#Twig Chandeliers

[maddisondean]

Great Room Dining Room Medium-sized great room photo with green walls and no fireplace in a beach style.

#twig style chandelier #medium wood dining cabinet #light green wall color #cream wall paneling #light wood dining table

[zetsubonoheishi]

Rustic Home Office Home studio idea with gray walls and no fireplace: medium-sized rustic built-in desk, medium-tone wood floor, and brown floor.

#green leather desk chair #metallic silver cowhide #adirondack stone wall #brass twig chandelier #metallic gold cowhide #antique entry door

[kamarirogers]

Great Room Dining Room Medium-sized great room photo with green walls and no fireplace in a beach style.

#twig style chandelier #medium wood dining cabinet #light green wall color #cream wall paneling #light wood dining table

[hazelleewood]

Transitional Entry - Foyer An illustration of a large transitional entryway with a dark wood floor, gray walls, and a dark wood front door.

#coastal #pink pillows #twig chandelier #lake home #rustic beams #navy leather #navy

[revorocketnails]

Living Room in Denver

#Huge minimalist formal and open concept dark wood floor living room photo with beige walls #a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace tree branch chandelier #twig chandelier #vacation home #recessed lighting #branch chandelier #mountain home #brown white rug

[tadpolesonalgae]

Vampire!Rhysand x reader: Mercy, Devil

A/N: I meant to write this for October since it sounded spooky, but honestly I’m happy I didn’t because now I get to write something supernatural in the lead up to Christmas!

Warnings: blood, vampirism, eventual poly relationship

Word Count: 5,064

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve always had a strange fixation with the phantasmal night of all hallows eve. Something particular about the thought of ghastly apparitions being freed to sew discord and chaos through the monotony of everyday life entices your pulse to spike dangerously. Blood thrumming in your veins.

Clouds seal the full moon to the sky, casting shadows throughout the already dense and dark woodland. Twigs snap and crackle beneath your feet as you continue along the path through the ancient forest. Gnarled branches reach into your way, like talons of some malignant beast stretching to grasp you in its claws. Heart bumps against its cage, pale robes swishing provocatively in your wake, a pale glow of white contained within the darkness of night.

Before you, the abandoned castle looms, cutting a towering silhouette as it’s lit by a crack of lightening, splitting the heavens in two. Ravens caw and crow, taking sudden flight to the stormy skies, wind picking up as it whips the leaves from branches, thunder and rain coming on in an abrupt onslaught, seemingly out of nowhere. The water lashes at your skin, thoroughly soaking your robes, slicking the thin fabric to your skin.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow the tug toward the old castle site, a chill running up your spine as you’re lured closer, path quickly muddying beneath your feet as you stumble through the howling wind and screaming rain, reaching the base of the entry way. Hurriedly trample up the carved steps, passing by the large carved gargoyles hunched either side of the case. Lightening crackles again, bursting across the thundery sky and you dive for the cover of the hewn-rock archway, seeking shelter from the torrent of heavy droplets.

Plaster yourself to the looming door, the skull knocker digging into your shoulder as you rest against it. The wood gives way, and you yelp as you stumble back, tripping up over your feet, cloak getting caught as you’re sent falling onto your ass. A stray wind whips through the interior, door slamming shut before your very eyes, locked in darkness. Tendrils of hot breath curl before your face in the low temperature of the castle, and you hurry to your feet.

Flinch as the room comes alight, allowing your eyes to sweep across the grand entrance: rich, polished floorboards bathed with blood-red rugs, a glass chandelier hanging like an abnormal spider above the room, the two sets of large winding staircases, and the dark figure at their peak. Candle light warms the castle hall, and you press back into the locked door, breathing heavily.

“My, my,” the character calls softly, “what has the storm brought in?”

Blink quickly, returning to your senses as reason and rationality are returned. You hadn’t known the castle was occupied… “I’m so sorry, Lord,” you call, hoping your voice carries to his looming perch. “I was out in the forest when the rain came on out of nowhere,” you explain, “I came seeking shelter, but the door wasn’t closed properly, and I fell in.” Heat flushes your cheeks, and you self-consciously step back from the rich rugs, trying to keep the mud from the spotless fabric.

“Fell in?” He echoes, and you could swear you hear the faintest laugh. “There’s been many a grand entrance in these halls, and yet none quite as theatrical as your own.” Suck in a quiet inhale of embarrassment, smoothing down the cloak in attempts to look vaguely presentable for the young aristocrat. “If it’s not too much to ask,” you call out, thankful for the evenness of your voice. “I would like to request shelter until the storm passes, then I promise I will be on my way.”

“Of course,” he replies, “be my guest.” His arm sweeps across the grand hall, encompassing the room with a deliberately relaxed gesture. “What’s mine is yours. Stay as long as it pleases you.”

Almost immediately, your shoulders lose their tension, relieved to not be forced back out into the horrific storm—it really had broken out of nowhere. You dip into a light curtsey, the least you can do to demonstrate your gratitude. “My deepest thanks, lord…?”

“Rhysand,” he calls, voice smooth as velvet, sinful as silk. “You may call me Rhysand.”

————

Strangely, you hadn’t seen another soul since you had arrived, which can’t be right, since the place was clean enough you might have thought it unlived in. Missing the mess of life, a strange deathlessness stalking the flame-lit halls.

Perplexities aside, the lord—Rhysand, as he’d informed you with that strange smile—had been more than welcoming, offering a spare bedroom larger than your home, with clothes to change into. You’d had to fight to keep your mouth from parting in awe from the decadent luxury at his fingertips, the sheer mass of wealth he’s shrouded in. How blasé he is about the display of opulence, immune to the shock and wonder of it all.

“You are free to stay as long as you please,” he’d reminded, glancing over to you from where he stands on the threshold. “Dinner will be served at eight. I’d be delighted if you joined me,” he says, offering the invitation graciously. Brows raise on your forehead, grateful for your stroke of luck. Dip your head in confirmation. “That would be wonderful,” you answer sincerely, “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, my lord.” He waves his hand dismissively, yet it comes across as charming rather than arrogant. “Rhysand will suffice perfectly,” he replies, sharp eyes cutting to you, lips fashioning themselves into a distinctly feline smile. “Rhys if you feel otherwise inclined.” There’s a suggestive lilt to his honeyed voice that has your hairs standing on end, toes curling in spare slippers.

Dip your head again. “Thank you, Rhysand.”

Something pleasured passes through the darkness of his gaze, but it’s quickly covered as he nods, turning to leave, but pausing. “Feel free to adorn yourself as you please,” he adds on, framing it as an after-thought, despite embodying the antithesis of someone who would speak without thinking. He inclines his head toward the vanity, various sparkling gems strung together, contained within the jewellery armoire. Lips part to politely refuse—he’s already offered so much, it would feel wrong to take advantage of such an opportunity.

But he beats you to it, giving you a smile that suggests he knows exactly what you were about to say. “God turns a blind eye to my castle,” he purrs, lips sinfully curved. “Indulge as you like.”

Then he’s gone, striding away down the blood-red corridors, disappearing out of sight and leaving you alone in the offered room. Completely out of your depth, on unfamiliar ground.

Glance at the grandfather clock—you have a quarter hour to swiftly change into clothes of his taste. You waste no time, hastily closing the door before heading to the armoire provided. He’d told you everything was already prepared, which had initially drawn some questions, but you suppose someone with such a vastness of wealth would always have his doors open to passersby—a different way of displaying opulence.

You settle on the simplest gown you can find, still obscenely intricate, with tiny detailed patches of embroidered lacing the hem and sides. The bodice fits nicely, easy to change into and resting comfortably over your now-dry skin. The skirts are held up by an in-built petty-coat, giving the illusion of shape by flaring out past your waist, grazing your ankles. While the rest of you has been ridden of the lasting effects of rain, your hair remains damp, so you decide to allow it to hang at your back—you’d hate to sleep on the crisp pillows with wet hair.

A single look to the clock reveals you have five minutes before dinner is served, so you decide to peer at the jewellery, making sure to leave time for finding the dining hall. Within the small armoire are a menagerie of necklaces, but you pick out a small string of pearls, the clasps rendered in gold to match with the cream of your gown. Heart beats with infantile excitement at getting to adorn yourself in such expensive clothing, enjoying the cool brush against your skin, the weight of the pearls as they skim your breasts—plumped by the front of the bodice.

The clock ticks, and you turn for the door, leaving no time to change from the slippers that had been offered as you swish out into the hallway, returning the way you had come. Surely the dining hall would be located upon the ground floor…

You head for the swirl of stairs, pausing at their peak—where the sharp-featured lord had stood, surveying his lonely kingdom. The glass pendants suspended from the chandelier glitter and gleam like diamonds, and you span your hands delicately across the polished wood of the banister, taking the time to drink in and admire the antique beauty of his home.

Startle when a palm slides around your waist, spinning fully upon turning to see who’s approached. The banister presses to the base of your spine as you lean to it, his hands lightly holding your sides, resting without squeezing. “I’m glad you were able to find your way,” he says lowly, no need for volume with the proximity you are to one another. “I had worried you might find yourself lost in my halls, and I would have to go searching.”

A polite smile plays on your lips, attempting to calm the flush his silken words inspire beneath your features. “I was admiring your home,” you murmur, one hand pressing atop your breast to calm your heart—maybe also to direct his attention to the softness of cleavage. “The chandelier is wonderful, with how it catches the light. For a moment I thought it was winking at me,” you laugh quietly, demurely ducking your head, casting your gaze away from the sharpness of his own.

Rhysand chuckles lowly, “you have the eyes of a magpie.” Hand lightly raises to the set of shining beads at your throat. “Seemingly the taste of one, too.” He threads his fingers with those atop your breast, bringing your knuckles to the softness of his lips. “May I say, you look positively regal,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your skin. You’re surprisingly relieved at the coolness of his mouth, soothing the fire that’s thrumming wildly in response to the delightful liberties he’s taking.

This time you can’t bring yourself to look away. Enchanted by the swirling depths of violet.

“If I look regal,” you breathe softly, “it is thanks to your exquisite taste in dress.” He raises a single, neatly groomed brow, and you’re rather glad to have the banister to lean back on. “A raw gem is beautiful even before it’s refined,” he purrs, cool lips skimming your knuckles with each word. “The clothing merely enhances what was already there.”

Open your mouth to deny his flattery, but once again he beats you to it, as if able to read minds. “Now,” he says, standing to his full height, “shall we?” He guides your arm to link with his own, hand pressing to the firmness of muscle beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. All you can manage is a dip of your head in acquiescence before he’s gracefully guiding you to the stairs, leading the way to the dining hall.

“In the mean time,” he says casually, “why don’t you tell me what you were doing, traipsing through the woods on such a morbid night?” Clasp your skirts in one hand, descending the case on his arm, quietly enjoying the gentlemanly mannerisms even if you’re undeserving of them. “It’s all hallows eve,” you answer, honestly, “I found myself yearning the company of the forest.”

“So you decided to play at red-riding hood,” he drawls, mirth coating his teasing words. You manage to shoot him what you hope is a playful glance. “There are no wolves in these forests, Rhysand,” you smile, returning your gaze to the steps. “Besides, these robes are white, not red.”

The two of you reach the base, and he moves to escort you through the archway on your right, leading away from the entrance hall. “That’s the lovely thing about white though, isn’t it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So open to change.” Your brow dips in a subtle show of confusion, narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” Lips carve themself into something distinctly vulpine, sharp canines gleaming beneath the warm light. But he shakes his head, murmuring a “never mind” before continuing through the ornamented room.

“Tell me more about this so-called yearning for the forest,” he goads, drawing you through yet another exquisitely decorated hall, rugs a shade darker now you’ve strayed from the entrance. It’s your turn to shake your head, unsure how to describe it without sounding utterly off your rocker. “It’s hard to say really,” you say truthfully. “The temperature was crisp but not biting, and the sky was overcast without promising a storm— well, I had thought not, though I was clearly mistaken,” you smile, though there’s an intensity to his gaze you hadn’t noticed before. You quickly avert your eyes, peering instead at the large banquet table you’re swiftly approaching.

“I think, if I’m being quite plain, the quiet suited me in that moment,” you admit softly. “I didn’t know those forests were capable of being quiet,” he mutters, “they must like you.” You shoot him a questioning look, but he simply smiles, again shaking his head. “I was merely thinking out loud,” he clarifies, pulling out your chair. You politely take the seat, smoothing out your skirts as he tucks you in. “I’d be interested in hearing more of your inner thoughts,” you say, “they sound quite intriguing.”

Rhysand pauses, hands resting atop the back of your chair, “would you now?” Spine stiffens when you feel icy air brush your temple, tilting your head to figure where the stray breeze came from. Freeze when his lips graze the shell of your ear, fingers halting in your lap. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking right now?” He inquires lowly, startling heat simmering in your lower abdomen. Manage a slight dip of your chin in tense confirmation. Lips trail lower, ghosting below your ear, brushing your neck. But then he pulls away, standing straight, offering a charming smile. “I’m thinking it would be a shame to be seated so far apart from you, and that I will have to move to be at your side.” Then he’s striding to the end to retrieve the crockery laid out, cutlery held in his free hand.

While his back is turned, you take the moment to try and calm your racing heart, startled by the vivacious beat being drummed against your ribs. You should be better equipped to face him, yet he’s seamlessly pulling you apart, stitch by stitch. All effortless charm and debonair grace. By the time he’s returned, you’ve managed to reach a state of near relaxation, just an edge of tension still gnawing at your spine.

“So, Rhysand,” you say quietly, nervous to intrude too deeply into the air of the castle. “Does your family live with you?” When he begins taking food to his plate, you follow suit, assuming the dinner has commenced, and that it will be fine for you to now start on the delicious meal laid before you. “Occasionally they fly by,” he answers with that playful smile, its reflection mirrored upon your lips. “I have two brothers who will visit from time to time, though they have their own hunting grounds to preside over.”

He hunts? You would have thought someone dressed as finely as he is would have little interest in such a superficial task. Particularly if there’s no one to converse with during the process. An image of him dressed in hunting leathers flashes through your mind, as if put there by an encouraging hand. “Preside over?” You ask, raising a forkful of food to your mouth.

Rhysand nods, smiling faintly as he watches you. “Indeed. They require a surprising amount of attention. Making sure the game are well-kept so none are driven from the lands,” he elaborates, and you nod along, surprised to find yourself interested in the subject. “What counts as being well-kept?” You ask once done with the food in your mouth, eagerly moving to the next piece. “Making sure they are well-fed,” he answers with a playful smile, “that generally keeps them happy.”

You blink, then smile. It’s nice to know he takes care of the animals on his land. That they’re looked after before their death. More humane than some of the things you’ve seen in your small hamlet. “I take it you hunt for pleasure?” You asks, eager to learn more about the charming lord. But he shakes his head, “not regularly. Or rather, not as regularly as some others I know.” A frown seems to dip his brows, and you wish to change the subject. His knife slices through the meat on his plate, carving it up into neat little squares for polite, bite-sized snacks. “Besides, I fear if my game notices it’s being picked off, it will run for the hills.”

Laughter bubbles across your breast-bone with his little quirks. The idea that his prey would be at all self-aware is rather amusing, while also strangely heart-warming. “If hunting is not a hobby of yours, how do you spend your time?” You ask, relaxing into the pleasantly stimulating conversation. “Welcoming rain-soaked women into my castle, of course,” he drawls, a wide smile spreading across your lips, quickly raising your hand to cover your mirth-filled grin. “You’ve given me no reason to doubt, yet I haven’t laid eyes on a single other soul here,” you reply, peering at him.

Lips quirk, and he reaches for his glass of red wine, thoroughly opaque, darkened in the flame light. “Everyone else has gone home for the night,” he answers, sipping at the thick liquid. “It’s just us, my lady.” Flush at the title, returning to concentrate on the meal. “I am no lady, Rhysand,” you respond softly, cutting into the rich meat on your plate. “And yet if I were to walk through those doors and find you dining alone, I would not think you looked even a spot out of place in my home,” he says, equally hushed.

Cutlery stills in your hands, raising your eyes to swirling violet. It strikes you then what a spectacular colour it is. Manage a shy smile, “your flattery is outrageous.” He’s quiet for a short spell, before also lowering his cutlery. “Do I look like I’m lying to you?” You’re surprised by the sincerity of his tone. Throat rolls as you observe him, head still lowered shyly. “I’ve known you for not even a night,” you murmur, unable to quite pull your focus from him. “You could,” he answers lowly, voice pitched down a few keys.

Blink, taken aback. You must be misunderstanding. Swallow thickly, making to return to your plate, but— “Don’t look away,” he instructs softly, coaxing your eyes back to his. Mind swims through heat, the world dimming around him, as if blanketed by a thick fog. “I…I couldn’t say,” you manage, a strange wariness prickling at the nape of your neck. Hairs rising with the intensity of his gaze.

The lord is quiet again, watching you with those strange, wonderful eyes. But then he pulls away, spearing a sectioned piece of meat with his fork. “Forgive me,” he says, “I shouldn’t have been so crass with you. I find myself so rarely with civilised company my manners are often forgotten.”

You shift in your seat, a bout of cold icing your skin in the absence of his attention. “No, it’s fine,” you say, finished with your meal, gently setting down the knife and fork. “I was simply caught off guard. The truth is I would feel as though I was taking advantage of your generosity, Rhysand.” You notice he’s also finished, but are unable to recall at what point. “What’s mine is yours,” he reminds lowly, eyes glinting.

Pulse spikes in response, something dark in that look that has you urging to run. The question is: in what direction?

“You seem tired,” he observes, glancing at the grandfather clock. Brows raise as he reads the time. “Appropriately. It’s nearing midnight,” he drawls. Lips part in surprise, how has it been that long? It feels like you sat down to eat less than an hour ago, yet it’s already beginning the ascent into morning. “Nearly midnight?” You echo, following his gaze. The clock indeed reads twelve, the hour hand raised as if poised to strike down.

Rhysand stands from his chair, refolding the napkin before stretching out his hand. “I would hate for you to sleep poorly because of me. Allow me escort you back to your room,” he asks quietly, all traces of previous heat removed, replaced by well-mannered charm. You manage a nod, arm once again overlapping with his own, making to follow him through the labyrinthine halls.

It hits you then, the vastness of his castle—how desolate the space must be. Especially with how rarely he apparently gets to meet with anyone he cares for. “You know, before tonight I had thought your castle was abandoned,” you say absently, taking in the elaborate decorations with more appreciation. “I’ll admit, it sometimes feels that way,” he replies, deep voice tracing down your spine. Push the heat aside for the moment, turning to glance at him. “Do you ever get lonely?” You ask quietly, aware of the ice you’re treading.

He hesitates, momentarily meeting your gaze before continuing onward, reaching the stairs. “Quite possibly,” he answers, “it would certainly be reason for my appalling lapse in manners earlier tonight.” His lips are lifted at their edges, yet you can’t quite manage to return the smile. It must be difficult, having all this space with only his self to fill it. Then again, with the intensity he’s occasionally pinned you with, that doesn’t seem like a particularly hard task.

“Tell me about your own hobbies,” he requests, breaking from your inner thoughts. “I feel as though I’ve spoken more than enough for tonight.” But you’re shaking your head before you can help it, speaking before you can stop it. “I like the sound of your voice,” you admit quietly. Violet eyes flick to you, weighing on your cheek…your neck. “It’s soothing. Like a lullaby.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you.

He stares, and heat blossoms beneath your skin. That was incredibly uncalled for on your part.

“I hope not,” he says at last, humiliation burning at your insides as you hastily look away. But then he comes to a stop, hand reaching for your jaw, drawing your helpless gaze to lock with his own. “Because putting you to sleep right now is the last thing on my mind,” he breathes lowly.

Oh.

Chest rises and falls steadily, becoming aware of how breathless you feel, how utterly bare you are beneath that look of his. Tongue flicks out over your lower lip, mouth parched. “Tell me…what’s the first thing on your mind then, Rhys.” Attention pierces to the plushness of your lips, and you’re suddenly in need of that banister from earlier. “You want to know what I’d do with you if you let me?” He asks, voice rougher than it was moments before. Pulse spikes beneath that intensity, breath shallowing, but you manage a nod.

He groans lowly, hand dropping to your waist, lightly resting along the seam of the bodice. Cool fingers stroke away a lock of hair, pads grazing the heat of your cheek as he stares down at you. “I’m not sure such things are for your ears, magpie,” he grits out, applying a light bit of force to your waist. “Tell me anyway,” you breathe, hands raising to the fine lapels of his jacket, more eager to put them in his hair.

A rough sound of conflicted pleasure rumbles in his chest. “Such lovely things,” he promises, violet darkening with desire, swirling and dancing as he drinks you in. “So lovely you wouldn’t be able to pull away once I’d started.”

Heat numbs rationality, mind melting as the words warmly splash over your bones, sinking into marrow as you become soft and supple beneath his touch. Step into the lines of his body, feeling as his fingers press to your sides with tension. “Do it,” you breathe, quietly. “Please.”

Cunning satisfaction releases through the male, pleased with how quickly you changed your mind once he applied himself to the task. He’d gotten a sense of your taste before dinner, when he’d pushed you in, and it had been enough to convince him even though he’d fed not even a week ago, he would have to sample you. Now here you are, head tilted, eyes having fluttered shut, offering yourself to him for an entirely different set of wants. Maybe he will indulge your desires—if you satisfy his, that is.

You’ll be on the floor colder than ice if you fail to do so.

