “You’re afraid,” he observes. Charles has called you afraid a million and one times in your life; from a ponytailed scaredy-cat to a selfish coward, he’s checked the box on every synonym. This time, though, his voice isn’t teasing or raging red. No, it’s surprisingly gentle.

Your ears burn red hot. “I’m not afraid of anything,” you snap, try to push down everything just begging to boil over inside of you.

He reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt of electricity, the fact that a simple touch holds more meaning than any words the two of you could exchange. You’re annoyed, now. Annoyed with him and the longing you refuse to acknowledge. It’s a powerful cocktail that you don’t want to begin to comprehend.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Not with me.”

You heart pounds in your chest as you resist the urge to lean into him, to seek some fucked up sort of comfort in his arms. Instead, you push him away, maintain a safe distance. “I’m not afraid of you,” you say, voice horribly hushed. “I’m afraid of what this could become.”

He looks at you, some indistinguishable mix of emotions, of understanding and frustration and something else. “And what do you think this could become?” he asks, voice tinged with an edge of desire.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to his proximity. “I don’t know,” you admit, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “But I don’t want to find out.”

He smiles like he knows something you don’t. It makes you crazy. “You’re always so stubborn,” he remarks, fingers moving from your hand to your jaw, brushing against your cheek. “Part of what drives me crazy about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, unable to tear your eyes away. The tension is palpable, unspoken words hanging in the heavy air.

“I could help take your mind off things,” you suggest, voice low and suggestive. “Just for a little while.”

He raises a brow, surprise evident in his expression. “Oh?” he replies, voice a mix of intrigue and amusement. You give him a playful smirk, leaning in a bit closer. You can play games, too.

“I can be pretty distracting,” you tease, fingers moving to his arm, tracing circles on the linen covering his arm.

He hesitates, you’ve got him torn. He says your name, attempts to steer the conversation back to the emotions you’re so clearly dancing around.

But you cut him off, not willing to back down. “Please,” you sigh, your voice full of longing and playfulness. “Let me take your stress.”

He puts his foot down. Protests weakly. “We can’t just ignore this.”

For a moment, you consider pushing the issue further. Deep down, somewhere unexplored, you know that this isn’t the right time. So, you take a step back, move to walk away. Before you can take another step, his hand is on your wrist, pulling you back to him.

His lips crash against yours in a fierce and desperate kiss, and you lose yourself in the intensity of the moments. The motions that have been building under the surface finally finds an outlet, and you can’t resist the pull any longer.

You both give in to the passion, into the physical connection and the muddled emotions. It’s a moment of surrender, of letting go. For now, it’s enough. For now, you can avoid the conversation.

You’re no more than a few steps away from the stairs, make quick work of them, of the lock on the door to the master suite. You didn’t even know the doors had locks on them. You hope they’re half as soundproof as they are expensive, but you doubt it.

You’re already pawing for his cock, palming the chilly, half-damp material of his swim trunks before slipping your hand under the waistband, taking the fabric out of the equation entirely.

You look up at him, look for his reaction, check to make sure that his eyes aren’t harboring some sick softness to them. The whole point of this is to get the softy shit off his mind, to leave him so satisfied that he doesn’t remember wanting to have that conversation with you, that he doesn’t remember how shitty his season’s going and how he’s latched onto something that doesn’t exist.

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth. “Anything.”

He whinges at your words, mumbles something to himself, cupping your jaw with his hands. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you roll your eyes, but then his thumb is on your bottom lip, firm and heavy. “This fucking mouth,” he grumbles.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, big and thick and warm. You run your thumb over his head, smile at the precum pooling there, spreading it around and watching the way his face twitches. You play coy, look at him with your biggest, most innocent doe eyes. “What about it?”

He rocks on his feet, moves himself ever so slightly through your hand. He either thinks you’re oblivious to it, or he’s completely clueless to his own actions. Either way, it’s hot, and you stroke him that little bit faster. “Wanna feel it,” he says, thumb still on your lip, sinking into your mouth, onto your tongue, pushing you down, down, down onto your knees.

