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spookyserenades · 9 months

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Trouvaille - Chapter Seven

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 22.3k

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Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello darlings, it's Dana! Welcome to Chapter Seven; a pretty jam-packed update. As a warning, this chapter features a lot of angst, some violence, fighting, swearing, and some heated, sensual scenes (more scenting!) I hope you enjoy this emotionally charged update, there is a lot to unpack and process, and it was a chapter that I've spent a lot of time on (both writing AND editing!) I'd love to hear thoughts, feedback, theories and comments from readers as always! Additionally, if you'd like to be added to the taglist; it is still open (just send me a message) and PLEASE make sure that you have your Tumblr settings adjusted so you can be tagged in posts. Thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille, and enjoy Chapter Seven!

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Ears ringing, Y/N stared at her mother with astonishment, her brain scrambling to come up with a semblance of a response to what her mother had just seen. I wasn’t like Y/N could deny that the vision happened– her mother had part of it right before her eyes. Still, mortification washed over her, unable to process what she had just been told.

“Stop, that can’t be true!” Y/N whisper-shouted at her mother as soon as the glaze over her eyes evaporated, whatever images she saw clearing from her sight. Booze rose up in the back of Y/N’s throat, horrified by the possibility of Taehyung hearing the nonsense coming out of her mother’s mouth. “Tae is sweet, gentle, he’s not how you described him at all! I mean, come on, you’ve met him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. There’s no way he could ever kill somebody!”

Her mother took a shuddering breath, gliding her hands up Y/N’s arms to hold onto her biceps with concern. Y/N refused to believe what her mother had seen was based in reality; the image of Taehyung’s innocent smile imprinted in her mind’s eye, the way he clung to her side, and his quiet voice in her ear. As the seconds ticked by and the shock wore off, she grew incredulous and impatient with the predicament her mother had put her in– how was she supposed to shrug that off, and pretend everything was perfectly normal when they returned to the backyard?

“Honey, you know that these particular visions of mine nearly always ring true. I need you to be careful around him, be watchful. I agree with you, he’s seemingly lovely, but there’s a darkness that clings to him,” her mother’s features morphed into sympathy, likely reading the worry that was pinching between Y/N’s brows. “A couple of the others have interesting energies, too. The elk hybrid, even dear Seokjin…”

“Mom, please! I can’t do this, not again. I won’t have visions and cards get between myself and the ones I love. This is the exact reason why I stopped reading cards in the first place, it nearly drove all of my friends away growing up!” Y/N snapped, unwilling to hear anything else about her hybrids. If she wanted information about them, she’d wait for them to come forward rather than snooping around with oracle cards.

“And abandoning your practice didn’t result in something dangerous? Y/N, you’re an adult now, and you know enough about the Craft to realize that once you expose yourself to the other side, you can hardly go back to ignorance of the energies around you,” her mother responded gently, Y/N stiffening with every word. “You don’t think I didn’t know about that spirit that was in the house? I sensed it last week when we came with the groceries. But I knew you’d be able to handle getting rid of it yourself, even though you’ve sworn not to begin practicing again.”

“I didn’t even get rid of it, Jeongguk and Namjoon did! If you knew about it, why didn’t you say anything? You and I could have done a cleansing that afternoon and saved the hybrids from witnessing something I would have rather not put them through! I mean seriously, they probably think I’m nuts!” Y/N hissed in exasperation, feeling her blood pressure rise as her mother dropped her hands from her arms.

“Because even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to exorcize that spirit. I’m not even sure what it was. Your talents have surpassed mine, even while you weren’t practicing– Y/N, that spirit was kept at bay for years simply because you willfully protected yourself energetically. You let your guard down when you brought those boys home, and that’s why the spirit was able to come into the house,” her mother explained something she was already able to figure out herself, and Y/N barely heard a word.

She was simmering with rage, trying her best to calm down so she could return to the backyard; she was sure that people (and her hybrids) were wondering where they were. She couldn’t stop thinking about Taehyung. Head spinning, Y/N recalled how Jimin had told her Taehyung had been brought into the shelter in a blood-soaked jacket, his threat level rating on his profile, and the other hybrid’s clear distaste and avoidance of him. A little voice in the back of her head was urging her not to ignore these pieces to the elusive puzzle that made up her Taehyung, but even with all of those puzzle pieces she still couldn’t consider the possibility that the Kodiak hybrid was a dangerous threat.

“So Namjoon and Jeongguk were able to banish the spirit? How interesting… you know, I’ve never been able to get a very good read on Namjoon, perhaps he’s practiced some kind of–” Her mother began thoughtfully, Y/N cutting her off by holding up her hand.

“Please, can we just drop it for now? I really want to enjoy tonight, the hybrids deserve to have a nice time as well. I’ll drop by you and dad’s next week at some point and we can discuss this more. I’ll heed your warning with Tae, but I still think you’re wrong,” Y/N pulled her mother back towards the garage and the path to the backyard, the latter uncharacteristically clamming up. “If any of the other hybrids ask for readings, could you please just pull them affirmation cards or something?”

“Sure, honey. I didn’t want to upset you, you’ve put so much effort into making the cookout so special this year, I just worry about you. I’m still your mother, after all. And I’m very proud of you, taking a leap of faith and bringing all of these boys home,” her mother murmured into her ear, allowing Y/N to drag her to the gate into the backyard.

“I know, thank you, mom,” Y/N squeezed her mother into her side, embarrassment washing over Y/N with the sentiments, even while guilt began to gnaw away at her stomach. She was being consumed by thoughts racing through her mind, not only about Taehyung, but Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jeongguk too. “Come on, I think Grandmother is probably wondering where you are.”

Watching her mother amble away as if she hadn’t just said anything out of the ordinary, Y/N resisted the urge to grab the nearest bottle of Tito’s and pour it down her throat. The cookout was in full swing two hours in, many of her neighbors swaying to an old rock song with cocktails in their hands. The scent of the grill was strongly perfuming the humid air, Y/N able to make out the forms of her father and Yoongi placing packages of hamburger, hot dogs, and bean burgers on the table beside them.

Hurriedly, Y/N moved to the nearest table with booze on it, filling a cup with ice, a concerning amount of vodka, and a splash of seltzer, not really caring if Hoseok materialized out of nowhere to call her a lightweight. She desperately needed a drink to process, gulping down some of the heinous tasting liquid greedily as she stared at Namjoon’s bedroom window above the table. Y/N had no idea what to do with the information her mother had relayed to her, considering her mother’s visions and predictions were rarely wrong.

She had a hard time wrapping her brain around Taehyung murdering someone, all sorts of concerning thoughts and excuses floating around in her skull. If he had indeed killed a man, who could it have been; was it an abusive shelter worker, someone he worked with in Alaska, someone who looked at him funny, perhaps another hybrid? If the vision was true, what did that mean for the other hybrids, for her? Nothing seemed to make rational sense the more she turned it over in her mind, the bitter taste of vodka doing little to calm her anxieties, even though she was in dire need to compose herself just in case the hybrids could sniff out her distress.

“Y/N, over here! Where’ve you been?” Y/N heard Laura’s voice shout from a distance, flinching and spilling her drink on the grass.

“One second!” Y/N hollered back, quickly pouring herself another drink before turning to locate where Laura was calling her from.

She caught a flash of her green polka-dotted dress by the picnic table, weaving through the crowd of her neighbors blindly. Interestingly, she didn’t bump into any of her hybrids while she navigated through the sea of people in her backyard, finally able to reach Laura perched on the bench with her son on her lap.

“Hey, sorry I disappeared! My mother wanted to remind me not to forget to set up a table for the desserts later,” Y/N covered guiltily, Laura buying the lie easily with understanding blanketing her features.

Leaning down as Kai began to babble up at Y/N, she offered her index finger to the child, giggling as he grasped onto it with his fist. It was amazing how with the simplest of gestures, children could spark such joy that all other worries seemed to fade into the background.

“I talked to your Hoseok and Jimin for a while, they’re really sweet with the children,” Laura began, bouncing her leg up and down to rock Kai. Smiling softly, Y/N peered around Laura’s form, spotting the Jimin tossing a foam water ball to Daisy in the kiddie pool a little ways away, his ears perky as Ben chatted with him. “Al seems to be pretty into Hoseok.”

Freezing, Y/N stared at Laura with unease, Laura appearing to be stifling a laugh. Y/N didn’t know how much of a good idea it would be if one of her hybrids began to date a close friend of hers, considering the break-up would estrange Alice from her for several months and she couldn’t exactly cut Hoseok out of her life. Besides that, a tingly-hot sensation crept into her gut at the very idea of the two of them together romantically, something Y/N immediately found hard to squash down.

“Jesus. I can’t say that I blame her,” Y/N replied lamely, attempting to locate the fox hybrid and her best friend in the mass of people congregating in the backyard.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll steal him away,” Laura chuckled, the blood draining from Y/N’s face. “You know Al. She gets the ick quickly, and she doesn’t have time to be entertaining romance at the moment, anyways.”

“Hoseok’s charming. I doubt he’d give her the ick,” Y/N muttered, eventually spotting Hoseok’s bright aqua shirt by the ice bucket of beer, grinning down at Alice while she spoke about something passionately.

“Hmm, so I was right, you’re jealous,” Laura teased, the audacity taking Y/N by such surprise that she rocked backwards on her heels in her crouch and landed harshly on her ass in the beaten-down grass.

“I-I’m not! Laura, hush! Hoseok is a free agent, what do I care?” Y/N ground out, flames licking her cheeks as Tyler, Laura’s husband, chuckled lightly from across the table, adding insult to injury as she was unaware he was even listening.

But Laura was indeed right, Y/N was jealous, she realized with a painful shock down her spine. She never predicted she would react this way to any of the hybrids simply making small talk with other women, but the itchy feeling of envy that overtook her as Hoseok laughed heartily at a joke Alice cracked from across the backyard was almost unbearable. Hardly the jealousy type, Y/N swallowed thickly, tearing her eyes from the handsome fox hybrid with great difficulty.

“Need a hand?” Came a smoke-thickened voice from upwards and behind, Y/N craning her neck backwards distractedly as she shoved her jealousy deep down.

A strong, tattooed hand was dangling in front of her face, a teasing look playing across Jeongguk’s face as he peered down at her. Y/N couldn’t recall a time Jeongguk was so interested in interacting with her, raising a few warning flags in her mind distantly. With hesitancy, Y/N barely grazed her fingertips with Jeongguk’s before he grasped her whole hand firmly with his fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her to her feet with ease as she ignored Laura’s probable smug reaction. She stumbled over the lip of her left sandal, cursing as Jeongguk righted her with his free hand on her waist.

“Atta girl, steady now,” Jeongguk grunted, Y/N balking at the edge of cockiness to his tone and the implication of his words. As swiftly as he had touched her, his hands were gone, moving to lazily sit a couple of feet away from Laura on the picnic bench.

“You’re Jeongguk, right? Oh, The Cure! Y/N, my sister, and I were crazy about them in high school band class,” Laura pointed to Jeongguk’s graphic tee, letting Kai down so he could clumsily waddle towards the direction of the kiddie pool.

“God, I remember that. The heavy eyeliner and total lack of awareness that the eighties had come to pass,” Y/N snorted, recalling the images of her and the twins listening to gothic 80’s music in her garage back in high school, drinking tequila smuggled from her grandmother’s bar cart.

“The Cure never goes out of style,” Laura exclaimed in response, patting the space between herself and the elk hybrid, Y/N perching on the bench before she teetered over again. “I wonder if the food will be out soon. I’m starving, and everything looked so good when I took a sneak peak in the kitchen.”

“I should probably help with bringing things out in a minute, huh,” Y/N murmured, narrowing her eyes at the slider door into the kitchen, making out shapes of her parents pulling things out of the refrigerator.

“I think that kid Tony or whatever has it covered with Taehyung… and Yoongi the kiss-ass, of course,” Jeongguk lounged lazily on the bench beside her, Y/N shooting him a be nice look that went right over his antlers as he leaned backwards on his elbows. “Let’s let them do the work, since they seem so happy about it.”

“Bratty, aren’t you?” Laura teased, peering around Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “You should be careful with those cigarettes, unless hybrids are cancer-immune or something.”

Sending pointed looks at both the pack of Marlboro Reds sticking out of one of Jeongguk’s leather pockets and the unlit cigarette poised behind the industrial piercing of his left ear, the elk hybrid offered Laura an amused snort, much to Y/N’s surprise. Jeongguk was certainly behaving a bit out of character that afternoon, making an effort to mingle, as Y/N believed he’d shut himself into the house to avoid interaction with others.

“We’re half-human, aren’t we? Besides, last time I checked, animals can get cancer too,” Jeongguk retorted, spreading his legs lazily as he ignored the bratty comment.

Laura cocked a brow at his response before she dropped the subject, opting to ask Y/N about her new job at Judy’s. Enjoying the distraction from all of the disturbing thoughts circling around in her headspace, Y/N relayed some of the strange inventory items she could remember off the top of her head to Laura. The scent of food cooking on the grill had her stomach churning, basically running off of alcohol and nerves at that point. Yoongi, with his long tresses pulled back in a red scrunchie Y/N had given him that morning, was turning corn on the cob on the grill with tongs, the visual bringing a soft smirk to her lips.

Half-listening to Laura and Tyler discussing the content of their upcoming vlog they were working on, Y/N scanned the backyard for some of her other hybrids. Of course, Hoseok was still with Alice, while Jimin was now conversing with Roy while they watched over Daisy and Kai in the shallow kiddie pool. Jimin, for the first time that she could remember, seemed pretty tipsy, his cheeks rosy as he wobbled on his feet in a crouch beside Roy. Giggling softly, she tried to find Namjoon, who had sought out her mother by the bonfire much to her dismay, and he was pulling cards from a stack in her mother’s hands with a tiny dimpled grin. Unfortunately, her mother had not followed through on her request to only pull affirmation cards, Y/N catching the Rider-Waite image of The Magician on the printed card stock he selected.

Shaking her head, extremely peeved, Y/N was only comforted by the fact that her mother already knew Namjoon and didn’t seem to be bothered by his surliness; and the wolf hybrid himself was so fond of her. Seokjin was nearby Namjoon, looking comfortable in one of the chairs beside her grandmother by the bonfire, taking small sips of sangria. Humming along to the Aerosmith song reverberating from the speakers, Y/N searched for Taehyung among the crowd next, pretty much taking a head count. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach when she couldn’t see him immediately, panic flooding through her with the possibility that he may have heard her conversation with her mother earlier. Biting her lip, Y/N caught Jeongguk stiffening next to her through her peripherals, wondering if he could sense her edginess as she scanned the backyard frantically for the Kodiak hybrid.

She finally managed to spot Taehyung after several tense moments of rapidly roaming her eyes across the familiar faces of her neighbors, the Kodiak hybrid pulling the slider door of the kitchen open and trudging outside with the large bowl of fruit salad. Sagging with relief, Y/N’s eyes trailed after him dodging a few tipsy members of Sal’s family, apparently making his way to the table she was sitting at. As if he felt the weight of her gaze on him, Taehyung locked eyes with her, a pointy-toothed smile peeking through his lips. Instantly, everything her mother had relayed to her was forgotten with the easy innocence of his smile.

“Yoongi said the food will be ready soon. Tony put everything that needed to be heated up in the ovens,” Taehyung announced softly as he set the bowl of fruit on the table, Laura immediately forking some of it onto a little plate. Y/N wasn’t sure if Laura had even heard Taehyung, as he spoke close to Y/N’s ear and barely above a whisper, as he usually did.

“That’s great! How’s it going, Tae, are you having fun?” Y/N asked, shock flooding through her as she watched him round the table to take a seat beside Tyler. It was interesting to see Taehyung be so willing to have a closer proximity with people other than herself, between Tony, her mother and grandparents, and now Tyler. For several of the hybrids, it seemed that they were making great progress with coming out of their shells a bit that afternoon; it warmed her heart.

Taehyung nodded in response to her question, accepting a fresh bottle of beer from Tyler with a grateful smile. Tyler, Laura’s highschool sweetheart, was extremely easy to get along with, so it came as no surprise when he began to strike up a conversation with Taehyung about the Kodiak hybrid’s outfit. Laura rolled her eyes playfully, informing Y/N and Jeongguk about Tyler’s recent fascination with men’s fashion. Y/N was even more floored that Jeongguk seemed to not only endure the conversation, but even interjected a comment about his own style a few times. Perhaps the gin cocktail he was nursing was loosening him up a bit. Taking a sip of her own drink, Y/N sighed happily, enjoying the warm sun on her face.

Within minutes, Tony was ferrying back and forth from the kitchen with foil tray after foil tray of food; her father’s buttery mac and cheese, a rather large casserole dish filled with Yoongi’s chili, the mashed potatoes, chilled salads and fixings for the cheeseburgers and hot dogs. Taehyung had begun to rise from his seat, but as Tony came out with an armful of condiment bottles, he used his free hand to push the Kodiak hybrid back down on the bench with a shake of his head.

“Ah, you’ve done enough, Tae. I owe you from earlier, when I almost burned my hand off on that cast-iron skillet with the baked beans and you smacked me out of the way,” Tony exclaimed, setting down the numerous bottles in his arms on the table.

Taehyung’s ears fluttered shyly, his fingertips tracing the condensation on his half-empty beer bottle. Already, people were swarming around the table to fill up their paper plates with food, not even waiting for Yoongi to tiptoe his way through the masses of ravenous tipsy guests with two cookie sheets full of his labors on the grill. When he finally reached the table, Yoongi placed the sheets down at the end of the table, his shoulders relaxing a few inches once he realized he was relieved from grill duty.

Once a few of her neighbors crowded Yoongi at the table trying to stack cheeseburgers onto their overflowing plates, the leopard hybrid managed to elegantly slink away, and like a magnet, found himself behind Y/N. Humming as she tilted her head upwards to greet him, Y/N watched Yoongi’s hand slide onto her bare shoulder, squeezing the tingling flesh softly with a fond smile as she said hello. Under the table, Y/N felt Laura kick her shin lightly, but Y/N didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of meeting her likely scandalized gaze.

With people scattered all over the backyard with food, many of them supplying their own picnic blankets to sit on, Y/N started loading up her own plate with as many of the food options that she could, eager to not only try everything Yoongi had made, but to sober up a bit. As she stood, she felt the alcohol in her bloodstream bathe everything in the backyard in a hazy filter. Laura and Tyler had left the table to sit on a rather large blanket Ben had rolled out, catching up with Roy and keeping an eye on the children splashing around in the kiddie pool.

As she plopped back down on her spot next to Jeongguk, who was very clearly enjoying the baked ziti Sal brought, Y/N surreptitiously eyed Taehyung across from her over the lip of her drink cup– which she found was mystically refilled with vodka and seltzer– as he was plucking another beer from the ice bucket beside him.

“Oof, that looks good. I should make a plate,” Y/N jumped when the bench rocked as Hoseok landed sharply on her free side, whistling as he ogled her plate hungrily. The mystery of her refilled drink was solved; it must have been Hoseok while she was busy stuffing her plate full of mashed potatoes.