He moves in, hand cupping the nape of your neck as he lowers his mouth to yours. Lamb had been served over dinner, and he finds the taste pleasant on your tongue, stoking the embers of his hunger as he presses himself against the soft shape of you, partially hidden by the blasted dress and pearls. A small sound gets caught in your throat, and he revels in the feeling of your fingers tightening on the lapels of his jacket. As if you’re experiencing even a fraction of the hunger he has for you.

Works his way down your jaw, taking his time as he descends to your neck. Nosing at the pronounced pulse, liking how you tilt your head to one side, freely gifting him access. Lips graze the spot he’s chosen, tongue flicking out to drag along hot skin—so hot it practically burns.

Razor-sharp canines scrape, and he feels the exact moment you go rigid in his arms. But by then it’s too late, his teeth piercing your throat, injecting his philtre-laced venom into your bloodstream. The familiar taste of adrenaline and arousal spills on his tongue, bursting from the small puncture marks he’s made, quick to heal over with the aid of saliva. Drinks you down, savouring the richness of your blood, sealing his lips over the incisions, taking more, and more, and more—

He forcefully drags himself away, vision turning hazy, the scent of your life-force spinning his mind. Breathes heavily, the rich and spicy tang still prominent in his mouth, sapid and hot. Tongue darts out to wet his lips, gathering up faint traces that remain there, and then he’s being pulled back, already so deeply enamoured.

Canines re-pierce that same spot, reopening the incisions as your blood burns his throat, inspiring heat in his long-dead body. It’s as if he’s returning to life, having it shot through his veins, snaring him in the addicting flavour. Lips seal over the puncture marks, drinking deeply, swallowing down more and more.

He should stop.

He knows he should stop—he’ll bleed you dry, and then he’ll never have another taste. Arousal coats his tongue, and heat spreads across his skin, bone-deep aches making themselves apparent, as if forcefully dragging him to you. Your hands have dropped from his jacket, instead weakly rubbing at his shoulder and chest, unable to do much more than hold yourself up.

But the taste—the sheer heaven you’ve put into him again. If he stops drinking, it will pass, and he’ll return to that permanent state of death, cold and solitary. But you’re bleeding sunlight into him, sunlight that’s dappled and controlled instead of the unrestricted blaze that would incinerate him in the blink of an eye.

A quiet gasp slips from your lips, fingers losing their grip on his clothing, beginning to slip, but just a little more…one more gulp…one more sip…

“Mercy, devil,” he breathes onto your neck, as if in pain. “What God-damning angel are you?” He growls, trembling hands cupping your cheeks, sharp violet eyes locked on the small marks to your throat. “You’ve bewitched me. I must…” Then he’s surging forward, slamming you against the wall with inhuman force, hand gripping your jaw as he roughly tilts your head to the side. Groans, hot tongue licking over the soft skin, elongated incisors pricking as they again pierce.

Pulse spikes beneath his grip, growing dizzy as he drinks deeply, hands pressed to your shoulders to pin you still. Vision blurs, lips parting as you raise your arms in attempt to push him away, but end up desperately clinging to the finely spun fabric cloaking his back. Limbs go weak, turning limp in his hold as he feeds, a pleasurable spin overcoming your mind, turning pliable beneath his teeth.

He groans, pulling away only in favour of going lower, suctioning now-hot lips over a new, unmarked patch of skin. Blood bursts on his tongue, rich and spicy, not yet too ripe but void of the sour bite that’s present in the young. Heaven and hell blend together in his mouth, mixing so appetisingly he could never—

“Rhys…” you whisper, pleading. Less than a breath left before you—

Your body slumps, and his is trembling so violently the best he can do is go with you as you slide down the wall, blood trickling down onto the pure, white pearls. He knew they’d get in the way.

He hauls himself away, shocked at the utter lack of control you had subjected him to. How his discipline shudders in your presence, practically brought to its knees for a single drop more.

Earlier he had considered making a bottle or two out of you to send off to his brothers, ready for consumption.

Looking at you now, he can hardly stand the thought.

What’s mine is yours…and what’s yours is mine.

Your blood is his, and his only.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#rhys x reader #vampire!au #vampire!rhys #rhysand x reader #mercy devil #a court of thorns and roses

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Five

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.5k

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Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi everyone, it's Dana! Hope you had a lovely April, I'm so excited to share this update with you all! This chapter will involve discussions of the paranormal, a bit of angst, and SCENTING - the scenting scenes are a bit heated, I'll give you a heads up ;) The taglist is still open, and as always I love to hear reader's thoughts, theories, and comments 💜 Enjoy and thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

The pain shooting up from the site where her ankle bone had torn through her flesh was insignificant in comparison to the pure terror taking over her senses. Desperately, she tried to drag herself under the remains of a fallen tree, though the trail of crimson pulsing steadily from her torn skin left evidence of her presence in its wake. Even now, she knew it was for naught– the creature could no doubt smell the scent of her spilled blood, and was closing in at any second. In fact, she felt her chest tighten at the sound of a twig snapping somewhere nearby, the crunch of footsteps approaching. Whimpering, she shakily pressed a hand over her mouth, able to spot a cloud of breath just paces away from her hiding spot. In the howling winds of the blizzard, a gut-wrenching growl cut through the noise as the predator closed in on its prey. 

Y/N felt herself fading in and out of a disturbed sleep. Pieces of fragmented memory passed through her mind fleetingly; being lifted off of a cold surface by a pair of strong arms, her head pressed against a rapidly beating heart. Panicked shouting, her body shivering and convulsing, the soft fabric of her quilt. The ghost of a hand brushing the hair off of her forehead, flickering candlelight and perfumed smoke, gentle mumbling… prayer?

As consciousness came to her bit by bit, her fingers flexing and relaxing in their grip on the fabric of her sheets, the hushed voices in the room grew louder as her senses returned to her slowly. Her throat felt like sandpaper from the scented smoke filling the room, a thin whine ripping from it as she attempted to peel her heavy eyelids open. Y/N felt like she had the world’s worst hangover, stomach turning over uncomfortably and skull throbbing. As her eyes opened, she stared blearily at the ceiling, the moldings around the Tiffany chandelier coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting. It was still nighttime, or very early dawn, judging by the darkened walls of her bedroom. The voices she heard while she was waking up were silent. 

Groaning, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself to sit up and try to recall how she had gotten to bed in the first place. As she lifted her head, the spot she had smacked on the marble floor throbbed in agony. Suddenly, two tattooed hands swiftly landed on her shoulders, firmly pressing her back down into her pillows with a curse. Reeling, Y/N painfully turned her head to look at Jeongguk, who was sitting on the side of her bed, appearing both exhausted and vaguely annoyed. Just beyond the elk hybrid’s silhouette, Y/N saw Jimin, who was biting his fingernails down to the nub, staring at her with grave concern. 

“Wh-what happened?” Y/N croaked after a few beats, Jeongguk finally removing his hands from her shoulders and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. A rosary, one with dark red beads, was wrapped around one of his wrists. 

“You passed out in the hallway. Hit your head,” Jeongguk replied, his voice hoarse as if he had been speaking for a very long time. 

Tentatively, Y/N lifted her hand, gingerly poking at the site of her injury above her left eyebrow. Wincing at the tender flesh, her hand stilled as she felt the fabric of a butterfly bandage  someone had applied to the wound. Shifting her gaze from Jeongguk, Y/N noticed Taehyung sitting at the foot of her bed, expression grim. Hoseok and Seokjin were lingering by her dresser, damp washcloths in the jaguar hybrid’s hand and both of the hybrid’s ears turned downwards in distress. 

“And upstairs, what h-happened upstairs?” Y/N squeaked, feeling terrible that the hybrids all looked so disturbed. Further, with the Poltergeist twist to the evening, she was anxious to learn about what had unfolded after she lost consciousness. Namjoon and Yoongi weren’t in the room, from what she could tell, which formed a pit in her stomach. Had something happened to them?

Jeongguk sighed roughly, running his hand through his tangled hair and placing the rosary on her nightstand. Taehyung looked away from her, though Y/N realized his hand was wrapped around her ankle, likely in an attempt to soothe her. Seokjin made his way to the bedside, the corners of his mouth turned downwards as he scanned the site of her injury. Carefully, he found one of her hands gripping the sheets, wrapping it in his much larger hand and brushing his thumb over her skin. Shuddering at the contact, Y/N stared at Seokjin pleadingly for any type of explanation. To her surprise, Jeongguk answered her. 

“I got rid of it, eventually. Son of a bitch tried to attach itself to you when I drew it out from the second floor. It’s gone though,” Jeongguk stood from his spot on her bed, moving to snuff out the herb bundle he had left burning on a plate on Y/N’s desk. Seokjin tightened his hold on her hand as she shimmied up on the bed as best she could with Taehyung’s grip on her ankle. 

“You got rid of it? Did anyone get hurt? What was it?” Y/N pushed damp hair out of her face, wondering if Seokjin had cleaned up her face with the face cloths he was holding earlier. “How did you even know that there was something here in the first place?” 

Jeongguk chuckled tiredly, stubbing out the herb bundle Judy had given her, his little notebook sitting next to it. The room, while considerably lighter spiritually, still felt tense. Hearing a floorboard creak, Y/N gasped in relief upon seeing Yoongi enter the room, his hair tied up messily and a steaming mug in his hand. Eyebrows pinched, he approached the bed, placing the fruity-smelling cup of tea in Y/N’s free hand. 

“Is that pomegranate?” Jeongguk nodded towards the mug in her hand, eyeing Yoongi with suspicion. 

“Yes, I heard you the first three times you insisted I make her pomegranate tea, Father Karras,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, motioning for Y/N to take a sip with his lips pursed. She didn’t even know she had pomegranate tea in her cupboards, let alone the reason behind Jeongguk insisting she drink it. 

“No one was hurt,” Seokjin murmured by her side softly, still holding her hand. Relieved, Y/N squeezed his fingers with a small smile. 

“As for what it was, I’m not exactly sure. It was a malevolent entity for sure, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a demon,” Jeongguk explained, rubbing his eye with a fist. Y/N wondered if he was up all night trying to banish the spirit. “I used to hang around with a group of paranormal investigators. We did cleansings from time to time.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open upon hearing his revelation, Hoseok scoffing from across the room. She didn’t think Hoseok wholly bought into subject matter surrounding the occult, however, she remembered that he seemed significantly perturbed during the incident the previous night. Taking a sip of the tea Yoongi brought her, Y/N felt Taehyung’s hand on her ankle grow tighter. 

“So what, you can sense ghosts or something? Like a fortune teller?” Hoseok jabbed, his arms crossed over his chest. Jimin, who migrated to her dresser where the fox hybrid was, stomped on Hoseok’s foot while he opened up one of the dresser drawers. Y/N watched Jimin pull out a fresh change of clothes, Jeongguk muttering under his breath as he tucked his notebook under his arm. 

“I’m gonna get some sleep now that you’re fine,” the elk hybrid announced gruffly, avoiding eye contact with her once again before exiting from the room, fumbling with the notebook in one hand and a pack of Marlboros in the other. Seokjin released Y/N’s hand, pushing a lock of damp hair off of her forehead while she pouted at Jeongguk’s departure. She felt it was the first time the elk hybrid trusted her enough to tell her a little about his past, and lamented his absence immediately. 

“Miss Y/N, here’s some new clothes. You’ll probably want to shower, Namjoon was applying oil to your arms and such,” Jimin gently placed the new outfit on her bed, Y/N suddenly feeling self-conscious as Jimin’s golden eyes flitted across her bare clavicle, which she now realized was coated in olive oil. Yoongi cleared his throat awkwardly, bouncing his leg from Y/N’s desk chair he had perched on. 

“Mm, you’re right. I feel sticky,” Y/N grimaced, allowing Seokjin to help her slowly sit up in bed with a hand on her back. The pain was slowly starting to ebb away from her wound above her eyebrow, Y/N entertaining the idea of Yoongi slipping an ibuprofen into the tea. 

Reluctantly, Taehyung let go of her ankle, teeth worrying his lip as he watched both Jimin and Seokjin helping her out of the bed. The sun was starting to rise, filling the room with peachy light, capturing mahogany strands of hair on Hoseok’s head while he stood by the window, looking out at the backyard absently. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” Y/N asked Seokjin quietly, knowing Hoseok could hear her, but not wanting to startle him too much by saying the wolf hybrid’s name above a whisper. Seokjin frowned, orange eyes turning stormy as he watched Y/N stretch out her stiff limbs, using Jimin’s arm to keep her balance. Jimin was right, the skin of her arm was streaked in oil, her shirt dappled with several greasy stains. 

“In his room. He helped Jeongguk with whatever ritual he was doing, and when you started to stir, he bolted from the room and has been locked away with that new book he got yesterday afternoon ever since,” Seokjin informed her, turning his head to gaze down the hall in the direction of Namjoon’s bedroom. Shrugging, Y/N assumed he was probably trying to look up what kind of entity had been in the home in his new encyclopedia. Distantly, she wondered if he was suffering from a hangover for the first time. 

“We’ll leave you to it,” Yoongi made his way to the threshold of the door, motioning the others to follow. Taehyung seemed rooted to his spot on Y/N’s bed, still chewing on his lip with pointed incisors, before hauling himself up and making his exit from her bedroom. “I’ll make some breakfast, Jimin, could you help me out?” 

Nodding, Jimin left her bedside, Seokjin close behind, both hybrids giving her a wistful smile before following Yoongi and Taehyung down the hall. Sighing, Y/N inched towards the bathroom with her new clothes, forgetting that Hoseok was still in the room for a moment until he shuffled his feet behind her by the bathroom door. Craning her neck up at him in question, she tried to decipher the emotions flashing through his eyes. 

“When I said that one of us was going to have to scrape you off the floor last night, I didn’t think I’d actually have to,” he began, his mouth in a flat line. Looking remorseful, he placed his hand on her shoulder shakily. “That scared the shit out of me. The sound when you fell… it was awful…” 

Hoseok’s eyebrows pulled together, his ears turning down while Y/N frowned. He squeezed her shoulder, as if he was checking that she was truly standing there in front of him. Placing her hand over his, she felt the strong urge to comfort Hoseok, who was more shaken from the whole event than she originally thought. After all, if she was more gravelly injured, who would be left to take care of him and the other hybrids?

“Hey, I’m okay now, Hoseok. I’m patched up, the situation has been, uh… handled. My head doesn’t even hurt that much,” Y/N cheerfully assured him the best she could, his expression still crumpled even after she spoke. 

After several moments, and before she could overthink it, she tentatively stretched her arms out, inviting him in for a hug. She watched his mouth open and close, her eyebrows lifting, and just as she was going to drop her arms and laugh it off, Hoseok’s grip on her shoulder tightened, pulling her firmly to his chest. Shocked, Y/N felt Hoseok’s hand shift from her shoulder to the back of her head, cradling it to his chest, his other arm winding around her waist securely.

 By instinct, she pressed closer to Hoseok, her own arms wrapping around him and soothingly rubbing his back. Sensations from the previous night came back to her as she held the fox hybrid, Hoseok’s heartbeat racing through his chest like it had hours ago, the scent of rosewood coming from his skin comfortingly. After a few moments, Hoseok seemed to relax, the tenseness in his back muscles melting away under her hands, and he gave her a final squeeze before pulling away. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” his hands fell from her body after ruffling her hair, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he began to leave the room, leaving Y/N stunned and red in the face as he shut the door tightly behind him.

Moving robotically, Y/N frantically tried to calm her erratically beating heart, shutting herself in the bathroom and shedding her oily clothes. It was as if she was utterly possessed, the urge to comfort each of the hybrids since she first laid eyes on them was so strong, all reason had fled from her mind. She had only met Hoseok days ago, and Y/N was already prepared to hold him for hours if that was what he needed– she knew it was the same for the others, as well. Y/N hadn’t expected to grow attached to all of them so quickly, even Namjoon, who she had barely exchanged more than a handful of sentences with. Shaking her head, she blindly turned on the shower.

 Pretty quickly, she noticed the bathroom was missing the drafty chill that had been pestering her for a couple of weeks, as she walked over to the window to assess the gap between the sill and the glass. Making a noise of surprise, she discovered a screwdriver on the windowsill, the drafty gap completely repaired. Floored, she speculated about who could have fixed the window amidst the chaos, but her bets were on Taehyung. He had mentioned he was handy. 

Returning to the mirror in a daze, she winced at the nasty wound above her forehead, the skin already turning a mottled purple and the cut jagged. However, it was nicely cleaned up and tended to decently, which was more than she could have hoped for. Feeling a warmth bloom within her, Y/N was grateful that the hybrids had cared for her so well after her fall, even more so that Jeongguk and Namjoon had managed to rid the house of whatever was causing disturbances for so long. Of course, a seemingly endless string of questions looped around in her brain– surrounding Jeongguk’s time with paranormal investigators, Namjoon’s apparent wealth of knowledge on the occult, and the entity that caused the incident in general. 

While hot water washed the oil from her skin, Y/N felt a lightness in the atmosphere that had been absent from the house for several weeks. In the years she had spent focused on her career, stepping away from the realm of the supernatural and spirituality, Y/N supposed she had achieved her goal of becoming desensitized from it– she didn’t even realize how badly things had escalated with the entity that had come in from the grounds. Rinsing her hair, Y/N frowned; now that she had the hybrids, was it really so wise for her to continue turning her back on something so deeply woven into the fabric of her life? It was clear that she had only succeeded in ignoring who she was and how she connected with her spirituality, but she had neglected to put up the proper protection for herself and those around her in the midst of all that denial. 

Her heart was heavy, realizing if she had simply cleansed the house once a month and maintained protection spells her mother put up ages ago, she likely could have spared the hybrids from witnessing such a dramatic event so soon after moving into their new home. With the pity, Y/N also found resolve– she knew she never wanted something like that happening again in their home if there were measures she could take to prevent it. For the rest of the day, she planned on upping the protection on the entire house, perhaps crafting some charms for the hybrids to keep them safe. Hissing as hot water hit the cut on her forehead, Y/N screwed her mouth up in concentration, trying to remember where she had tucked away the trunk of her tools and herbs, likely somewhere in the basement under the stairs. 

Toweling off, Y/N hummed softly, picking up the ancient tee shirt Jimin had selected, the one with her high school’s name printed across the front. It was the softest tee shirt she owned, to be fair, and paired with her well-worn leggings and fuzzy socks, Jimin picked out the perfect outfit for her to recover in from the previous night. Letting her hair drip-dry, Y/N shuffled out into her bedroom, detecting a sweet scent coming from the hallway cutting through the smoky scent of burnt cedar. Searching for her phone, she found it sitting on her nightstand beside Jeongguk’s rosary. Carefully, she scooped up the ruby beaded necklace, curiously passing her fingers over the smooth beads, the silver embellishments and cross. Tucking her phone into her pocket absently and cradling the rosary in her palm, Y/N thought it best to return it to Jeongguk once he woke up and placed it back on her nightstand gingerly. She wondered where he had gotten it, as it wasn’t one of the purchases he had made at Judy’s store. 

Rolling her stiff shoulders back, Y/N left her bedroom, the hallway bright with morning sun from the skylight above the grand staircase. Someone was singing softly in the kitchen, the sounds of pans clattering mixed between the sweet voice– Y/N guessed it was Seokjin. As she passed by Namjoon’s door, the creaky wooden scrape of her old desk chair across the hardwood within his room had her pausing, waiting for the wolf hybrid to undoubtedly seek her out. Within seconds she watched the door creak open, Namjoon cautiously sticking his head out into the hall to glance towards Y/N’s bedroom. 

Clearing her throat, Namjoon’s ear flickered, head snapping in the other direction to locate her. An awkward sensation washed over her as he scanned her face and body with his aloof expression. She recalled how soft his face had become the night before, but now it was void of that softness, as he stepped out in the hall and firmly closed the door behind him. He was wearing the blush pink thermal she had picked out for him.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted, trying her best to match his steady eye contact. “Jeongguk said you helped out last night. Thank you,” she continued upon his silence to her greeting, his arms across his chest. 

“I’ve been trying to find out what it was in that encyclopedia. I have a couple of theories, but nothing that matches up completely with what went down last night,” Namjoon admitted, eyes shifting to the wound on her forehead. Subconsciously, she reached up to touch it, biting down on her lip at the stinging of the flesh. 

“If I didn’t pass out, I would have been able to help you… sorry,” Y/N murmured sheepishly, a short grunt coming from the back of Namjoon’s throat. “I’m going downstairs to look for my old tools and books. Maybe something in the chest can help you narrow down some of your theories.”

Namjoon appeared intrigued, promptly following her to the basement door that was left ajar. She knew Hoseok was already in the kitchen; she had heard him whistling along to Seokjin’s song, so she didn’t have to worry about Namjoon frightening the fox hybrid in his own space. 

“I need your help to haul the chest up here, anyways,” Y/N attempted to break the silence as they trudged down the stairs, shrugging as she was met with no response when they reached the bottom. 

Determinedly, she rifled through unmarked boxes beneath the stairs, pushing past Yule decorations and the file cabinet of her elementary school artwork. Namjoon hovered behind her after checking out the gym area with curiosity, hefting a large crate filled with old bottles out of the way for her when she unsuccessfully tried to push it with her foot. After a few moments of blowing cobwebs out of her face from under the darkened steps, she found her old trunk filled with supplies for her craft. Covered in fine dust, a pang of sadness rocked through Y/N, especially when she brushed her fingers over some of the sigils she had etched into the wood of the chest as a teenager. 