The floor is cold, but you don’t care, so are his swim trunks. It’s hard, though, like most floors would be, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises by nightfall. You pull his shorts down, dick bouncing out of the waistband, twitching while he steps out of the fabric, kicks it to the side somewhere in the tiny room.

As you look up at him, a myriad of emotions wash over you. This dance is becoming so familiar, and yet, you’re surprised each time by the intensity of it. Even though you’d offered yourself, you find a way to be annoyed at how he uses you like this, turns you into a vessel to vent his stress and frustration. The other part of you, though, is so fucking turned on. Completely and utterly satisfied by the fact that you have this effect on him, that you can make him forget about his troubles, even if just temporarily.

His eyes meet yours, that same vulnerability still there. It’s a regular sight for other people, to be looked at like this by him. It’s not your normal, though. It’s rare, something that tugs on you, makes you wonder what he’s thinking, desire a level of understanding that goes beyond the physical.

You push those thoughts aside as quickly as you can, remind yourself that this is all casual. That you and he, this is nothing.

You spit into your hand, stroke it over his cock until it’s hard and wet and just crying for you. Your tongue trails a long stripe, from the base of his shaft to the head, swirling around his most sensitive spot. You’ve found yourself growing annoyingly fond of the noises you can pull from him. It’s a game within a game, pushing the limits to find just how pained you can make him sound.

His hands run through your hair, slow and smooth, gathering your hair into a soft ponytail. You move a hand to his, push it against your head as if to tell him–fuck me, Charles. Use me.

“Wait,” he says, and you pull off him with a pop.

“What?” You probe, irritated that he’s already got something to say.

“You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

You smirk, bite the inside of your cheek like you’re working through a real head-scratcher, putting on your best sarcastic tone. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

“I’m serious.”

Your shoulders recoil into a shrug, a laugh helplessly falling from your lips. “So am I.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, visibly apprehensive. This never would have been an issue in January, back when the only thing he did was be openly annoyed by you. No, it’s all different now. He’s got feelings, now, wants to fucking worry about you and care about you. It makes your stomach twist and turn and knot.

You roll your eyes. This is ridiculous, how many guys out here are stopping a woman from letting them do whatever they fucking want. It can’t be more than him, it can’t. “For fucks… you’ll know if you’re hurting me.”

He nods. “But how… will I know?”

“I don’t know… I’ll punch you in the dick or something.”

He laughs, a direct juxtaposition to his words. “You are not funny.”

You shrug, scowl. “I think I’m pretty funny.”

“I don’t know why you would think this.”

You purse your lips, puff a breath of air out of them, and hold up a single finger, pointing to him. “Fuck you,” you laugh. “I’ll tap the back of your leg,” you explain, demonstrating the gesture. “Is that good enough?”

His hands move through your hair again, fix his carefully crafted ponytail you’d messed up. “Yes. Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, take his dick in your hand again and start stroking. “Can I…?”

He nods. “I’m not stopping you.”

“I mean… “ you mumble against his skin, “you just did but…” and then you take him again, hollowed cheeks and flat tongue.

“Jesus, you are insufferable,” he remarks, and you laugh around his dick. It makes him shudder.

You try to focus on the moment, on his fingers gently grazing over your skin, hands guiding your head with a mixture of need and urgency. You gag around his dick, choking on the thick shaft as it fills your mouth so perfectly. “Putain, fuck, so good,” he groans. You’d smile up at him if you could.

The ponytail he’d been so proud of was nothing but a knotted mess now, his fingers tangling in search of grip. You hope he forgets it’s you, that it’s anyone. That he fucks into your throat until your couching and gagging and spit drips down your face, tears prick at your eyes. You hope your throat hurts tomorrow, that you lose your voice and gargle salt water and he’s the only person in the world who knows why. You hope you have to tap out on the back of his thigh.

You come pretty close, the way he uses you like a filthy toy. Everytime you think you’re about to break, he pulls off your mouth, leaves you heaving for air, wiping spit off your face with the back of your hand. He leans down to kiss you once, hand under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his lips. You hope he tastes himself, knows just how good it is, how content you are with your life’s purpose.