“You should! Hey, was that you refilling my drink? I thought you said I was a lightweight, are you trying to see what I’m like blacked out?” Y/N elbowed Hoseok in the ribs, watching him swipe a strawberry slice off of her plate with his eyebrow cocked at her words.

“If you eat everything on that plate, you should be fine,” Hoseok chuckled, his ears twitching as the song on the speakers changed. “You seemed a little tense, so I topped you off.”

Stilling, Y/N cursed her inability to perfect a constant state of neutrality with her body language. Even though she hadn’t known her hybrids for very long, it seemed that they were pretty attuned to the way she moved through the world and the subtle shifts in her moods. There were even instances where the hybrids anticipated her needs without her either realizing them or acting upon them herself, such as Yoongi reminding her to take it easy on the booze or Taehyung fixing her drafty window unprompted.

Munching on her food thoughtfully, Y/N listened to Hoseok chat with Yoongi from the leopard hybrid’s spot beside Taehyung, the conversation mostly consisting of complimenting Yoongi up and down on his cooking skills. Truly, every dish he made was absolutely sinful on the taste buds, Y/N unwillingly admitting to herself that all of his food blew the items Sal brought out of the water, and even her father’s mac and cheese. After she plowed through about a third of her plate, and honestly feeling quite full already, Seokjin ambled over to the table to get himself a cheeseburger, settling down beside Yoongi with his cheeks stuffed full of macaroni. Despite everything, Seokjin still maintained his devilishly handsome looks, even if he did look like a goofball as he tried to join the conversation while still chewing his food.

All things considered, the cookout was going remarkably well. The only hiccup, of course, was her mother dropping the Taehyung bombshell on her, and as she thought about it more, perhaps Alice and Hoseok’s clear flirtatious connection. Even now, as Hoseok was beside her, Y/N unfortunately caught the wink he sent Alice’s way as she sat beside Jimin a little ways away on Ben’s picnic blanket. Before she could get too perturbed over it, her eyes narrowed in on Jimin, who was pretty tipsily squeezing an obscene amount of mustard on his hotdog. Snorting, she made sure to keep one eye on Namjoon, still in deep discussion with her mother by the bonfire, the flames casting an amber glow over his silvery hair– he seemed to be doing just fine, even with her parents and grandparents surrounding him.

Tossing back the rest of her drink, Y/N was toeing the line of pretty thorough intoxication, pushing away her half-eaten plate of food in favor of swiping Jeongguk’s gin and seltzer while he wasn’t looking. Or, if he did notice, he didn’t say anything, once he returned to his spot beside her with more baked ziti. Yoongi, however, shot her a warning look, staring pointedly at the red solo cup wrapped in her hands, to which she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. The leopard hybrid scoffed at her, eyebrows lifting into his hairline, though refrained from scolding her. Once she downed the rest of Jeongguk’s drink, Y/N excitedly left the picnic table in pursuit of playing corn hole with a very wobbly Jimin.

The night was coming to a near-close; several of her neighbors and friends had long since left and all that remained were her family and the hybrids. It was the time in the evening where things quieted down almost completely, and Y/N brought out her large basket worth of s’mores ingredients and stakes to dish out. She was still tipsy, though less so after cutting herself off to avoid more evil-eyes from Yoongi, but mostly she felt happy. Though Laura had left with Tyler and Kai to meet the child’s early bedtime, followed by Ben and Roy with Daisy for a similar reason, Y/N wasn’t bummed out that she had to say her goodbyes so early. The cookout was tons of fun, but she was aching to just chat with all of her hybrids rather than watch them from afar scattered across the backyard. After giving Alice a swift kiss on the cheek in farewell as she ordered her Uber back to her apartment, Y/N waited for her family to bid goodbye to the hybrids, all of which were sitting comfortably on two big blankets she had spread out by the bonfire.

Her mother wrapped both Namjoon and Seokjin in a tight hug, the former’s expression torn between distaste that he was so close to Seokjin and fondness of her mother’s affection for him. Jimin, of course, was being fought over by her father and grandfather, both of them trying to see who could give him a firmer handshake. Stifling a giggle with a hand pressed to her mouth, Y/N remained by the gate until her family broke free from the hybrids so she could see them off herself.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Everything was so wonderful, I mean the food! That leopard hybrid of yours is a fantastic chef,” her grandmother gave Y/N a soft hug, her small face sleepy and warm with joy. “You take good care until the next time you come to visit.”

“I will, I’m so glad you came,” Y/N returned, feeling both her father and grandfather squeeze either of her sides, the scent of campfire and whiskey coming off of both of them powerfully. “Mom, let me know when you make it home safe.”

Her mother, who wasn’t a big drinker, was the designated driver. She held back for a few moments as she and Y/N watched her father help her grandparents to the car, Y/N bracing herself for another warning. With resignation, Y/N wrapped her arms around her mother the best she could with the basket full of marshmallows swinging from the crook of her elbow, breathing in her spicy perfume.

“Thank you for hosting such a wonderful evening, honey,” her mother murmured, rubbing her hands soothingly up and down Y/N’s back. “Remember what I told you.”

With the last reminder, whispered into her ear with urgency, her mother hurried to her car, probably to avoid Y/N cussing her out in front of the hybrids only about twenty yards away. Grinding the heel of her sandal into the dirt by the gate with agitation, Y/N latched it shut and adjusted the thin cardigan she had thrown on to combat the night chill before shaking the comment off and heading towards the hybrids around the bonfire.

Crickets had begun to chirp loudly in the long grasses, along with the odd croak of summer’s last bullfrogs lingering by the pond further in the backyard, the sounds of nature replacing the playlist from the speakers; in consideration of the neighbors likely heading to bed shortly after being so liquored up at her get-together. The moon was full, bathing the backyard in a blue-silver glow, offset by the blazing bonfire casting a warm orange hue over the silhouettes of the seven hybrids. As she got closer, she watched several pairs of ears perk up in her direction, and Y/N supposed that was her own window into reading their body languages and how she affected them. A slow ear twitch was interest or alertness, rapid flickers of the ears and tail were agitation, ears turned backwards were sadness, confusion, or embarrassment. With time, Y/N predicted, it would become even easier for her to decipher their moods based on the way their tails and ears moved in various situations.

Seokjin and Hoseok were sitting together on a corner of the same blanket Yoongi and Jimin were on, of course, both catching up after being apart for most of the day while Yoongi tried his best to get Jimin to drink a bottle of water. On the other blanket was Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Taehyung, the former two seemingly tolerating each other by mutually sitting as far as they could from the Kodiak hybrid. Humming, Y/N approached the blankets, aware of seven pairs of expectant eyes on her and the mysterious basket she was holding.

“My boys, hope you had a nice day,” Y/N began, the sentence falling out so naturally she didn’t know whether to blame it on the booze or how affectionate she felt towards them all already. Trying not to enjoy the range of emotions playing across each individual face, differing between shock, fluster, and tipsy bashfulness, Y/N began to hand out the sticks for the s’mores. “One last treat, just for us though!”

Setting the basket down between the blankets so everyone could reach the ingredients, Y/N used her teeth to rip open the pack of jumbo marshmallows while she lowered herself to the free spot on the blanket next to Taehyung, in front of Namjoon. Stabbing two marshmallows onto her stake, she considered for a moment, before handing it over to Taehyung beside her in exchange for his empty one, figuring it to be rude to just go ahead and start making a dessert for herself. Taehyung grinned softly, extending the stake dangerously far into the dwindling bonfire.

“I’m so full. I don’t think I have room for that, Miss Y/N,” Jimin announced while fumbling with his stake, his voice a tad on the whiny side as Yoongi snickered from beside him.

“Oh, come on, Jiminie, there’s always room for one more dessert,” Hoseok encouraged, leaning lazily on Seokjin’s arm as he began to roast his own marshmallows. “It’ll soak up all that whiskey you drank. You should know better than trying to keep up with an elderly man who has been drinking since he was twelve.”

Choking on her spit, Y/N reached out to whack Hoseok on his arm lightly, trying not to patronize Jimin further while he was grumbling and burning his marshmallows in the fire. Everyone had their stakes in the bonfire already, though Y/N noticed that Seokjin’s marshmallows were being roasted for him by Hoseok, the jaguar hybrid keeping a good distance from the flames in a fidgety manner. The only one without a marshmallow was Namjoon, who was distractedly fiddling with blades of grass while everyone else tore into the graham cracker boxes and king-sized chocolate bars. Turning slightly, but not before smirking at the bit of melted marshmallow on Taehyung’s cheek, Y/N cocked her head at the wolf hybrid curiously while waving her stake with roasted marshmallows sliding off to get his attention.

“Don’t you want one, Namjoon?” Y/N pouted, the sounds of everyone else munching making the wolf hybrid’s ears flutter. Namjoon’s mouth opened, amber eyes narrowing in on the melting gelatin on her stake with suspicion. Rolling her eyes, Y/N retrieved a graham cracker from the box and snapped it in half, breaking off a chunk of chocolate and sandwiching everything together with the hot marshmallow. Gingerly, she offered Namjoon the treat with a soft smile, the wolf hybrid's eyes widening a fraction. “Here, take this one!”

Slowly, Namjoon accepted the s’more from her, Y/N holding back an impatient huff as he moved at a glacial speed. Eventually, he took it, a dimple appearing on his cheek as a reluctant half-smile bloomed across his face. Satisfied, Y/N leaned back on her hands, tilting her head back towards the star-studded sky, basking in the brightness of the moonlight and the warmth of the fire.

“Shit, Jimin. You’re going to burn yourself,” Yoongi scolded from several feet away, begrudgingly supporting the coyote hybrid’s head on his shoulder while munching on a very sloppy s’more, an exaggerated grimace painted across Yoongi’s delicate face.

“No ‘m not,” Jimin grumbled with his ears drooping, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout, Y/N giggling alongside Seokjin and Hoseok at the little spectacle.

Though the night was coming to quite a pleasant close, with all of her hybrids seemingly content and getting along well, anxiety began to creep its way into her body. Likely sensing the subtle shift in her mood, Taehyung moved from beside her, trying to angle his face downwards to catch her gaze. Poor Taehyung had no idea that her anxieties were mostly surrounding him, even as he distractedly twirled a loose thread on the wrist of her sweater, the featherlight, barely-there contact wracking shivers from her body. Distracted by her thoughts, Y/N absently moved her hand to link two digits around Taehyung’s slender pointer finger, maybe in an attempt to ground herself, she’d never know.

Sitting mostly in silence, save for the odd slightly disgruntled murmur from Jimin or Yoongi who was still supporting the coyote hybrid upright, Y/N felt the small tether from Taehyung’s finger help her float back down to earth. Distantly, she knew she’d have to talk to Taehyung eventually; considering it would be impossible to mask her anxiety and questions for long without raising suspicion.

For now though, with the evening cool with the last of August slipping away with the stifling summer heat, Y/N was more at peace than she had been in years. Admitting this to herself was at first, a bit foolish, but something about the way that she was surrounded by quiet companionship, knowing that she wouldn’t have to retire back into the big old house by herself at the end of the night, filled her with warmth and comfort. Truly, she didn’t imagine that she’d grow this attached to each and every hybrid that she had adopted so rashly, but every single one of them had already wormed his way into her heart. Each had their charms, unique traits, and ways of expressing a softness that was pretty incredible to witness considering the handful of facts Y/N had about each of their rocky pasts.

Taehyung, who had adjusted his hand to loosely grasp onto Y/N’s whole hand while she looked up at the stars, pressed his thumb lightly into the spot Yoongi had scented her that morning, the sensation painless but still sending a jolt through her. Tossing an involuntary look behind her shoulder towards the leopard hybrid still comforting a sleepy Jimin, Y/N immediately locked eyes with Yoongi, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy smirk as she gawked at him with alarm. Taehyung, either oblivious or deliberately pressing into the mark with his thumb, kept his chin skywards, eyes glued to the moon with a reverent expression. A light tap on her shoulder had Y/N tearing her gaze from Taehyung’s side profile, turning her face to the side with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Have the rest of this? I don’t want it,” Jeongguk presented a half-eaten s’more in front of her face, Y/N able to make out various ancient looking glyphs inked into his wiry fingers.

“Sure. Thanks, Jeongguk,” Y/N smiled in thanks, carefully taking the treat with her free hand as he averted his eyes downwards. Cute.

She liked this softened version of the elk hybrid, wondering if his ‘brattiness’ had dissolved since he had rid herself and the house of the malevolent entity. Taking a bite of his haphazardly made s’more, Y/N sunk further into her seat on the thick blanket, listening to the sounds of the moonlit summer evening and the hybrid’s quiet voices as they conversed between themselves.

The slow pulse of an impending hangover was already eagerly presenting itself in one of the veins of Y/N’s forehead, making her grit her teeth as she brushed them sloppily in the mirror. It was late, almost half past two in the morning, and she had finally managed to tear herself from the hybrids and usher them all inside for some sleep. After changing into a well-worn oversized tee shirt and boyshort panties, Y/N was ready to rest her aching bones until at least 9 AM, anxious to shut out the obnoxious nagging thoughts bouncing around in her skull.

Tiredly, Y/N scrolled through a few messages from her friends on her phone while she curled up into a ball in bed, quilt pulled tight around her body as she listened to Jeongguk stomping around above her. From the noise, it sounded like he was attempting to yank open the door to the balcony for a smoke, treading back and forth from the spot where his wardrobe was.

Ben Alpin: so much fun today!! I guess I approve of your hybrids. The ones I could corner, at least

Laura Santos: They’re pretty sweet, Y/N! Not so bad on the eyes, either~

Ben Alpin: Laura!

Laura Santos: I’m married Ben, not dead

Y/N: Fair… they’re all handsome, aren’t they

Ben Alpin: Just how much did you have to drink, exactly, Y/N?

Alice Santos: Come on Ben, it’s like what Laura said, you’re MARRIED not DEAD

Ben Alpin: I’m engaged, smartass! They are cute, though, I’ll admit it

Alice Santos: Hoseok’s my favorite. Might see a bit more of me at your house in the future, Y/N

Y/N: Whatever gets you here for a sleepover, my love!

Huffing, Y/N set her phone down on the nightstand beside her to charge, not wanting to drift off to sleep mulling over images of Hoseok and Alice growing close in her mind’s eye. Gathering up a fistful of her quilt under her chin, Y/N caught sight of the moon outside her window, knowing that sleep would evade her for a bit even though her body was sagging with exhaustion into the mattress.

Now that the cookout was behind her, Y/N could spend the rest of the weekend making sure the hybrids were truly settling into their new home before she headed off to her first shift at Judy’s on Monday morning. Her plan was to keep things pretty low-key during the weekend, maybe go for a few nature walks around the property, take a trip to town for anything they may need to pick up from the stores, maybe get some restoration work out of the way. She wanted to monitor all of the hybrids physically, as well, hoping that all of them would end up scenting her by Sunday so she wouldn’t return home from work with one of them in the same state Seokjin was in when she left them alone the last time.

As she curled into a tighter ball on her side, Y/N froze for a moment, as she swore she heard a faint knocking on her door. Straining her ears, she relaxed back into the sheets seconds later after chalking it up to some wind from outside, or perhaps from Jeongguk upstairs who was still clomping around. Though, after several seconds passed, Y/N definitely heard a knock on her bedroom door, the wooden sound a bit more confident than the previous pass. Sitting upright, Y/N rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, switching on her old stained-glass nightstand lamp so she could stumble out of bed. She had deja-vu, recalling how Namjoon had knocked on her door late at night only a few days ago. Like that time, she could only guess who was on the other side of the door as she gingerly cracked it open.

“Sorry. Were you sleeping already?” It was Taehyung, Y/N knew even when she couldn’t see his form much at all from the darkened hallway, due to the low and impossibly quiet register of his voice.

“Hmm, no, not yet. What’s going on, Tae, you need something?” Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, suddenly very aware that she wasn’t wearing any pants. With no response from the darkened figure in the hallway, Y/N cocked her head and pressed on. “Here, come in. I don’t want to wake the others.”

Stepping aside and peeling the door open a bit further, Y/N watched Taehyung shuffle into the room, donning blue plaid pajama pants and a white undershirt. His hair was a bit ruffled, like he had rolled around on his pillow for a bit, but Y/N was relieved to see that he didn’t have any telltale signs of discomfort from not scenting her yet. Shutting the door behind him softly, Y/N motioned for him to sit at the foot of her bed upon his continued pensive silence.

“So, what’s up? Can’t sleep?” Y/N pressed after a few moments, crossing her arms over her chest in front of Taehyung to combat some of the chill in the room now that she had left the warmth of her quilt.

Taehyung shook his head, garnet eyes finding hers after a couple of seconds of twiddling his thumbs on her bed. Biting her lip, Y/N didn’t really know where to go from there if Taehyung wasn’t going to speak– was she supposed to just let him hang out in her room so they could stare at each other? Now that she was alone with him, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, much to her surprise and very much against her will. Fuck, her mother’s vision was getting to her.

“No, that’s not it,” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as his nostrils almost imperceptibly flared, Y/N wondering if she was beginning to anxiously perspire. “I’m worried.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowned as the wheels began to turn in her head, moving slowly to sit beside Taehyung on the edge of the bed.

“Want to talk about it?” Y/N murmured, trying her hardest to keep her breathing measured to avoid attracting more attention to her frazzled nerves, Taehyung nodding in the slightest in response to her question. “What are you worried about?”

“You,” Taehyung pulled his brows together, giving Y/N a purposeful once-over as her entire body locked up. “I’m worried about you.”

It was as if a bucket of icy water was dumped over her, several alarm bells going off in her head as she stared at Taehyung with widened eyes. Was she really that transparent? Did he actually overhear her conversation with her mother? With her bad habit of overthinking, was this the time she actually predicted a disaster before it happened?

“M-me? Why, Tae? I’m fine!” Y/N spluttered, her fingernails digging into the soft skin of the tops of her thighs. The corners of Taehyung’s mouth turned downwards, definitely not taking her reply seriously as he shifted his weight closer to her.

Carefully, Taehyung leveled his face closer to her’s, inspecting every angle of her face. He took her breath away, able to give him the same amount of examination from inches away; and by the gods, he was beautiful. The brush of his thick, straight lashes, his soul-penetrating carmine gaze, the odd freckle dusted across his smooth skin.

“You’re anxious. Nervous. Something is bothering you, it’s concerning to me,” Taehyung uttered, barely over a whisper, his words creating puffs of air ghosting across her lips. The way he articulated with emphasis had shivers rolling through her body, fumbling to formulate a decent excuse for him. She came up with nothing.

“Um… please don’t worry, Tae. Really, it’s nothing, I’m okay. Today and this past week have just been hectic, you know?” Y/N whispered, scared that if she raised her voice, she’d completely break down and spill her guts to him. When he continued to stare at her imploringly Y/N dropped her gaze.

“I don’t believe you. What’s wrong?” Taehyung urged, hooking a finger under her chin gently to tilt her face back up to meet his eyes again.