“This is it, I’m assuming?” Namjoon questioned from over her shoulder, having to hunch down quite a bit to fit under the steps. Nodding with her mouth in a flat line, Namjoon hummed, wordlessly hooking his hand around the handle closest to him and pulling it out into the hallway of the basement with ease. Squeaking with surprise at the sheer strength Namjoon effortlessly displayed, Y/N scrambled after him. 

“Oh, it’s heavy, hold on! I might have to go get someone to help us bring it up the stairs,” Y/N worried as he dragged it to the stairs and lifted up one end of the trunk, Namjoon scoffing in response. It had taken her father and two older male cousins to drag her chest full of books, bottles, and metal tools down into the basement– she thought to at least find Taehyung or Jeongguk. 

“It’s fine, Y/N. Just grab the other end, I’ll walk backwards up the stairs and carry most of the weight. Just watch your step,” Namjoon rolled his eyes, pushing up the sleeves of his thermal. Gawking at the wolf hybrid, Y/N nervously grasped the other handle, hoisting it up as quickly as she could to avoid Namjoon having to bear the entirety of the weight of the trunk. 

Namjoon moved slowly up the steps, whether he was accounting for Y/N’s efforts or not. His face was serene, as if he was simply meditating rather than hauling an 80 pound chest up a flight of stairs. He truly was bearing most of the weight, Y/N feeling like she was lifting hardly anything at all as they moved, trying not to stare at the muscles straining the material of Namjoon’s thermal. When they reached the top of the steps, Namjoon took over, placing the trunk into the foyer with a thunk. 

Catching her breath with a hand braced on the wall, Y/N eyed Namjoon with envy, his breathing even as he kneeled on the floor to unlatch the metal fasteners on the trunk. Peering over his shoulder as he pried open the chest, Y/N took the chance to check out the torn area of his left ear; it almost looked like the piece missing was bitten off. If that was the case, that must have been extremely painful for him– Y/N had read about how sensitive a hybrid’s ears were when she was reading about “scenting”. Jutting her lower lip out in a pout, Y/N watched the damaged ear twitch, Namjoon craning his head upwards to look at her questioningly. 

“What are you staring at?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, making space for her to kneel beside him. He certainly didn’t miss much, and it was not like she could lie and say she was leering at her old copy of The Farmer’s Almanac. 

“Your ear, the left one,” Y/N mumbled, heat burning her cheeks as she pawed through the chest to find a proper book to give him. Namjoon made a small noise of surprise, hands stilling in the process of turning pages of a moon ritual book. Teasingly, she cocked her head at him. “Were you expecting me to lie?”

“Uh, yeah. Actually,” Namjoon went back to flipping through the book absently, occasionally peering at her from the corner of his eye. Y/N spotted the thick leather bound book of spirits that she had been searching for, leaning into the chest to retrieve it for the wolf hybrid. 

“May I ask what happened to it? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I’m just curious,” Y/N offered Namjoon the book, his body stiffening as he took it cautiously. Y/N went back to nonchalantly searching through the trunk for some fabric pouches to make the protective charms. 

“It was a long time ago, there was a fight I was involved in. You don’t have to worry about it,” Namjoon finally spoke in a soft voice, his eyes far away. 

Shocked that Namjoon had actually answered her, Y/N composed her face into a neutral expression, though she was puzzled by the cryptic response he offered. Namjoon fell quiet, stacking a few books beside him, which Y/N was assuming he’d take back to his room. She had gathered all of her materials for the charms, shoving them into a small wicker basket she found inside of the trunk holding several types of twine. 

“I’ll drag this into your room for you, then I’m going to try and figure out what that thing was. Hopefully one of these books has a clue,” Namjoon announced, getting to his feet with the books tucked under his arm. 

With the basket in the crook of her elbow, Y/N peered up at the wolf hybrid prepared to tell him not to bother with the trunk, blinking dumbly at the sight of his outstretched hand offering to help her to her feet. Her hand moved before her brain could protest, sliding against the roughened skin of Namjoon’s palm, his long fingers wrapping around the entirety of her own hand. Surprisingly, Namjoon’s touch was tender and gentle, pulling her up slowly with care. Once she was stable and upright, Namjoon released her hand, tearing his eyes from hers as she stuttered out a “thank you”. 

“Go get something to eat. You need to regain your strength,” Namjoon murmured, crouching to grasp a handle of the trunk, already beginning to drag it down the hallway towards her room. Opening her mouth to protest, he shot her a disapproving look from over his shoulder, using his other hand to point to the kitchen sternly. Clamming up, Y/N felt her legs move on their own accord towards the kitchen, suddenly having no intention of disobeying Namjoon after all of that. 

“Miss Y/N, are you feeling a little better? How’s your head?” Jimin’s voice, on the raspier side with sleepiness, snapped her out of her daze as she made her way into the sunny kitchen.

Her eyes widened as he, Seokjin, and Taehyung sped into her personal space at lightning speed, each with varying expressions of thinly veiled worry. Embarrassed, especially at the sensation of Jimin brushing hair off her forehead to look at her wound, thumb tracing around the bruised skin with a featherlight touch, Y/N’s eyelids fluttered. Breathing stuttered, she wished that Jimin would stop looking so sad– jolting at the feeling of Seokjin’s tail winding around the back of her thigh as he watched Jimin inspect the cut on her forehead. 

“I feel much better, you guys! And don’t worry–” Y/N started, grasping Jimin’s hand softly to remove it from her face, squeezing it softly for reassurance, “I’ll heal in a flash, because someone tended to the cut so well.”

Y/N was surprised at how seemingly attached most of them had become to her in such a short period of time, seeking out comfort in her touch and proximity, worrying over her well being. When she had first made the adoptions, she had predicted it would be weeks before they’d speak to her, let alone touch her in any way; but perhaps she had underestimated their need for someone who actually cared about them, many for the first time. Y/N knew that hybrids, by nature, were often affectionate and became almost devotional to their adoptive human, however, she figured that dog and perhaps cat hybrids were more likely to display that kind of behavior. For some reason, because her hybrids were spliced with undomesticated animal DNA, she came to the previous conclusion that they’d be a bit more standoffish; though apparently she was wrong. The more she thought about it with her prior experience treating exotic animals, many of them did, indeed, form close bonds with humans. How were her hybrids any different?

Taehyung, to her left with his lip bitten raw, didn’t seem entirely convinced by her words of reassurance, pulling the basket from the crook of her elbow into his arms as if carrying the three-pound load would send her to the floor again. Brightening up the best she could while shaking off her internal monologue, she guided Taehyung over to the island to put down the basket with her hand on his back, deciding she could just get to work on the charms there so the hybrids would be put at ease by her presence in the communal space. 

Taehyung grew stiff at her touch at first, swiftly relaxing once she smoothed her palm towards his shoulder blade. Both him and Jimin sat on either side of her at the island, Y/N meekly waving hello to Yoongi over by the stove, who was uncharacteristically quiet. He had found her old waffle iron in the pantry, standing over it silently as he waited for a waffle to cook with a bowl full of sugared strawberries in one of his arms. 

“What’s all of that?” Seokjin mused while scanning the strange contents of the basket, leaning over the island from the sink, nonchalantly sliding a goblet of water in front of Y/N. Unpacking items one by one, Taehyung picking up the jar of black salt she placed down to examine, Y/N was unable to contain the giddy smile that had forced its way to her face. She was actually excited to be getting back into the craft?

“Herbs, mostly, some salt. I’m making some protective pouches for everyone to carry around. I want to prevent something like last night from happening again,” Y/N replied, counting out eight little velvet drawstring bags in front of her, striking a match to light a tealight as she spoke, tone suddenly becoming serious. “I also want to apologize. I should have been honest with you all from the beginning, with the haunting. When I was a kid living here, I dabbled in stuff I didn’t understand, and probably attracted whatever that was to the property.”

The room was quiet, waiting for her to continue, Y/N concentrating on using the flame from the candle to light a small stick of incense to cleanse the spell ingredients. Mostly, to avoid eye contact with any of them, as cowardly as that was. Setting the burning stick on a small clay stand, she sighed, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. 

“The other night, with the ‘spider’?” Y/N made air quotes, catching Yoongi’s ears perked up from where his back was turned to her, arranging waffles on a plate. “I saw the entity that I first accidentally summoned as a teenager. It was lurking in my bathroom, and I’ve never seen it so clearly before. What I should have done, instead of lying about a stupid spider, was come clean and try to get rid of it with the knowledge I have now, after years of studying the craft… I guess I was worried you’d all think I was nuts or scare you away. But that’s besides the point– last night didn’t have to happen. I could have protected you all, myself, had I not been so stubborn about trying to turn my back on my past and my mistakes.”

Y/N heard her voice begin to shake; the more she spoke the more she realized that she was entirely to blame for the whole situation. The reason, the true reason she had packed up her candles and spell books was not to pursue a “normal” life as a veterinarian, but to try and escape the mistakes she had made as a teenager attempting to do magic she was not ready to perform. In consequence, she attracted something malevolent to the land, to her, that had followed her around on and off for years. Subconsciously, she must have thought that by simply abandoning her craft, the entity would lose interest in her, therefore freeing her of any more frightening incidents within the home. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t how it worked, and the life-changing event of adopting the hybrids may have triggered a possessive response in the entity. Angered with herself, she tried her best to stay centered so she could carry out the protective spells successfully, though the realization that she had made things so much worse by pretending to be oblivious was painfully sobering. 

Her pity party was interrupted by Yoongi, placing a gravy boat of maple syrup and a plate of waffles in front of her, smothered with butter, whipped cream, and the sugared strawberries. Jimin, gingerly, moved some of her bottles of herbs and the items that were burning away from her, leaning across the island to pluck a knife and fork off of a place setting Yoongi had assembled and handed it to her, his eyes full of some kind of hard-to-read emotion. 

“Wow, uh, thank you, Yoongi…” Y/N sniffed, feeling extremely awkward that the hybrids hadn’t said anything in response to her lengthy speech. She supposed, with her deceit in the first place, she didn’t necessarily deserve an answer. “Smells yummy.”

“Eat up, you’ll feel better,” Yoongi sighed, returning to the sink, divvying up the large stack of waffles he’d made between the other plates he’d laid out for the others waiting for breakfast. “It’s not like you planned last night on purpose. Some of us have never witnessed anything like that, so I guess the possibility of being written off as ‘nuts’ wasn’t a baseless assumption had we not all seen it happen.”

Considering Yoongi’s reply, she appreciated the way that he validated her previous anxieties without totally dismissing her share of the blame. Y/N was aware that he was likely skirting around his clear disappointment in her lack of transparency about the night she had spotted the apparition in her bathroom, considering the leopard hybrid had been able to see through her lie most obviously at the time. Aware of being inspected from all angles, Y/N picked up her fork and hastily tossed a strawberry into her mouth, the juicy fruit melting on her taste buds sinfully.  

“I think Hoseok was the most… disturbed, during the whole thing. You know, Y/N, how animals can see or sense things that humans can’t?” Seokjin suddenly volunteered, distractedly pushing a sliced piece of waffle around on the plate Yoongi had offered him. Nodding, Y/N chewed on another strawberry, knowing that Yoongi was keeping an eye on her.

 “Animals can often see what humans call ‘spirits’ or ‘ghosts’, whatever you might name them– us hybrids can see them as animals do. It wasn’t my first time seeing something similar to that, but I’m certain Hoseok hasn’t. That’s why he’s been acting strange, I think,” Seokjin continued, Y/N hanging off of every word. 

Y/N, who had heard Hoseok in the kitchen while she was in the foyer with Namjoon, suddenly wondered where he had gone. After he had left her bedroom earlier, Hoseok was definitely still a bit shaken up, though less so after the hug, but he didn’t seem like the type to hide from her. In fact, it came as a great surprise to her that he wasn’t in the kitchen when she got there, unless he had snuck through the entrance to the kitchen from the parlor to escape the very conversation she and the others were having at that moment.

“Foxy is about as open minded towards the occult as your average math major. Still, he wouldn’t have laughed at you if you told him what you thought was going on,” Yoongi added matter-of-factly, setting a plate in front of Taehyung while shooting a pointed look at Y/N. 

“You’re right, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have let the fear of being judged– which is meaningless to begin with– get in the way of just being honest… And no, I didn’t make that connection, Seokjin. Truthfully, there is a lot I still have to learn about hybrids, I’m just thankful you’re all giving me the grace to learn as I go,” Y/N admitted, pushing her half-eaten waffle away so she could cleanse spell items with the incense before it went out, her stomach queasy with guilt. 

Beside her, Jimin exhaled slowly, reaching out with his left hand to rest on her shoulder. As he squeezed her shoulder with encouragement, Y/N peered at the coyote hybrid solemnly, his eyes soft and lips upturned in a gentle smile. Relaxing a degree, Y/N melted into Jimin’s solid grip, feeling like a lifeline. While slowly munching on another piece of waffle, Yoongi pushing the plate back in front of her with a frown, Jimin’s fingertips drummed a melody on her shoulder soothingly, though doing little to prevent her from flinching when the slider door to the patio scraped open. 

“Jinnie, can you toss me that bottle of water I left in the fridge?” Came Hoseok’s voice, bringing the scent of the outside with him. Breathing labored, Hoseok caught the frosty bottle Seokjin sent sailing in the air with a cackle, beads of sweat rolling down his neck and temples. Shaking his head, Jimin withdrew his hand from Y/N’s shoulder, moving to the coffee bar for a fill-up. 

“How was the run?” Seokjin asked, appearing grateful for the fox hybrid’s interruption of the conversation. Hoseok had gone on a run after staying up all night? The thought made Y/N simultaneously jealous of the hybrid’s seemingly endless energy and worried that he was going to collapse from exhaustion at any second. 

“Nice. Almost got lost, there’s a lot of land. Hey, Jiminie, did you know there’s an old stable way in the back?” Hoseok slapped the coyote hybrid on the back harshly, Jimin yelping and spilling hot coffee on the counter. 

“J-Jiminie? Wait, what? Did you say stable?” Jimin stuttered, his features lit up with bewilderment. Jimin definitely displayed his emotions on his face clearly, whether he was aware of that or not, Y/N didn’t know. 

“Yeah, a stable. You know, for horses?” Hoseok teased before greedily gulping down some water from his bottle. Y/N felt her eyes glaze over as she noticed some of the water escaping from his lips and sliding down the sharp angle of his jaw, rolling down his throat and into the material of his tee-shirt. 

“Of course I know,” Jimin scoffed, using a cocktail napkin to wipe up the spilled coffee. “Miss Y/N, you have a stable? Did you have horses as a girl?” Jimin inquired with an edge of excitement in his tone. 

Smiling bittersweetly as she spooned some black salt into the pouches one by one, Y/N shook her head with minor regret, Jimin’s ears flickering with curiosity. 

“There’s a stable, but there haven't been horses in a long time. At least not since before I was born, my grandmother used to ride, but as she got older she wasn’t able to anymore. It’s fallen into a bit of disrepair, I’d love to start fixing it up as soon as I’m done with the rest of the house… maybe some of my neighbors or folks around town could use it to board their horses closer to home,” Y/N speculated distractedly, plunking shards of clear quartz in each pouch she was working on. 

Taehyung had scooched closer to her, watching her create the charm bags with rapt fascination. Jimin appeared to be trying to locate the stable from the slider door, even though trees and hedges were totally obstructing it. She made a mental note to ask him to join her on a walk of the grounds later, like she had been intending to do for days. A piece of quartz slipped out of her fingers, clattering onto the counter, Taehyung swiftly plucking it up for her and dropping it into the pouch she was holding. Shooting him a sweet smile in thanks, she nearly fell off of her stool as he returned the smile, his face splitting into a pretty grin. Y/N had never seen him smile with his teeth, the gesture completely changing his gorgeous face into the purest expression she had ever seen on the Kodiak hybrid. Feeling herself grow hot in the face, she resumed her task, even when Taehyung took up the responsibility of placing the crystal shards into the pouches all by himself. 

“So, this is witchcraft?” Yoongi suddenly leaned across the island, removing her plate from in front of her, an eyebrow cocked as he watched Taehyung take a bag of lavender buds Y/N handed to him to sprinkle in the pouches. She figured if he wanted to help, there was no reason to refuse him, as he screwed up his face in concentration to sprinkle the lavender into the pouches as evenly as he could.

“Yeah, protective magic. Were you expecting chanting and Ouija boards?” Y/N chuckled, determined to keep things light after the heaviness of her apology had dispersed with Hoseok’s arrival in the kitchen. 

Yoongi smirked inches away from her face, collecting cream on her plate with his pointer finger, and booping her on the nose with it. Squeaking at the action with great surprise, Y/N used the napkin on her lap to remove the cream from her face, hearing Seokjin’s snickering from across the room. 

“Silly girl,” Yoongi shook his head, rinsing her dish in the sink with a smile. Reeling, she hardly registered Taehyung, nudging her shoulder with his own, softly asking her what went in the pouches next. Absently, she placed some dried rosemary leaves in his wide palm, sprinkling a few leaves in the pouch she was holding herself. 

As she and Taehyung worked on the pouches together, Seokjin, with half a waffle sticking out of his mouth, assisted Yoongi with the clean-up of the kitchen. Hoseok had bid them all a cheerful adieu to shower, followed by Jimin who mentioned wanting to test out the sauna. Y/N, enviously, wished that she could relax in the sauna for a half hour, but felt odd about joining the coyote hybrid. The thought of sitting in just a towel beside a very similarly bare Jimin sent a shiver rolling down her spine. 

As Yoongi turned his back on Y/N, scrubbing a stubborn grease stain on the stove, Y/N snuck a peak at his form, pleased that he already seemed to have filled out a little since she brought him home. Oddly enough, from behind, the slopes of his shoulders, feathering of his hair, and curve to his ears struck her as extremely familiar again, only if for a moment. She wondered if there was any chance Y/N had ever crossed paths with Yoongi before; if not at the bar she had no memory of ever patroning, but perhaps in the busy streets of Boston, maybe at a grocery store or something. She was positive she would have remembered someone as lovely as Yoongi, especially with his unique spotted ears and tail, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him before while she watched his graceful movements at the stove. 

She was in the process of tying up the charm bags, Taehyung closely copying the knots Y/N was showing him, before taking each pouch from him and passing them through the dwindling smoke of the incense. Her thoughts suddenly drifted back to scenting, as Taehyung’s shoulder pressed into her’s– he was becoming increasingly clingy. On her other side, Seokjin had taken Jimin’s previous spot, picking lint off of Y/N’s shirt sleeve placidly, his fingers occasionally brushing the skin of her bicep making her shiver involuntarily. 

As she had read in the article, hybrids prior to scenting would seek out ways to get physically close to their adoptive humans, though would continue to grow uncomfortable if they do not scent them promptly. In fact, the more the hybrids sought out touch, the more the discomfort grew for them, which is what concerned Y/N. Between the paranormal incident and the fact that none of them had even brought up the scenting, her hybrids definitely were pretty good at handling discomfort, as much as she wished they wouldn’t suffer in silence, if they were. Y/N had the feeling they were reluctant to spook her considering she had admitted there was a lot she didn’t know about hybrids, but it wasn’t like they could put it off forever. 

“Hey, Yoongi, remember the other night when we were talking about my, uh… lack of knowledge when it comes to hybrids?” Y/N began nervously, glad that only the four of them were in the kitchen, and Jeongguk wasn’t there to make faces at her. Yoongi hummed, cocking his head at her to continue. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Go ahead,” Yoongi encouraged slowly, seeming to have no idea what was coming his way. Taking a deep breath, she set the final tied pouch down on the counter. 

“You mentioned ‘scenting’. I looked it up yesterday because I didn’t know what it was. So I guess my question is, when should I expect that to, um, happen?” Y/N bit the bullet, looking Yoongi square in the eye. 

The leopard hybrid’s mouth dropped open, apparently not expecting that turn in the conversation, freezing his movements wiping down the counter. Seokjin’s hand had stilled in picking the lint off of her shirt, and Taehyung had gone ramrod stiff beside her, eyes wide as he stared at Yoongi in equal shock. Attempting to cover up his surprise with a cough, Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, appearing to be trying to choose his words carefully. 

“Shit, uh, wow. I forgot I even– I mean, sorry. I–” Yoongi stuttered, exhaling slowly and tossing the rag he was using into the sink in frustration. Seokjin’s hand dropped from her arm, looking out the window to hide the flustered pink blush over his cheeks. Quickly, Y/N tried to clarify her reason for catching them so off guard. 

“Well, I really just brought it up because the article I read said that hybrids can start to get sick if they don’t scent, and I’m just worried, that’s all. I don’t want you guys to be in pain or uncomfortable at all,” Y/N jut her lower lip out, knowing that far too many of them had experienced enough pain to last a lifetime, and would not allow more if she could prevent it. 

“I mean, yeah, that’s right. I guess I wasn’t expecting you to just…” Yoongi began, cutting himself off with a sharp laugh, covering his mouth. “I can’t speak for the others, but I’ll certainly let you know before it happens. I’m not just going to attack you or anything. You’re sweet for worrying, though.”

Taehyung put his head down on the counter, his back shaking with what Y/N assumed was laughter. 

“Of course I’m going to worry. I’m supposed to take care of you all now, I want to do a good job,” Y/N whined, feeling like Yoongi had turned his embarrassment onto her, the crafty bastard. Seokjin, from next to her, made a choking sound in the back of his throat, burning a hole in the side of her face with his wide-eyed sunset stare. 