“Pretty girl,” he says, and you hum against his dick. It’s not often you’re on the receiving end of praise from him. “Take me so good.”

You’ve learned to know when he’s close, exactly how his body reacts when it’s lost all sight of anything but finishing. His pace gets silly, all kinds of unsynchronized and messy. He gets really quiet for a minute, spends all of it fighting with himself before he finally accepts it, and then he’s loud. A mix of nonsensical languages and curses, of groans and hums and remnants of what sounds like it wants to be your name.

He’s a mess, and then he’s holding your head as close as he can, your nose pressed against the muscles of his abdomen as he bottoms out, drains himself into the back of your throat with a breathy, pained groan.

You swallow around him greedily, want everything he has to give, all his cum and all his whimpers. He thrusts in and out of your mouth a few more times, and then he’s pulling out completely, hands cupping your face, pulling you up to stand. He kisses you, hard, and you still haven’t caught your breath–neither of you have–but you kiss until you can’t anymore, until your lungs burn to be filled with something that isn’t him.

His thumbs wipe your face, the spit from your lips and the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, back arching to lower himself to your height.

You want to swat his hands away. Clearly, though, this is something he feels he needs to do. “Why?” you chuckle. “That was hot.”

He matches your laugh, but his is laced with uneasy concern as he continues to try to clean up your face, fixing your hair and kissing you again, this time all soft and sure. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” you pant. “You’re into it, though.”

You wonder if he regrets this, if he’s known all along the same way you have that this won’t end well, that it never would. His face mirrors yours, open mouth breathing and heaving chests and a mix of half a dozen emotions. You both know this is how it has to be, that anything more would be too complicated to manage. It stops you from the wonder. You hope it stops him.

He sticks his head out of the door a few minutes later, after you’d ducked into the stall-sized bathroom and properly fixed yourself, untangled your hair and tied it back securely into a ponytail with the tie from your wrist.

You laugh at him for it, push him out from behind and tell him to drop the high-schooler act. “Wait here,” he tells you, tries to close the door on you. He doesn’t hear you catch it, doesn’t turn back to see you following him up the stairs from a few steps behind.

You’d wonder why he doesn’t hear your feet, but, if he’d just done to you what you did to him, your ears would probably still be ringing, all full and overwhelmed.

“Charles!” Your Mom’s voice carries down the stairs just as his head appears on the second level. “You haven’t seen–” his ears blush bright red, head snapping back to you. Jesus, can we have some subtlety? “Oh,” your Mom laughs when she spots you a couple steps behind him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. Charles can’t look at you, he stares right past. “We were fighting, isn’t that right, Charles?”

“Oh?” She chuckles.

Charles’ eyes snap to you. He nods. “First rule of fight club, you know.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you look back to your Mom. “What did you need, Mama?”

“Just wondering if you want a drink,” she says.

“Only if you mix it strong,” you say, and your Mom is already setting off back towards the rest of the group on the top level. With silent understanding, you and he both fall back into your respective roles; the arrogant, fearless prick and the spoiled, bratty princess. It’s better this way. It’s better this way.

“Well,” you chuckle, pat him on the shoulder as you move past him on the stairs. “Aren’t you just a blushing bride?”

The anticipation in the air is palpable, all of you here in Ricky’s parents’ apartment–an added guest this year in sweet little Chiara. You’ve all watched the race here since before Charles could imagine this being his reality, the balcony providing a perfect overlook onto the iconic circuit. The sun bathes the track in golden rays, like even Mother Nature knows that it’s going to be a historic day.

Excitement crackles like electricity, sparking from person to person, igniting contagious grins and animated chattering. Your heart flutters with a unique blend of nerves and exhilaration, Charles’ undying Monaco optimism seeking into even your most pessimistic veins.

Antoine sets up his camera on the balcony, is interviewing half of you for Charles’ next YouTube video. You steal glances of your friends the entire time, feeling strangely sentimental about all the love in the room. On the sofa, Marta bounces Chiara on her knee, absentmindedly shakes a rattle in front of the infant, eyes watching the pre-race coverage on the television. Ricky, on the balcony, the first interviewee, beams with pride watching them. The guys all buzz with excitement, half of them glued to the TV, the other half carefully pulling tight the zip-ties on the now infamous banner, anxiously awaiting the start of the race.