As a result, she felt tears begin to well up at the corner of her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without telling the Kodiak hybrid the truth. She wouldn’t know what to do if Taehyung reacted poorly to her telling that truth, what he’d even say, and if it would have him lapsing back into being mute like he was at the shelter. He had come so far out of his shell that afternoon, really making an effort to talk to her friends and family, and she was worried that breaching the subject of hey, did you murder someone would render all of that progress useless.

Y/N pulled away a degree, Taehyung’s hand falling back into his lap while Y/N furiously scrubbed at her eyes with fists to keep her tears at bay. Chuckling weakly, Y/N decided to relent and not overthink his reaction before he even had it, figuring if anything the two of them could have a good laugh about her mother’s crazy vision together.

“Ugh. Sorry, I’m not always so emotional, I swear,” Y/N croaked, Taehyung blinking placidly as he waited for her to continue speaking. “I don’t know. It’s just something my mother said this afternoon, she had a ‘vision’ while she was here. It was so outrageous, though, I pretty much wrote it off, even if she is usually rarely wrong when she gets these specific kinds of visions. I guess I’m still a little bothered by the absurdity of it all.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, scooching closer to her with a curious flicker to his ears. Sighing, Y/N took up one of his hands, squeezing it to reassure him, or perhaps herself– either way, she’d have to bite the bullet to prevent lying to him.

“A vision,” Taehyung tasted the word on his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the way Y/N cradled his wide palm in between their bodies. “It obviously scared you, so it must not have been a good one. What was it about?”

“Strangely enough,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck with her free hand, the air in the room suffocating her all of a sudden. “It was about you, Tae.”

Taehyung flinched as if he was shocked by a live wire, his hand still resting in hers, tightening its hold a fraction before releasing it altogether. Abruptly, Taehyung stood, pacing in front of her bed with a stormy look in his eyes. The reaction did nothing to encourage divulging any more information, Y/N grasping the material of her quilt with alarm. After several moments of watching Taehyung make laps around her bedroom, yanking anxiously at his inky curls, the Kodiak hybrid found his way back in front of Y/N, bending to a crouch in front of her with an expression of distress she had never seen on his usually composed face. A sick feeling was curling in her gut, and she knew there was a possibility that what her mother had seen was real, after all.

“Me? Y/N, listen to me– what did she say about me?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy, strained, gripping his knees with whitened knuckles when Y/N didn’t answer promptly. “Please, talk to me!”

“T-tae, I’m not sure tha–”

Shaking his head quickly, Taehyung cut her off by placing both of his hands on her shoulders somewhat roughly, making Y/N go rigid in his grip. Things were spiraling a bit out of her control, and the room felt charged.

“Tell me. It’s okay, I can handle it,” Taehyung insisted, fingertips digging into her shoulders imploringly. Thighs beginning to shake from nerves, Y/N tried her best to find comfort in the way Taehyung’s features softened once the fear began to roll off of her in waves.

“Her vision was a jumbled mess, I watched her have it– well, she claims you’ve killed someone,” Y/N blurted, nervously laughing at recalling just how ridiculous the whole conversation truly was.

Taehyung’s face cleared of all emotion, like a chalkboard wiped clean, his hands sliding from her body as he unceremoniously rocked back on his feet and sat on the floor with a thump, which made Y/N continue babbling while he stared at the floor. “Which, of course, I told her was totally ridiculous, I mean come on. I’ve been anxious since then, especially because I promised not to lie to any of you again, but I didn’t exactly know how to bring up something like this to you.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Y/N swore even the crickets chirping outside had silenced, the sound not coming through her cracked-open window anymore, making her hold her breath in suspense. Taehyung’s face remained as stony as it was when she first laid eyes on his human form back at the shelter, sitting so still he looked like a marble statue. Figuring him to be stunned out of a response, Y/N began to force out a few choppy giggles as she stood, motioning for Taehyung to get up and trying her best to snap him out of it so they could finally move on from the tense conversation.

“So yeah, uh… pretty stupid, huh? Like I said, the reason why I was a nervous wreck was because I knew I’d have to bring it up eventually and I didn’t want to upset you. Sorry to worry you, Tae… I’m going to talk to my mom this week, insist that her vision was just some kind of fluke–”

“How did she even see… I didn’t even know you then,” Taehyung interrupted her monologue, the blood draining from her face as the Kodiak hybrid squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is unbelievable.”

“W-what?” Y/N squeaked, dread flooding through her as she watched Taehyung get to his feet heavily, his face suddenly appearing years older. “Taehyung?”

Running a tired hand over his face, he finally looked at her, Y/N knowing she appeared scared out of her wits. Her mother’s vision actually true? Judging by Taehyung’s cryptic reaction, there was a huge possibility the vision wasn’t just a bunch of nonsense, and it was sobering as she stared at Taehyung with wide eyes. There was a great sadness to his expression, growing more pronounced by the second as Y/N realized she was slowly backing away from him, until her spine hit the glass window to the backyard. He got closer, stopping a couple of feet away once he noticed how tense she had become.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, please don’t be scared of me,” Taehyung began, his throat sounding strained. Swallowing hard, Y/N tugged on the hem of her tee shirt, feeling the room start to spin a bit. She didn’t want to be afraid of Taehyung, who had been nothing but an angel since she met him, but she wasn’t expecting him to react like she caught him red-handed.

“Okay,” Y/N breathed, doing her best not to lock up even more when he took another step closer to her. “I’m not scared, just confused… Can you–”

“I told you I was from Alaska, right?” Taehyung inched even closer to her, seeming to sense that Y/N needed a bit of clarification from him. Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Taehyung breathed in deeply.

“I was working at a sawmill under the table with other Kodiak hybrids. I mean, they didn’t even pay us, we had to live in these run-down cabins, the owners were horrible people… we worked all day, into the night, cutting down the trees and hauling them to the trucks to be processed. It was what it was, I was created and grew up there, so I was used to the mundane… was somewhat comfortable with it. That changed in the past few years, with more humans interested in hybrid hunting, my friends and I started to worry about what might happen to us one day, if we didn’t keep working hard or got injured. Last month, when I came back late one night from one of the trucks, I overheard one of the owners on the phone. It sounded like they were making some kind of deal.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, simultaneously wondering what this information had to do with the vision and distantly intrigued she was learning new information about Taehyung. Clearing his throat, Taehyung continued.

“I didn’t think much of it, that night. I was exhausted, and had to get up early for my next shift, so I crashed. The next thing I know, my cabin mates and I are woken up in the middle of the night by burlap sacks being shoved over our heads and zip ties around our wrists, a syringe in our necks, and we were thrown into the back of a box truck.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Y/N bit her lip, noticing Taehyung’s voice begin to get throaty with emotion. Taehyung was trafficked, kidnapped, and the thought of it had her heart breaking.

“That’s horrifying,” Y/N whispered, wanting to reach out to him but finding her hands were glued to the material of her shirt. “Do you know who took you away?”

“They were traffickers, the owners of the sawmill picked out a few of my buddies and I to sell. We were going to be sold to a group of CEOs for a hunting tournament in Seattle. We could hear the driver of the truck talking about it in the front seat over the phone once whatever they injected us with wore off. One of my friends was able to snap off his restraints, and helped us all out of our own. We didn’t dare try and speak to each other, but we knew that eventually, the driver would have to stop for gas and check on us. So we waited, and when the back door opened up when he pulled off the highway, we…”

Each new detail was more dreadful than the last, Y/N feeling bile rise up in her throat as Taehyung trailed off. His breath became labored, Y/N able to sense the panic rising in him due to the pained and confused look on his face while he seemingly relived the memory. Without a second thought, Y/N softly grabbed one of Taehyung’s wrists, urging him on.

“We?” Y/N murmured, hoping that the physical touch and the fact that most of the fear she felt earlier had left her body completely. She had the feeling whatever she was going to hear next was all in the name of self defense. Taehyung practically melted into her loose grip, seemingly helping him muster up the courage to open his mouth once more.

“It’s hard to remember. Most of my friends split off as soon as we jumped out of the back. It was just me and this guy Caleb who ended up getting cornered by the truck driver before we could get away, and Caleb wasn’t exactly a friend of mine. Caleb was trying to pin the driver down and push him towards me, but the guy pulled a knife and tossed Caleb to the ground and then he turned on me. I couldn’t even think, all that was running through my head was the fact that I needed to get away, I needed to survive this,” Taehyung’s chest heaved, his eyes far away as he recalled the memory. Y/N tried her best to smooth her thumb over the skin of his wrist for comfort, waiting for him to catch his breath so he could finish.

“I managed to knock him to the ground and get the knife from him at some point… I didn’t even know what I was doing by that point, instincts kicked in or something, I don’t know. I couldn’t run away, the guy was thrashing around beneath me, screaming, I swore my head was going to explode. At the time, I felt I had no other option, everyone else had run away and I knew that the driver would chase after me because I attacked him. I just– Caleb was already escaping into the woods, taunting me, as the knife went down, and the driver was… I k-killed him in the street before I even registered that I was holding the knife, with a witness promising to turn me in if we were found out.”

When he finished his story, Y/N’s ears were ringing, gaping at Taehyung with a loose hanging jaw. He looked incredibly vulnerable and was visibly shaking; torn between strong regret and deep discomfort after admitting the truth. With her fingers still wrapped around his wrist, she weakly squeezed it, any remaining wariness she felt towards him had disappeared following his confession. Clearly, this was something that was weighing heavily on him for quite a bit, and Y/N couldn’t even comprehend how difficult it was for him to confess all of this to her.

“Say something, please,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, after a few moments of somber silence. Y/N didn’t know if there was anything she could say in response.

“Come here, Tae,” Y/N murmured, tugging him closer, looping her arms around his shoulders tightly, pressing her face into the thin material of his tee-shirt covering his chest. Flush with him, Y/N could hear the impossibly fast pace of Taehyung’s heartbeat as he sagged against her, his arms immediately snaking around her waist to clutch at her back, his face dropping down into her neck.

“You were just trying to get away– you would have died, if you didn’t…” Y/N pressed her ear to Taehyung’s chest, listening to it slow a few beats with each passing second. “I can’t believe the owners of the sawmill just let you and your friends get taken like that, I can’t even imagine how afraid you all must have been.”

Taehyung pulled away a fraction to angle his face inches from hers, a peculiar expression on his features as he regarded her carefully. Tightening her grip around his shoulders, Y/N feared that if she let him go, he’d disappear forever. Giving him a shaky half-smile, she pushed a curl of inky hair out of his eye, hoping she was no longer worrying him with her previous anxiety.

“But I killed that man, Y/N. Technically, I’m a fugitive– just telling you all of this puts you in danger, puts you in a position where you would have to choose to lie or turn me in,” Taehyung breathed, a decibel above a whisper.

Y/N had already thought of this. If Taehyung was a human that was being trafficked, a lawyer could argue that he had acted in self-defense. However, since he was a hybrid, Y/N wasn’t sure if he’d be afforded the same kinds of rights, which honestly made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t fathom turning Taehyung in, truthfully alarmed that he would even think so, considering she had adopted all the hybrids to prevent the very fate Taehyung almost suffered from twice.

“I’m not turning you in, Tae. When I adopted you, it was to prevent all of you getting taken away by someone who had the same intentions as those CEOs when you were thrown into the back of a box truck. I wanted you all to be safe, here,” Y/N insisted, feeling the Kodiak hybrid wind his fingertips into her tee shirt over her shoulder blades.

“You’re not afraid anymore,” Taehyung mumbled, a blush forming across his cheeks and nose with her words. Nodding, she agreed, feeling more protective than ever over the Kodiak hybrid. “I figured you’d be terrified of me once I told you.”

“No, no,�� Y/N shook her head quickly, nose skimming Taehyung’s chest with the movement. “I think anyone would have defended themselves like that if put in the same situation, myself included. I’m glad you told me. I know a bit more about you now, and you said you weren’t going to hurt me… I trust you.”

Straightening up a bit, Y/N watched Taehyung’s ears twitch slightly in reaction to her confession, his hands moving from her shoulder blades to her upper arms, pushing her lightly away from his proximity so he could look at her more clearly. The mood shifted immediately with the expression on his face, a different, more sensual tension filling the room and making her breath catch in her throat. It was as if she had uttered some magic words to cast a spell over him, his tongue catching over his lower lip as he drank in her appearance with lidded eyes.

“You trust me?” Taehyung repeated, eyes flickering from her own to the loose collar of her large tee shirt, using a pointer finger to press at a fluttering pulse point by one of her clavicles. Oh. Shuddering from the chilly temperature of his fingertip, Y/N shut her eyes and tilted her head back onto the glass pane behind her, humming in response. “If you trust me, then… I trust you.”

Taehyung must have bent down, Y/N’s eyes shooting open at the sensation of his silky hair tickling the skin of her neck as he pressed his face into the dip of her collarbones. Trying her best to relax her posture, as she had a suspicion as to what he was about to do, Y/N used a free hand to thread her fingers through the curls on the back of his head.

She felt Taehyung take a sharp inhale against her sensitive skin, the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment due to the turn of events. Y/N supposed that if Taehyung was going to scent her now, it was much preferred over him waiting to feel sick like Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi had. She tilted her chin up to give the Kodiak hybrid better access to the spot below her throat he was mapping out with traces of the tip of his nose and brushes of his eyelashes. Still, with the light touches, Y/N could immediately sense lingering hesitancy in the way Taehyung held back from sinking his teeth into her.

“Tae? It’s alright, you can–”

Whimpering, her words died on her tongue with the sting of razor-sharp incisors piercing into the base of her throat. Notes of desperation in the bite were absent compared to the last three she received, one of Taehyung’s hands wrapped loosely around her bicep, the other using two fingers poised under her chin to keep her neck craned back. Hissing with pain, the location he had chosen to scent her extremely tender and thin-skinned, Y/N involuntarily tugged on a fistful of Taehyung’s curls. The knee-jerk reaction caused a deep rumble to roll through Taehyung’s chest darkly.

Crowding Y/N against the chilled window, Taehyung pushed one of his legs between her thighs to press his body closer into her proximity. Reeling with his teeth still in her neck, Y/N began to tremble, squeaking when Taehyung reached behind his head to remove her hand from his hair, intertwining their fingers together before pinning her hand to the wall beside her. Overwhelmed, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, beginning to feel lightheaded as the enzymes coating Taehyung’s teeth entered her bloodstream.

Weakened, she dug her fingernails into Taehyung’s shoulder, her other hand immobilized in his grasp. The pain of the bite had vanished, a sharp sigh of bliss falling from Y/N’s lips as Taehyung pulled his teeth out from the puncture wounds. With a heavy lave of his tongue over the bite, Y/N shivered with delight, the room around her coming in and out of focus as the majority of her weight became supported on Taehyung’s thigh wedged between her own two. Still, she could hear the low rumbling from within Taehyung’s chest as he graphically swiped his tongue over her collarbone, Y/N’s ears beginning to ring from the haziness brought on by the enzymes in the hybrid’s saliva.

“Mmph– ugh,” Y/N slurred groggily as her limp hand slid from Taehyung’s shoulder, having difficulty keeping her head tilted back as he continued to map out patterns on her clavicle with his tongue. She was caught in a daze, foggy brain trying its best to process not only everything Taehyung had told her about his past and what he had done, but the very unexpected turn of events of him pressing her up against a window to scent her afterwards.

While she was trapped in her daze, she felt Taehyung carefully pull away from her, threading an arm around her waist to guide her away from the window, Y/N leaning her entire body weight against his side as he gracefully lead her to the closest seat– the stool by her vanity. Locking eyes with Taehyung in the mirror as he lowered her down, she smiled at him dopily, his expression once again becoming stoic and hard to read. His lower lip was stained with her blood; it was pretty.

“Feel better?” Y/N heard herself ask, Taehyung cracking a slight smile at her garbled speech, nodding almost imperceptibly as his tongue peaked out to catch the blood on his lip. Resting her chin in her palm, she eyed the fresh bite by her throat, a slight glisten of saliva still visible in the lamplight. The site tingled.

Interrupting her post-bite buzz, a rather large crash came from the wall in front of her, the mirror rattling against the wall as Y/N widened her eyes at Taehyung’s reflection in fright. She had forgotten that the other hybrids could have been listening in on her and Taehyung’s interaction, and whose room was just several feet away from her own. Namjoon.

Immediately, the Kodiak hybrid’s jaw became tense and his ears flattened against his head, eyebrows knitting together as his fists clenched. Flinching, Y/N heard the slider door from above her slam shut, and more chaos from behind the wall in front of her. It sounded like Namjoon was knocking things over, and pretty quickly the angry sounds snapped her right out of her clouded haze. Taehyung remained frozen, eyes narrowing with each thud coming from the room over.

“Shit,” Y/N hissed upon hearing a particularly thunderous sound of something clattering to the floor, fumbling her way to her feet frantically. Heart racing, she winced as her foot collided with the vanity sharply, blindly making her way to the door out to the hall.

“Wait, where are you going?” Taehyung stopped her at the door after finally unfreezing from his spot, his hand placed over hers on the doorknob and his voice laced with urgency.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N nodded towards the hall as if to say what do you mean, don’t you hear that, yanking the door open to find the hallway flooded with light, Namjoon’s door open.

“Y/N, stop. Let me handle this,” Taehyung pleaded quietly, gripping her wrist as she closed in on the short distance between her bedroom and the wolf hybrid’s.

“No, Tae. Something could be wrong, he could have hurt himself– fuck, everybody else is going to wake up, at this point,” Y/N replied when the harsh scrape of Namjoon’s desk chair undoubtedly marked up the floorboards. Reluctantly, Taehyung followed her to the threshold peering into the wolf hybrid’s room.

The bedroom was a mess. Namjoon had torn his sheets and comforter off of his bed, a few of his articles of clothing were strewn about. A tee shirt was hanging precariously off of the lamp by his desk, the wooden workspace cleared of all items as if he had swiped his hand across the surface and knocked everything to the ground. Several books were thrown from the large bookcase on the wall and landed in heaps on the floor, and the bench by the window had been overturned. The wolf hybrid, however, was nowhere to be seen. Blood drained from her face at the state of his room, Y/N felt unease creep into her gut once again, Taehyung stepping around her with his shoulders squared.

With purpose, Taehyung marched towards Namjoon’s shut bathroom door, light peeking out from beneath it indicating that the wolf hybrid was within. All at once, Taehyung began pounding at the door, teeth gritted, as Y/N sprung into motion to try and pull the Kodiak hybrid away. Guilt festered within her, knowing that everyone in the house was definitely awake by now with all the noise, and all at once she felt like she wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of the hybrids so far.

“Tae, stop! The others might be sleep–” Y/N let go of his arm as soon as the door was wrenched open, an absolutely livid looking Namjoon appeared in the doorway, hair and shirt dripping wet as if he stepped into the shower still clothed. He was still wearing the outfit he had to the cookout; Y/N realized Namjoon likely never even went to bed in the first place.