“Sheesh. Don’t get mushy,” Yoongi groaned, able to return to his counter wiping task. Tsking at the leopard hybrid, Y/N gave Taehyung a pat on the back, muttering an apology as his spine pretty much arched into her palm. Sheepishly, he lifted his head with a subtle flutter to one of his ears, slowly accepting one of the finished pouches they made together– the midnight blue one. 

Sliding off of her barstool, Y/N delivered a pastel pink pouch to Seokjin, who was still gawking at her unabashedly. He cradled the pouch in a cupped hand, mouth dropped open like he wanted to say something. 

“Okay, just so we’re clear, you’ll seek me out before you feel any pain?” Y/N confirmed, siding up next to Yoongi and nudging him with her hip playfully. Yoongi gripped the countertop he was holding onto tightly, shooting her a disbelieving look, nodding as she offered him his charm bag. Taking it from her, Yoongi tucked it safely into the pocket of his linen pants. 

“You two will do the same?” Y/N spun on her heel, eyeing Seokjin’s stiff posture and the way Taehyung avoided meeting her gaze. “As soon as you feel discomfort, I want you to come find me.”

“O-okay,” Seokjin murmured, fiddling with the strings on his pouch nervously. Taehyung offered her a weak thumbs-up, staring at Yoongi with widened eyes. Thinking she had done enough to assure them of her seriousness surrounding the topic, Y/N swung the five remaining pouches around in her fist lightly, ready to drop them off to the remaining hybrids and place her own somewhere safe. 

“I’m going to ferry these to the others! I’ll see you all in a bit, yeah?” Y/N called over her shoulder, smirking as she realized Seokjin and Taehyung were so shocked they forgot to shadow her all over the house, rooted to their seats. 

Humming a tune, Y/N skipped to her bedroom, carefully placing her own protection pouch on her vanity that she decided would eventually serve as her altar, once she cleared away some old perfume vials and dusty books. Ruffling her hair in the tarnished silver mirror, she giggled softly, vaguely delighted she was able to fluster the hybrids in the same way they had been doing to her since they started living with her. She knew it was perhaps a little petty for her to be enjoying the looks of total shock that blossomed over each of their faces; Yoongi’s fumbling for words, Taehyung dissolving into nervous laughter. In a way, though, it was thrilling– maybe she hadn’t totally lost her game. Further, she knew that the other hybrids elsewhere in the house could hear the conversation– so she didn’t have to worry about repeating herself. Instead, she could enjoy seeking them out momentarily, and watching them try to pretend they didn’t eavesdrop. 

In the mirror, a sparkly red glint reflected by the sun coming from the window washed over her face, Y/N spotted the source of the light by her nightstand. The ruby beads of Jeongguk’s rosary, still sitting in the spot she left it last. Jeongguk had been napping for about four hours, and Y/N wondered if he’d be up any time soon. She supposed she could simply walk upstairs and listen for any sign of life. She knew Hoseok and Jimin were likely still bathing, the pipes bringing water to the basement humming beneath her feet, and something told her Namjoon wouldn’t be keen on being disturbed quite yet. 

Shrugging, she scooped up the rosary, making her way to the staircase towards Jeongguk’s room. As she ascended the stairs, Y/N frowned at the state of the half-stripped wood, vowing to herself to finish up the job after she handed out all of the pouches. Restoring the house completely had never been more important to her, wanting it to be totally comfortable and fresh for the hybrids to relax in. 

Heaving herself up the last step, Y/N passed by Seokjin and Taehyung’s rooms, as well as the dimly lit music room that she curiously peered into. The piano had been wiped clean of dust, the record player dragged out from its wooden tomb and neatly placed on a stray antique table with vinyls strewn about the vicinity. Tracing her fingertips along the fraying wallpaper of the hallway, she followed the familiar path to one of the old tower rooms Jeongguk claimed as his own. 

To her surprise, Jeongguk’s door was left mostly ajar. Stopping dead in her tracks, Y/N listened for any sign of movement within his room, only hearing the gentle rustling of curtains from the window he had left open. Curiosity got the better of her as she peered into the room as best she could, inching into the very threshold of the room. 

The elk hybrid was in bed, comforter messily thrown over his lean form as he lay on his back, an arm thrown above his head. He was asleep, from what Y/N could tell, as he didn’t immediately curse her out of the room; his eyelashes resting gently against his high cheekbones, chest rising and falling slowly with rest. Unable to get a proper look at Jeongguk prior to that moment without him distancing himself from her, Y/N realized that Jeongguk also had a small set of tapered furry ears beneath his antlers. Chalking it up to the fact that the antlers were so strikingly show-stopping to begin with to even notice his ears, Y/N basked in the opportunity to really get a good look at the elk hybrid.

 It was astonishing just how angelic Jeongguk appeared while he was asleep. Y/N traced the inky lines of the tattoos along his bare forearm through the cracked door with her eyes, only feeling a little bit creepy as she stared at him while inching her way to his nightstand. Her plan was to simply leave the rosary and pouch beside Jeongguk for when he woke up, slipping from the room undetected. 

As silently as she could, she laid the rosary on top of his leatherbound notebook, selecting the maroon pouch she made to nestle beside it. She stole another look at Jeongguk, his hair swept off of his forehead, the labret threaded through his eyebrow perfectly visible without his bangs obscuring it. Biting her lip, wishing she could sincerely thank him for everything he had done the night before, Y/N began to tip-toe her way out of his room. Her breath caught in her throat, the sound choked, as a powerful hand gripped her wrist before she could remove herself from Jeongguk’s bedside. Whipping her head around, she was met with Jeongguk blearily blinking up at her, his fingers overlapping on themselves as they wrapped around Y/N’s wrist. 

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk’s sleep-riddled demand shot through her like a lightning bolt, temporarily forgetting he was restricting the blood flow in her left hand. Cringing that she had foolishly invaded his personal space so recklessly, Y/N began to sweat. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry– I wanted to return your rosary! And I made a protection charm, too, just wanted to drop it off… I’m so sorry I woke you,” Y/N exclaimed, feeling his grip relax at the sound of her voice, the blood rushing to her fingertips with a tingle. Humiliation flushed through her as he released her wrist, his eyes traveling her form from head to toe. 

“A charm bag?” Jeongguk clarified groggily, sitting up with great effort, “Judas priest– do you have Tylenol?” The elk hybrid pressed two fingers to his right temple, eyes squeezing shut. Y/N, her mouth hanging open, tried to ignore the way he bit at the silver hoop encircling his lip. 

“U-uh, yes! Tylenol? I’ll get that for you right now, hold on,” Y/N stumbled over her words, mentally locating the medical kit she had stowed away in the broom closet under the grand staircase. 

Again, before she could move, she was stopped, this time by the elk hybrid grasping the hem of her tee shirt making her stumble backwards. She toppled onto his bed, her ass making contact with the mattress as she let out a surprised oof. 

“Forget it. I’ll come down for some later, need to shower,” Jeongguk yawned, letting go of the fabric of Y/N’s shirt. Y/N wondered if he was delirious, tugging her down onto his bed and exchanging so many words with her, staring at Jeongguk’s sleepy face with bewilderment. “About that charm bag…”

“O-oh! Yeah, I just made it, Taehyung helped a little, too. If you keep it on you or in your space it should do a good job of warding away bad spirits,” Y/N explained, wanting to distance herself from Jeongguk’s proximity, able to make out some foreign words tattooed around his bicep. 

“Hm. Hope you made one for yourself,” Jeongguk muttered, pushing his quilt off of his legs. Scoffing, Y/N scrambled off of his bed with a scowl, ready to ditch him in favor of finding Hoseok. 

Chuckling at the look on her face, Jeongguk stood, stretching his arms over his head languidly. He was quite disheveled, his tee shirt crumpled and hair sticking up in several directions. Rounding the bed towards his bathroom, he shook his head at her with minor amusement, Y/N blanching as she realized his bottom half was only clad in a pair of boxers. She had to get out of that room, she concluded, making her way to the door as fast as possible. 

“Um, I gotta go give the rest of these out! Um, just find me later for the Tylenol!” Y/N called out, voice strained. 

Jeongguk, from his bathroom, grunted in acknowledgement, Y/N catching the reflection of his back in the full-length mirror as he pulled off his shirt while turning the shower on– a large tattoo covered most of the skin. Feeling like she saw entirely too much of the elk hybrid’s body, Y/N sped out of the room with her heart hammering around in her chest. 

Fumbling with the pouches in her hand, Y/N raced down the stairs to shake off whatever the hell had just happened. She couldn’t believe Jeongguk had just strolled past her with a smirk on his face in nothing but a flimsy tee shirt and boxers, not even waiting for her to leave the room before stripping for his shower. Spluttering as she nearly tumbled down the last step, Y/N attempted to compose herself, not wanting to appear scandalized; God forbid one of the others were traipsing through the hall at the same time. 

Y/N had an inkling Jeongguk had heard her discussing scenting with the three in the kitchen, the only logical conclusion she could come up with explaining his sudden cheeky behavior. Starting to get the feeling that she wasn’t entirely prepared to get bitten by any of them, Y/N fanned herself on her way down to the basement. 

A fast-paced pop song pulsed through the speakers as Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, furrowing her eyebrows in preparation for what she was about to witness– walking in on Hoseok working out would set her straight over the edge. Nervously, she rounded the corner, holding the remaining pouches behind her back and praying they could somehow protect her from the hybrids affecting her nerves. 

From where she was standing, she could get the entire view of the gym area with additional help from the large mirror covering one of the walls, a few stray dumbbells lying around and Hoseok’s bottle of water from earlier sitting on the weight bench. On the floor, sitting on a yoga mat cross-legged with his back turned to her, was Hoseok with his eyes shut. Knowing that Hoseok was aware of her presence, Y/N bravely stepped into the room, relieved he was fully clothed. 

“Whatcha doing?” Y/N perched herself on the seat of the stationary bike, grinning at the way Hoseok’s tail swished on the floor at the sound of her voice. Snorting, the fox hybrid cracked one eye open to glance at her sideways. 

“Meditating, or attempting to until I heard you coming down,” Hoseok replied, extending his legs into a straddle and melting his torso down to stretch his back and hips. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Y/N chuckled, glad that he seemed to be faring better compared to earlier in the morning. “I didn’t know one could meditate to Lady Gaga.”

She felt like testing just how good Hoseok’s hearing was, tossing the purple pouch she selected for him in the air and catching it in her palm, watching one of his ears flutter as he continued to stretch his arms forward with his head down. Giggling, Y/N tossed it again, this time sending it sailing towards Hoseok, her laughter cut short as his hand flung out instantly to easily catch the pouch before it could hit him in the head. 

“Hey, are you messing with me?” Hoseok whined, sitting up straight and pouting at her. Curiously, he turned over the pouch in his hand, even giving it a little sniff as he raised it to his face. 

“Only a little,” Y/N sighed happily, before explaining to him what the pouch was. If Hoseok thought the concept of the protection charm was silly, which Y/N half expected him to, it didn’t show on his face. 

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Hoseok asked, lazily stretching his arms upwards as he stood, fumbling for his water bottle. “I might join Jimin in the sauna. He’s been in there forever, hopefully he hasn't passed out or anything.”

“Christ, he’s still in there? Shouldn’t we check on him?” Y/N jumped from her seat, alarmed. Hoseok waved her off, making his way towards the ajar pocket door of his room with a grimace. 

“He’s fine. I heard him go in and out a few times, he’s probably enjoying himself. Doubt he had a sauna when he was a cowboy,” Hoseok sang, sending her a wink. “I’m gonna change and head in there myself.” 

With that, Hoseok shut his door, the sound of his dresser opening and closing. Even with Hoseok brushing off her concern, Y/N found the worry that Jimin had passed out in the heat was still festering within her. Feet moving before she could process it, Y/N pushed the door to the large bathroom open, steamy air from the shower smacking her in the face. The bath and shower stall were empty, as well as the rest of the bathroom area, the sauna door shut tight. 

“Jimin?” Y/N squeaked, not necessarily wanting to barge in on him if he was perfectly okay. Y/N swore she could hear Hoseok’s laughter from his room, but shook it off as her imagination. 

With no answer, she crept further into the bathroom, the counters littered with Hoseok’s products from the drugstore. The mirror was fogged up, and checking the temperature dial on next to the sauna door, Y/N found that Jimin had really hiked it up. Panicking, she grasped the handle of the door with a gasp. 

“Ji–” Y/N began to exclaim, the door swinging open with a gust of hot air before she could finish. Stumbling backwards at the rush of heat clinging to her skin and clothes, she yelped, noticing a perfectly conscious Jimin standing in the doorway with a cocked brow. 

“You rang, Miss Y/N?” Jimin, his voice sounding relaxed, hands adjusting the towel tied around his waist. 

Wanting to die at the sight of Jimin’s very bare chest, the skin glistening with condensation and muscles corded and lean, she found her words were stuck in her throat. Hoseok, from the other room, was definitely laughing at her now, the sound like an annoying buzzing fly in her ear in the midst of her humiliation. 

“Oh my God! I’m sorry, I thought you passed out in here or something!” Y/N rushed out, resisting the urge to cover her eyes with a hand and bolt. Jimin’s honeyed hair was slicked back, a few strands sticking to the sculpted side of his face, a rough chuckle coming from him as he processed her reaction. 

“Jimin, she has something for you,” Hoseok appeared in the doorway with a cat-ate-the-canary grin, in a similar state of undress. Feeling the walls close in on her as both half-naked hybrids stared at her expectantly, Y/N had no doubt they could hear her heart trying to break free from her ribcage. “Don’t you, darling?”

“Hoseok, please,” Y/N scolded, somewhat patronized but mostly turning to mush. “Here, Jimin. This one’s for you,” keeping her hand steady, Y/N passed one of the remaining charm bags, the fuschia one, to the coyote hybrid.

One strong hand on his towel, the other extended, Jimin took the pouch cautiously, his yellow eyes flashing from her to Hoseok. The fox hybrid began to whistle, brushing past Y/N to head into the sauna, giving Jimin a pat on his shoulder. Overwhelmed, Y/N felt out of place all at once, Hoseok’s bare lean back disappearing from her view as he settled on one of the benches in the sauna. 

“This is your protection ‘charm’ I’ve been hearing about?” Jimin inquired, leaning his hip against the sink vanity as he shook the bag gently. A drop of sweat rolled down from the nape of his neck to pool in the dip of his collarbone, Y/N’s mouth drying up at the sight of it.

“It is. I better get used to that excellent hearing you all have… pretty soon there’ll be no secrets in this house!” Y/N nervously joked, averting her eyes from Jimin’s body before she combusted. Again, Jimin throatily chuckled, wiping the dewy skin of his forehead with his free hand. 

“Isn’t that a good thing? Secrets can be hard to keep track of,” Jimin mused, finding a clean towel to wipe down his damp skin with a wry grin. “Thank you, by the way, Miss Y/N.”

“O-oh. Don’t thank me, I mean– you heard me, I suppose. It’s my job to protect you all, now,” Y/N watched Jimin make his way to the shower, a neatly folded pile of his clothes beside it. She wondered if now would be a good time to escape, and catch a few moments to collect herself. 

“Mm-hmm, I heard…” Jimin responded distractedly, frowning at the pile of crumpled towels on the floor Hoseok likely left there. “Though respectfully, Miss Y/N, you did adopt several predatory male hybrids. I think we’re better suited to protect,” Jimin scratched his chin, turning the dial of the shower on. 

Y/N knew Jimin, ever the polite gentleman, didn’t mean the comment as a confrontational statement, but she grumbled nonetheless. Balling her hands into fists, she stood her ground. 

“Okay, fair. That doesn’t mean I can’t try to do the same,” Y/N insisted, realizing that Jimin also had a tattoo across the left side of his ribcage, too dazzled to notice it earlier. It was script; reading Nevermind. “Not to change the subject, but I wanted to ask you something. I’ve been meaning to take you all on a walk around the grounds, and I think it would be nice to do that later. Would you be up for that? I’ll take you to check out the old stable.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll freshen up and find you later, how does that sound?” Jimin grinned, Y/N elated that she could finally make good on a promise she had made ages ago. Feeling like it was the perfect time to take her leave, Y/N headed for the door. 

“Wonderful! Thanks, Jimin!” Y/N called, although unsure of what she was thanking him for. With that, she barreled up the stairs, ready to take her frustration out on stripping the rest of the staircase. 

For safekeeping, Y/N slipped Namjoon’s charm bag into the pocket of her leggings, rummaging through the closet under the staircase for the scraper. Pausing, she spotted the medical kit, retrieving the bottle of Tylenol for Jeongguk and placing it on the table by Namjoon’s shut bedroom door. 

Y/N got to work quickly, settling herself on the landing and scraping up the hideous varnish vigorously, as if to clear her mind of the scandalous images she had in her brain of Jeongguk, Jimin and Hoseok she had haunting her inner eye. Wondering where her portable speaker had ended up, Y/N settled for humming to herself, wishing that Yoongi was in the music room playing the piano while she worked. Losing herself in the mind-numbing task, Y/N felt herself begin to calm down from all that had happened that morning and the night before. 

Y/N didn’t see much of the hybrids until late in the afternoon just before twilight, besides Jimin, who had come up from the basement to head to his bedroom for a quick nap. She had to shoo him away, as he had offered to help strip the staircase with her, but Y/N could tell Jimin needed a good rest, his eyes nearly shut when he came up from his shower. Finally, she had completed her task with the staircase, deciding to seal everything nicely with a proper finish the following day so the entryway would look nice for the upcoming cookout. 

Every so often, Y/N peeked at Namjoon’s door; he hadn’t come out once to eat anything the entire day. A bit salty, especially considering he had all but demanded her to eat that morning, Y/N grumbled, hauling herself off the bottom step of the staircase and tossing the scraper into the closet. Gunshot sounds from the TV from the parlor made her jump– Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung had been in there for a good portion of the day watching action movies. Judging from the dialogue, it seemed that they had gotten their hands on her John Wick DVD collection. 

Creaking of the steps behind her had her spinning on her heels, pleased to see Jeongguk making his way downstairs already in his pajamas. Trying not to giggle at how cuddly he looked, his hair fluffy from his shower, Y/N smiled brightly at the elk hybrid. Regarding her suspiciously, He leaned his hip against the banister before descending the last two steps. 

“What?” Jeongguk demanded, although not rudely. Grasping the bottle of Tylenol, Y/N passed it his way, grinning further as he caught it without hesitation. With furrowed brows, he examined the bottle, realization dawned on him. 

“Oh shit, I forgot I asked for these… I was just going to have a stiff drink instead,” Jeongguk admitted, unscrewing the top and tossing two capsules into his mouth. Grimacing as he swallowed them dry, Y/N winced, knowing there was no way she could ever swallow capsules like that without any water to chase them down. 

“What’s for dinner?” Jeongguk asked, once Y/N tucked the bottle of pills back into the medical kit. Flinching at the sound of his voice so close to her, Y/N sighed, not exactly sure what to make at all. 

“Good question. Anything you want in particular?” Y/N retorted, hoping he wouldn’t detect her obvious deflection towards making a decision. Jeongguk appeared startled by the question, his features settling quickly into contemplation. 

“Pizza?” Jeongguk volunteered, Y/N rejoicing in the fact that he selected something she could have delivered. Nodding fervently, Y/N was rewarded with the tiniest half-smile from the elk hybrid. 

“Miss Y/N,” Jimin appeared from behind Jeongguk’s shoulder, looking much more revived in energy after his nap. Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk stepped to the side. “Should we go for that walk before it gets dark?”

“Jimin, when are you going to drop ‘Miss’ from your vocabulary? You sound like a butler,” Jeongguk complained, an insulted expression shadowing Jimin’s face immediately. Without thinking, Y/N lightly swatted Jeongguk’s forearm, the elk hybrid swearing and staring at her with utter shock. 

“Knock it off, he’s fine,” Y/N scolded, eyeing Jeongguk reproachfully. “We can go now! Jeongguk, why don’t you come with us? You can do your perimeter walk or whatever it is you like to do out there.”

“Perimeter walk?” Jeongguk enunciated, Y/N enjoying the shock coloring his handsome features. “Unbelievable,” he breathed, frowning at Jimin’s soft snickering from behind him. 

“How about you two wait for me on the patio for a moment. I’d like to invite Namjoon, too. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him last,” Y/N gestured towards the kitchen, watching the two hybrids go, Jeongguk muttering about having a smoke. Y/N had half a mind to buy him a box of nicotine gum. 

Steeling herself, Y/N marched to Namjoon’s door, knocking softly. She knew that Namjoon had been aware of her presence in the hallway, subjected to her incessant humming for the past few hours. 

“Come in,” came Namjoon’s muffled gruff voice through the door, Y/N pushing her way in awkwardly. He was hunched over her old desk, the little lamp on the surface illuminating his tired face and ruffled silvery hair. 

Hesitantly moving further into the room, Y/N stood beside him, taking a look at the open book he was still scanning, hardly looking up at her. Namjoon had found some old parchment to scribble notes on with shockingly beautiful handwriting, a couple of crumpled up pages scattered around the desk. 

“How are your theories faring?” Y/N questioned, peering over his shoulder curiously. He had her book of spirits open, poring over a page about shadow people. Namjoon pulled a hand through his hair, sighing deeply as he craned his neck up to look at her. 