You watch from beside Marta as the national anthem plays. She tickles Chiara’s feet, pulls little giggles from the baby’s lips. Your focus remains on Charles, though, his face on the screen. You don’t know how many laps you’ve seen him drive around this country, how many ups and downs he navigated in this sport, but you know that today feels different. You can see it etched into his features, the fire in his eyes and the resurgence in his confidence since Baku. It’s like he knows today is his day, that nothing can stand in the way, that the sun will shine on him and the champagne will spray.

The engines roar to life, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You move to the balcony, can’t bear to watch the start from a screen, knowing that it’s one of the most crucial parts of the next seventy-eight laps. Your heart pounds in sync with the rhythmic revving of the cars, and the world around you falls away as you focus on the starting grid. The lights illuminate, they're out, and the race is on.

Charles makes a picture perfect start, no. It’s better than that, better, because the crowd roars louder than you think you’ve ever heard as he catapults himself past Max and into the lead, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects.

With each passing lap, you expect the crowd to die down, but they don’t. You find yourself rallying with your friends, joining into the country-wide chorus of voices and cheers. Every maneuver, ever inch he gains on Max, fills you with excitement and awe. He’s like a force of nature, a breathtaking sight.

The laps wind down, and his lead over Max grows. You can’t help but let out a joyful whoop. He’s doing it. This is the day he shuts everyone up about the curse. Yesterday is the last day you get to tease him about it. The realization washes over you that he’s going to win at home, and your heart swells with pride.

The final lap approaches, and you hold your breath, moving inside, to watch the screen, to stare like your glare could will him to find an extra tenth. As he takes the checkered flag, a deafening roar erupts, reverberating through the streets.

Your friends join in a celebration, hugging and cheering as if you’re the ones standing on the podium. Antoine is giddy behind his camera, and you’re sure half the footage will be unusable with shaky hands.

You found pause in the celebrations to watch him get out of the car, all arms swinging and firsts clenched. He stands on the halo of his car, pointing to the Ferrar emblem on his chest, over his heart. He jumps off and moves to congratulate Esteban, only to be met with a hug from the other driver. Max joins them quickly, strong handshakes and hard pats on the back before any of them are taking their helmets off.

David Coulthard is waiting for him. Charles makes him wait, gets his bracelets and his watch from Andrea before picking up his microphone. “Charles, congratulations on your stunning victory! How are you feeling right now?” Your fingers find your lips, cover your smile and laugh. Charles has no idea how he feels.

“Thank you!” He grins, all young and dimpled, purely pure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think a giddy first-grader had just won the biggest race in the world. “I don’t know,” he laughs. “It’s just… wow. I’m on top of the world right now, to be honest.”

He looks so tired and yet so, so full of life. Like the adrenaline is the only thing keeping him up, all sweaty hair and balaclava lines. You want to kiss him, to trail your fingers along every indent in his skin. “You led the race from start to finish, and it was quite a battle with Max. Tell us about your strategy and how you managed to hold that lead.”

“It was definitely not an easy race,” he says, still smiling. You’re shocked he hasn’t lost his English yet, he always does when he gets over excited. “Max is a great driver and I knew he would not make it easy for me. Our strategy was to be aggressive from the start. I tried to manage my tyres. I think it all paid off in the end.”

“Your victory today makes you the first Monegasque driver to win the Monaco Grand Prix since Louis Chiron in 1931. How does it feel to be a part of this historic moment?”

“It’s a tremendous honor. Louis is an inspiration to all Monegasque drivers, to follow his footsteps is truly special.”

“Fantastic, thank you, Charles. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you!” He says, holds up a thumbs up as he walks away and winks. Well, he tried to wink. The inability to do so might be the least suave thing about him.

The screen transitions to the cool-down room, to Max talking Esteban’s ear off, lighting up with a smile when Charles enters. The camera focuses on Charles in the corner, setting his helmet and his towel down on the table in front of his name, drinking an entire water bottle in two gulps, opening another and taking up a conversation with the others.