“Sleeping?” Namjoon spit, Y/N’s mouth slamming shut at the malice dripping from his tone, the wolf hybrid’s dangerously narrowed amber eyes focused on Taehyung as he seemed to tower over the latter, taking several steps forward while her and Taehyung backed up a few inches in response.

“Nam–” Y/N squeaked, blinking as Namjoon put a hand up to cut her off, not even sparing her a glance as he continued to stalk into Taehyung’s personal space.

“Quiet,” he barked, Taehyung going stiff with the wolf hybrid’s command, which was obviously directed at her. With his nearest hand and without breaking eye contact with Namjoon, Taehyung pushed Y/N back and behind him protectively, away from the direct line of fire.

“What are you doing in here?” Taehyung growled, free hand gesturing around the wreckage of Namjoon’s bedroom. Shivering, Y/N felt a breeze roll in from one of Namjoon’s open windows, her bare legs beginning to shake.

Flashing his sharpened canines, Namjoon took a big step forward, getting right in Taehyung’s face dangerously. The tension in the room became unbearable, and Y/N had no idea how to diffuse it– part of her wanted to seek out help from the others, but didn’t know if that would make things worse, and she didn’t want to leave the two at each other’s throats alone in the room.

“I knew there was something fucking wrong with you,” Namjoon began savagely, Y/N’s panic settling in more quickly as both hybrids chests began to rumble with barely-contained growling. “How long, exactly, were you planning on keeping everyone in the dark?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, wolf,” Taehyung scoffed, Y/N grimacing– wrong answer. Judging by Taehyung’s locked up posture, he knew exactly what Namjoon was talking about. The fur on Namjoon’s silvery tail was standing on end, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Fuck off, don’t act ignorant,” Namjoon accused, using the flat of his palm to shove Taehyung back a few inches, the strike landing sharply on the Kodiak hybrid’s shoulder and making him stumble backwards from the impact. “You’re a murderer, you fucking killed a human. Just by being here, you’ve put every single one of us in this house at risk!”

Heart plummeting to her toes, Y/N stumbled backwards onto Namjoon’s bare mattress, unable to keep her weakened knees steady any longer. So, Namjoon had heard her and Taehyung’s entire exchange, which led her to the conclusion that Jeongguk, separated only by thin sheets of drywall and hardwood above her bedroom, had as well. She could only imagine who else was listening in, praying that no one else had quite the reaction Namjoon was experiencing.

Taehyung was apparently stunned into silence, though Y/N had a suspicion that Taehyung knew better than she did about just how sensitive hybrid sense of hearing was, and the likely event that many of the others in the home had heard what he had confessed to Y/N earlier. Recovering from Namjoon’s shove, Taehyung straightened up, preventing himself from being pinned against the desk.

“Nothing to say now, huh? Easy to spill your guts to someone who would forgive her own executioner, you coward. Ridiculous… we all smelled that human blood on your jacket in the shelter, even when it was confiscated by that piece of shit shelter worker. I was the last to get dumped there, and I still knew you were fucked up. You still have the jacket, reeking of filth upstairs in a closet!”

With each statement, the volume of Namjoon’s voice grew to the point where he was shouting. Horrified, Y/N pulled herself off of his bed, trying her best to muster up the courage to intervene. In the distance, she could hear the ancient creaking of the old floorboards responding to several pairs of footsteps rushing to the scene of the commotion. Taehyung appeared to take a breath, attempting to distance himself from the hostile wolf hybrid.

“If you heard everything, then–” Taehyung countered, swiftly cut off by a dark chuckle coming from Namjoon.

“No shit, I heard everything, I’m about 200 feet from her bedroom,” Namjoon spat condescendingly. “What exactly is your plan, here? If authorities end up tracking you down, or one of your buddies rat you out, what does that mean for the rest of us? Are we supposed to act like we don’t know anything?”

Taehyung blinked, a shadow crossing over his face. Nails digging into her palms as she squeezed her hands into fists, Y/N caught a glimpse of movement in the hallway; the swish of a spotted tail and hushed whispering. Yoongi and Seokjin were lingering in the hall, from the looks and sounds of it.

“You know, it’s one thing to kill another hybrid, but a human? Don’t you know what would happen to you if you’re caught? And to drag her into this…” Namjoon stabbed a finger into Taehyung’s chest, the latter gritting his teeth and batting Namjoon’s hand away.

“I’m not letting anything happen to her,” Taehyung snapped, voice thick with anger. “If they find me, I’ll tell them she knew nothing about my past.”

“Until they torture it out of you, or you let it slip,” Namjoon retorted matter-of-factly, Taehyung’s expression growing even more furious. “By the way… how do we know that you won’t attempt to kill us all in our sleep so you can get away now that we know your secret?”

By now, the tips of Namjoon’s human set of ears were red with rage, lost within the spiral of his thoughts. Tearing a hole in the skin of her lower lip, Y/N reacted impulsively, approaching the two cautiously with her hands up.

“H-hey, Namjoon, I think we should all take a breath–”

As if suddenly remembering Y/N was in the room, Namjoon snapped his head down to look at her scathingly, the muscles in his jaw twitching with agitation.

“And you. You’re okay with all of this, harboring a murderous fugitive? I’ve seriously overestimated your judgment capabilities. Then again, you actually adopted seven hybrids labeled as dangerous in the databases, so I’m wondering why I’m so shocked by your lack of self preservation,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, tail swishing furiously behind him. Insulted, Y/N ignored Taehyung’s growling growing in volume, as well as the stunned silence from the hallway.

“I don’t think you’re being fair right now, Namjoon. I understand you’re angry, but you can’t just lash out at the people around you like this,” Y/N pointed out with a wag of her finger, an incredulous look blooming across Namjoon’s face. Turning his body to face her more fully, Namjoon bent down to get closer to her face.

“So now you’re telling me how to react in response to your foolishness? Is that it? I can’t make an assessment of you? Is it because of your massive savior complex, or that your spoiled rich girl lifestyle protected you from criticism all this time?” Namjoon coldly inquired, his sharp eyes dropping from her face to the fresh bite along her collarbone, extending a digit to prod at the wound. “You even allowed him to fucking scent you after finding out who he is. Stupid girl.”

As soon as Namjoon spat out his insults, Y/N felt his words sting like a slap across the face. With the acidity at which he uttered each word, Y/N realized he truly felt that way about her; that she was in over her head, naive, spoiled and stupid. The realization had her heart shattering in her chest, tears immediately gathering in her eyes as she stared at the floor with her throat beginning to close up. When Jeongguk had made her cry the night she brought him home, she tried her best to get away from the hybrids before they could see the tears, but Y/N was so stunned by the hurtful words that she was rooted to her spot.

Before the first tear could roll down her cheek, Taehyung sprung into action, roughly tearing Namjoon’s hand away from Y/N’s clavicle and shoving the wolf hybrid by his shoulders so strongly Namjoon stumbled back into his bed frame. Blood pounded loudly in her ears, distantly hearing Namjoon’s cursing as he grabbed Taehyung by the collar of his tee shirt.

Barely registering the events around her, Y/N sunk into a crouch, wrapping her arms around her knees as she let her tears flow freely, not even caring that she was whimpering pathetically. With everything that had transpired in the past week, between the adoptions, the paranormal situation in the house, and trying to remain as upbeat as possible in the face of each hiccup, Y/N was truly exhausted and she finally let herself feel the strain of it all. She realized she was way out of her depth, clearly unable to handle taking care of the hybrids considering two of them were about to tear each other apart, the thought making her so miserable she began to gasp with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“You fucking. Bastard,” Taehyung roared, using an elbow to jab Namjoon in the ribs in an attempt to get the wolf hybrid to let go of his shirt collar. “Talking to her like that, laying a finger on her! You take it out on me, not on her!”

“Gladly, you prick,” Namjoon grunted, taking a swing at Taehyung’s face, Y/N unable to see if his fist collided with his cheek as her vision began to spot. Taehyung staggered backwards from the impact, Y/N stiffening as the Kodiak hybrid spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor by her feet. The half-open door to Namjoon’s bedroom swung open with a smack against the wall, thunderous footsteps cutting through the noise of the brawl.

“The fuck!” Came a new voice, Y/N distantly recognizing it as Jeongguk’s smoky tone as his quickened heavy tread pounded into the room. Dread washing over her as she expected an escalation of the violence, Y/N lifted her head from her knees. “Are you two morons going to keep going until you destroy the place, or until you kill each other?”

“Stay out of th–” Namjoon began, Jeongguk cutting him off with a humorless snort.

“Shut the fuck up. This ends now, you’ve both done enough to ruin tonight for everybody. You have that girl on the floor shaking like a goddamn leaf and the whole house reeks of her doom and gloom, you fucking assholes.”

Taehyung’s shoulders deflated, looking down and behind at Y/N’s crumpled form on the floor, and Y/N could see how ashamed he became as soon as his eyes swept over the carnage of his and Namjoon’s fight. Y/N was more taken aback by Jeongguk’s intervention, not expecting him to break apart the fight so willingly, staring at his confident posture in a new light.

The elk hybrid was still dressed in his outfit from earlier, a deep scowl on his face as he got between the other two. Disgust was written all over the placement of his mouth with the way he was biting down on his lip ring harshly, both Namjoon and Taehyung bloodied and chests heaving– Jeongguk’s sentiments and interruption temporarily sobering them.

Jeongguk snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hall, turning his back on Taehyung and beginning to haul Namjoon out of the room by swiftly and expertly binding his arms together in the blink of an eye. Thrashing in the elk hybrid’s clearly ironlike grip, Namjoon had no choice but to begin to be dragged out of the room, too busy trying to wrench himself free to spare Y/N on the floor a glance. Jeongguk, however, with his lips pressed together, offered her the slightest sympathetic expression, his midnight eyes ever so pitiful as he glanced her way. Her body still quaking, Y/N doubted if Jeongguk would be able to handle calming Namjoon down on his own, fearing the worst. Hearing Namjoon’s loud protests as Jeongguk dragged him away, she felt herself go numb, her brain at capacity for processing anything else that evening.

After several beats, she sensed another presence behind her and flinched as she felt a tentative hand land on her shoulder, looking up and wondering when Yoongi had snuck into the room. His face was slightly puffy from likely being woken from sleep and his pajamas were wrinkled, slowly lowering to Y/N’s level. He said nothing, his eyes soft as he cupped her face, using his thumbs to tenderly wipe away the tears tracking down her cheeks. The action had more moisture falling from her lash line, melting into the affectionate gesture, Yoongi cooing quietly.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured, his spiced vanilla scent enveloping Y/N due to his intimate proximity. Swiping his thumbs across her skin once more before pulling away all too soon, he stood upright again. “Come on, you– let’s get some air,” Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, who was using the hem of his shirt to dab blood away from his mouth robotically.

As Yoongi hooked a hand around Taehyung’s elbow to lead him out without protest from the latter, Y/N heard additional footsteps enter the room rapidly as she dropped her head back down to her knees. Too drained to see who it was, Y/N waited for whoever it was to speak, praying it wouldn’t be someone else angry with her.

“Miss Y/N, let me help you stand. We need to get you something warm to drink, you’re trembling,” Jimin’s devastatingly gentle voice met her ears, Y/N finally managing to stop crying after several moments of taking deep breaths.

“Okay,” Y/N croaked, knowing that she would have a hard time facing everybody the next day. She had no idea how she’d be able to do damage control between Taehyung and Namjoon, let alone look at the wolf hybrid without breaking down.

Gingerly, Jimin bent down from behind her, his minty breath washing over her as he wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her to her feet while bearing most of her weight in his arms. She let Jimin keep his arm around her waist, her body practically curling into his warmth as the coyote hybrid made sure she was supported against him, using his free hand to rub up and down one of her forearms to try and rid her skin of goosebumps. Carefully, Jimin started walking her out into the hall in the direction of the lowly lit kitchen, the rest of the house so quiet it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all.

“Sorry that woke you, Jimin. There are probably a thousand ways I could have handled that better,” Y/N mumbled, unable to look him in the eye as she stared down at his pajama pants.

As they crossed into the foyer, Y/N noticed the door to the basement was shut, biting her lip when she remembered Hoseok’s fear of wolves. The fight couldn’t have made his aversion to Namjoon any better, and she prayed he was okay in the basement by himself. She’d definitely have to check on him early in the morning.

“Nothing to apologize for, Miss Y/N. Those two were out of line, and they know it,” Jimin assured her urgently with a roughened edge to his voice, the arm around her waist tightening with emphasis.

The porch light was on outside of the front door, Y/N catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s long hair in the door’s window as he appeared to be talking to Taehyung, presumably. If anyone could swallow their pride enough to talk things through calmly with the Kodiak hybrid, it was Yoongi.

“No, Jimin… I should have just kept my mouth shut about my mother’s vision. I mean, I don’t regret learning more about Taehyung’s past. But maybe I should have talked to him about it elsewhere, let him tell the rest of you when he was ready,” Y/N lamented, dropping her cheek to Jimin’s shoulder as he inched her into the kitchen. “Now look at the mess I’ve made. Everyone’s involved now.”

Jimin hummed low in his throat, maneuvering Y/N onto a cushiony barstool by nimbly hoisting her up by her hips, his grip delicate as he lifted her with his thumbs resting on her hip bones. With the angle, she was face-to-face with the coyote hybrid, who was examining her with unreadable citrine eyes. Ears turning backwards against his head, Y/N observed it was the first time Jimin looked truly canine, his pointed incisors prodding against his thick lower lip in thought.

“Despite how Taehyung revealed his past to you, what happened in Namjoon’s room was unwarranted. Namjoon was cruel, and the both of them resorting to physical violence in front of you was nothing short of unacceptable. Don’t apologize– how could you have prepared for something like that, Miss Y/N?”

Jimin brushed some of Y/N’s hair from her forehead, making sure she was supported well enough on the barstool by placing a hand on her shoulder to ease her against the backrest. Once confident that she wasn’t going to collapse on the floor, Jimin got to work readying a mug and a tea bag while keeping an eye on her across the island. She turned his words over in her mind as his back was to her placing the mug into the microwave, eyes on his full, sandy colored tail pulled through the hole sewn into his pajama pants.

“Namjoon hates me,” Y/N whispered, feeling so dejected even Jimin’s carefully-chosen words of comfort couldn’t pull her out of it.

Pulling the steaming mug from the microwave, Jimin sighed, using a spoon to stir a bit of honey into the tea. Rounding the island, he slid the mug in front of Y/N, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he sought out her eyes that were trained on the dark granite of the countertop.

“No, he doesn’t. I have a feeling Namjoon hasn’t had much experience dealing with people and their emotions, let alone his own. That’s not an excuse, of course… but he doesn’t hate you, I promise,” Jimin assured, the cadence of his voice calming as he nudged the mug closer to her, encouraging her to take a sip.

“You think?” Y/N uttered, voice small. She took a sip of the sweetened chamomile, the scent alone making her feel an increment better.

“I know it. He’s a wolf hybrid, he wouldn’t have scented you if he hated you, Miss Y/N,” Jimin confirmed, a tiny pleased smile stretching across his face as he watched her sip her tea obediently. Y/N was too tired to read into the implications behind what Namjoon’s species of hybrid had to do with anything, but she was sure to tuck away the hint for when she was less emotionally raw.

“Jimin, thank you,” Y/N wrapped one of her arms around his wiry shoulders, pulling him in for a somewhat weak side-hug, enjoying his warmth and kindness. “You know, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Miss’... my name is just fine. Makes me feel closer to you.”

Jimin chuckled with this, his nose in her hair as she hugged him into her side. Putting down her drained mug of tea, Y/N released the coyote hybrid, giving him an earnest smile amidst all of the uncertainty she was feeling. His expression was fond, and Y/N couldn’t believe how lovely he was.

“That’s just how I was raised, a hard habit to shake. If it makes you happy, I’ll call you just Y/N,” Jimin granted, taking her mug away and moving away to place it into the dishwasher, a sparkle in his eyes. “Are you feeling a little better? You should get some rest, now.”

“Mm, I feel better. I should get some sleep… got some damage control to do tomorrow,” Y/N confirmed, desperately feeling like she needed a hug. She felt weird about pulling Jimin in for another embrace, however, even as he took her hand to help her down from the barstool. “You should head to bed, too, Jimin. It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re exhausted as well.”

Just then, Y/N heard a faint buzzing sound, Jimin furrowing his brows as he fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his pajama pants. Equally confused, Y/N watched as Jimin distractedly led her out into the hallway, one hand gripping hers loosely and the other flicking through the notification.

“Oh, it's Jeongguk…” Jimin murmured, eyes roaming over an apparent text message. Tensing, Y/N squeezed his palm, hoping he’d relay anything of importance to her.

“Jimin, I think he wants to speak with you out back,” Y/N tore her eyes from the phone grasped in Jimin’s hand, registering Seokjin standing by the staircase in front of her.

Y/N had forgotten he was one of the voices in the hallway when the fight broke out, his face tired as Y/N got a closer look at him. The woodsy scent of the outdoors was clinging to him as he approached her and Jimin, the dew-damp slides on his feet telling her that he had likely just come in from outside. Jimin nodded, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from Y/N’s grip, shooting her an apologetic half smile.

“Yeah, that’s what his message said. I’ll go see what he needs,” Jimin straightened up with purpose, turning on his heels to head back into the kitchen and out the back door. “Seokjin, make sure she gets to bed? Goodnight, Y/N,” Jimin called lowly, disappearing into the dim kitchen with the swish of his tail.

Y/N’s bare legs were beginning to feel numb from both standing and the chilly temperature blowing in from the open window in Namjoon’s bedroom she and Seokjin were lingering in front of. Her heart sank, assessing the mess that was made in his room. She'd definitely have to spend some time cleaning it up the next day– mopping blood off the floor, making sure nothing was broken.

“Y/N? Come on, let’s go,” Seokjin stepped in front of her, blocking the view of Namjoon’s bedroom and extending a palm forward. Easily, Y/N grasped onto Seokjin’s warm hand, his fingers closing gently around her own digits. “There won’t be any more fighting tonight, we’ll all make sure of it, so you can rest easy.”

Casting one more look towards the front door as she allowed Seokjin to tow her along, she noticed the bulb on the front porch flickering on and off, muffled voices from the other side of the door paying the light no mind. Shivering, Y/N shook her head, shuffling closer to Seokjin and tucking into his side, the nagging feeling of needing some physical contact and comfort returning. In response, Seokjin’s tail wound around the back of her thigh, the silky fur warming up the flesh that it touched, and she fleetingly wondered if the action was mindless or purposeful.

Her room was as she had left it prior to the commotion coming from Namjoon’s room, her quilt messy on her bed, stained glass lamp on her nightstand casting a whimsical pattern on the walls of the mulberry room. Pulling her to the side of her bed, Y/N could make out Seokjin’s dark eyelashes, his rounded blue-black ears, and the curve of his lips in the lamplight that illuminated his side profile.

“Do you need to use the bathroom, or are you okay?” Seokjin asked in a low voice, letting go of her hand to straighten out her quilt for her. He definitely seemed disturbed, creases around his mouth alluding to a bit of a frown.