“They’re crumbling. I’m starting to think I’ll need more information about how the spirit got here, in the first place, in order to get anywhere,” Namjoon confessed, pinching the bridge of his nose delicately. 

“I think I can fill you in, at least a little bit…” Y/N answered, her guilt from earlier returning with his comment. “You’ve been cooped up in here all day. I’m about to take a walk around the backyard with Jimin and Jeongguk, why don’t you come with us? I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have.” 

As usual, Namjoon searched her eyes like he was trying to find something he could dissect and understand, the amber honey color of his irises striking and oh-so-familiar to Y/N. She found it was easy to lose track of time and space locking eyes with the wolf hybrid, forgetting she was waiting for his response. Namjoon pushed the chair back so he could get to his feet, shaking out his legs. 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Namjoon said simply, switching off the desk light. “I’ve run into another dead end, anyways.”

Satisfied that Namjoon had agreed to join her, Y/N hurried to keep up with his strides towards the kitchen. Curiosity still pooled within her regarding Namjoon’s apparent experience with things surrounding the supernatural, though she still hadn’t gathered the courage to ask him about it. Really, there was not much she knew about the wolf hybrid at all, even less so than all of the others, which only increased her curiosity tenfold. 

Ushering Namjoon out to the patio, Y/N told him to wait there with the other two patiently sitting on the lounge chairs, rushing into the parlor to tap out pizza preferences on her phone with the input of those still preoccupied with the John Wick films. Luckily enough, Hoseok had snuck into the parlor while she had been in Namjoon’s bedroom, so she was able to take everyone’s requests down without a problem. 

“Alright, shall we?” Y/N chirped, shutting the slider door behind her, taking a deep breathful of the warm August air as she stepped outside. Jeongguk stubbed out his cigarette in the standing ashtray, still grumbling like he was when Y/N scolded him. 

Namjoon and Jimin flanking her either side, Jeongguk trailing closely behind, Y/N followed the beaten-down grass path towards the hedges past the picnic table. While the late afternoon was beginning to cool down, it was the perfect weather to go for a nice stroll outside, crickets singing and gentle breeze rustling the leaves on the willow trees. The grounds were quite untamed, due to being neglected by both her aging grandparents and Y/N herself preoccupied with her former work schedule, but still retained a sort of magical charm the land always possessed. 

“By spring, I’m hoping I can get some of this brush under control, maybe build a garden and fix up that old guesthouse and make it into some sort of fort. That way, we can all spend more time outdoors comfortably,” Y/N thought aloud, bringing the three hybrids past a maze of hedges towards the edge of the glassy pond. 

At the edge of the pond was the ‘guesthouse’, which was originally some kind of storage house in the heyday of the estate, converted by her grandparents into a three-room space for their grandchildren to spend time away from the adults during holiday get-togethers. Like the main home, it had some work that needed to be done on it, and Y/N couldn’t even remember where the key had gone to gain entry to the space. As she gazed at the round structure, akin to an enclosed gazebo, she envisioned it as a place to have movie nights with the hybrids during the summer months. 

Pausing at the pond, Y/N watched Jimin skip a rock across the mirrored surface of the water, enjoying how peaceful the backyard was. Jeongguk, as she expected, had wandered off on his own, already on the opposite side of the pond, sticking his face into one of the windows of the guesthouse. 

“So, about those gaps you can allegedly fill in?” Namjoon murmured, interrupting Y/N soaking up the moment. Gazing upwards, she was met with Namjoon watching Jimin with narrowed eyes, excellent at appearing nonchalant though the eager edge to his tone gave him away pretty clearly. 

“Right. Ever the forward one, aren’t you,” Y/N teased, motioning for him to follow her as she began to walk the perimeter of the pond while Namjoon rolled his eyes. “You’re already aware that I practice witchcraft, so does my mother. You also seem to know my mother pretty well, so I can only assume you’ve become familiar with how uh… easy-going she can be?” 

Namjoon made a noise of confirmation, urging her to get to the point. 

“She taught me most of what I know about the craft. As a child, it was whimsical, easy charms and harmless glamor magic. Of course, a child becomes an edgy teenager… Well, I wanted more. My mother tended to skirt around spirit work and more aggressive forms of magic, and I guess I wanted to test out what I could do as I got older and didn’t think that I needed to hold her hand anymore,” Y/N brushed her fingers against the soft leaves of one of the hedges beside her, Namjoon silent while he listened. 

“When I was sixteen, I came out here and performed a ritual. Honestly, I can’t remember the exact ritual I conducted, but I know it was to increase psychic power for myself. The ritual required calling upon spirits, ones I had never heard of before. Doing spellwork with my mother, we often called upon angels or our own personal spirit guides, even ancestors– never ones that we were unfamiliar with. I guess it was part greed, part the thrill of the unknown, that motivated me to go through with the ritual, but that’s where it all started. After that ritual, these horrifying recurring nightmares began, and I saw glimpses of the entity everywhere I went,” Y/N explained, finding it pretty easy to lay her cards on the table with her eyes trained on the beaten-down grass. 

“So, you packed up everything regarding your practice in hopes that the entity would leave you alone?” Namjoon mused after a few moments, taking his time to process the new information Y/N offered. Sneaking a peek at the wolf hybrid, she found he was staring right at her intently. Blushing, Y/N nodded, tearing her eyes from his.

“Exactly that. Not a very wise plan, in hindsight, but for a while it actually worked. The nightmares stopped, and I didn’t feel like I’d catch the reflection of the entity in every mirror I looked into. It wasn’t until a few days ago when I had another nightmare and saw it in my bathroom; I have a theory as to why,” Y/N felt Jimin at her side again, the three of them making their way to the elk hybrid waiting by the bridge behind the guesthouse. 

“And what’s that?” Namjoon urged, his ears perking up in her direction. 

“The entity appeared to me as an old hag… It never really liked when I’d bring friends around, I believe it wanted me to feel isolated. I think when I adopted you all, that life-changing event triggered a possessive response, and the activity resumed,” Y/N waited for Jeongguk to join them when they reached the bridge at the edge of the overgrown shrubs, carrying them across a brook and into the flattened area of land with the stable in the distance. 

“It was a nasty old hag alright,” Jeongguk commented, kicking a rock off of the bridge and into the brook with a grimace. “I don’t know, I’m starting to think maybe it was demonic.”

From beside her, Namjoon scoffed, moving aside so Jimin could get by him and excitedly make his way to the stable, tail swishing quickly as he went. 

“What, wolf? It’s not like you’ve produced any of your ‘theories’ for us to pick apart yet,” Jeongguk made air quotes with two tattooed fingers, leaning over the railing of the bridge. “At least you weren’t totally useless in trying to get rid of it, I can admit to that much.”

“If it was a demon, I doubt we’d be going on an evening stroll right now. Even with the two of us, demonic entities are not easy to banish; and it isn’t like you’re a priest,” Namjoon sounded irritated, his beautiful face twisting into disdain. 

“You don’t have to be a fucking priest to get rid of a demon, wolf,” Jeongguk groaned, producing a cigarette from behind his ear. Y/N was surprised he even had any left, at the rate he smoked. Cupping his hands to light it, Jeongguk continued with his voice somewhat muffled, “What else could it be? Not a shadow person, as it had a distinct form, which also rules out the possibility of a poltergeist. Human spirits don’t have the kind of energy to cause that amount of activity. Are you thinking it was a genie or some shit?”

Insulted, Namjoon growled beside Y/N, his fingers brushing her wrist as he curled them into a fist. Cursing under her breath, both hybrids eyeing her as she did so, Y/N prayed she didn’t have to break up a brawl, especially with Jimin several yards away placidly gazing at the crooked weathervane atop the stable roof. 

“I don’t think you have the slightest idea about all of the things that are out there,” Namjoon bit, jaw tense with annoyance. “Just because you ran around with some sort of ghost-hunting crew, doesn’t mean you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Never claimed that I did,” Jeongguk retorted, though seemingly backing down once assessing how pissed the wolf hybrid had become. “I just think you should entertain the possibility that it was a fucking demon, instead of tearing through books until your eyes bleed.”

“Hey, can we just dial it down with the hostility here? You two worked so well together to banish whatever it was from the house, can’t you focus on that for a moment or two instead of bickering like a couple of middle schoolers?” Y/N placed her hands on her hips, frowning at the two of them like a disappointed teacher. Jeongguk, rolling his eyes, blew cigarette smoke in Namjoon’s direction, the wolf hybrid too busy to register the action by staring down at Y/N with astonishment. 

“Let’s go join Jimin. I gotta call in the pizza in a minute, too, so tell me what you want while we walk– you can sort this out later, in a civil manner,” Y/N added, fed up with the petty arguments. 

Really, she had little interest in finding out what exactly was haunting her in the first place; she was just glad it was gone. Truthfully, while Namjoon and Jeongguk were discussing it out in the backyard like that, Y/N began to feel paranoid it would return, which in consequence made her eager to change the subject. Besides, she had promised Jimin a pleasant walk around the grounds, not one rife with tension, occultish conversation subject matter, and bickering. Marching away from the two on the bridge, Y/N sought out the coyote hybrid, who was ambling into the stable’s open door. 

Sheepishly, Jeongguk and Namjoon followed behind her with the sound of their sneakers squelching against the soggy grass. They reluctantly gave up their pizza topping preferences, Y/N shooting them the occasional expectant look from over her shoulder. Realizing with a jolt that she hadn’t walked that far back through the grounds in quite some time, Y/N stood before the old stable wistfully. 

It wasn’t in horrible condition, just a tad rickety in some places of the structure, a peeling and weathered chicken coop attached to the side of the stable itself. The actual fenced-in pen to exercise horses if she had them was actually in worse condition than the stable; the wooden stakes making up the circular area crumbling and overgrown with moss, several prickly weeds poking up from the beaten-down dirt within the pen. When she entered the stable in search of Jimin, she was greeted with a damp hay scent coming from every direction, though the stalls for the horses were swept out completely. She spotted Jimin at the far-back wall, gazing up at the mounted saddles and reins absently. Approaching him slowly, she watched the coyote hybrid carefully take a rein into his hand, his thumb brushing over the worn leather with reverence. 

“This is the longest I’ve ever gone without riding,” Jimin murumed to her, releasing the rein hanging from the wall and turning to get a wider view of the stable. “The stable at Yellowstone ranch was a lot different from this one; of course, it had to accommodate dozens of horses, ranch equipment. But still, it brings me back.”

“Do you miss the ranch?” Y/N asked quietly, saddened that Jimin seemed so far away. With a sharp intake of breath, Jimin paused before shaking his head. 

“It was my home for my whole life, but I dreamed of seeing the world, meeting new people– it started to feel like a cage, being there. There’s parts I miss, my friends, riding, the wilderness. But I left for a reason, so I don’t have any regrets,” Jimin explained slowly, taking time to sort out his thoughts while he circled the stable. Processing his words, Y/N kept an eye on Namjoon and Jeongguk through the open door, the pair leaning against the pen, having a hushed conversation. 

“You know, Miss Y/N, I can help you repair the stable, and with maintaining the landscape. I’m sure Taehyung would be happy to pitch in, as well. He fixed the window in your bathroom, when we noticed it was bringing in a draft last night,” Jimin suddenly mused, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes as they stood by the rickety stable door. 

“I thought that might have been him,” Y/N hummed fondly, already missing the Kodiak hybrid though she had seen him not even an hour ago, lounging on the recliner lazily. “Jimin, I’d love that– honestly, I wouldn’t know where to start here. Having your expertise would put me at ease when I think about restoring something I know so little about.”

“If you have equipment, maybe a lawn mower, hedge clippers, I could start clearing stuff away as soon as tomorrow. Perhaps we should wait until spring to work on the stable?” Jimin pondered excitedly, citrine eyes roaming rapidly over the fauna of the backyard. 

The equipment Jimin was referring to was left untouched in the garage, Y/N always too nervous to figure out how to operate the ride-on mower. There was a large part of her that wanted to tell Jimin not to worry about it, but as he continued to chatter on about perhaps putting a flower bed in one spot, a garden bed in another, Y/N realized that he was genuinely enthralled by the possibility of spending time outdoors. It made sense, since Jimin spent most of his life in the wilderness– being inside all day was probably a nuisance to him. 

“Autumn here is typically pretty mild. There doesn’t seem to be too much we have to do to the stable, so we could definitely work on it before the winter. Now that I think about it more, if we can get it functional again, people could board their horses here for the winter. It could be another helpful source of income now that there’s so many of us…” Y/N thought aloud, making a plan in her head to contact the grandchildren of some of her grandmother’s friends and see if they’d be interested in boarding their horses there. 

With her words, Jimin grew even more eager, stars in his eyes as he considered the possibility of being able to work with horses again. With the look on his face, Y/N nearly squealed with glee. She never thought making the hybrids happy would bring her an equal amount of joy, if not even more. Jimin pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, tapping out a bulleted list of tasks to complete as he began to walk through the stable again. Glowing as she watched Jimin smile to himself, Y/N fumbled for her own phone once she realized the sun was starting to set so she could order dinner. 

As the line rang in her ear, Y/N returned to Namjoon and Jeongguk, the two of them examining Jimin’s pacing back and forth in front of the stable. Thankfully, during her conversation with Jimin, the other two hadn’t ripped each other’s throats out. 

“Sal’s, what do you need?” The raspy-voiced Italian woman working the counter at her favorite pizza place answered the phone, the sound of it as familiar as breathing. 

“Angie, it’s Y/N. Can I place a take-out order?” Y/N replied, putting her finger up as Namjoon attempted to speak to her. Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a line at the action. 

“Y/N! Didn’t hear from you this weekend, I almost sent Anthony in the delivery van to check for a pulse! Go ahead hun,” Angie guffawed, Y/N snorting at the thought of Anthony, the seventeen-year old grandson of the owner, pounding on her door to see if she was alive. She did order pizza most weekends. 

“I’ll have a large cheese, large pepperoni. One medium veggie, a small BBQ chicken, a small Hawaiian. Can you throw in a couple of the garden salads, too, please?” 

“Having a party or something?” Angie exclaimed in between shouting the order back to Sal and Sal Jr. in the kitchen. Jeongguk was waving in front of her face with urgency, Y/N mouthing ‘what’ with mild annoyance. 

“The wolf wanted mozzarella sticks!” Jeongguk all but shouted, peeved that she was ignoring the two of them. Eyes shifting to Namjoon, he was shooting Jeongguk a dirty look, though his turned-down ears gave him away. Chuckling, Y/N gave him a thumbs up, interrupting Angie’s shouting into the kitchen. 

“Ang, can I also get the large order of mozzarella sticks as well?” Y/N wondered if they could possibly finish all of that food, but with the way they had all devoured the rice bowls the previous night, she wanted to err on the side of having more than enough for everyone. 

“You got it, hun,” Y/N could hear Sal’s muffled voice through the receiver, Angie yelling back in Italian. “Sal’s sending you a tray of tiramisu for the size of the order on the house. Anthony will be there in half an hour.”

Before Y/N could thank her, Angie hung up, likely to answer another call coming in. Her stomach growled right on cue as she thought of diving into the order of mozzarella sticks she hadn’t ordered in quite some time. Y/N smiled at the two hybrids in front of her, still fuming that she hadn’t given them her undivided attention during the phone call. 

“We should head in. It’s going to get dark soon, and I have to replace the in-ground lights,” Y/N sighed, able to make out the illuminated house from off in the distance. 

Though it was silly to admit to herself, she was already beginning to miss the others. Flagging Jimin down, Y/N jumped as a hand reached out to smack her bicep somewhat sharply, coughing out a choked ouch as she stared at Namjoon’s hand on her with shock. 

“Mosquito,” Namjoon immediately dropped his palm, brushing the bloody remains of the mosquito from his hand onto the grass as he bent towards the earth. 

“T-thanks. You just startled me, that’s all,” Y/N squeaked, still feeling the light sting of the strike. Jeongguk lifted his pierced brow at the wolf hybrid, tutting at him before heading back the way they had come by himself. 

Jimin by her side, he regarded Namjoon with minor aggravation, apparently having witnessed the whole exchange with the mosquito. Shaking it off, Y/N grew cheerful again, with pizza on the way and a new plan for more money to come in. She’d definitely need the cash, especially when the first credit card bill arrived for all of the hybrid’s charges the following month. 

“You’re from Montana, and worked at the Yellowstone ranch,” Namjoon suddenly directed his attention towards Jimin, both hybrids sandwiching her in between themselves snugly. Y/N grinned to herself, finding the interrogative way Namjoon phrased questions endearing. 

“Yes,” Jimin replied stiffly, as if preparing himself for another cowboy comment. 

“I lived in Wyoming, in the park. Close to Madison Junction,” Namjoon revealed, Y/N amazed that he was giving away some personal details. Jimin’s eyes widened in confusion. 

“You lived in the park? How could you possibly– You can’t just live in the park,” Jimin stuttered, stopping short once they reached the patio. Namjoon, apparently unwilling to share anything else, shrugged, opening the sliding door for Y/N to head inside. 

Swiftly, Namjoon sped into the kitchen behind Y/N, leaving Jimin looking like he was solving a complicated equation in his head. The coyote hybrid entered the kitchen shortly thereafter, breezing by Jeongguk at the island and mumbling something about retrieving the whiskey. 

“Hey, how was the walk?” Whipping her head around at the sound of Yoongi’s gravelly voice, he was leaning against the entrance into the kitchen from the parlor, his tail curling around the lip of the wall. 

“Hi Yoongi! It was really nice, Jimin and I were talking about plans to fix up the stable and the yard. It’ll be more pleasant to hang out back there once it’s a bit more, uh… manicured?” Y/N searched for the right word, gazing up at the ceiling. 

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, laughing silently at her choice of words, slinking into the kitchen gracefully. He had softened considerably compared to his sobered state earlier in the day, much to Y/N’s relief, his arm moving past her to reach for the wine glasses. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Namjoon uncorking a bottle of wine successfully, pride washing over her as he recalled the steps she’d shown him to use the corkscrew the night before. 

“Wine goes well with pizza,” Yoongi hummed from beside her, eyes narrowing in on something behind her. “Though you should be careful with the red. You’re a lightweight. You too, Namjoon.”

Both her and Namjoon scowled at the leopard hybrid, though Y/N could tell Yoongi was only half-serious in his teasing. As Namjoon poured a glass for her first, she felt Yoongi’s fingertips at the back of her head, her entire body locking up at the sensation of her hair being touched. Bewildered, she nearly dropped her glass of wine turning to look at the leopard hybrid. 

Yoongi smirked, pulling his hand from her hair, a brown maple leaf pinched between his long fingers presented in front of her face. He moved away from her all too quickly, following Namjoon around to get his own glass filled as the wolf hybrid ignored him spitefully after the lightweight comment. Under her nose, Jeongguk had left the room, likely in search of that ‘stiff cocktail’ he was referring to earlier. 

Sipping her wine, Y/N heard the familiar three-beat car honking, announcing Anthony’s arrival with the food. Skipping into the parlor, she spotted Jeongguk mixing up a gin cocktail by the bar cart and Jimin getting comfortable on the couch. Dropping her wine glass off on the coffee table and greeting Hoseok, Taehyung, and Seokjin fondly, she headed to the front door for the pizza with the Kodiak hybrid following close behind. He was avoiding her eyes, apparently still scandalized from the scenting conversation, though it was nice that he had resumed his habit of shadowing her. Swinging the front door open, Y/N barked out a laugh, Anthony standing on the porch almost completely obstructed from view with the stack of boxes in his arms. 

“Hey, Tony! I could have helped you make a couple of trips, strongman!” Y/N teased the teenager. Because she was a reliable regular of Sal’s, she had gotten to know all of the people working there pretty well, and treated Anthony like a younger brother.

“Aw, come on, Y/N! You know I started weight training for football months ago!” Anthony complained, his thick Boston accent heightening her amusement. 

Hurriedly, she rushed to take the foil tray of tiramisu, salad boxes, and the mozzarella sticks, revealing Anthony’s rounded face. Anthony grinned at her before spotting Taehyung, who hesitantly reached for the remaining boxes of pizza. Digging around in the pocket of her leggings for the cash she stuffed in there before the walk, she counted out twenties with one hand while Anthony relayed his anxieties about his senior year at the local high school. 

“So who’s this, Y/N? Your boyfriend?” Anthony asked as he placed the cash in the pouch strapped around his waist, eyeing Taehyung suspiciously. Heart slamming up into her throat, she shook her head vigorously. 

“O-oh! No, this is my friend, Tae,” Y/N explained nervously, thoroughly embarrassed and unable to even look at Taehyung beside her. Anthony’s face innocently cleared of any suspicion, offering Taehyung a smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Tae! Hope you’re going to the cookout Friday, I’ll be there with the rest of my family. It’s more fun when there’s lots of people,” Anthony extended one of his hands for a shake, Taehyung dazedly grasping the kid’s hand and shaking it robotically. 

“I’ll be there,” Taehyung murmured, the expression crossing his face one Y/N had never seen before; melancholic?

Anthony’s work phone clipped to his belt began to beep incessantly, the teen rolling his eyes at the sound. 

“I gotta fly. The Ramseys on the other side of town are going to want their calzones,” Anthony called over his shoulder, jogging back to the van he parked on the street. “See you Friday, Y/N, Tae!” 

Hurrying into the house, Y/N heard Taehyung shut the door tightly. The look that had crossed his face had vanished, replaced by the composed stoicism Taehyung intrinsically possessed. Biting her lip, Y/N slowly made her way down the hall towards the parlor, shifting into apology mode. 