Joris snaps a finger in front of your face. “Sorry, what?” You ask, eyes snapping to him.

“I asked if you want champagne?” he chuckles.

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

When you look back, they’ve already cut to the empty podium, announcing Esteban’s third place finish to a loud applause. He celebrates like he won the thing, which you admire. Next is Max, who is met with applause, but it's noticeably less than the roar that follows when Charles’ name is announced.

The room around you is half as loud as the rest of the country, laughing and screaming wild for Charles. Jo and Ricky pop open Champagne bottles on the balcony, send the corks flying to God only knows where, hastily filling up the glasses beside them and passing them out.

Even from blocks away, where he is just a red dot, where your friends arms are over your shoulder sipping champagne and humming along with the national anthem, you feel a strange connection to him, something beyond the bickering and annoyance. Something beyond the sex, maybe. Something just… something happy, or proud, or just plain soft, maybe. Soft like his smile while he gets drenched in Champagne by the two others on the podium.

(six hours later)

Joris’ knowing glances didn’t escape your notice, and it made you uneasy. You wondered if Charles was crass enough, if he has been sharing secrets about your little arrangement. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spin. The idea of anyone glimpsing into the tangled web that is you and Charles now made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

You sipped your drink, trying to focus on the chatter around you, but your mind just keeps looping back to him. His laughter, his smile. His very presence seems to pull on you, and it doesn’t help that you know he feels the same way, that he has for weeks now. You quickly brush away the thought each time, unwilling to entertain the idea of anything beyond the surface of your friendship.

“You seem a bit distant tonight,” Jo remarked, voice pulling you back to the present.

You force a smile, hope he won’t detect the unease that drenches your demeanor. “Just a bit tired, I suppose,” you replied casually, averting his gaze, staring into the bottom of your glass as you spun the clear liquor around.

He didn’t push further, but the look on his face tells you he sees right through you, makes you feel that much more exposed. You take a deep breath, attempt to steady yourself, but the questions linger like shadows in the back of your mind.

The night wears on, and Charles wears your eyes, a near constant sightline from you to him. It was easy to steal glances when he looks like that, when his easy charm and infectious laughter draws everyone in.

You don’t dare confront the truth, not here, not now. It was easier to stay in the safe confines of what you knew, what you’d established, emotions locked away in a heart-shaped locket hung round your neck.

The party shows no signs of winding down, and you need air. You slip away from the group, out the back door to the curb where all the smokers hide. You found yourself drawn to the quiet of it, where it was just you, your thoughts, and the smell of tobacco.

With the distant laughter and celebrations faded into the night, you allow yourself to be candid, to admit the truth, if only to yourself. There was a part of you that yearned for something more, a part of you that longed to explore what might be with him.

But he was right. You are afraid, you are. Afraid of what it means to let your guard down, to open up to the unknown. The vulnerability that comes with the admission is daunting, shit straight from a horror movie, like a trap. You were standing on a cliff, a dangerous precipice that threatened to unravel everything you’d sloppily built. This life is held together with bubblegum and toothpicks, it can’t stand the shake.

So, as you stood there on the back step, you made a silent promise to yourself. A promise to stay safe, to guard your heart and keep your feelings hidden from him, from everyone.

You returned to the party, unable to fully shake the weight of what gnawed on you. The cocktail of emotions was overwhelming, and you found solace in the bottom of a glass. Joris egged you on, kept the shots coming, and Marta made it more fun.

However, as the alcohol flowed freely, your tipsiness quickly spiraled into something more intense. With each drink, your inhibitions crumbled into a reckless pursuit of distraction. Each shot pushed the turmoil down further.

Marta slowed down first, opting to be cautious on her first “big night out” since having the baby. She could focus on the company and the laughter you feared. Joris started sober, too, tried to keep an eye on you the best he could, but you were determined to lose yourself to the moment.

The music thumped loudly, and the energy of the party was infectious. You danced with wild abandon, uncaring of the curious glances and amused whispers that followed. The alcohol had stripped back any reservations, leaving behind a version of yourself you barely recognize, all carefree and daring and reckless.