“No I’m fine, just a little cold,” Y/N replied, sitting on her bed where Seokjin had folded the quilt back. Seokjin chuckled lightly, pulling the thick material of the quilt up over her legs while she scooted down on her mattress.

“That’s because you’re not wearing any pants,” Seokjin teased, using one hand to tuck the quilt under her body and the other to boop her nose. The action triggered a small giggle, the first tingle of amusement she had in hours. “You’re not a hybrid, either. Your blood doesn’t run as hot as ours.”

“Hmm, so that’s why you’re always so warm,” Y/N mused, smirking as Seokjin slipped the quilt up under her chin, his frown lines disappearing as she spoke. Even in the slight darkness, Y/N could see how vibrant his eye color was, fiery like the sunrise reflecting off of a tranquil lake.

“Try to get some sleep, alright?” Seokjin whispered, fingers grasping the chain attached to her lamp to shut it off, Y/N tearing her arm from beneath the blanket and frantically grasping for his wrist to halt his movements. He looked back at her with surprise, eyebrows pulled together. “What’s the matter? Do you want the light on?”

Squirming beneath the covers, Y/N didn’t know how to put what she needed into words. She didn’t want Seokjin to leave. Being alone was the last thing she wanted at that moment, the thought of it making her so uncomfortable she could hardly stand it.

“Uh… I don’t know how to, um…” Y/N floundered, still holding onto the jaguar hybrid’s wrist like a lifeline.

“Do you–”

“Can you stay with me, please? I don’t want to be alone right now,” Y/N confessed quickly, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing for rejection. Seokjin was probably bone tired, and judging from his earlier look of perturbation, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly pleased with the events that had unfolded that night. “You can say no. I just feel like I need a hug, or something… it’s childish, I know.”

A low rumble came from Seokjin’s chest, one of Y/N’s eyes cracking open at the gravelly sound. He seemed to be conflicted, eyes darting from her form to her sliding glass door that led out into the backyard, one of his feline ears twitching. She planned on simply letting it go, rolling over and allowing Seokjin to slip from the room after his declination, eyes slipping shut once more. Under her eyelids, the warm glow of the lamp cut off with the tinny yanking sound of the chain, Y/N accepting that he’d likely take his leave at any moment.

“I’ll stay,” Seokjin agreed as soon as the light was off, Y/N’s eyes snapping open in surprise, only able to register a kaleidoscope of reds and blues as her sight struggled to adjust to the darkness. After a short series of what sounded like scuffling around her bed to the other unoccupied side, he spoke again. “You want me to lie down?”

Logic so far from penetrating her thoughts, Y/N immediately turned onto her opposite side to fold back the quilt for Seokjin, promptly fluffing the empty pillow laying beside her for him.

“Please?” Y/N squeaked, weakly patting the empty spot on her mattress to encourage the jaguar hybrid. Though she could hardly see him, the only source of light coming from faint moonlight filtering in through her windows, the outline of his form was still visible.

A sound between a chuckle and a purr came from Seokjin, the vacant side of her mattress dipping with his weight as he situated himself beside her, arranging her quilt around himself as Y/N could already feel his comforting warmth soothing her. He was close enough for Y/N to smell the eucalyptus shampoo he’d been using. Silence enveloped them, Y/N able to count his measured breaths as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, finally able to make Seokjin’s face out from beside her. Rolling over onto his side to face her, Seokjin gave her a small smile, Y/N surprised to see a feline eyeshine blinking back at her. He glowed, and she realized that there were so many interesting things about hybrids she learned about every second she spent time with them.

“Right… You wanted a hug? Come closer, then,” Seokjin broke the silence, lifting his arm a few degrees, apparently expecting Y/N to scooch into his embrace.

“U-uh, really? You sure?” Y/N stuttered, hoping she hadn’t backed him into a corner as he inched closer to her curled-up frame.

“I’m sure, yeah. Come here, you’re still shivering,” Seokjin insisted with the velvety feeling of his tail brushing over the side of her thigh; the warm weight of it making her eyelids flutter. “It’s okay.”

After his firm assurance, Y/N wiggled her body closer to Seokjin’s warmth, shuddering once she was near enough for him to wrap his heavy arm around her waist and drag her flush to his body. Purring lowly as he adjusted, Y/N was still as he smoothly positioned her against his broad chest, the delicious waves of heat coming from his skin killing the chill that had been plaguing her.

“Mmm. Thank you, Jin,” Y/N yawned, tucking her nose into the crook of his collarbone as he seemed to freeze at the mention of his nickname. His tail wound more tightly around her thigh in response, her legs nearly tangling with his own due to proximity. “M’ sorry about tonight.”

Seokjin’s hand inched around her waist and traveled up to her mid-back, holding her more securely as his free arm snaked beneath Y/N’s pillow so he could rest his palm in her hair. The embrace was intimate, Y/N pretty much melting into a puddle as her nose skimmed the column of his throat, eyelashes fluttering tiredly against his skin. She could feel his chest rumbling with purrs due to the way her upper body was pressed against him. Settling her hands over his pectorals to better feel the comforting vibrations, Y/N was already steadily slipping into unconsciousness.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seokjin murmured suddenly, stroking the back of her head softly. Angling her face away from his neck, Y/N sought out his glowing eyes in response.

“I just want you all to be happy, to feel safe. I’m not doing such a bang-up job so far in accomplishing that,” Y/N lamented, drumming her fingers lightly against Seokjin’s chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat through his shirt. His chest deflated a bit as he let out a gentle sigh.

“Well, I’m happy. And we’re all safe. Thinking like that will send you spiraling, Y/N… you need to get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning, I promise.”

“You’re happy?” Y/N whispered insecurely, the corner of Seokjin’s mouth quirking upwards.

“Mm-hm. I am,” Seokjin confirmed, leaning forward, his wavy hair falling into his face. To her great surprise, Seokjin planted a firm kiss on her forehead, the cushiony feeling of his lips on her skin making her toes curl. As he pulled away, he used the hand on the back of her head to angle her face back into the crook of his neck. “Close your eyes, try to sleep for a bit.”

Stunned by the kiss, her face flushing violently, Y/N nuzzled her face as far as she could into his collarbones, taking it as her cue to quiet down and attempt to drift off to sleep. Seokjin’s purring resumed, his tail slackening around her thigh and resting there heavily.

After her heart calmed down from Seokjin’s affectionate gesture, Y/N felt the heavy curtain of exhaustion drape over her, and paired with the warmth of another body curled around her, she was out in a matter of minutes.

In the morning, it was difficult to open her swollen eyes, likely from how hard she had cried during the fight between Namjoon and Taehyung. As soon as she came to consciousness, she remembered the previous night's events so vividly, she didn’t even have a chance to start the day in a good mood. To add to her glumness, it seemed that Seokjin had snuck out of her room at some point, the space he occupied beside her cold with the quilt neatly made up. Truthfully, she was grateful that he had stayed with her long enough for her to fall asleep, but she wished that his face could have been the first thing she saw when she woke up.

After dragging herself out of bed and taking a full shower, Y/N stared at herself in the bathroom mirror distractedly as she blow-dried her hair. She couldn’t hear much going on in the house outside of her bedroom, but she wasn’t really paying attention anyhow. She was absolutely dreading damage control. Checking up on Hoseok was definitely her first priority, then cleaning up Namjoon’s bedroom– but there was also the matter of examining and treating Namjoon and Taehyung’s injuries, and she was not looking forward to interacting with either of them, truthfully.

Grumbling, Y/N slipped on a pair of denim shorts and a ribbed cocoa tank top, the weather app telling her it was an oppressively humid and sweltering day, the plastic soles of her slides slapping against her hardwood floors as she prepared herself to metaphorically rip the band-aid off. Pausing by the door, she pressed an ear to the wood, trying to make out any sounds out in the hallway before she exited the room. All that she could hear was the occasional clanging of a wooden spoon against the side of a skillet.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Y/N muttered to herself, surprised that she was past the hurt she felt last night– now, she mostly felt peeved. Jimin was right, a physical altercation was totally uncalled for, and she intended on making that clear to both Namjoon and Taehyung, even if the Kodiak hybrid was attempting to defend her in that way.

Pushing her door open, Y/N completely avoided even looking towards Namjoon’s door, passing by swiftly and marching straight to the entrance of the basement. As she thudded down the stairs with purpose, Y/N was confident Hoseok would be able to tell it was her by her scent, the gym area darkened and all of the lights in the bathroom off as well. The sliding pocket door to Hoseok’s bedroom was shut, Y/N assuming he was still in there as she heard him shuffling around from within.

“Hey, Hoseok. Can we talk? Are you alright in there?” Y/N called gently, waiting patiently for him to pad towards his door and open up.

A well-oiled metal sliding sound rang out through the basement as the fox hybrid appeared in the doorway, purplish shadows under his clever mocha eyes and his ears drooping downwards and sideways. He was dressed in fresh clothes, at least, in a white tee shirt and his light linen pants, and seemed to have showered judging by how clean he smelled and his slightly-damp auburn hair.

“Good morning,” Hoseok offered weakly, gesturing for her to come into his room. He kept things neat, a couple of comic books he must have found in the upstairs library littering the top of his desk and the round chair in the corner of the room. The bedroom smelled like him, like fresh air, woody, clean. “I should be asking you if you’re alright. You were in the thick of it, last night. I should have intervened…”

Hoseok rambled, a frown settling over his features, shifting from one foot to another. Y/N shook her head, reaching for his hand and squeezing his palm.

“Seokjin told me not too long ago about your phobia of wolves,” Y/N confessed, watching Hoseok’s tail start to wag back and forth anxiously. “I was concerned about you down here by yourself last night… that must have been frightening for you to listen to, I’m really sorry, Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s frown deepened, letting go of her hand to run it through his hair with stress. Cocking her head curiously, she opened her mouth once more to try and comfort him further, but he spoke first.

“Even if I do have an aversion to wolves, I still should have gone up there to help break it up. I can’t believe Namjoon said all of that shit to you, who does he think he is?” Hoseok snapped, though his frustration clearly wasn’t directed towards her.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. He’s entitled to his… opinions, even about me. But I’m not tolerating any more violence in our home, that’s for damn sure. And I’ll be making that clear to him and Taehyung when I go up to face the music,” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to avoid bringing up the elephant in the room– the crime Taehyung admitted to committing.

“The elk broke up the fight, huh? With Yoongi, no less. Guess they buried the hatchet in the nick of time,” Hoseok changed the subject, Y/N getting the feeling he was trying to avoid talking about both Taehyung and his phobia. She felt like one of the two needed to be addressed, sooner rather than later.

“Hoseok, can I ask you something about your phobia? Is there something that happened to cause it?” Y/N tried to catch his eyes, noting that his ears pressed down even harder against his head with her words. “I’m only asking because I think I’d be able to help you work on it. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable all the time due to Namjoon’s presence. I care about both of you.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up a bit after she uttered the last sentence, sighing deeply as he sank down on the edge of his bed with his head hanging low.

“He doesn’t seem to deserve that care, at the moment,” Hoseok muttered, Y/N biting her lip as she waited for him to answer her question. “When I was a kid, maybe seven or eight years old, there was a shelter in Berlin I was at for longer than the rest– I think I was there for ten months? I could be wrong, they moved me around so much. Anyways, there was an older kid there too, really a teenager. He was a wolf hybrid, and he made sure to make my life a living hell. Shifting, chasing me around, pretending that he was going to kill me. You know, he broke three of my fingers, slamming them in a door.”

Dropping onto his bed beside him as a gasp left her mouth, Y/N collected Hoseok’s hand again with both of hers and squeezed, the fox hybrid glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes with his mouth pressed into a grim line.

“Now that I’m older, I recognize that he was just angry with his situation, lashing out at anyone around him. But I’ve never really trusted another wolf hybrid. He’d tell all the other hybrid kids I was a deceitful, conniving fox and that I’d steal their things and throw them under the bus the first chance I’d get. I didn’t have any friends because of it. Worst of all, he ruined one of my first chances to finally get adopted and escape the system by cornering my potential adoptive owners, repeating the rumors that I wasn’t to be trusted, I’m a nasty fox. Of course, they ended up adopting him over me.”

“Oh, Hoseok, honey… I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that, he was a horrible bully, and you were just a little boy,” Y/N whispered, the mental image of a tiny Hoseok, alone and without friends, scared and hurt, breaking her heart to pieces. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re lovely… I’m glad that I was able to adopt you, and have the chance to get to know you. My mom wasn’t lying, foxes have always been my favorite animal,” Y/N nudged Hoseok in the ribs softly, hoping she could cheer him up and possibly get him to smile. She missed his infectious sunny laughter.

Hoseok’s frame sagged with each word she spoke, his grip on her hand tightening as he peeked at her sideways. She gave him a small smile, somehow hoping that it conveyed just how grateful she was that he actually revealed all of this to her, trusting her enough to talk about a clearly sore subject for him.

“It’s about time I work through this, anyways. It was a long time ago, and I don’t want anything holding me back anymore. I don’t have to worry about trying to make potential owners like me now, right?” Hoseok spoke after several beats, a hint of his pretty smile making an appearance on his face.

“That’s right. You’re with me now, Hoseok! Anything you want to do; a place you want to visit, a hobby to try out– we’ll make it happen. I have no intention of letting any of you go, now that you’re here,” Y/N agreed, wondering if she was being a little too sappy.

She was speaking nothing but the truth, even if things got rough and they didn’t always get along. When she made the adoptions, she never even thought about abandoning them. Unfortunately, far too many hybrids were returned back to shelters at the first sign of ‘bad behavior’, or left out on the streets. With the current state of the world where hunting down hybrids was gaining popularity amongst the uber wealthy, Y/N couldn’t stand the idea that if she hadn’t ended up in that shelter with Ben and Roy, the possibility of Hoseok being gone from the world just like that would have been very real. It made her sick; it triggered an almost primal need to protect each hybrid she had adopted with her life. The words Namjoon had spat at her seemed meaningless, now that she thought about it more seriously. There were so many things she didn’t know about each and every one of them– all of the horrors they had been through.

“Y/N, come on…” Hoseok groaned playfully, his arm hooking around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “I don’t want you crying again. Jin and Yoongi will be down here in a heartbeat ready to knock my lights out.”

“Okay, alright. I wasn’t going to cry,” Y/N mumbled, relief finally washing over her as Hoseok chuckled, his bright smile finally making an appearance on his handsome face. “Let’s go get some breakfast, hm? I’m sure Yoongi made something delicious, and it’s a beautiful day. We should spend some of it in the sunshine, No?”

Hoseok nodded with amusement, looking like a significant weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. She’d keep her promise in helping him get over his fear of wolves, knowing that it would help him not only feel more at ease, but would help heal some of his childhood anxieties and fears. He stood, his russet ears finally returning to their natural upwards position once more, motioning her to follow him out into the hall and up the basement stairs.

Trudging up the stairs behind the fox hybrid, she couldn’t help but think about all of the places Hoseok must have been over the course of his short life. Imagining the constant confusion of being brought from shelter to shelter internationally as a child and teenager was mind boggling enough, not to mention with the added prejudice that fox hybrids seemed to be not so well liked in the hybrid world.

In the brightness of the foyer, Y/N could smell a sweet-spiced pastry perfuming the air, paired with something else that was more savory and grilled. After sending her an encouraging look, Hoseok headed into the kitchen, Y/N knowing that he had some semblance of an idea that she was preparing herself for a tense situation. She made a pit stop, retrieving her first-aid kit from the broom closet under the stairs, mourning the fact that she seemed to be using it so frequently these days.

Braving herself, Y/N hurried after Hoseok, trying her best to seem composed and confident. The sunny kitchen was full of hybrids, tinkering sounds of silver cutlery against ceramic plates ringing in the air but the lack of conversation hung heavy over the atmosphere.

Yoongi was over by one of the ovens, pulling out a tray of what appeared to be cinnamon apple rolls, his long hair pulled back with the red scrunchie Y/N gave him the previous day. One of his spotted ears turned to her direction as soon as she entered the kitchen, but his eyes remained on the pastries he was taking out of the oven. Besides him, Jimin and Seokjin were present, sipping coffee from mugs at the island and pushing around some kind of hash on a plate with their forks.

Hoseok began making himself a cup of coffee by the coffee bar, apparently waiting for Y/N to break the silence upon their arrival. She sought out Seokjin’s gaze, which she met instantly, his eyes immediately softening once they locked eyes. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Jimin, who was also staring at her with a minor sense of pity, which made her straighten up with purpose.

“Morning, guys… did you get enough rest?” She began, making her way to Yoongi’s side as if her feet moved on their own accord, setting the first-aid kit down on the island as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yeah, I did, at least,” Yoongi promptly responded, using a spatula to scoop a scalding hot pastry onto a plate, offering it to Y/N with a thin grin stretched across his face. It was strange, the way he was behaving as if nothing had happened, Y/N hesitantly accepting the plate, the scent of the pastry far too tempting to pass up.

Taking much too large of a bite, Y/N migrated over to the side of the island where Jimin was sitting, hearing similar responses from both him and Seokjin. It was hard to stand shooting the breeze while she had no idea where Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jeongguk were, none of the hybrids in the room offering up any sort of insight as to where they’d be. Shoveling down the rest of the pastry Yoongi had given her with haste, Y/N waited for Hoseok to take a seat on a barstool with a plate full of breakfast food before inquiring about the missing hybrids' whereabouts.

“So, where are they? I think it’s better if I address everything now, rather than later,” Y/N spoke after a few moments of listening to quiet chewing and Yoongi fiddling with the dials on the dishwasher.

Both Jimin and Seokjin exchanged uneasy looks, Y/N staring at them expectantly when neither of them would cough up any information. Grumbling, Yoongi took her empty plate, Y/N shooting him a pleading look as he locked eyes with her. He melted as soon as his eyes met hers.

“Jeongguk wants to talk to you before you see the other two. He’s upstairs; Namjoon and Taehyung are cleaning up the bedroom they trashed,” Yoongi disclosed, speaking slowly in his gravelly tone as if he was trying to choose his words carefully.

Blanching, Y/N tried to wrap her brain around how the hell Namjoon and Taehyung had gone from trying to tear each other apart to tidying up together, her body totally locked up as she processed what Yoongi relayed to her. Clutching the granite for support Y/N barked out a strained laugh in disbelief.

“What? You mean, they’re together right now?” Y/N breathed, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she stared at Yoongi with alarm. He shrugged, placing silverware into the dishwasher like he was detailing a weather forecast to her.

“They’ve calmed down, Y/N… we’ve managed to deescalate the fight over the course of the night,” Jimin volunteered from beside her, Y/N blinking when she realized he had finally dropped the ‘miss’ title he had been using to address her. “Once you talk to Jeongguk, I think you’ll feel a little bit better about confronting them.”

Nothing seemed to make any sense, judging by the way everyone was behaving so normally considering how disastrous last night had been. Taking in Jimin’s and Seokjin’s perfectly calm expressions, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, realizing her carefully constructed plan to handle the day was mostly useless. Apparently, many things had been taken care of for her.