“Sorry about that. I’m at this pizza place all the time, and I’ve grown pretty close to the family. That was Anthony, the owner’s grandson… he’s kind of like the younger brother I never had,” Y/N explained, Taehyung making a noise of acknowledgement softly. 

“Why are you apologizing? He was nice, I could tell he was just worried about you,” Taehyung returned, bending down a few inches to get a good look into her eyes. Startled, Y/N’s felt heat rise up her neck, the Kodiak hybrid closer to her than she was ready for. “You called me Tae again. I really like when you do that.”

With that, Taehyung flashed her a sweet smile, speeding off in front of her to drop the pizza boxes on the coffee table and leaving her reeling in the hallway. Moving slowly, Y/N entered the lively room, everyone already attacking the boxes like a bunch of wild animals, Yoongi and Jimin trying their best to establish some order. Dropping her own armful of takeout on the table, Y/N sunk to the floor by Hoseok’s feet by the couch. Slice of pizza in one hand, wine glass in the other, Y/N settled in to catch the middle of The Mummy that one of them had put on, enjoying the various conversations between the hybrids around her. 

Stuffed to the gills with tiramisu, Y/N sluggishly brushed her teeth in her bathroom after an evening of action films and way too much pizza. One of the highlights of the evening was the passionate argument about whether or not The Mummy was corny (it was) between Seokjin and Hoseok, Seokjin declaring it ‘epic’ and Hoseok lamenting its quality overall. She had to admit, it was corny, but she loved the film, the chemistry between the two leads undeniable and spellbinding. 

Ready to crash face-first into her pillow, Y/N yanked a comb through her hair, turning off the light in her bathroom without fear flooding through her for the first time in weeks. Changing into a light tank top and shorts pajama combination, Y/N could hear Jeongguk stomping around in his bedroom, the elk hybrid perhaps one gin cocktail over his limit. She wasn’t about to stop him from pouring them, even as he began to sing along to the soundtrack of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World during the tail-end of the movie marathon, as he was one of the primary reasons she could sleep with the lights off that night. For someone that looked like a member of a nu-metal band, Jeongguk had the voice of an angel. 

Considering she had taken it easy on the wine, not only because Yoongi and Hoseok were monitoring her intake, but because she didn’t want to be drunk if God forbid the entity returned and she would have to jump in and protect the others, she still felt woozy. Y/N knew that she was being paranoid, being somewhat convinced that the entity would return. It wasn’t like she didn’t trust Jeongguk and Namjoon in their confidence that it was gone and doubted their efforts, but because it had been haunting her for so long, it was hard to believe it was truly banished from her life. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, the ability to move easier than it had been in ages. As Y/N went to toss her leggings in the hamper, she felt a lump in one of the pockets, furrowing her eyebrows. 

Mouth dropping open, Y/N fished out the forest green protection pouch she had made for Namjoon out of the pocket, internally scolding herself for not giving it to him earlier. Too preoccupied with the walk of the grounds, exciting movies and pizza, she totally forgot that he was the only one without a pouch, growing nervous. Because he was one of the two that performed the actual ‘mystery ritual’ that got rid of the entity, Namjoon having the pouch was a priority to her. Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she debated whether or not to simply drop by his room and hand it off if he was still awake, but it was pretty late and she felt funny about disturbing him at that hour. 

She left the pouch on her nightstand, clambering onto her bed with a groan. Her limbs were aching; she had a full day considering the disturbed sleep she had gotten the night prior. While she physically felt bone-tired, her brain was going a million miles per minute, trying to process every single interaction she had with each hybrid during the day. Embarrassingly enough, she felt that she hadn’t seen nearly enough of Seokjin, who kept a bit of a distance from her since the discussion between herself, him, Yoongi and Taehyung over breakfast. Her thoughts floated from Seokjin to Hoseok, the fox hybrid’s uncharacteristic clingy actions flooding into her mind. 

As she lounged over her made-up bed, she recalled how lax Hoseok became in her embrace that morning, comparing it to the way Taehyung had arched his spine into her hand when she soothed her hand down his back. Most of the hybrids had begun to seek out physical touch with her, apart from Jeongguk, who tended to keep his space. Even then, when she had tiptoed into his bedroom, Y/N could swear she could still feel the strong grip of his hand wrapped around her wrist, hours later. 

Running a hand through her hair, Y/N took a deep breath once she realized her heart began to race once more. At this rate, she thought, she would suffer from a heart attack. She couldn’t wait to see Laura and Alice at the cookout, perhaps whisking them out of earshot to describe the kinds of emotions that had begun to blossom within her. It had been a long time since Y/N had felt frazzled in that way, and she knew Laura and Alice would be able to offer her a little bit of insight once they met the hybrids. 

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted by rapt knocking at her bedroom door, her features pulling into confusion as she hauled herself off of her bed. She couldn’t guess who would be on the other side of the door as she grasped the handle, hoping that whoever it was didn’t have a paranormal sighting. 

Pulling the heavy door open, Y/N allowed her eyes to adjust to the low lighting of the hallway after being used to the lamplight of her bedroom. Before her was Namjoon, dressed in his sleepwear and hair mussed as if he’d been pulling at it. Swallowing thickly as she searched his face for signs of distress, she found unsurprisingly that his emotions were difficult to decipher. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Y/N whispered, trying her best not to disturb the others in the household. Namjoon pressed a palm to his face, his body language stiffer than usual. 

“No, I’m not,” Namjoon admitted roughly, his eyes looking more dangerous than ever. Shifting from one foot to another with anxiety, Y/N began to panic that the entity had returned, assessing the dewy sweat that was accumulating across his forehead. 

“What’s wrong, Namjoon?” Y/N all but begged, hating the expression of thinly veiled discomfort settling over the wolf hybrid’s entire form. 

“I– I have to…” Namjoon pushed his way past her bedroom door, making Y/N stumble backwards towards the foot of her bed as he towered over her. “I can’t push it d-down. My head’s splitting.”

Her breath quickening, Namjoon continued to stalk towards Y/N in a predatory manner until her ass hit her mattress, her knees buckling as she landed on the soft surface. Gulping, her mind began to go to several different places; Namjoon’s profile on the database, Laura and Alice’s concerns, scenting. Namjoon appeared possessed, his constant restraint absent as he kneeled on the floor before her, eyebrows pinched in pain. Skin burning as he grasped one of her knees, Y/N gasped at the contact of his strong hand on her bare flesh, unable to break away from the way his eyes had turned devilish. 

“N-namjoon, what are you–?” Y/N breathed, the wolf hybrid shuddering as she said his name, halting her from speaking further by bringing his face inches away from hers. 

“Have to. I need…” Namjoon slurred, his eyes dropping down to the exposed skin of her throat. His grip on her knee tightened, his fingernails digging into the flesh sharply, the situation suddenly dawning on Y/N completely. 

“O-okay, Namjoon, it’s okay. Do what you need to do,” Y/N encouraged shakily, stunned that the night had taken such a turn, and all too curious to find out what scenting was like. 

While she was expecting one of them to initiate what was about to happen soon, her near last guess as to who was first to do so was Namjoon. Upon hearing the words that left her mouth, Namjoon growled from the back of his throat, using his free hand to wrap around the nape of her neck and yank her forward. Bracing herself against his strong shoulders by instinct, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, feeling Namjoon’s hot breath against the junction of her throat and collarbone. She heard the wolf hybrid inhale deeply, his body trembling under her fingertips with the heady scent that spilled from her neck. 

“S-shit,” Namjoon groaned, the hand around the back of her neck growing firmer and the other traveling from her knee to the small of her waist to bring her closer to him, Y/N’s torso going flush with his own. Namjoon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, Y/N’s hands migrating downwards from his shoulders to his biceps as her breath began to come out in tiny gasps. “'S’gonna hurt, I’m s-sorry.”

Curling her fingertips into the thick muscles of Namjoon’s biceps, Y/N felt the eager press of Namjoon’s plush lips to the sensitive skin of her throat, a quick flick of his tongue tasting the flesh. Before she could process the jolting sensation, Namjoon bared his teeth, the two pointed incisors nicking the thin skin before sinking into it like a hot knife through butter. The pain was sharp, intense, Y/N yelping as her fingernails dug into Namjoon’s arms, the wolf hybrid stiffening as he latched onto her.

As quick as the pain came, a euphoric numbing sensation replaced it even with his teeth still in her neck, her body growing slack in his grip as her blood flowed into Namjoon’s mouth. A whine came through her throat involuntarily, Namjoon’s teeth pulling from her flesh swiftly. Replacing his teeth came the heavy drag of his tongue laving over the punctures thoroughly, the action clearing every thought from Y/N’s mind. With the action of his tongue soothing the wound, Namjoon’s muscles began to relax under Y/N’s hold significantly. So this is scenting, Y/N thought dazedly, completely bewildered. 

With a final brush of his full lips over the site of the mark, Namjoon reluctantly pulled away from her neck, coming eye-level with her. Y/N giggled stupidly, feeling lightheaded as Namjoon rose from his knees, both arms curling around her waist gently to lift her from her seated position. Carefully, Namjoon shifted her weight to one arm, using the other to draw back her quilt and bed sheets, lowering her down onto the mattress gingerly. After covering her quaking body with the quilt, Y/N already missing the heat that radiated off of the wolf hybrid, Namjoon bent over the bed, pushing hair off of her forehead softly. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon whispered, seeming more at ease than Y/N ever remembered him to be. All signs of distress had melted from his features, an air of relief clinging to him strongly as he stared down at her.

Trying to nod weakly, Y/N watched a strange smile dance across Namjoon’s face, a drop of her blood still clinging to his bottom lip. Tiredly, Y/N reached up, swiping her thumb against his lip, collecting the drop and letting her hand fall limply, Namjoon’s pupils blown wide. Pulling away from her proximity, Namjoon reached to switch off her nightstand lamp. 

“Wait! The charm… that one is yours,” Y/N mumbled, limblessly pointing to the pouch beside the lamp. Hand stilling, Namjoon scooped up the pouch, expression sobering.

“G’night, Namjoon,” Y/N murmured, her eyelids beginning to become heavy as she tracked his movements towards her bedroom door. She swore she heard a response, regretful that he couldn’t stay as she immediately fell into a dreamless sleep. 

The next day passed in a blur. Y/N was called away by her mother early Wednesday morning to spend the majority of the day taking her and her grandmother to brunch, the botanical garden, and then shopping at the plaza nearby. Y/N hadn’t left anyone in charge when she departed in the morning, though she eyed Yoongi in particular for leadership when she stressed to everyone to remain civil with one another as a handful of them saw her off in the foyer.

That morning, Y/N hardly remembered the events leading up to her falling asleep until she looked in the mirror while brushing her teeth– Namjoon’s mark left from his scenting appearing starkly in her reflection. Grateful for the blustery weather, Y/N covered the mark up with her large Ghost sweatshirt she picked up the last time the band was on tour, scrambling out of the door before any of the hybrids could suspect something awry. Namjoon was not one of the hybrids present upon seeing her off before her outing, much to her disappointment and surprise.

Throughout the day, she was comforted by the fact that she could stay in touch with the hybrids she had left at home through text. Jimin had sent her several articles on stable restoration, and Hoseok had asked how she had slept with several emojis. She found it odd, however, that her mother hardly asked her a single question about the hybrids, even with her grandmother out of earshot– concerning her for some small reason she could not place. 

As she trudged through a stuffy department store with her mother and grandmother, absently Y/N was comforted that her sleep was dreamless, free from the horrid nightmare that had plagued her since she had adopted the hybrids. Admittedly, she was nervous about leaving them behind, thoughts surrounding Jeongguk’s abrasiveness between everyone who met his eyes, everyone’s obvious avoidance towards Taehyung, and Hoseok’s fear of Namjoon in general, occupied most of the afternoon with her mother and grandmother. All that she could do was trust that they would get along until her return– they’d have to get used to it anyway, when she began her part-time job at Judy’s. 

Y/N expected herself to be more shaken up once she remembered how Namjoon had scented her the night before. Truthfully, she found herself feeling more at peace when she woke up than ever before, the hazy memory only coming back to her once she saw the bite in the mirror. In truth, the ritual was a lot less painful than she was expecting. If anything, the pain lasted for half a second, the agony immediately replaced with an addictive soothing effect; and the closeness of the situation was the most overwhelming sensation of all. 

With her eyes glazed over, Y/N stared at a cashmere sweater on a mannequin for several moments, trying to recreate in her mind how Namjoon had grasped the back of her neck with need, pulling her in by her waist into his proximity. She was totally unprepared for Namjoon to be the one to seek her out first, her whole body flushing from head to toe as his blissed-out expression filled her imagination. She was ripped from her reminiscing by her mother, asking her if she was feeding her hybrids a well-balanced diet. To her relief, her mother hadn’t brought up Namjoon, almost as if she sensed Y/N knew less about his situation than she did. 

She thanked the sky that her mother had spared her grandmother the information that Y/N had adopted the seven hybrids, once they dropped her off back at the house. Y/N knew that she’d have to tell her unnervingly brilliant grandmother the truth come Friday, but the fact that her mother allowed her to put it off until then came as an unexpected gift. As she heaved herself up the steps of the front porch, Y/N could hear several of the hybrid’s voices from the backyard, likely enjoying the first sunny day since they had arrived at the house. Her insides warming up, Y/N unlocked the front door hurriedly, eager to both join them and check to see if Namjoon was faring better than he had been when he knocked on her bedroom door the previous night. 

It was later in the afternoon, the house somewhat darkened as she let herself in. She could smell something spicy stewing away in the kitchen; likely Yoongi’s dinner menu. Kicking off her sneakers, Y/N yawned, a bit drained from having to explain to her grandmother three separate times why she had decided to leave her job at the animal hospital. From upstairs, she heard an object crash to the floor loudly, making her flinch a foot into the air. 

She was on the second floor before she knew it, eager to know what had caused the sound. If it was the hag spirit again, Y/N wanted to be the one to not only see it, but confront it as well. Heart racing, she tore through the common spaces, briefly peering into Yoongi, Jeongguk, and Taehyung’s rooms without so much of a clue as to what had fallen. Puzzled, Y/N frowned, pausing by the shut door of Seokjin’s room. Cautiously, she paused to listen for any further movement, but heard nothing. 

“Seokjin? Are you in there?” Y/N called, though she was fairly confident she heard his voice in the backyard when she was dropped off. In response came a pained groan, one most definitely coming from the jaguar hybrid as she had heard it once before. Unhesitatingly, Y/N shoved the door open, worried he had somehow injured himself. 

Beside the door to his bathroom, Seokjin had collapsed on his side, the wavy tips of his blue-black hair damp with sweat as he gasped for breath on the floor. Swearing colorfully, Y/N flew to his side, kneeling beside him and grasping one of his hands to squeeze securely. His cheeks were pink, gazing at her through heavily-lidded eyes. 

“Oh my God, Seokjin! What happened, honey?” Y/N panicked, using her free hand to cup the shape of his sweat-dewed cheek. 

Seokjin murmured something incoherently, his thick eyebrows pulled together in agony. Feeling an anxiety attack about to come on, Y/N moved her fingers down his cheek to check his pulse at the base of his throat, the jaguar’s eyes rolling back into his skull as she did so. Y/N could hardly count the beats per minute, his pulse was racing so quickly, sending her further into frenzy mode. 

“Seokjin! Can you hear me? Honey, hey, look at me,” Y/N pleaded, her hand returning to the side of his face. She knew she should try to get help from some of the others, but had no intention of leaving his side, a heavy moan tearing from his throat. “Seokjin!”

Her name forced its way out from between his teeth, his weak hold on her hand tightening a degree. Scanning his crumpled form for any obvious injuries but not able to detect one, Y/N swore once more. Beginning to hyperventilate, Y/N released his hand, using her arm to snake around his back and sit him upright, not knowing what else to do in that moment but cradle him close and try to calm both him and herself down. With his quivering body pressed close to her own, Y/N ran a hand down his back, feeling fever chills begin to rock through him. 

“Y-Y/N. Didn’t know it would h-happen so soon,” Seokjin miraculously choked out, Y/N stilling completely as he spoke. “You l-left, and I got s-sick…”

It crashed down onto her, realizing that Seokjin was experiencing what Namjoon had the night before, but his condition had worsened since she wasn’t around the entire day. Seokjin had likely gone throughout the entire day feeling the intense discomfort Namjoon had displayed the night prior, the delayed relief only making him feel feverish and weak. Feeling sick with guilt, Y/N pulled Seokjin’s face draped over her shoulder with two cupped hands, attempting to look him square in his clouded sunset eyes. 

“Seokjin, listen to me, I know you can hear me,” Y/N urged calmly, her anxiety dissipating now that she knew what was going on. “I’m here now.”

Gently, Y/N pushed Seokjin’s head into the crook of her neck, on the opposite side where Namjoon had left his mark. Seokjin’s body began to shiver more violently in her arms due to the concentration of her scent at the base of her throat, the jaguar hybrid making the first bone-chilling growl she had ever heard from him. The jaguar hybrid’s arms snaked around her body, pulling her into his lap securely. Holding onto his broad back for dear life, Y/N braced herself for the inevitable sting of his incisors piercing her flesh. 

The plump petals of Seokjin’s lips parted on her skin, searing the flesh as he mouthed at it mindlessly, before he sunk his teeth into her, Y/N grasping a fistful of his hair at the feeling, spots clouding her vision. While Seokjin was gentler than Namjoon even in his feverish delirion, Y/N was overwhelmed immediately, the high that came directly after the bite with the soft brush of Seokjin’s tongue over the bleeding flesh hurdling her over the threshold of consciousness, becoming completely limp in Seokjin’s arms. 

The predator closed in on its prey. 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx

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#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

[homosexuanal]

people will talk how they wanna fuck DIFLs and bears and shit but refuse to touch tony soprano no we're not gonna yassify tony for your viewing pleasure your twink timmy chandelier is right there go fetch that twig

Literally read this ask looking like this

[ms0milk]

𝟐 | 𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Magic can manifest a million ways, but from forever til today the only way you ever pictured proper magic was flowing from sweaty palms and jagged fingers."

no cw the Terrible Roadtrip™ pt 1/2, bkg is a huge asshole, i can't promise you won't fall in love with kirishima, you have to put your faith in me for this fic, pls trust me. 3.1k

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Kirishima Eijiro has always been kind to you. A wave, a nod, a sharp smile, he never ignored you in the castle when you happened upon each other, but thinking about it, you’ve never actually spoken. There was never a need and the prince always maintains the perfect amount of hurry to keep his companions from acknowledging staff.

Kirishima likes to dance with the girls who work in the kitchen so they’re too giddy to lecture him about stealing snacks. He likes to sleep in, and for some reason he likes training with his violent prince. Kirishima gets bruises but not cuts and you think it’s probably because of his magic. He sometimes cries while feeding the birds. Now Kirishima crouches so close to you that your shoulders touch and his warmth feels so familiar.

“Like this,” you correct. You stop him from placing another log on the fire before he knocks over the entire structure. Across from you, Sero huddles closer in the chill of evening while Denki investigates the kettle hung on irons to check if hot water is ready. Mina rummages for mugs. Camp tonight is tucked in the clearing of a felled maple tree much to the prince’s dismay, as it’s too dark to read by the sunset under foliage. So he busies himself untacking horses and with anger taken out on leaves, twigs, and the general inanimate.

Early in the morning, just an hour into the journey, a pink finger poked out of the carriage window ahead of you and beckoned you closer. The pink finger was of course attached to the pink girl, who rested her head on her arm while you rode beside her. “I don’t think you know who I am,” she cooed and you were quick to apologize to the nobles; they must be noble if they were guests of the prince; and if you had been on solid ground you would have taken a knee.

“My Lady, please forgive my behavior this morning.”

His Highness scoffed and you didn’t dare look his way.

Mina, Denki, and Sero. Kirishima introduced the travelers to you from his spot beside the prince, who took up at least a quarter of the small space with his spreading and growling and kicking of friends.

From what you could see on horseback, the inside of the carriage was just as delicately beautiful as the outside. Silver stars held the royal blue quilting in place and a little chandelier twinkled in the very center of the ceiling. White silk draped above them. Bench cushions trimmed with silver tassels and decorative knots, and when you dared to lean closer you could see the wallpaper wasn’t all quilt– there were rows and rows of flat ribbon with embroidered shells, and figures depicting some sort of scene across the trim.

“Get your bigass head outta here!”

It was your turn to be snapped at by the prince and it startled you backwards a bit in your saddle. His showy red eyes trained on yours for a second before he shut them tight and leaned back in a cross-armed huff, “Already got four fucking twats suffocating me, I don’t need more hot breath'n my ears.”

“Apologies, Highness,” you spoke this line clearly in lieu of, once again, formal introductions. But you couldn’t be fazed. It counted as the second time he looked at you, twice in a day, and that was more than the last fifteen years combined.

A sneeze from Denki ignited the prince’s fury in full and soon the carriage was a ring match. Sparing a glance to Shinsou, who chuckled at Denki’s misfortune on horseback through the window opposite yours, you slowed to let the travelers sort out their frustration alone. As you fell back, the silver of the window framed Mina’s pretty pink smile.

Mina is very nice. Across from yours and Kirishima’s little fire now, she hoists a red tin cup above her head and mouths, “Tea?”

“Please. Thank you, M’lady.”