Jo tried to reason with you, to suggest you call it an early night, but you were having none of it. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted, slurring your words slightly. “Let’s do another shot!”

He reluctantly agreed, but the more you drank, the more erratic your behavior became. You danced with strangers, laughed loud and flirted shamelessly, trying to fill the void with temporary connections. Amidst the sea of bodies, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eye that instantly intrigued you. He moved with confident grace, and you were like a moth to a flame.

He made his way toward you, playful smirk on his lips. “I couldn’t help but notice you across the room,” he said, voice low and alluring.

You laughed, feeling the effects of alcohol emboldening you. “Oh, really? And what is it that caught your attention?”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he mumbled, “Your smile. It’s as captivating as the stars.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. “Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, trying to keep up the playful banter.

He chuckled, his finger lightly grazing the small of your back. “Only when I’m in the presence of someone this beautiful.”

You grinned, enjoying the flirtatious exchange. “You know how to flatter a girl,” you replied, heart racing at his touch.

He leaned in even closer, the proximity between you sending sparks flying. “I can be even more convincing,” he said, voice low and seductive.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Is that so?”

He smirked, gaze never leaving yours. “Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “But you’ll have to let me prove it.”

A thrill coursed through you as the chemistry between the two of you intensified. You were well aware it was just a fleeting moment, a casual flirtation in the middle of a wild night out. But something about this stranger has ignited a spark in you, and you found yourself tempted to play along.

The two of you danced together, the electric energy between you creating an intoxicating allure. His hands traced patterns along your waist. You get lost in the moment, in the music, in the touch of a stranger.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked, and you laughed.

“No,” you replied, and abandoned your spot with him before he could protest any further.

At some point, you stumbled outside for fresh air, feeling the world spin around you. The cool night air did little to sober you up, and instead, it only dueled your recklessness. You leaned against the railing, teetering on the edge between exhilaration and oblivion.

Joris found you there, concern etched on his face. He calls your name, “Maybe we should call it a night. You’ve had enough.”

But you shook your head defiantly, a stubborn gleam in your eyes. “I’m not done yet,” you slurred. “I want more.”

He sighed like he knew it was pointless to attempt to reason with you like this, made you promise to stay put, told you he was off to get you another drink and he would be right back.

As he left for your promised drink, you found yourself swaying in your shoes, the world around you still spinning. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gain some composure, but the liquor is taking it’s toll. When the door opened, you opened your eyes again, met with Joris–no drink, but with Charles in tow.

You laughed. “Hey, Charles,” you slurred, grabbing onto his arm for support.

He looked down at you, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, glancing around as if someone would magically appear to care for you.

You ignored his question. “I want you to dance with me,” you demanded, tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

He frowned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. “You’re drunk. Maybe you should sit down and take it easy,” he suggested, trying to lead you back inside, no doubt in the direction of a chair.

“No,” you pouted. “I want to dance.” You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, or that your coordination was shot. All you wanted was to forget, to lose yourself in the music and the movement.

Charles sighed, clearly exasperated, but let you tug him all the way back inside to dance. He keeps a cautious distance, as if he was worried you might fall over at any moment, which, granted. You very well might. You swayed and you twirled, laughing without regard for how ridiculous you looked.

As the music pulsed through you, you were suddenly stuck with severe guilt. You were angry at yourself for getting so drunk, for losing control like this. You were mad at him, too, annoyed by his incessant need to attempt to care for you, for never just letting you be. And yet, at the same time, you were so drawn to him and his soft eyes, to the concern and frustration and the way he cared about you even when you pushed him away.

The song changed. Something slower, more sensual. You dance closer to him and he hesitates, clearly unsure of what to do. You laugh, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You could feel his heart racing, his body tense with restraint.

“We shouldn’t…” he started to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. It was messy and desperate, per usual, fueled by alcohol and unspoken emotions. He hesitates for just a moment before giving in, his hands finding their way to your waist.

You pulled away breathless, looked up at him all defiant and bratty. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you whisper, and it comes out far more vulnerable than you intended, all squeaky and cracked. “I can handle myself.”