“I don’t– huh? Uh, this is all so weird… have I been sleeping for a week?” Y/N stuttered, mainly speaking to herself as she distractedly headed back to the foyer, hoping Jeongguk could give her less cryptic information.

“Please, you guys… hang out outside, chill out, whatever you want to do, go ahead. Thank you for all your help last night, too. I’m going to talk to Jeongguk,” Y/N added once met with no response to her hurrying away, calling over her shoulder as she simultaneously sped up the grand staircase, Yoongi’s cinnamon roll spiking her blood sugar enough to give her the zap she needed.

Her footsteps making loud creaking sounds as she rushed down the hall towards Jeongguk’s room, she was eager for the elk hybrid to fill her in with all she had missed once she passed out in Seokjin’s arms. Not bothering to knock on his door, knowing he could hear both her pounding heartbeat and her clumsy tread, Y/N pushed his door open, immediately spotting him standing out on the little balcony. He still hadn’t changed from his outfit he wore at the cookout, and Y/N doubted he had gotten any sleep.

“Jeongguk,” Y/N gasped, chest heaving from the effort of scrambling her way to his room, one of his tapered ears flickering in response as he idly smoked leaning over the balcony.

Trudging over to his side, Y/N got a good look at him, the sleeves of his band tee shirt pushed up over his shoulders as perspiration clung to the skin of his arms, neck, and face like morning dew. It was already insufferably hot outside, Y/N too beginning to sweat as soon as she stepped onto the balcony beside him.

“I know you wanted to speak to me, but I should thank you first. If you hadn’t broken those two up last night when you did, things would have gotten a lot worse. Thank you,” Y/N hesitantly used three fingers to pat the tattooed hand wrapped around the iron banister of the balcony, his skin hot like a furnace. He took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes distant as he listened.

“They were being fucking idiots. We all knew something was up with the bear, but he’s no threat to us. I’m sure we’d all be in the same boat, if forced into the same situation as he was,” Jeongguk hoarsely replied, coughing in between every few words.

“H-hey. Do you need some water? Why don’t you come inside, it’s way too hot out here. I’m afraid you’re going to overheat,” Y/N grew concerned when she saw a bead of sweat track down from his temple to the edge of his sharp jawline, the elk hybrid definitely showing some signs of heat exhaustion.

Swearing, Jeongguk stubbed out his cigarette, tossing it into a plastic cup on the balcony railing he was using as an ashtray. He surprisingly took her advice, heaving the french doors to the outside shut and sighing a breath of relief once enclosed in his air conditioned bedroom. Lingering awkwardly by the velvet bench in front of his bed, Y/N was unsure of what to say next– hoping he would disclose whatever he needed to without too much prodding.

“So someone downstairs had enough brain cells to tell you they haven’t killed each other yet?” Jeongguk rasped, bracing himself against one of his bed posts close to where Y/N was standing. “I was able to calm the wolf down when I brought him out into the backyard, with the help of the jaguar and coyote. For what it’s worth, as soon as his rage subsided, I could smell enough guilt coming off of him to make me gag.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, Jeongguk’s revelation not really doing much to make her feel better. While she was still somewhat hurt by Namjoon’s words, his apparent instant remorse didn’t bring her petty satisfaction at all. She was much more concerned with his well-being, recalling that he had blood running down his cheeks after a blow to his brow bone from Taehyung. Further, she was more ticked at the two than anything.

“I’m surprised he listened to you. I think you two are more alike than you’d care to admit,” Y/N chuckled lightly, a lightness taking over her mood despite the subject matter of the conversation. In her mind, there was no use in dwelling in soured emotions for too long, even if she still had to have a stern talking-to between the two straightening up the scene of the crime downstairs.

“He didn’t have a– shit, choice, but to listen to me,” Jeongguk insisted, inelegantly landing on his bed as his knees gave out halfway through responding. Growing alert, Y/N realized Jeongguk was more affected by the heat than she originally assessed on the balcony. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Motherfucker doesn’t know how to control himself.”

Rounding the corner of his bed, Y/N squeaked as the elk hybrid dropped down to weakly support himself on his elbows, his complexion turning ashy as he appeared to fight back whatever was making him feel poorly.

“Judas fucking priest. Not now,” Jeongguk complained loudly, his voice mingling between a pained moan and an exasperated cry, using one of his inked forearms to drape across his slick forehead. Without a thought, Y/N used the back of her hand to check the temperature against the elk hybrid’s clammy cheek, nearly recoiling at the boiling temperature.

“Jeongguk, are you with me? Christ, I gotta get you a cool cloth, it’s way too goddamn hot outside, and you’ve had no sleep… it might be a heat stroke,” Y/N panicked, turning on her heel to hightail it to his bathroom for a damp face cloth.

Before she could get too far, Jeongguk caught her by the elbow, forcibly yanking her back within his proximity with a grunt. From there, while she was lax in shock, Jeongguk managed to manhandle her by tugging on her arms in a way that had her straddling his hips on his bed, her face hovering less than inches away from his. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, unfocused eyes only registering the shiny jewelry threaded through his eyebrow and lower lip, Y/N got the clearest look of Jeongguk’s handsome face she ever had. The darkness of his pitch-black eyes, sharpness of his nose, the uneven and crooked proportions of his mouth.

“You know what’s happening. It’s not a fucking heat stroke,” Jeongguk ground out meaningfully, using one hand to powerfully pull her hips down to settle her weight on top of him, the other frantically tugging the thick strap of her tank top down to loosely sit around her bicep.

“W-wait, Jeonggu-uk,” Y/N wheezed, head spinning.

She had forgotten that there were still several of the hybrids who had yet to scent her, the elk hybrid included, a distant hypothesis that stressful situations may trigger the need to do so floating around in the back of her head. She’d pick that thought apart later, when she wasn’t straddling Jeongguk, who had a sort of crazed look in his eyes. While he wasn’t a predator hybrid, he certainly seemed that way.

To her surprise, Jeongguk froze, his fingertips stilling against the bare skin of her shoulder. Hazily gazing into her eyes, Jeongguk swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Not expecting his obedience, Y/N felt immediate regret for making him prolong his clear suffering.

“S-sorry. Go ahead, you just caught me off guard,” Y/N coaxed, detecting a minute amount of vulnerability in the blown-out darkness of his pupils. Maintaining eye contact for a few seconds longer, perhaps trying to give her a chance to pull away, Jeongguk groaned gutterally, eyelids squeezing shut painfully as his fingers dragged her shoulder closer to his face.

At the feeling of the tip of Jeongguk’s nose teasing the skin of her shoulder, more questions flooded through her, bracing herself by placing both hands on Jeongguk’s quilt by either side of his head.

“Jeongguk… is it the s-same? As the others? You’re not a predator,” Y/N asked as confidently as she could, never noticing if Jeongguk had the same sharpened incisors as the rest of her hybrids.

From beneath her, Jeongguk snickered distractedly, Y/N jolting as she felt the smooth coolness of the metal hoop on his lip drag over her heated flesh.

“It’s the same. Isn’t that what you want, though? I think you like the pain,” Jeongguk uttered against her skin, the words making her stomach flip and heating her body from head to toe. He didn’t know what he was saying, Y/N convinced herself, coming to the conclusion that the hybrids became delirious when they waited too long to scent.

Unable to help the whimper escaping from her throat, Y/N felt Jeongguk’s lips stretch into a mischievous smile against her shoulder, apparently knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. She hardly had the words at that point to counter his accusation.

With no further protest, Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Jeongguk trace his incisors along her shoulder. Without being able to see them, Y/N could tell the shape of his teeth were more blunt than the other’s, the sensation tickling her a bit as he searched for the best spot to sink them into. He was moving at a tortuously slow pace, Y/N squirming over his lap impatiently.

“P-please,” Y/N whined thinly, pressing her shoulder more firmly into Jeongguk’s face. In response, he chuckled humorlessly.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he gruffly responded, his teeth sinking into a fleshy part beside her the ball-and-socket joint of her shoulder, the euphoric pain making her wail in response.

The pain of his bite was unlike any of the others, due to the site he chose or the shape of his teeth, but either way it had her sagging against his frame while his teeth were still embedded into her skin. The throbbing pain ebbed, Y/N’s head swimming as she let her weight be supported on top of Jeongguk’s muscular frame, her vision cutting out as her brain frantically tried to retain a semblance of consciousness. It was a feeble attempt, Y/N vaguely registering Jeongguk’s teeth withdrawing from her and the tip of his tongue swirling around his mark teasingly.

Arms turning weak trying to hold herself up, Y/N shifted more of her weight into her hips, pressing them down more firmly on top of Jeongguk’s. A deep grunt tore from his chest, one of his hands that was gripping his quilt shooting up to dig his fingernails into the bare flesh of her thighs, the sting making a groan bubble in her throat. Hearing the noise, Jeongguk chuckled against her shoulder condescendingly, finally using the flat of his tongue to swipe over the bite marks. Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, a foreign, rounded barbell dragging over her skin. Y/N didn’t even realize Jeongguk had his tongue pierced prior to that moment, the sensation of the barbell paired with the wet warmth of his tongue making her body shudder against his.

Heavily, her head dropped to the junction where his neck met his shoulder, biting down on her lip to prevent any more noises escaping, when she felt the elk hybrid seal his lips around his mark, having the audacity to purse his lips and lightly suck. Even in her loopy head fog, Y/N knew that he was teasing her, definitely sensing how much his ministrations were affecting her. She could smell the saltiness of the sweat still coating his neck from inches away, mingling with his inherently natural muskiness. She felt herself become completely boneless against the elk hybrid, who was apparently satisfied with his work on her shoulder, his mouth finally retreating from her skin and lessening the intensity with which his fingernails were cutting into the fleshy part of her thigh.

Air whooshing from her lungs, Y/N felt the world spin as Jeongguk flipped her over, her back meeting his plush mattress with a thump as they exchanged positions and he hovered over her, drawing away several inches to analyze her stupefied expression with a lazy smirk. Tongue peaking out to wet his lips, Y/N was transfixed by the flash of the barbell threaded through the appendage.

“Now that that’s out of the way… where were we?” Jeongguk cocked his head while his onyx eyes roamed around her face and neck, Y/N struggling to entertain a coherent thought. “Oh… the wolf and the bear. There’s a few things you should know, before you go down there to confront them.”

Able to struggle up onto her elbows, Y/N stared up at Jeongguk through the thick of her lashes eagerly, his muscular thighs flexing and straining against his leather pants as he sat back on his haunches, preparing to ease off of the bed.

“Okay, enlighten me then.”

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wisteria-blooms · 24 days

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (9/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: "I'll try to update every 2 weeks." Uh - sorry. This is only edited once so I apologize for any mistakes. I thought it was better to get this out and keep things moving than holding onto it forever! Hope you enjoy. (:

WARNING: Y/N starts to get horny. Short descriptors of sexual situations. Minors DNI!

CHAPTER 9: As the days go on, Charlie's presence arouses some very... interesting thoughts within you. One night, his actions towards another man makes you question his feelings for you. And if that wasn't complicated enough, you get an urgent message from Molly. (6.2k words)

CHAPTER 9: THE PASSENGER SEAT

“This is exactly why I said not to apparate into the apartment!” You shrieked as you shut the bathroom door so hard it nearly flung off its hinges.

Or so you thought. The amount of force you used wasn’t quite sufficient so the door decided to spring back to you like a boomerang. When you realized it wasn’t going to shut, you chucked out a spare towel as a distraction.

“Have you considered maybe,”—Charlie, who’d just apparated into the apartment, ducked to avoid the towel—“closing the door for privacy?”

You took the opportunity to shut the door. “I needed to vent the air out,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the barrier.

“Sure you did,” Charlie responded, his voice seeping through the small crack below.

“I will vent it into your room, Charlie,” you threatened. “And you’re not going to like it when your room feels like a rainforest.”

“How would you know I don’t like the heat?”

You choked.

“Look on the bright side, (Y/N),” Charlie reminded. “You weren’t naked.”

“May as well have been,” you grumbled as you slipped into your room, the humid air sticking to your form as you walked.

“I’ve seen you in much less,” was Charlie’s response. Barely there, but your ears always perked up for whatever he said.

You stilled in front of your closet, your face tingling. ”That was one time.”

The day you accidentally walked out in a slip dress in front of Charlie was permanently burned in your mind. So, you’d taken to wearing more in the living room so Charlie couldn’t poke fun of your state of (un)dress. Living with him was proving to be quite habit-changing indeed.

You walked back out in a t-shirt and sweatpants, leaving no more than a couple inches of skin exposed. You were amused to find Charlie on the sofa, tinkering with an artifact. You crossed your arms and drummed your fingers on your deltoid. “Now, will you promise to stop apparating into the apartment?”

“No promises,” Charlie said languidly as he reclined back on the couch, spreading his legs out and continuing to scrape some rust off the artifact with his nail. His fingers were so long—and it was then that you’d lost the ability to speak, the tortuous vision in front of you forcing your mouth agape.

You ripped your eyes away, pivoted towards the kitchen, and inhaled deeply through your nostrils. You couldn’t, shouldn’t, really, really, shouldn’t be imagining what was laying in-between his limbs. But faster than you could control your impulses, your imagination went off to the races: what did it look like? If the laws of proportion held true and if Charlie’s appendage was anything like his body, it would surely rest thick and heavy in your hands. Maybe it would be red and freckled like him.

You saw a brief image kneeling in front of Charlie, knees digging into the marble floor, your hands wrapped around his cock, mouth parting to accommodate his girth, his pupils blown wide, his blue eyes fluttering close, his head thrown back as his hands remained tangled in your hand, “good girl”—

Holy. Shit.

It was one thing to dream about it in the privacy of your bedroom, but doing it in front of Charlie seemed invasive, and you were absolutely fucked if he had mind-reading abilities of any sort. Given how everything came to him with ease, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was watching your thoughts like a film reel. Red in the face, you went into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of cold water and slammed a scoop full of ice cubes into your cup. You chugged. Not effective. You needed another shower and preferably at a temperature that was below freezing this time.

Your heart rate persisted its course of flying through the roof. What was this? You either needed to scrub your mind clean of all the Madame Millicent you’d consumed the past couple weeks or just plain get your priorities straight. You abhorred when Fred spread his legs on the sofa or on a public bench. You told him straight to his face that it looked—and was—improper, and it took space from others, especially on the tram or a bench. So why was it that when Charlie did it, you instead wanted to jump his bones?

“(Y/N),” Charlie called out.

“Yes?” You turned slowly, fingers maintaining a death grip on your glass. Here it came: his confession of his mind-reading abilities.

“Come here.”

You felt as if someone had punched your windpipe. Cracked it into little pieces. How cruel of him to predisposition you to respiratory disease at the tender age of 23.

You shuffled slowly towards him, a cold sweat prickling your skin because of what he was going to say or do.

“Sit,” he commanded.

“Where?” You blurted.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Here, of course.” He patted to the cushion to his left and you immediately complied.

“You’re acting funny,” he observed, cocking his head.

“Really?” You questioned. “I don’t think so.”

His lips lifted into a curious smile. You leaned forward to set your water down on the table, grateful that it allowed you to break eye contact with Charlie— a much-needed moment of respite.

“See this?” Charlie placed the artifact, which you now discovered was a fossil, in your hands. A current of electricity ran through your fingers, each inch of skin blooming with the intensity of a thousand fireworks. And as if that wasn’t enough touch, he swung his left arm around you before finding your hand again. You shuddered when his larger, callused hands covered yours completely.

Hands. Hands and fingers in your hair, simultaneously pulling your strands and forcing your head down on his cock.

You shuffled your position on the couch, trying to mitigate the growing heat in between your legs.

Charlie’s thumb brought you back to reality, guiding yours over a ridge on the fossil and onto the ribs of whatever creature had been buried in sediment and imprinted upon the rock. “Bill brought it back from Egypt for me. It’s a Nundu, or at least what they’re known as now, from over five thousand years ago. Evolved a lot since. Pretty neat, don’t you reckon?”

“Yes.”

Charlie pouted. “I thought you’d be more interested.”

“I am!” you said, squinting your eyes and leaning closer to inspect every speck of bone in the fossil.

“I’ve been told you quite enjoy magical creatures.”

You paused. “By who?”

Charlie leaned in, hovering a mere two inches from your face, and teased, “Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I was sworn to secrecy lest I be cursed by the fury of a thousand Whizbangs.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fred? George? Both?”

Charlie leaned back onto the sofa again and grinned. “Maybe.”

Your pulse quickened. “What did they say?”

“Nothing more than the fact you took the elective together,” Charlie said. “I just thought it was unlike you. Why’s that got you all worked up, hm?”

You rubbed the back of the fossil, asking yourself the same question. What did it matter if Charlie learned about the fact that you’d basically flunked Care of Magical Creatures? You’d only taken the class because Fred and George insisted you should stick together, but your fear of the same creatures took precedence and the rest was history.

“You know how Fred is,” you responded with a strained smile. “He’s always twisting things around to make me look bad.”

But maybe Charlie was telling the truth. If he’d known about your abysmal grade, he’d probably be teasing you ruthlessly right now instead of nodding along with you and saying something like: “He’d never be able to make you look bad in my eyes, (Y/N).”

Heat smattered against your cheeks as your lips parted. There was no part of you that wasn’t molten now. Perfect, you’d transitioned from a hormonal imbalance to menopause. Charlie Weasley has proven himself terrible for your health, but here you sat, listening ardently to everything he had to say about Nundus.

On Thursday, you walked into the outpatient wing of St. Mungos. Charlie had left the previous day for Hogwarts, leaving you some peace of mind without his presence. And as luck would have it, Healer Tousignant was going to provide you a cure for your issues. She was excellent, wasn’t she? Despite this, you remained unsure. Deep in some compartment of your brain, you wondered how your friends would react if they found out. You’d receive the run-of-the-mill treatment by the twins (“Oh good, you’re finally sleeping with someone? Wait! It’s just a bit suspicious that it’s all happening now, isn’t it?”).

But Charlie? He was a wildcard. You imagined him finding a sleeve of pills in the living room. Would he think you responsible, or would he think you did this out of necessity because you were sleeping with someone else? Which again, posed the question: what did it matter what he thought? Truthfully, you knew. You were far too tangled up in your growing affections for him to not care about what he thought.

The secretary brought you back to reality and place: the office of Healer Tousignant. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m here for my appointment with Healer Tousignant.”

“Your name, please.”

“(Y/N) Malfoy.”

The receptionist nodded, tapped her quill twice against an appointment scheduler, the light thwacks resonating with your beating heart. She pursed her lips and scrunched her nose. Her glasses shifted downwards as she looked at some blotting ink that was appearing on the paper.

“It seems Healer Tousignant has just been called into the gynaecology and obstetrics department for emergency coverage,” the receptionist said.

“Alright,” you breathed out. You had to thank some higher powers for letting you off so easily. “I can come back another day.”