She beams every time you call her that. This time she shouts through the clearing to the prince and all of the horses, “Hear that Kats? I’m a Lady.”

“You’re a fuckin' menace is what you are.”

These were strange nobles– friends, even. To be speaking with the prince so casually. What was Sero doing in soldier’s gear earlier?

Before departing, you and your travelers were instructed to change into the riding clothes provided to you. “No gambeson,” droned Aizawa when you tried to avoid removing your red Aldera uniform. “Your measurements were sent to our royal tailor, I promise these travel clothes are much more comfortable for riding.”

So now your dragontooth brooch, pinned rebelliously to your collar, is all you’re allowed to remind you of home. It clicks softly against the silver details of your lifeless white blouse. You feel sick riding another queen’s horse, and wearing another queen’s colors is almost all you can handle. On solid ground beside warm Kirishima, you’re sore and thankful to be finished traveling for the day.

By the time the sun began to set, the prince had a sparkling fist swung out the window and his companions let out yelps of pain from the receiving end of his anger, “I’m sick’a breathing your stinkass air!”

Mina and Sero, both carried under one of Kirishima’s strong arms, melted from the carriage doors with much moaning and many grumbles. Denki tripped on the single step again, directly into Shinsou’s back and the two of them hit the ground. Only the prince seemed to have any amount of energy left and took to immediately examining the grounds Aizawa chose for camp.

“No bitchin,” Master Aizawa grumbled before bundling himself up in the driver’s seat of the carriage in a thick woolen blanket. The blunt interaction was all you would get from him tonight.

These woods gnarl with the same vines and fruit that wrap up your Aldera castle so safely, which meant Jeanist’s halberd made quick work of the familiar trees when it came time for you to chop firewood. Kirishima loved watching this part most, as you instructed and explained the basic nature of maple and the best angles to hit it. “The axehead here,” you tossed your halberd higher into your grip to point at the blade, “isn’t at all made for this. But the carriage ax is too heavy for me.” You were quick to nurse your finger between your lips after forgetting just how sharp your mentor keeps his tools and Kirishima jumped at the opportunity to take over.

Jeanist takes you camping sometimes. He calls it playing favorites when other soldiers ask, but rarely do you do anything with Jeanist besides train, camping included. Splitting wood was day one. You can recognize nuts and leaves, hunt creature and beast by bow, dagger, and lance. A fire was the simplest thing you could think to do tonight and it has Kirishima drawn in with sparkling eyes, begging you to teach him how to lean the sticks to one another or shave kindling from bark.

“Y/n, won't it go out?”

Your name brings you back. You place a hand over the Champion’s before you’re completely aware of your surroundings, to keep him from fiddling with anything else, “I promise it won’t. Look.” And point to the white hot hollow just below the tent of flames. Embers are what’ll keep your campsite warm all night, not a raging fire on big logs. It’s a simmering sense of pride you feel that if you were good for nothing else, you could at least start a fire in a rainstorm.

Aizawa is long-asleep on the driver’s bench. The carriage twinkles at the very edge of the clearing, you imagine to keep it safe from flames or potential explosive fury in conversation around the campfire. You smile behind the hot mug that Mina hands you at the thought of arriving in Takoba on a single singed platform– all that would be left of the fairy carriage after the prince’s companions antagonized him a few words too far.

“For you,” Shinsou murmurs while he winds his way around the campfire with bedrolls for each traveler. He drops yours beside your seat and overcome with– something– laziness? His master’s contagious exhaustion?– tosses one over the fire to the prince who is approaching camp, having given up on his mission for readable light.

You’re one step closer to that singed carriage, you think, when the prince catches the bedding in a fist and drops it where he stops at the farthest point from all of you in the circle. His broad chest vibrates inside furs.

“Keep it down.”

This is a very obvious assertion to everyone but you, that it’s time for the prince to go to bed. The sun just set, you bewilder and then he does in fact kick open his roll beside the fire and settle down with his back turned. Other than yourself and Shinsou, the company lets up a knowing chorus of, 'G’night Bakugou's that catch you by surprise. You look to Kirishima for confirmation and when he’s too busy poking at your fire to notice, you lower your face into the steam coming off your mug.

“Is that your magic?”

When you cast your eyes up to see which company member has taken to immediately disrupting the prince’s peace, Mina is the one watching you. You’re supposed to be checking the carriage for wear and reinforcing the perimeter before tucking in for the night, and you suppose it was only a matter of time before someone noticed you slacking in your duties. You breathe the steam in from your tea slowly, so it doesn't burn you, but enough that it warms your motivation to move away from the fire. Kirishima is looking at you now too, when you pull your dark Takoban cloak around your shoulders and dust off your knees.

“Y/n?”

“Stay,” you smile at him, “Eat, be warm. I have to check in with Master Aizawa.”

Shinsou peers up at you from his seat between Denki and Sero. Mina clears her throat, “But you didn’t answer the question.”

Did you miss something? You glance between the faces of your sitting company to try and sort out the pieces of their conversation, but she’s looking only at you.

“Are you a flame mage?”

“What?”

Then Sero laughs. He laughs like he doesn’t mean to and covers his mouth, which ignites the purple blush across Mina’s face. “I–I didn’t–! Was that weird? You guys are thinking it too, c’mon–”

“I don’t say everything I think, Mina.”

“Spare me, yes you do!”

The prince, laying deadly still and very much not asleep, grunts. The Champion leans back to look up at you as you stand above the group, still a few steps behind in their conversation. He offers you up your mug again as an invitation to sit, “They’re just curious is all.”

“I don’t do magic,” you murmur, only to him. You take your cup from his hand but before he lets go, he tugs downwards to pull you back to his side. The fire is hot but not so big that you can’t sit exceptionally close to it.

“So no to fire magic?” Mina pipes up again, “What do you do?”

“I don’t, M'lady.”

“Don’t…do anything?”

“I do plenty,” you chuckle, “but I can’t do magic.”

A growl sounds off from the prince who’s dragged himself up to sitting in the single blink of an eye. He seems less irritated with the lack of sleep he’s getting and more by your apparent lack of magical aptitude. Like it’s a personal slight.

“What’s the point of you then?”

You don’t dare eye contact when he speaks, but you’ve heard this kind of intimidation from his mother. Kirishima is looking, and he points sharp in his prince’s direction to clip short whatever might come next.

You rally, “I swear I’m no less competent than any fighting mage.”

But Prince Bakugou is no longer interested in you, and only barks when Mina throws an acorn cap at the back of his head. Kirishima nudges you a bit when you try to dip into your mug again.

“Have you ever tried?”

“Tried what?”

“Magic.”

What used to be your smile twists into confusion, but the Champion presses on, “You’d be surprised how many people think they can’t do any magic at all, when really their gift is just specific! Like, uh— the man who works proofing ovens in the kitchens at home only has one fireproof hand,” The redhead has himself chuckling along with the rest of his friends but presses a flat, gentle hand into your back to keep you safe from his enthusiasm, “You can imagine the day he found out his other half wasn’t so flame retardant.”

The prince looks like he’s winding up to yell at you all again over his delicate sleep schedule so Denki is quick to butt in with, “Why not try now?”

Today is a lot to take in. Promises, apologies, a lesson in campfires, but you aren’t going to add mage training to the list. You balance the mug under gentle fingertips, “I don’t need magic to do my job.”

“That’s badass.”

“But Y/n, what if you have some crazy world-ending power?!”

You look to Shinsou for a bit of level-headed support but he turns away to let you simmer in the attention alone, smiling.

“Or what if you can, like, bring back the dead? Or heal the sick! How many sick people have you touched recently?”

“Or dead people?”

Mina and Denki try to bounce as many ideas off each other as they can fit into the next few seconds before the prince blasts their heads off and you feel like a real afterthought in all. But the questions subside, the prince doesn’t blow, and now you’re expected to answer. Even the Champion at your side is looking at you with those soft red eyes of his. You dip your lips back into your mug for a warm sip before responding, “I wouldn’t know.”

Kirishima’s the only one who really understands what you mean and tries to change the subject but Mina scrambles across the small clearing and gets a hold of you before he can speak. She’s gentle when she takes one of your hands and stretches it out towards the fire.

“When I use magic, I relax my arms like this,” she wiggles her fingers, “and it just oozes outta me.”

“Literally,” Sero chuckles. Mina shakes you back into focus before you can ask him what he means.

“What if you relax real good– here hold your hand just like this– and then boom! You blow up the whole campsite. Your magic could be really powerful like that.” She has your arm outstretched, the one not holding tea, and she’s miming going limp with her own hand. You give in. She’s a royal guest, and you’re in no position to deny her. Your eyes flutter closed.

You used to try this as a kid, willing your own magical gift to manifest in your bedroom after Jeanist called for curfew. It feels the same now as it always has, not that you’re concentrating as hard as you used to at eight years old. It feels like nothing. Magic can manifest a million ways, but from forever til today the only way you ever pictured proper magic was flowing from sweaty palms and jagged fingers. You curl a little closer to your knees but commit, and flex your fingers the way you’ve seen beautiful magic made before.

“Try to picture something pretty.” You’re not sure who says it, and gods you feel silly, but you comply and focus on the warmth that tingles your fingers from the fire in front of you. For some reason, the first thing you imagine is velvet.

Immediately your hand is so hot you have to open your eyes to keep from snatching it back to your chest.

It’s the light that you see in your dreams in that little cup your fingers made. It’s the stars that fall from the sky in corners of the castle at night. White, purple, orange, and blue. It’s the same as the prince’s beautiful magic, in your own outstretched fingers for a single fleeting, flickering moment. Your heart is in your head. Your eyes wide and trembling. It’s just a second of pure bright light before the spark bounces off your palm hot enough to make your eyes water, and dies as quickly as it is beautiful into the campfire.

Beats of excitement tap your chest as you look to the group, but the prince’s eyes are the first ones you see and he looks altogether too happy with himself for you not to realize. Bakugou shakes the rest of the sparks from his fingers and doesn’t fight the smirk spread across his lips, though, the very second you meet his gaze he bristles. The group around you shifts uncomfortably. What’s he supposed to do with those big eyes of yours, huh?

“Don’t be an ass Bakugou, we’re just having fun.”

“s’not my fault she’s gullible.”

Kirishima’s warmth isn’t enough to keep you at the campfire. The horses started snorting at the fireworks and so you nestle your cup in the dirt around the fire to regain your focus, “Apologies, Highness. I’m acting unprofessionally.”

“Y/n don’t–” Mina tries to salvage your company but you smile,

“I got comfortable before even feeding the horses.”

And you do mean it. You’re standing now and you make sure to nod to every member of the company before you back into the dark of the far camp, “Good night everyone. Thank you very much for the tea.” It’s okay. You’ll set up your bedroll near the carriage in the dark so that the crackling fire doesn’t keep you from hearing footsteps. Yes, you’ll sleep alone like you’re used to, with the familiar smells of horses and finally get some rest.

“Good night Y/n,” Mina whispers. Denki throws a disapproving acorn cap across the fire at Bakugou’s bare shoulder. He ignores it and takes a sip from his mug. Sero throws another.

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

tagged angels ✧.* nnubee cherrykamado nonomesupposedto zombiewarprincess kotarousproperty strawberry-mentos69 sveetnn eirlysian lunrai cherripunch26nch26 km74744 arayoflia

(tumblr keeps deleting the end of my fics, including my reader tags! I didn't re-tag the lovelies above because I'm sure they're getting sick of the notifications as I try to fix it. tags will be back to normal next ch! if you've signed up for the tag list, have no fear, I think I've figured it out)

#thank you so much for your support!! #this story is my baby #my slow moving baby #trust is the name of the game folks #theres only excitement from here on out #swearsies #a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #mha fantasy au #bnha fantasy au #fantasy bakugo #fantasy bakugou

[jazzythursday]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

tagged by @aphroditestummyrolls and @nerdlingmerchling, thanks for thinking of me! <3 Here's a snippet of a one-shot I started this morning for the prompt "poison"

His thoughts are all jumbled up and messy, but move, home, Wylan are frequent enough occurrences that he’s able to follow them in the right direction and find his way back alright.

Or, nearly, because he’s on the wrong side of the house, and that’s not what he’d been aiming for. It’s fine. He goes through the hedges that line the rear of the estate and comes out in the back garden covered in twigs and leaves and fresh scratches that he, rather concerningly, can’t actually feel. 

But it’s fine. It’s totally fine. 

Home, Wylan, move.

Jesper stumbles into the house through the glass paneled doors that lead into the dining room—they aren’t supposed to open from the outside, he doesn’t think, but he’s inside now, so it’s too late to worry about it. He’s making a lot of noise, and he’d feel bad about that too, but at present it's getting increasingly harder to see straight and he’s not sure he can bring himself to call out loud enough for someone to hear. He still tries to close the door latch properly, but he doesn’t think it works. He might have broken it, actually.

His legs at this point are, it might be important to note, sort of numb. Jesper makes it a few feet across the dining room before he decides braining himself on the table is one of the only ways this night could get any worse, and just sort of—melts—towards the floor. Gravity does the rest of the work, which is fine with him, and he ends up sprawled on his back against the hardwood, staring up at the chandelier.

He hears footsteps on the stairs a minute later, and then the lamp turns on. The room is flooded with light that hurts his eyes—Saints he has a headache—and then Wylan’s startled voice calling, “Jesper?!”

Jesper lifts an arm up to wave from his spot on the floor and Wylan's face appears above him, looking sleep-ruffled and entirely bewildered.

“Think I broke the door,” Jesper says, probably stupidly, but he feels it's important to get it out of the way. “Sorry.” 

“Did you break your skull too?” Wylan bites out. His eyes are wide and wild with concern. He kneels over Jesper and starts checking his head for injury. Despite looking angry, he’s very gentle about it. “What happened?”

“Naah. Nope—don’ think so,” Jesper slurs, shaking his head against Wylan’s cool palm where it cushions the back of his neck. “S’poison.” 

This information does not help ease Wylan’s concern. If anything, he looks twice as worried, and definitely angrier. Jesper hopes it isn’t about the door. 

“I’m not worried about the Ghezenforsaken fucking door,” Wylan swears. Did Jesper say that out loud? “I’m going to kill Kaz.” 

“Not his fault.” 

“Everything is his fault.”

“Don’ be maaad,” Jesper says. He really doesn’t want Wylan to be mad.

“I’m not mad,” Wylan says, but he looks mad. “I’m going to be mad later. It’s not important right now.” 

“Oh, alright then.” 

tagging @sparrowmoth @stormkpr @kezzzx @waterloou @fizzysugarwater @tinyarmedtrex (but as always no pressure!)

#wesper #wylan van eck #six of crows #shadow and bone #jazzy writes #jesper fahey

[a-random-weeb]

Vampire Chuuya x reader

I accidentally tapped 'vampire Chuuya' at one point, and it won. I must be magic, I kind of actually hoped dragon Chuuya won but whatever

Also if I get 4 more followers, I'll be at 100! It'd be pretty awesome if I could gain 5 followers by the end of the day, that would be awesome! And thank you to everyone following me, all of you are appreciated ♥️

⚝✮⚝+⊹⚝✮⚝+⊹⚝✮⚝+⊹⚝✮⚝+⊹⚝✮⚝+⊹⚝✮⚝+

Crunch! Crack! Snap! The sounds of sticks and twigs breaking is all that can be heard as you trudge through the deep forest, completely lost. You look for any shelter, it's already sundown and you fear wolves may come around. The fact it started raining a bit ago doesn't help anything either. You come across a huge mansion... In the middle of the woods? You think about it for a second, you've seen too many horror movies to know how this goes... But... Being eaten alive was the other option... You sprint to the door, knocking loudly. A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as a short, red head answered.

"Okok, so I know you probably moved to the middle of the woods as to not to be disturbed, but please can I stay here the night sir? There's wolves around here, and I'm completely lost!" You make a desperate plead to the man who's eyes widden slightly.

"You're not that far from a village that way." He points, "How would I live without humans near by? I need basic stuff like food. But come in." he says, almost ominously. He's sketchy, but he's your only hope, so you rush in his mansion.

You don't know how you got in this situation in the first place! Your dumbass was just trick or treating with some friends, saw a spooky woods and decided to reenact a horror movie seen, but you guess you ran too far because now you're relying on some sketchy ass dude for shelter and maybe a map.

"Please, take a seat." The red head holds a scowl on his face, you wonder if he plans to murder you at this point. You sit on the plush couch in his huge living room, taking a closer look at the man. He wears a fancy suit, along with a fedora. He has gorgeous blue eyes and flowing red hair, though, he is quite petite.

"Sooooo... what's your name?" You ask, attempting to break the silence.

"Chuuya Nakahara. You may call me Chuuya though." He replies in a calm manner. You nod

"I'm F/n (first name). How long can I stay here?"

"You can stay in the guest room for as long as you want." As long as you want...? Is he serious?!

"Um... so like a few days? Just so I can get the chance to contact home?" Chuuya nods,

"Sure." Chuuya leads you to the guest room. It's a beautiful room, a pretty queen sized bed along with an expensive looking chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You guess he really likes his guests.

For the next two days you are fed three meals a day and provided with everything you need. For some reason, he refuses to even point to the direction of the village. He won't let you go out by yourself, he always comes with you to make sure you don't get lost. He doesn't give you a map, or anything. Eventually, you snap,

"Just give me a fucking map! Please! I want to go home!" A look of slight guilt crosses Chuuyas face. He pins you to the wall of the kitchen, your eyes widden as you see his... Fangs? What? He growls

"You don't get to leave. You'll never find that village, you'll never leave me... I didn't want to do this but..." you freeze... everything seemed to happen in slow motion as you hiss in pain. He bit you! He bit your neck... your whole body goes numb, and you feel incredibly confused. That numbness quickly turns into pain as the world goes back to normal. You fall to the ground in pain. He picks you up bridal style "It'll be ok... It's only temporary... It's ok..." You hear him continue to mumble reasurement until you pass out.

5 hours later your eyes slowly flutter open. Your in his bed, you weren't allowed in his room until now. You try to sit up, but you feel a cold hand push you back down. You feel weak and vunrable.

"Are you feeling ok? Why don't I get some... food" he hands you what looks to be a glass of red wine. It tastes so... Good... You shut the whole thing, it's the best thing you've ever had!

"What is this stuff?"

"... Blood." He shows you his fangs. You panic and feel your teeth... You had fangs too..

#bsd x you #bungou stray dogs #bsd #Halloween #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #Vampire au #Chuuya Nakahara #Nakahara chuuya #Chuuya #soukoku #Skk #Sskk #Fanfic #BSD #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bsd au #Vampire Chuuya

[mysteryshoptls]

R Sebek Zigvolt Tsumsitter Voice Lines

Summon Line: I was wondering why I of all people would have to take care of a tsum, but this must be a test, as befitting for Young Master's bodyguard like me. I must make sure to watch over it carefully.

Groooovy!!: Whew… I finally figured out how the tsum operates. Don't think you can move around as you please anymore!

Home: The tsum and I are NOT alike at all!

Home Idle 1: As I was putting away books that I had finished reading, the tsum piled the books on its body and rolled towards me. ...It really is able to move so nimbly.

Home Idle 2: Epel made a small broom out of twigs and tried to test whether the tsum could fly as well. ...The result? Of course it was impossible!

Home Idle 3: Whenever I take my eyes off of the tsum, it follows after the Young Master. ...Is it trying to take my place as his guard? I won't allow that to happen!

Home Idle - Login: I am willing to take care of the tsum... But I cannot handle it when it moves around so much. Hey, calm down!

Home Tap 1: Just before breakfast, the tsum started skating on the table. Its skills were so breathtaking that I was delayed in trying to stop it.

Home Tap 2: Cater-senpai's tsum was tapping a plate in the cafeteria with a toothpick with vigor... Was it pretending it was playing a musical instrument?

Home Tap 3: That darn tsum! When I tried to catch it, it quickly ran up to the chandelier. And then it from there it looked down at me and snickered!

Home Tap 4: I saw Jack's tsum chasing a butterfly in the hallway, and it felt odd. Most likely because Jack would never do that.

Home Tap 5: ...What is it, human? Why are you staring at me so intently? Huh? A tsum on my shoulder? ...It climbed me again without permission!? Hey... Get off!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twst translation #mention: malleus #mention: epel #mention: cater #mention: jack

[autumnpens]

✧ their little gifts ✧

characters ◦  Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Albedo

warnings ◦ none, just fluffy gifts <3

thoughts ◦ something from a few months ago because I need something to post this blog feels so empty,, I haven't had time to write with finals :(

words ◦ 772

Diluc would gift you little expensive sweets or jewelry and give them to you in the most genuinely sweet and careful ways, with velvet boxes and bejeweled glass cases placed on tables after your meals. he’d hold a ball specifically for your entertainment and enjoyment, inviting hundreds of people, much alike the ones he had held while his father was still alive. he paid no mind to any of the guests, entirely enraptured with you, swirling you through the crowds under the light of a dazzling chandelier.

Childe’s ideal date is a fistfight in the Golden House, much like your first spar, and a place the two of you frequented. he had begged Ningguang to build a different one with the Fatui’s own funds purely to have the original to himself for your use, to Pantalone’s dismay. despite this, the floor of the Golden House was not only a sparring grounds, but your personal safe haven, the two of you spending evenings stretching into daybreaks there dancing, chatting and listening to each other’s stories of travel and discovery, family and woes. he’d shower you with gifts from across Teyvat— books from the archives of Sumeru, clothing and accessories from Snezhnaya and the like. though you’d never admit it, your favorites were the small ones— kisses placed on rings of noctilucous jade wrapping your fingers, a bracelet of Inazuman amethyst slipped into a pocket, a glaze lily of Liyue tucked behind your ear. you weren’t one to shy away from gifts either— though less mora put into them, he flushed brighter than his hair at your kisses, arms slipping around his waist from behind, or even the occasional graze of knuckles while frequenting Liyue Harbor. it was funny how such a deadly harbinger could stiffen and burn from a light touch.