He looked torn, his usual composure slipping momentarily, before reverting to his usual ways. “Someone fucking has to,” he finally spoke.

You wanted to protest, to push him away, but the words all get stuck in your throat. Instead, you lean in to kiss him again, fingers tanging into his hair. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to lose yourself in him and the way he made you feel. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Can’t believe I got your sloppy seconds,” he quips.

“What?”

“The guy who tried to take you home earlier,” he laughed. “Looked like a prick.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Him.”

“Yeah, you really hit it off with him, didn’t you?” Charles said with a hint of sarcasm. You struggled to read if he was joking or if he was just barely keeping his irritation in check.

You grinned, words still slurring. “Oh, you’re just jealous.” you shot back at him, leaning closer.

“Please,” he scoffed. “Like I could ever be jealous of that guy.”

“You’re right,” you laughed, your body pressing against his as you stumbled slightly. “You just won the Monaco Grand Prix.”

The rest of the evening continues in much of the same way, with Charles having to play babysitter to a very drunk–and very handsy–you. He tried to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of composure, but you made it hard constantly pulling him into your orbit.

At some point, you find yourselves alone on a sofa, the noise around you fading somewhere far off. You were giggling about something, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you said, “this is all your fault.”

He quirked a brow. “My fault? How do you figure?”

You Smirked, reaching up to play with a strand of his hair. “You’re the one who got me all worked up with that kiss earlier,” you said, voice low and teasing.

His cheeks burnt bright pink. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, a poor attempt at sounding casual.

“Oh please, Charles. You know exactly what you’re doing,” you said, voice taking on a more serious tone. “You’re always doing this, pulling me in and then pushing me away.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” He scoffs, turning his head to face you, knocking your head off his shoulder in the process. “You’re the one doing that.”

You feel a pang of guilt at his words. You know he’s right, that tonight is just the next night of you sending him mixed signals. It’s been going on like this for months, but you don’t know how to stop, how to untangle the mess. “I don’t mean to,” you say softly, defenses dropping for a moment. “It’s just… complicated.”

He nodded. “I know,” he speaks quietly. “It’s just hard. Trying to figure out where we stand.”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I know. I do.” You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging in the air. You wished you could say something, anything, to tell him how you feel, but all the words are stuck. Instead, you reach for his hand, intertwine your fingers and look up at him, big pupils in the dimly lit room. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you said softly, voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t either,” he said, his thumb stoking your hand gently.

The moment is interrupted by Joris, who appears from around the corner out of nowhere, looking half as annoyed as the two of you must. “There you two are,” he said, relief and irritation clouding his words. “It’s time to go,” he says, pointing directly to you. “You’ve had enough.”

You groaned, but you didn’t protest. You lean on Charles the whole walk to Joris’ car.

As you arrived back at your apartment, he helped you inside and settled you into bed. He tucked you in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sleep well,” he whispered, voice soft and tender.

You smile sleepily, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You too,” you murmured. He turns to leave, but before he could go, you grab his wrist, holding it tightly. “Stay,” you said, voice barely audible.

He hesitates for a moment, you can feel it in the air even with your eyes closed, can feel his heart beating in his wrist. Eventually, though, he gives in, slides into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you nuzzle into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, words still pathetically sloshed.

He chuckles softly, the annoyance in his eyes starting to fade. “Well, I am always warm,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood, to ease the awkwardness.

You giggled, snuggling even closer to him. “You’re my human heater,” you said, voice filled with affection.

As the minutes passed, you started to drift off to sleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. You could see the struggle in his eyes as your lids grew heavier, the depth of care for you he tried so hard to hide.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, hints of a sunrise beginning to push through the curtains, you find him still awake. He looked lost in thought, afraid, almost. Desperately, you wanted to reach out, to ask him what was wrong, but feared pushing him away more than anything.

You settle against his chest, listen to the sound of his heart beating against your ear, feel yours match it. Finally, exhaustion catches up to him, his body relaxing as he drifts off to sleep. As you lay there, you can’t help your tired mind and it’s delusions of a future where you don’t have to hide your feelings, where you can be together openly and honestly, and then you’re falling back asleep yourself.

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