You were halfway out the door when her voice stopped you in your tracks. ”Of course not,” the receptionist said with a wave of her hand. “It won’t be long. Head to the east wing, fifth floor up, until you find room 5-E. She’ll see her before her lunch break.”

“Are you certain? I’m happy to come back another day if she’s handling an emergency.”

“Absolutely,” she responded with confidence. “You shouldn’t be waiting for more than 15 minutes. Healer Tousignant is very experienced and efficient with deliveries. I hope the change in location isn’t an inconvenience, but you should be otherwise accommodated.”

Plans foiled and any chance of escape thwarted, you dragged your feet to the east wing and took the stairs to prolong the inevitable. When you pushed the last door open, you were almost blinded by sunlight. This section of the hospital was adorned with glass windows and as a result, was lush with natural light. Blooming plants lined the sterile-clean hallways.

Nurses in lavender smocks and perfectly-slicked back hair strolled past you, some pushing carts with meals, others pushing carts with sterilized tools.

You gazed into the smoky windows of a waiting room. Your eyes landed on a pair of expectant mothers chattering excitedly to each other. Unknowingly, you smiled. Their excitement was contagious. Your eyes then trailed to a couple walking out the doors. The female was heavily pregnant and was being supported by her loving, adoring partner—

Her partner being Bill Weasley.

Panicked, you backtracked your steps and turned the nearest corner. You scrambled for safety under the cover of an oversized plant. In any other circumstance, you would’ve loved to exchange formalities, but something told you that you sauntering around the Obstetrics and Gynaecology Wing at St. Mungo’s wouldn’t be a good look, especially after Charlie’s erroneous proclamation about your sex life last week (and you hoped it hadn’t spread much around that little circle of women). So, you pressed your back against the light green wall, trying to shrink yourself so no part of you would jut out.

Bill and Fleur, thankfully, didn’t even turn around as they walked, much more enraptured by each other than anyone else. You cautiously peered out into the hall to catch the last of their retreating figures. Down the last bit of the hall, Bill cradled Fleur like she was the most precious, delicate, fragile and only thing in the world, even though she’d proven she was as tough as nails. His chin rested on the top of head as they walked hand-in-hand. Thoughts of having lunch with Bill clouded your head, and the maturity and stability he exuded by simply inviting you. Unknowingly, you bit your lip. As Bill and Fleur disappeared, your heart thumped in some mess of emotions you couldn’t discern.

When you were certain the expecting parents were out of sight, you followed the directions to Tousignant’s office. You gave the door two solid raps.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Charlie asked from the kitchen island as he effortlessly uncorked a bottle of wine. It was late Friday evening, and Charlie had gotten back from the train station with a bottle of red wine and groceries in one hand, and his briefcase in another. “Another tea party?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you responded. You walked into the pantry, looking for some more ingredients to throw together for your impromptu dinner. Charlie didn’t tell you he was coming back on an empty stomach and you thought he’d have taken care of his dinner himself. You were more than happy to have him here, but the miscommunication led to him dramatically proclaiming he was going to die of hunger at your doorstop.

He was obviously joking because he’d purchased some groceries on the way home.

“Come to a concert with me tomorrow,” Charlie suggested seamlessly as he retrieved two wine glasses from the highest shelf. “I was supposed to go with Bill. We’ve been planning this for years, but Fleur’s due any day now and he won’t leave her side.”

“What kind of concert?” You asked, tossing him a bulb of garlic.

He caught it without missing a beat and responded, “Rock concert.”

“Oh.”

“In muggle London.”

“Ah.”

Charlie chuckled as he switched gears and poured you a glass of Merlot. “It’s not scary, (Y/N), it’s just rock music.”

“I’m not scared,” you retorted, accepting the glass and swirling it around. “I just haven’t been to a concert in ages.”

That was a lie. You’d been to plenty with Fred and George over the years, but going to a concert with Charlie where you might be pressed up to him for three hours was an entirely different concept. Was it a date he was proposing? Or were you just the most convenient thing around to try to fit the tall, lanky gap that was his brother Bill because Charlie didn’t want to go alone?

You drew in a deep breath, furrowing your brows. And then you said something Charlie wasn’t expecting.

“Say you’re sorry first.”

A look, a perfect cross of amusement and surprise, graced Charlie’s face, and he paused midway through crushing a garlic clove under his knife. “What for?”

You let the attractive bass notes of his question float past your ears. “For waltzing in here and telling me I didn’t have a sufficient meal prepared. And implying my culinary skills were insufficient.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Charlie said, a touch more quietly than how he usually spoke. He set his knife down and walked over to you, his height quickly casting a growing shadow over your head. “I figured for hanging out with Fred and George so much, you’d be the queen regnant of taking jabs.”

You pouted at Charlie, trying to take advantage of his apologetic state. This was a dangerous line you were toeing, but you were feeling courageous tonight. “I’m well-aware cooking isn’t my strong suit. It’s been made known to me all my life. I’m trying my best to work on it, but to be put down like that…”

“Hey, hey,” Charlie consoled as he placed two firm hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“The damage’s done, Charlie,” you whispered, looking down to conceal a laugh, “I’m—my confidence is crushed.”

You waited for his clever retort. What you weren’t expecting was for him to use the same hands that rested on your shoulders to pull you closer, until your forehead thwacked against his hard chest. The very same pair of hands glided back to your scapula, cornering you in and making escape impossible. He had you locked in his sturdy and very hard arms. You had no choice but to get lost in all six-feet something of him.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said, his voice rumbling from his chest and vibrating through your body like you were a conductor to his current. With your cheek splayed against his body, it was impossible to think straight. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate you letting me stay here when I need. It’s miles above any other accommodation. You don’t need to have anything ready for me, ever. I’d be fine if you kicked me out to sleep on sofa and kept my room for yourself.”

You were about to burst. It was overwhelming: his words, his warmth, and his sudden earnestness. He was acting like everything you imagined someone like, oh, you know, his brother, Bill Weasley to be. But in the midst of it all, when the situation became lucid, you panicked. What were you supposed to do in Charlie’s arms? Nestle in and show him how lovesick you were, or pull away and give him the impression you were uncomfortable in his presence and didn’t like him that way? The latter wasn’t true, but you didn’t want to spill your unformed feelings to him.

“It’s alright,” you said, trying to look up at him but only getting a glimpse of his chin. You decided on the most diplomatic solution. Still in his arms, you agreed. “I’ll go to the concert with you.”

It wasn’t like you were going to say no, anyway. You just wanted to make Charlie work for it.

”Perfect,” he said, voice husky in your ears. “That’s my girl.”

If he kept this up, you were going to devour Charlie for dinner.

Before heading out to muggle London Saturday evening, Charlie suggested you have a drink at the pub. You tried very hard not to let your face show what your brain was thinking when he stepped out of his room in a corduroy jacket, tossed over a shirt, that perfectly skimmed his muscular body. He left his hair tousled and curly.

In the descending lift, you asked him where exactly the bar was. He refused to answer and instead, led you there, the silence between you only broken by him humming a tune.

“This is where Bill and I usually go,” Charlie finally said. You’d almost flown past the entrance until Charlie pulled you back by the arm. The tavern was tucked away on a cul-de-sac, completely hidden from the bustling shopping streets.

Charlie, playing the part of a true gentleman, opened the door and whisked you in. You walked down a short flight of the stairs until the bar came into view. Charlie ducked the low ceilings the whole way down. The space was warm, orange-hued from the wood and lighting, and ridiculously cramped. Or cozy, whichever term fit it better. The bartender—a stout man in his late sixties with a white beard—was chatting with two other men of similar ages. The guests were perched on the barstools, leaving only one of the three seats available.

“Well, look at who it is!” The bartender exclaimed, his accent tinged slightly Scottish. His proclamation prompted his patrons to look your way.

“Charlie!” one of the patrons spoke. “Finally decided to come home?”

“Who’s the lassie?” The bartender asked.

You supposed he meant you. “(Y/N) Malfoy,” you greeted.

“I’m Don, owner.” He shook your hand. “This is Henry, and Bruce.” The two men gave you a wave which you returned. Then, Don looked at Charlie and asked, “Where’s Bill?

“At home, with his wife,” Charlie answered.

Don grinned at looked at you. “I like her, much easier on the eyes than Bill.”

You gave a polite smile.

“Sit.” Charlie gestured to the open seat.

“What about you?” You asked.

“I can stand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Charlie, where are your manners?” Don barked. “Get (Y/N) a drink.” Charlie quickly moved forward, head almost hitting the ceiling, to pull a glass from the shelf. The way Charlie obeyed Don so quickly led you to think that Don was a parental figure to him.

“Your reflexes aren’t what they used to be, I’ll get it myself,” Don grumbled. He pulled out five shot glasses. His mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. “Getting old or something?”

“Something like that,” Charlie agreed. “I’m not the same exuberant boy you knew.”

Henry hid his words behind a generous cough. “Aren’t we all blessed by that?”

Don poured you a hefty amount of whiskey and slid the shot glass over to you.

“Loosen up, lassie. It’ll do you some good. Especially if you have to deal with him the whole night.”

You nodded. You clinked your glasses with the four other men and threw back the whiskey. A smidgeon of tears welled up in your eyes as the substance burned your throat.

Don and his friends downed the drink like it was water. ”It’s harsh, but it’ll get you where you need to go.” Then, he peered over at Charlie. “So, what’s keeping Bill at home?” He questioned.

Charlie set his glass down right by yours, “His wife is pregnant, due any day now.”

Don let out a low whistle. “Last I saw Bill, he’d just graduated. Still had his robes when he stopped by the bar to say goodbye before heading to Egypt. Now, he’s got a kid on the way? About time for you too, don’t you think?”

“I’d rather raise dragons,” Charlie said off-handedly. “They’re much more interesting, and less needy.”

“What about you?” Don asked, tilting his head towards you.

You stopped trying to gnaw the bitter taste of alcohol off your mouth when you realized Don was asking your opinion on child-rearing. “I, uhm,” you stammered. “I don’t think I’m particularly good at raising either.”

“That’s no good,” Don said.

Your face fell momentarily.

“I’m only joking,” Don clarified with a hearty laugh. “What else are you having tonight?”

Charlie pressed closer until his warm chest was flush against your back. The chain around his neck swooped by your line of vision and tickled your skin, forcing some heat to your cheeks. “A pint of Guinness.”

“I wasn’t asking you!” Don shouted gruffly as he pulled a glass. “You should know better to wait your turn, lass.”

Don slid the glass towards you.

“Don’t worry about me,” Charlie brushed off. “I’m going to sit here and enjoy watching her drink this.”

You leaned back, neck falling into place in the crook of Charlie’s shoulders, the metal of his necklace lightly digging into your skin, as you whispered to him, “Why did you order me this?”

He tilted his head down, angling his blue eyes straight into yours. “Because I’ve been told you hate it.”

“Are you stalking me or something, Charlie Weasley?”

“It’s mainly for my entertainment,” Charlie whispered. “Let me break you in,” he said in a much louder voice as he leaned forward. He grabbed the pint and took a swig. Instead of setting it back down, he held it out in front of you. “Your turn.”

You stared at where his lips touched the glass previously. Hesitantly, you took the glass into your possession and sampled a feeble sip of it before making a face which you tried to conceal from Don.

“How is it?” Don asked.

“You have an excellent pour,” you praised. Technically, that part was true. “Do you have a tab started for us?”

Don raised an eyebrow. “Everything here is on the house,” he explained. “I don’t make any money, anyway. My financials are in the negatives. I’ve been retired 10 years. I just come here to have a drink without being scolded by my wife.”

You let out a quick laugh, but cut yourself off, thinking it was rude to have a laugh at Don’s finances.

“You should fancy a laugh at his expense. That’s what we all come here for,” Bruce added.

A warm sensation filled your body. You felt like a part of the family, and you’d only met these men fifteen minutes ago.

“How do you know Charlie?” You asked when you felt brave enough.

“Tell her,” Charlie dared, his chest firmly pressed against your back as he picked up your glass again.

Don coughed. “When this troublemaker was barely sixteen and Bill not much older, they stumbled into my bar. I had a right mind to tell them to get out, but they pleaded with me into letting them stay. I was stupid enough to cave in and serve them a touch of alcohol, whatever was left in the barrel.” Don’s forehead crinkled. “Promise me this stays between me and you, and not the Licencing Wizengamot?”

You nodded quickly. “Of co—”

”Actually, (Y/N)’s father works for the Ministry,” Charlie said. “Surely, you made the connection. Lucius Malfoy?”

“Well, fuck me!” Don said, playfully slapping his dish towel on the counter. “Good thing I’m retired.”

“I assure you”—you stretched a hand forward on the table—“My lips are sealed. I can’t say the same about him.” You pointed back to Charlie.

Charlie simply looked down at you with amusement.

After Don told you to be on your way, you left his bar gaily, promising to be back. Presently, your boots slapped the concrete floor as you ascended the steps up to the venue with Charlie. When you entered the complex, he stopped by a standing table where the end of the queue for refreshments started.

“One more drink for the show,” Charlie suggested. “I’ll be back. Another pint for you, queen regnant?”

You nodded, watching as he effortlessly glided through the sea of people. His ginger curls stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) Malfoy?” A voice rung out on the other side of your head. You pivoted to look to your left.

A tall, lithe man was approaching to where you stood in wait. He looked about your age and wore his blonde hair slicked back. His bright green eyes, ringed with a line of hazel around his pupils, caught yours immediately. The plastic cup of beer he held seemed dwarfed in comparison to the size of his hand.

“Alex,” he introduced, extending his hand. “I’m a friend of Draco’s at the country club.” He leaned forward slightly, his pointer finger extended towards you as stabilized the plastic cup with his other fingers. Just a touch of hesitation marred his voice. “He is your brother, correct?”

Alex gave the impression of regality with his high cheekbones and poised stance. Unlike everyone else who was dressed down in jeans and a tee, he favoured a black blazer over a white shirt, trousers, and a silver watch to decorate his wrist. For all you knew, he descended from Danish royalty, and you didn’t mind curtsying.

“Yes,” you responded. Your face flushed with curiosity, wondering why Alex found it necessary to greet you.

”Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“A dramatic shift in scenery from the golf course and resort,” you jested.

Alex chuckled. “Absolutely less stuffy.”

”What brings you here? You asked.

You watched as his throat caught, trying to latch onto an answer. As you waited, you thought it was downright puzzling why your parents never tried to introduce you to Alex. He seemed far more down-to-earth than the egotistical brutes for sons that your father seemed to favour. Maybe if you’d met him earlier, you wouldn’t have had to dig yourself into this infinite hole of lies.

He shifted his weight from side-to-side, but gave no other tells of being nervous.

“A night out with my mates,” Alex explained. “They reckon I need to get out more after my,” he paused, a nervous smile appearing for the slightest of moments, “my girlfriend broke up with me.”

Your mouth rounded quickly as you wondered who’d dump someone like Alex. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear,” you offered your condolences.

“It’s alright,” he said. “She would’ve hated coming here, anyway. I don’t mind muggle music; it’s quite good. You seem to fancy it, if you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m—”

You froze midway through your sentence when you felt a feather touch of a hand at your hip bone. Gentle enough not to startle you but hard enough to make its presence known. Panic set in quickly and you whipped around, ready to confront whoever deemed it was acceptable to lay a hand on you.

“You—!” you started.

You were captured by the cloudy, deeper blue eyes of Charlie. You stopped yourself. His hand was still wrapped around you, lingering at your hip with no intention of letting go. You wouldn’t have minded if it stayed there, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Got you a drink,” Charlie said, handing you a cup of beer with his other hand. You gingerly accepted it. His lips were pressed in a tight line, leaving no trace of the usual playful Charlie you’d come to know.

Alex was silent. Your eyes darted between the two men. Alex and Charlie were similar heights, but Charlie appeared bigger in stature due to his broad shoulders and muscle tone. Formalities would’ve called for you to introduce them to each other, but there was some strange, palpable tension in the air that you reckoned it was better they remained a mystery to each other.

“Let’s get a move on, (Y/N),” Charlie suggested with a flicker of a smile, his hand moving upwards to give your waist a squeeze. You had to will every inch of your being not to scream; you hadn’t prepared for such intimate touches outside your house or in view of people your age. The men at the pub were a different story. “Don’t want to miss the opener.”

“Wait, (Y/N),” Alex called out before Charlie could whisk you away. “Will you be at the Christmas luncheon?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” you responded.

“Excellent. I’ll see you there.” He affirmed with a smile, before he returned to a group of friends waiting for him. You snuck a glance; his friends’ faces struck you as familiar.

“Who was that?” Charlie’s eyes danced playfully, his usual disposition crawling back from the void he’d stuffed in a few seconds ago.

“A friend from the country club.”

“Sounds fancy,” he mused. “Are you close?”

“Not really,” you said. “He seems to know Draco, so we must run in the same circles. You can imagine how I feel about that.”

“I can imagine,” Charlie said. He led you to the entrance of where you were seated.

In the darkness and between ear-splitting guitar riffs, you glanced over at Charlie when he wasn’t looking. You wondered why he’d dragged you away from Alex so quickly. There was ample time for the opener, and his intimate touches were as befuddling. They were, as you thought, done in the privacy in your home or when you needed to convince someone of your relationship. Perhaps you were overthinking it. Yes, you definitely were. You recalled when Charlie was overly flirtatious with Cecile, and you were certain he meant nothing of it.

After the show, you filed out with all the other attendees. Your entire body buzzed. You were about to ask Charlie as to how you were getting home, but he was the first to breach the topic.

“Can’t apparate in such a state,” lectured Charlie. He guided you out of the venue and down a back alley.

“Who’s picking us up here?” you asked, pulling your coat closer to fend out the gnarly bites of wind that swept through the area.

“My most trusted driver,” Charlie responded confidently. “It seems he’s just running a minute late.”

Charlie looked down at his watch and tutted twice. That was when the wind picked up dramatically and you hid your face behind Charlie’s shoulder to block it out. Through one cracked open eye, you saw it. A purple vehicle had squeezed through the narrowest gap of the alleyway and then re-expanded to just fit without scraping the sides.

The passenger doors opened.

“Hi, Stan,” Charlie said.

Stan shut the engine off, removed his hat and bowed. ”Shupike. Stan Shupike, at your service.”

“Good evening,” you greeted.

“Evening, ma’am,” Stan responded.

Stan leaned against his seat to give you room to board. Charlie followed behind you. To your amusement, there was no one else on the bus. All the beds were empty and decked out with fresh sheets and puffed pillows, and the privacy curtains drawn back.

You whipped around to face Charlie. ”How were you able to charter a whole bus?”

“Stan has been my driver for years. There’s usually a spare bus at the station.”

“Wouldn’t ever trust Bill or Charlie to operate a vehicle or anything after the nights I’ve seen ‘em have,” Stan grunted from the front. “What’s the address again?”

“27 Primrose Gardens.”

“I’ll take you there if they’ll let my janky bus through those pretty, manicured gardens,” Stan said with a chuckle. The doors shut with a light swish. “Ne’er dropped anyone off there since I started.”