Kaeya’s gifts, though less flashy, meant more than mora could show for— a sweep off your feet at the tavern (much to the side-eye of a certain bard), a quiet night spent braiding your hair after a shower (you didn’t take it out for days on your expeditions, gathering dirt and twigs near the ends until you returned to Mondstadt to his fretted mutterings and snorted teasings), a hand-picked bouquet of calla lilies, accompanied by a curtsy worthy of his brother’s halls, before being pulled into a waltz atop an unguarded tower of the walls of Mond below the stars— each and every one his gift to you, tokens of the one who will never leave the side of he who has been left time and time again.

Albedo, when confronted with your first request for a gift, took it as a sign to start giving you things. notebooks he intended on taking alchemical notes in but never opened yet, doodles and drawings from his sketchbooks, pens from around his office, trinkets buried in the snow of dragonspine he'd seen glittering around bags from less fortunate travelers. every new item that left his hands into yours you held close, a bittersweet reminder of his distance atop the snowy peak. your favorite gift he had given you, by far, was an alchemical device he had concocted on one of your more recent trips up the mountain with him. he had handed you a small bottle, a warming seelie entrapped inside. you inquired about the little thing, and he had said he'd study the biological adaptations between a seelie and it's warming variant, but to keep the bottle for now, at least until the next time you came up— give him a week or so. a few days later, you were thankful for the gift to warm you up the mountain, and greeted the alchemist. he asked to see the bottle in your hand, taking it and comparing it to one on his desk. he handed you the new bottle, something much lighter and.. no seelie, yet it still emitted warmth? he explained that he had found a way to replicate the fiery feeling of a warming seelie without having to capture one— a process using the stamen of a flaming flower and some alchemical liberties. this gift was something you cherished, fashioning the bottle into a necklace for simplicity of travel in dragonspine. not only did it allow you to visit Albedo more frequently, but it also allotted for you to accompany him on his expeditions around the mountain without him worrying. you still held his gifts dear, initiating some of your own in findings from around Teyvat, but this was the one that you had stationed closest to your heart no matter the weather or distance from dragonspine and, subsequently, your lover.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin #Diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc imagines #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #kaeya imagines #childe #tartaglia #genshin ajax #childe tartaglia ajax #childe x reader #childe imagines #albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo x reader #albedo imagines

[suicideenthusiast]

3-meter-defeater anaconda antenna appendage arrow baby-blaster babymaker baguette ball banana banger baseball bat baton bayonet beast bellend boner bopper bouncer branch bulge bumper cactus cannoli carrot chode chopper chubby cock cocklet colossus corndog crankshaft cucumber cyclops dagger dick ding-a-ling dingdong dinky dipstick doingus dong driver equipment flagpole flesh-chandelier fuckstick groin hammer handle hardware jimmy johnson joystick junk kebab kielbasa knob kraken lance leviathan lizard log lollipop love-muscle manhood meat meat-log meat meat-game sceptor member missile moby mushroom noodle organ package peen peepee pencil pengalang pendulum pepperoni peter phallus pipe piss-dispenser pisser piston pizzle plonker pogostick poker popsicle prick private python ranger rascal richard rocket rod salami sausage scepter schlong sexcalibur shiv shotgun skinflute slug smacker snake soldier spear sprout stallion stick stiffy stinger stump submarine surfboard sweetmeat sword tallywacker tadger telescope testicular-tantrum testosterbone thang thermometer thingy tickler tiger timber tip titan tockley todger tool toothpick torch torpedo tower treasure trinket tripod trombone trumpet turkey turnip turtle twig twinkie twister unit unmentionable vessel vindicator violin volcano vuvuzela wally wand wang wangdang wanker warrior weapon weasel wee-wee ween weenie weeny wenis whammer whang whip whopper wiener wiggler wiimote willy wingman wingwang winkle winky winston wishbone wizard-sleeve woodpecker woody worm wrecking yankee-doodle yardstick yo-yo yoda yogurt-slinger zapper zeus zipper-ripper zonker zucchini

read this in the tone of 2 to the 1 to the 1 to the 3

#cw suggestive joke #cw suggestive #bsd roleplay #bsd rp #bsd rp blog #bsd #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #dazai osamu bsd #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs roleplay

[tidalwhump]

Untitled, Blood Pong pt. 1

Note: When I say “boy” I mean: young man, not a child.

Warnings: Vampires, blood, violence, fainting, non-consensual drugging.

A strawberry blond haired boy cradled the chin of a younger, smaller looking boy that stood in front of him, tipping up his chin slowly and lifting a glass bottle to his lips.

“Drink.” The strawberry blond boy said as he tipped up the glass bottle.

The smaller boy looked as if he could barely stand on his feet, and if it wasn’t for the hand of the other boy, he wouldn’t be standing at all. His eyes were wide and fearful as the bottle was tipped up, and he winced as soon as the sparkling liquid hit his tongue. Slowly the liquid filled his mouth, and when it did he shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Swallow.” The strawberry blond demanded, his grip tightening on the boy’s chin.

There was a beat of silence, a beat of rebellion, before the smaller boy swallowed the liquid down and a tear slipped down his cheek. The strawberry blond kept feeding the boy like that until the bottle was empty, and then he let go and let the boy crumple to the ground as he let out a retching cough.

The strawberry blond turned away from the heap of a boy on the floor. “Now, let's set up.”

….

Two boys stood on either side of a table, cups half filled with water on the table in two triangle formations, one on each side, ping pong balls in the hands of the boys. The boy on the left had short hair the colour of pitch and dark eyes, and the boy on the right side of the table had strawberry blond short, tousled hair with pink eyes.

“Alright, you’re up first Haze.” The strawberry blond one said to the boy across the table from him.

“Get ready to eat shit Jonah.”

Haze held up the ping pong ball and aimed, before throwing it flawlessly into one of Jonah’s cups. Both boys smiled.

“Can’t say I’m mad…” Jonah said as both boys looked over to the nearby couch, where curled up on the furthest cushion was the boy from earlier, much smaller and more frail than the other two, looking even more so by the way he was curled in on himself, knees hugged tight to his chest.

“Come here.” Jonah beckoned over the boy.

As the boy put down his legs and uncurled from himself, his sad state of a body was revealed. He was wearing only a pair of tight boxer shorts that were worn, dirty and stained. His skin was bruised and punctured all over, from the top of his forehead to his feet were marks and blemishes done upon him by others, others that inhabited this very room from floor to ceiling — sitting on window sills and hanging from chandeliers like bats.

The boy stood on shaky legs, matted platinum hair falling into his eyes, dirty and almost brown from the filth. He took timid steps towards Jonah, his entire body buzzing from the inside, shocks of tingling pain shooting up his legs with every step like his body was asleep.

When he got within arms reach of Jonah he reached out and pulled the fragile boy forward, tight to his chest. Strong arms ran down the boy’s arms, down to his wrists and held them in his hands, so easily breakable, snappable like twigs. From this close, the boy was disgusting, covered in blood and filth, open wounds and fresh bruises, but Jonah didn’t mind. Hell, he did half of it himself.

Jonah looked over to Haze. “Where do you think?”

Haze thought for a moment, then tapped the side of his own neck. “Neck for sure, we can get creative later in the game.”

Jonah smiled, sharp canines, fangs, glinting in the low light. He leaned down to the boy’s neck, opening his mouth just as Haze interrupted him.

“Remember not to take too much, you need to leave some for me and we don’t want to drain him before the fun’s over.”

Jonah let out a breathless laugh. “Yes, I know, I know.”

He leaned down again, opening his mouth and calmly placing it around the side of the boy’s neck, he ran a hand down the side of the boy’s face, caressing him gently before he violently bit into his neck, eliciting a broken cry from the fragile boy he held in his hands. Jonah pulled his fangs out and drank from the wound quickly, taking a few quick gulps of the blood before he pulled away, leaving the wound to close on its own.

Jonah licked his lips, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he pushed the boy back towards the couch, sending him falling to the ground. The boy barely caught himself with his hands, but it still hurt, the force of the fall sending vibrations up his sore body.

Jonah turned back to Haze and the table, smiling. His eyes seemed brighter, teeth sharper. “Fuck, I feel buzzed already.”

Haze laughed. “You did give him a lot. Now hurry up and get one in on my side, I want a piece of the action.”

As the two vampires got back to playing blood pong the boy slowly crawled back to the torn couch, not bothering to stand back up again. Just as he got back to his seat, Haze called out to him.

“Come ‘ere bloodbag, time to put yourself to good use again.”

The boy sighed silently, shakily getting to his feet and approaching the other side of the table where Haze was.

As if Jonah wasn’t bad enough, Haze just dug in, shoving the boy’s head to the side and biting the other side of his neck with enough force to send him tumbling, if he wasn’t trapped in his arms.

Haze drank greedily, taking a few gulps before he showed some restraint and pulled himself away, turning back to the game at hand.

“Damn you were right, this stuff works fast.”

The boy didn’t get much of a reprieve, unfortunately the two vampires were very good at blood pong, and soon he was passed back to Jonah for another sip.

This time the vampire took from his wrist, biting in deep and drinking from the flesh that the boy reluctantly provided.

When Jonah finally let the boy go, he was swaying on his feet, festivities from earlier in the night leaving him vulnerable and weak, growing closer and closer to fainting.

The game of blood pong continued at the boy’s expense until finally they had drunk their last pint for the night and the boy sagged into Haze’s arms as his consciousness fumbled. The boy could hear muffled yelling from the two vampires, yelling at him to wake up, no doubt, but he succumbed to the darkness and let it take him. Maybe this could be a reprieve.

Inspired by @deluxewhump 's bloodbag Carlo AU.

#whump #whump writing #writing #tidal writes #tidalwhump writes #vampires #vampire whumper

[enchanted1waters]

{Dancing on blades }

Ellie williams enemies to lovers x f!reader

Warnings: smut in the next chapter 👀, gotta build up that tension fr. VIOLENCE. minorsdn! GORE.

Idfk how many words <3 enjoy

Fog and storm clouds slowly crept in as the sun began to set, leaving only a sliver of light to cascade over and through the leaves of the tall trees and vines. I slowly crept through the brush, spacing out the entire time we walked. I was an offensive general mainly, I owned two katanas. Certified in aim and precision in my blade work. Not a single soldier has had a chance up against my rage. My sister was recently killed, 1 month, 2 weeks, and 1 day. She was my other half, the only symbol of life worth living since our parents passed. Until I heard a twig snap in the tall grass.

Up until this catastrophe of a meet cute, I was a part of a group called the shadow stalkers, now before you go saying oh my god, why the hell would you guys name yourself out of the most creepy creature- well to start off my rant, ehm I DONT FUCKING KNOW ASK THE GODDAMN LEADER, HELAGIN. MAYBE BECAUSE WE'RE HUGE ON STEALTH? WE LITERALLY AREN'T HEARD OF UNTIL WERE SLITTING YOUR THROATS IN YOUR SLEEP? Sorry, I quite hate that question. It's a very frequent question for newcomers. Even the idiotic newbies they continue to put on my assigned missions.

Carrying on my ignorant group I was assigned to consists of 3 poorly trained men, all which I hate expect one. The rest contains 2 women who are pretty educated just not physically. The qualified being posted at base considering the current outbreak of violence following my sisters death. All of these people quite literally never stop talking, hence me not hearing their signaling in my ear piece. Ya see I sent myself off to take my total happy ass up to find a place for my quadrant to sleep tonight, secure it and radio it in to the team. One that was being led by sergeant l Adams, a white, blonde, blue eyed, 5'10 on a good day man. "Better get a move on, General Vilaria." His egotistical voice boomed in my ear piece as I walked up the street scouting. "Watch it Malibu Ken, wouldn't want you to hurt your plastic voice box running your mouth." I retorted back in a mocking matter, causing a lot of them to respond with giggles and chuckles over the line. Which led me to switch it off.

So I then took my sweet time. Walking up to the Seattle hotel, and walking right in, my eyes caught a glimpse of the chandelier. Gears turning in my head, took only two minutes for me to block the entrance, set the traps by the hallways and aim for the chain holding up the gigantic crystal light fixture. My finger squeezing the trigger followed by the bone rattling sound as the masterpiece shattered, alarming everything in the building to come flooding towards me. About 4 or 5 runners instantly blown up on the traps, one clicker left crawling it's way towards me only to then be fed my blade down it's throat.

Hotel cleared, secured, now to scavange, but first I needed to turn my ear piece on to radio in. Then a very strange noise filled my ear as I flipped it on, static. Nothing, this wasn't new. This happened sometimes if our directed quad was out of range, nothing a few flights of stairs and finding a lookout point wouldnt solve. I quickly found a ledge to search from. I saw officers 16, 23, 72, 54, and.....9 was no where to be seen. My eyes showered intensely over the valley attempting to find the number 9 desperately. That's when I saw leaves moving. Yet I couldn't make out what was causing this, so I pulled out my sniper rifle off of my strap back. Focusing in, my eyes sadly didn't find 9 getting up but instead sliced by the neck in one swift motion by a figure. A gasp fell from my mouth, not from horror and the desensitized gore but the sudden attack and not being able to radio it in.

Not wanting to let the intruder know of my awareness, I threw a rock towards a van next to officer 56, Adams. He quickly jumped back, following my line of sight, to which I subtly coaxed my forced companion towards the figures whereabouts. The blonde boy instead just swatted his hand and turned back around. I swore at least 50 times. Looking through my scope in frustration, I hit my knee once more. Fuck, he isn't gonna listen and get the rest of them killed. As I moved my scope slightly over the horizon, I was met with reality hit straight to my face, seeing as all 4 remaining quadrant officers were already face down or slit open. When I attempted to relocate Sergeant Adams, the figure had him in a chokehold. Then only was my vision met with brown, cold, hard eyes.

Fuck.

I had been alone plenty of times, but knowing I had now made eye contact with the successor of the fallen teammates. That sent chills on my fight or flight instincts.

That's when my senses rang a sound from the bottom of the building. Heavy footsteps. My adrenaline suddenly coursing through my veins. As I counted the footsteps and voices. I felt the strategy in the air, quickly throwing my past objective out of the window. I found myself listening for the door to click, and it did.

"You sure it was a girl? We had a male kill 12 of our soldiers." The man's voice grumbled through the air. "Yes. Nora reported a brunette with short hair. Girl that was with the bastard Abby bashed in." My heart pounded, hands starting to slip from my hiding place. That's when I heard the floor creak as the man entered the bathroom. "I can still hear her begging Abby to stop, boo FUCKING hoo." His laugh rang like poison in my lungs. The taste sour on my tongue. The millisecond he stepped beneath me, I let go of the ceiling's inner walls. In the brief falling action, I felt free, yet so spiteful. Every tear spilling into this moment fed a booming monster of grief. Leading to taking to it out on every goddamn being that stands in my waym

As I made contact with the muscular man Imediately began to claw at his eyeballs, causing him to send me flying back sandwiched between his back and a tile wall. My ears ringing at the crunch of tile and a rib of mine. The squash of his eye as my left hand finally dug it's burrow, I seized his moment of agony to grab my dagger attached to my belt. Swinging my right arm across his entire neck, yet just before pulling back I was cut off by a loud. "WAIT!" a woman, finding herself walking in on an intense battle, pointing a gun at me. "Don't you dare you little bitch", she says. My eyes met hers; in moments like these I experience dissociation. Yet for viewer experience, here I was eyes blown wide with blood lust, blood gushing down my hand, as I held a blade to a man's jugular, spitting the words, "or what." This version never met my sister except once. Once when we were still on the ranch. I still remember the fear in her eyes and she pulled my relentless 13 year old self off of the coward of a man. Snapped out of a trance as my eyes met hers. My soft skin now tarnished with blood stains. Yet Kai held me so gently. As if I would break if she held me a smidge firmer. "It's okay, little butterfly. He's not gonna hurt us anymore. We're safe. I promise."

Snapped back to reality, I flung my left hand from his eye and straight to his hand limply holding a smg to which I stocked the woman fill with many bullets. The man screamed In despair, but the butterfly that once would hold this man through his heart break now kicked him over, tied him to a chair, and leaned on the counter. "Tell me where the fuck Abby is." His lip quivered. He shook his head slightly, "don't play dumb, I see your wlf intials." I said firmly crossing my arms. "Why I do such a thing when you spend an entire clip on my WIFE." He called out with tears running out of his wounds. "It was half, ass hat. And you're lucky I made it quick. What did you say?" I lightly tapped my chin, "ah, yes boo. Fucking. Hoo." This sentence brought the grown man to a Hollar as he scream cried. I walked over to him putting a knife into his mouth in between sobs, lightly wedging between teeth. "You tell me now, and I'll kill ya fast. Resist and I'll take each accessory out one by one like a mother FUCKING Polly pocket." My eyes burned into his, a silent promise of my words. Tears streaming down out of his eyes, my gaze adverted, "that's actually disgusting. It's a shame your eyes aren't as sealed as your lips. Maybe if we take them too, hmm? Replace them to take duty as your eyelids?" I say with a growing smile. He quickly shakes his head avoiding puncturing his mouth with the blade.

Ten seconds later, his words are on a sheet of paper and someone's bursting through the door. My instincts spring into action, my boot positioning the still screaming man in front of me as a shield as I throw the dagger towards the figure, landing in the doorframe, cutting a piece of auburn ish hair. Taking my spare knife out to play, I stab the man in the head as the figure ducks behind a couch.

"I'm so sick of people crashing my shit, fuck off would you? Especially if you're with the wlf, then I'm gonna slaughter EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU" I say throwing a bottle of liquor onto the couch and throwing my lighter towards it. "I HATE THEM- SHIT , ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?" a raspy feminine voice booms from behind the flames. My mind blinks for a second at the fact she isn't one of them.

I'm halfway across the living room running for my blade in the frame, before im tackled to the floor. The impact causes my head to go a little fuzzy, the weight on top of mine, the heat all kick starting a part of me which is completely irrelevant in my current situation. "Halfway there sweetheart." I reply causing the auburnish brunette's kinda beautiful eyes to go wide eyed as we make eye contact, and a little flushed at my use of words. Allowing me to pin her legs against each other, flipping her over. She attempts to sit up, to which I use brute force to slam her back into the hardwood. "Sit. Good girl." I say with a slick smile as I reach for the blade she grabs my hand and pulls it the complete opposite direction. Hurdling me against another wall, slamming me against it.

Her vieny, calloused, tattooed hand wrapping around my throat as I look seriously finally into her eyes. Both now firm and cold. "If you aren't Wlf, who the fuck are you." She says. My eyes try to stay focused on her eyes, yet my gaze slips to her freckles. All spread out waiting to be counted and kis- "fuck you, and FUCK this." I said kneeing her in the stomach and elbowing her back as I grabbed the dagger out of the door frame. Quickly grabbing my strapped bag with all of the weapons and supplies. My cold walls starts to close again, as I'm outback into survival mode once again.

As I take one last look at the figure on the ground gasping for air, pointing my knife I promise her if she follows me. She won't be able to see which limb will be cut off next.

^~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~^

Many days fly by, every night that passes. I lay strapped to a tree limb up high, forced to look at the stars. Every constellation reminding me of the threatening girl I had met and her freckles. I curse myself out of the intrusiveness. Drifting off to sleep once again after looking over my route to the target of my grief. That is until I'm awoken.

The sounds barreling through the corridors, tripping over each other , limbs flying, spores airborne. I look down the street a couple hundred yards to see a total of three people, running, struggling to get a break from the hoard. I try to shift and ignore the sound. But the thought and sounds continue to eat away at my chest.

Cursing myself to hell I hurdle my way towards the warfare. Climbing up a fire escape and through the old ladder bridge I had set a couple days ago, I made it to the church bell, where I had tied a rock to the pendulum in the middle. Grabbing it I swung it causing a distraction long enough for me to get down to the three blind mice. Following closely behind as two of them started to notice why their luck had changed. As one of the girls, a new one with a darker skin tone and pretty dark eyes smiled gently at me as if I was a saint. I felt guilty twang in my chest for I was not worthy of such kindness with the amount of blood I've spilt.

Directing them to a daycare I had found on a supply run, me and a taller handsome man slammed the door shut behind us. "Hurry- shit. Get that desk!" I said in a struggle towards the woman who wouldn't stay off of my mind. She easily pushed it towards me with a few grunts. After a few objects stacked on top of each other, I noticed the windows just a clicker busted through. Throwing its limbs around sporadically at the nice woman I had just met. Before it could lay a hand on her as she backed away, I stabbed right through its skull with my katana.

"Jesus, you KABOBBED that thing. Thank you." The pony tailed woman smiled and laughed, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I nodded in acknowledgement as I looked over at the other twin "help me, hammer up some boards. Now." I cocked my head towards the play pins we would later use as security on this task.

As I hung the wood, secured the strength, and calmed my breathing. Not a single thought didn't include the stupid attractive woman. I'm so fucked.

#ellie williams #the last of us #strong female protagonist #enemies to lovers