You sat down on a bed and held onto the pole for dear life, watching nervously from behind the curtain as Stan shifted gears. Charlie picked up on your nervousness and shuffled closer.

“Hey,” Charlie said. “I got you.” With that, he looped an arm firmly around you waist, acting like a human seatbelt. His large hand rested on the top of your thigh, fingers gently grazing the fabric of your tights.

You tilted your head. “Thanks?”

“That sounds more like a question than a statement.”

“I do question when you choose to be kind.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “What does that mean?”

You fell over onto him and onto the bed when Stan took a particularly sharp right turn.

Flustered, you tried getting up.

“Stay where you are,” Charlie said. “Stan says lying down is the safest, at least according to his driver’s manual.”

“Oh, really?” You asked with incredulity.

“It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?” Charlie lied down as well. “The worst that could happen is that you roll onto someone else. I’d prefer that to kissing the cold floor with my teeth any day.”

Now that you thought about it, it did seem less frightening, being horizontal. The shocks of Stan’s driving seemed to absorb in the mattress. You supposed you hadn’t heard of any horrific injuries on the Knight Bus, so you were inclined to believe this was for the better. You cautiously descended fully on the bed.

Charlie looked at you with one blue eye, the other half his face sunken in the pillow. “Did you have a good time?” He asked.

“Of course I did,” you said. You shimmied around to get comfortable and to let your hands splay out on the on sheets in front of you.

“Do you foresee any more concerts in the future?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Commit to it. Bill will be out of commission for another eleven years.”

“So, I’m your partner-in-crime for the next eleven years?”

Charlie extended his pinky finger to you. ”Lock it in, (Y/N).”

You hooked your pinky over his and shook on it, but you were barely paying attention to that. There were so many other sights to behold at this angle: the slight slant of strong nose, the quirk of his mouth as he looked back at you, the soft tufts of hair that were basically begging for your hands to comb through, and the glow of sun-kissed skin that seemed unfadable.

“I figured you’d freckle easily,” you said. Without a second thought, you unlatched your pinkies in favour of skimming your pointer finger over a spot on his face. “But your freckles seem to have coalesced into a tan.”

“They’re relentless, very strong-willed,” Charlie agreed. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and his voice was growing thick and raspy with sleep. “They’re not going anywhere, especially not months under the beating sun.”

As your fingers continued to pad his cheek, Charlie’s hand hovered over a wayward strand of hair that’d fallen over your face. He brushed it back and tucked it behind your ear where it belonged. You smiled at the gesture. You watched his eyelashes flutter over his eyes and a peaceful grin, devoid of its usual cockiness, stretch across his face. He was content to be here like this, with you, with your hand on his cheek and his on yours, you surmised.

You studied the gap between your faces—lips, in particular—and wondered if he was thinking what you were thinking: would this gap be better off closed?

Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt. The resulting inertia threw you off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ow!” You exclaimed, holding the tender point of your elbow that you’d landed on.

“What’s going on, Stan?” Charlie asked calmly, clearly used to these disruptions. You rubbed your elbow, face contorted in discomfort. Charlie lifted you up with ease and back onto the bed.

“Owl near killed itself flying into my window ‘ere,” Stan explained. Near was right. The owl was still flying, pecking petulantly at Stan’s window with a parchment in its mouth.

Stan opened the door and let the owl fly in. It hurriedly found Charlie.

“Mum’s owl,” he said as he unfurled the parchment. You watched nervously as his eyes moved left to right.

“Stan.” Charlie’s voice was serious. “Turn the car around to St. Mungos.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

@badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan @morks-watermelon @nobodysbabydoll @annoyingbean630 @bathwater101

#charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x reader

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

Text

Estimated Sexual Abilities of Austen Men

In no particular order within tier

Edits added in blue based on your reblogs and careful consideration

Top Tier:

Mr. Mainwaring: to have the near undying loyalty of the exceedingly selfish Lady Susan, this man must be a sex god

Henry Crawford: he knows he’s not handsome, he wants women to love him, he'd put in the work. Also one of the only men to be rated by a woman who has had sex before.

Henry Tilney: he cares about things women like, high emotional intelligence, and extremely kind.

Frederick Wentworth: passion and experience (I imagine), also has high emotional intelligence when he’s not being a dufus.

Colonel Brandon: passionate, thinks about other people’s feelings a lot, self-sacrificial

John Knightley: I think there’s a good reason that they keep banging out those kids

Admiral Croft: I cannot believe I left him off, obviously amazing in bed because he respects his wife as his equal and is very fun. You are telling me they spend all their time together and don't have amazing sex? No freaking way!

Good Tier:

William Price: athletic, cares about his sister a lot (good sign), and gives good presents. He’s only nineteen in the story which is why he has room to improve.

Captain Harville: Obviously

Mr. Morland: dude isn’t even on page, but in my head Mrs. Morland enjoyed making all ten of those children.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: I think he’d be good, but not awesome. He'll probably be wasted on a mercenary marriage.

Charles Bingley: I get the feeling he’d be on a race to the end, and maybe not the best communicator at first. Will improve.

Mr. Gardiner: Just because he’s awesome and seems to respect women

Captain Benwick: poetry and passion!

Robert Martin: seems like a pretty romantic guy, also works on a farm so probably athletic.

John Willoughby: Mostly because of experience, but he is also pretty passionate. He’s also super hot, Miss Grey knew what she was getting into. But this guy can only go downhill from here.

Reginald De Courcy: He’s a sweetheart, an occasionally dumb sweetheart

Mr. Bennet: Is he lazy in most domains of life? Yes. But Mrs. Bennet wasn’t just trying for that heir, I’m telling you folks. Maybe he's just trying to make her unable to talk 😉

George Knightley: Promoted to good tier, I do think he's very caring, but he also is always sure HE is right, which may be a problem.

John Yates: Maybe not the most selfless person, but he's got passion and he does love his wife. Probably very into roleplay.

Mediocre but can improve tier:

Fitzwilliam Darcy: he’s a bit stiff... I think it might take some time for him to get good at it (demoted to this tier because he will need time to improve)

Frank Churchill: He’s got passion, but he’s so darn selfish and doesn’t seem to send that much time thinking about Jane’s feelings

Edward Ferrars: I just see him being a nervous wreak the first few times, it’ll get better (Note: I think Lucy is way too smart to have had sex without a wedding date)

James Morland: Dude, I’m just disappointed with you in general. Being led by lust, not protecting your sister. I hope you grow a lot before you try to get engaged again.

Charles Musgrove: could be good, but Mary never seems to appreciate the effort he puts in so he kind of gave up

Tom Bertram: Selfish, never has to try for anything, but he did reform so maybe he can get better here too.

Edmund Bertram: Repressed and selfish. He needs to actually start listening to what women say if he’s going to improve and there is a whole book of him doing exactly the opposite...

Mr. Elton: selfish, full of himself, and low emotional intelligence, however, I think he does love his wife so he is willing to put in some effort for her.

Just bad:

James Rushworth: Maria was not impressed at all, despite how much “taller” he was

Captain Tilney: riding on good looks and money, selfish

John Thorpe: Selfish and he never shuts up. I have trouble imaging him getting a woman to sleep with him without paying her.

George Wickham: selfish and good looking, he’s not doing any work. He thinks you should be honoured to sleep with him.

Robert Ferrars: selfish and not even good looking. There is nothing here. Lucy did not win people.

Mr. Woodhouse: I can’t even imagine, if he didn’t have children I’d say he was a virgin

Mr. Collins: The woman he is trying to please is not his wife.

Mr. Elliot: cruel to his first wife and not even handsome!

Sir Walter Elliot: I don’t think any part of his personality would tend toward being a “giver”, however, if you like mirrors...

John Dashwood: exactly the opposite of a “giver”

Mr. Price: the guy had 11 children in 14 years so I wish I could say he was better in bed. My suspicion is that he started in the good tier and has had a very slow fall into just bad. And all that alcohol, ug...

Dr. Grant: Noted for being a whiney, selfish glutton. Hopefully he just falls asleep before he can attempt anything because I can't imagine him being that good in bed.

General Tilney: If you don't want to even try to imagine their sex life, they go in this tier. And he is so freaking controlling!

No Data: We interviewed Lady Bertram for information on Sir Thomas, but she confessed that with full consent, she has always fallen asleep during sex. Given her personality, we decided that this information has no bearing on Sir Thomas’s abilities. She did say that giving birth was, “Very disagreeable.”

Mr. Hurst: I really can't decide with him because while he does love the finer things in life, we don't know exactly why he and Louisa married. More info required.

Criteria: In the domain of F/M sex, communication is key, so we need a man who is willing to listen to what women say. Also, selfishness is obviously a negative trait when it comes to a happy sexual partner of either gender. Some of this is just vibes, but I think there is a fair amount of canon information about how much men respect women, especially their sisters.

Feel very free to fight me in the reblogs. The only hill I will die on is that Henry Crawford’s rating is correct 😉

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epochofbelief · 1 month

Text

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Five

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long everyone. Life is... insane. But it's spring break, so I finally had the time and energy to devote to this. It's kind of long, so fair warning ;) Also, I did just spend four straight hours writing and editing this so if there are typos… there are typos💓

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other (Completed) Feysand AU Fic: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Five:

A week after Feyre told Azriel she would turn informant against her partner, she still hadn't heard from the FBI.

And her week only grew worse with every passing day. Her professors had hit the mid-semester stride, assigning longer and longer readings. She continued to receive invitations to networking events and all manner of schmoozing and boozing opportunities from her future firm. Various midterm writing assignments were ramping up, and she had just finished a particularly brutal round of citation checks for the Law Review legal journal on which she was a staff editor.

Her only saving grace had been Tamlin’s obvious exhaustion. He left the apartment before Feyre woke up and returned long after she fell asleep.

If it had been any other way, Feyre wasn’t sure how she would have survived the week. The thought of Tamlin touching her sent shivers down her spine and images of what Rhys’s younger sister might look like spinning through her head. Did Tamlin know about what had been done to keep his secret? How involved was he in the more violent aspects of his criminal enterprise?

The questions were endless, and yet Feyre had no one to ask. She was supposed to be the one finding answers, anyway.

And while she desired to put a stop to Tamlin's crimes, she couldn't help but find it ironic that this was just one more thing that had come to rest on her shoulders.

And the FBI didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, Feyre thought irritably as she waved Tamlin out the door on Thursday night. He had come home early to pack a bag—once again leaving town for the weekend. On business.

Feyre let him press a kiss to his cheek, then shut the door on his back, doing her best not to slam it.

She turned and leaned against the wood, scrubbing her face with her hands. If the FBI didn’t tell her what to do soon, she would forget about the deal and break up with Tamlin. Move back in with her family. It would mean adding a job to her academic workload, but she didn’t think she would survive more than a few months in her family’s house. Nesta would freeze her out until she needed something. Elain's perpetually present boyfriend disliked Feyre for some reason. Her father wouldn’t know what to do with her.

Feyre sighed, then jumped as a knock on the door behind her head reverberated through her skull.

“Did you forget something?” She asked, flinging open the door, expecting to find a harried-looking Tamlin on the other side.

Instead, she came face-to-face with Rhysand, a stunning blonde woman next to him.

“Oh,” Feyre squeaked.

Rhysand grimaced at her, dressed once again in all-black suit, tailored perfectly to his muscular body. Though he looked more casual than Feyre had ever seen him—his usual black tie was missing, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Feyre swallowed, averting her eyes from his tanned upper chest and violet eyes, instead surveying the blonde.

The woman was also clad in all-black, her blazer buttoned around a narrow waist, a short pencil skirt emphasizing long, tanned legs. Her blonde hair cascaded over both shoulders, and her lips, coated in a bright red lipstick, tugged into a smile.

Perhaps this was Rhys’s partner? Feyre’s eyes snapped back to Rhys’s at the thought, as if she would find the answer there.

“As much as I would love to stand here and watch you two stare at each other, the hall is a little exposed. May we come in, Feyre?” The blonde asked, brushing past Feyre without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the apartment behind her.

“You came,” Feyre breathed.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Would you two get the hell in here?” The woman’s voice sounded from behind Feyre.

Rhys grimaced again, gesturing for Feyre to lead the way into the apartment. “Please excuse my cousin, Morrigan Underwood. She’s one of the best the FBI has to offer, but most days she’s just a pain in my…” Rhys trailed off, and Feyre couldn’t help but grin as Morrigan extended a manicured hand toward her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Feyre,” Morrigan said, smiling warmly down at her. Morrigan was tall, and the heels only added to her height. Next to the beautiful FBI agent, Feyre felt short and grubby in her socked feet next and oversized t-shirt. “Sorry to barge in on you. We got lucky tonight—video cameras are down. So we thought we would come to you.”

“Just luck?” Feyre asked, folding her arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

Morrigan and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Luck with a little help from Azriel,” Morrigan admitted, shrugging.

Gods, they really were the FBI, Feyre thought, walking around the kitchen island and opening the fridge. “Can I offer either of you—a water? Or something else?”

“We don’t want to trouble you,” Rhys said, at exactly the same moment Morrigan said, “Absolutely. Tamlin took forever to leave, and even though someone knew there would be a stake-out, he didn't think to stock refreshments in his car.” Her brown eyes cut to Rhys.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned.

Feyre smiled to herself as she retrieved three bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and returned to the living room, sitting in the armchair across from the couch where Rhys and Mor had seated themselves.

“Nice place,” Mor commented, her eyes scanning the room appreciatively. “Very . . . minimalist.”

Feyre shrugged. “It’s not exactly to my tastes, but thank you.”

Feyre ignored Mor’s cocked eyebrow and the crease that formed between Rhys’s eyebrows at her words. She cleared her throat. “So. Care to share why you’re here?”

Mor popped the top off her water and sank back into the plush white couch, lifting the drink toward Rhys. “You’re up, cousin.”

Rhys leaned forward on the couch, his own water forgotten on the sleek coffee table in front of him. Feyre couldn’t figure out where to look as she waited for him to speak. His large hands, clasped in front of him. The sliver of exposed skin just below his neck. Those violet eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.

She settled for his forehead as Rhys began to speak. “You took a risk last week, going into Spring Solutions without backup. If something had happened to you in there, we would have had no way of knowing.”

Feyre folded her arms. “I thought you wanted me to gather information for you. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t go anywhere without an escort?”

“Backup doesn’t necessarily mean an escort.”

-----

Two hours later, Feyre’s mind was about to explode with all the information Rhys and Mor had drilled into her head. They had provided her with a wire, an earpiece that she could hear and speak to them through, an exhaustive explanation of how dangerous being an informant was, and a briefing on proper reporting and contacting methods she would have to engage in when reaching out to the FBI.

She drew the line at the bulletproof vest Mor retrieved from her bag.

“Where am I supposed to hide that?” Feyre demanded. “The tech is enough.”

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Feyre…” Rhys trailed off, his eyes searching her face.

“You make me take that and this whole thing is over before it began.”

Rhys held up his hands. “Alright. But if you dream up any more ridiculous plans to go into the heart of enemy territory, you contact us first. We’ll get it to you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. She didn’t envision herself getting shot any time soon.

“Lastly,” Mor said. “Here’s the address of our future meeting place.” She handed Feyre a scrap of paper. “Memorize it and then destroy it. You can get there by train, so transport isn’t a problem. You’ll have to switch trains about halfway there, but that’s your opportunity to determine if you’re being followed. If you have any suspicion whatsoever that someone is on your tail, do not go to the safe house. Just board a train back in the direction of the city.”

Feyre looked down at the address. “How often will we be meeting?”

“Only as often as necessary. You let us know through that earpiece and we’ll arrange it. Best not to create any new strange habits that people might notice. Memorize.”

Feyre nodded, swallowing the sudden wave of anxiety cresting through her. She was truly doing this. Working for the FBI. Attempting to inifiltrate a strange and possibly deadly organization. Betraying her boyfriend—the man who had fed her and housed her for the better part of her law school experience.

Mor cleared her throat, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got a meeting. Finish up here, Rhys?”

Rhys nodded, clapping his cousin on the shoulder as she stood, extending her hand once more to Feyre. “Good luck, Feyre. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again very soon.” Feyre nodded, and Mor paused, her manicured hand squeezing Feyre’s. “Do try not to get caught.”

Then she was gone.

Leaving Feyre and Rhysand alone in the enormous, stark apartment.

“Is there much more?” Feyre asked, forcing herself to keep her arms at her sides rather than swinging them in the awkward silence.

“No, but—” Rhys halted midsentence as Feyre slumped into the enormous white armchair next to the window, relieved to hear those words coming from Rhys’s mouth. She honestly hadn’t been sure if she could take much more.

Her entire relationship was a lie—everything was a lie. She had trusted Tamlin with her safety. With her nights and days and most of the time in between. He had given her a place to stay after years spent under her family’s influence.

And yet.

“He’s been lying to me,” Feyre muttered, more to herself than Rhysand, who had leaned closer to her as her thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper. “This whole time.”

Her eyes drifted down from the ceiling, locking instead with Rhys’s blue eyes, drinking her in from his position on the couch.

“I never knew,” she said softly. “I never even suspected. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

A muscle fluttered in Rhys’s jaw, and he shook his head, one hand extending toward her as if to rest it on her knee. But he thought better of it, instead clasping his hands between his knees. “On the contrary. I’ve spent a year investigating Tamlin and he's slipped through my fingers every time. It’s no surprise you never knew."

Feyre bent over her knees, hands covering her face. “How long will it take?”

Rhys cleared his throat, thankfully understanding her meaning. “It depends. The more and better information we get, the easier it will be to charge him.”

When Feyre didn’t respond, Rhys continued.

“But if you want out, Feyre, say the word. We—I—would never dream of forcing you to stay in this relationship just for our purposes. There would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind.”

Feyre’s hands slid from her face, and she returned Rhys’s stare with one of her own. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to do this. I have to do this. If what you say is true, Tamlin is the reason your sister—and who knows how many others who knew too much—are gone. I can’t stand by and watch that happen. Can’t leave him knowing about the horrible things he is causing, or at least sanctioning.”

She could have sworn a glimmer of pride shone in Rhys’s eyes as he surveyed her. And despite everything, despite the loss of his sister and the investigation and the potential threat to Feyre’s life, he smiled.

“Then let’s bring that bastard down.”

Feyre couldn’t resist the grin she shot back.

-----

A week later, some of that excitement had died down. Tamlin had been at work around the clock, busy with various “projects” as he described them to Feyre. However, he had revealed that his next out-of-town venture would take place in late October—just a few weeks away. And Feyre was determined to discover the destination. So in addition to her studies and checking in every so often with the FBI through her earpiece, she spent the wee hours of the morning combing through Tamlin's computer in secret, digging through his bags and looking through his phone for anything that might reveal his future plans.

She continued to come up empty-handed.

But she didn't intend to give up, even though her exhaustion grew worse with every passing day. Feyre resolved to take a break from her sleuthing that night as she walked to another networking event, this one just a few blocks from her apartment.

She arrived in her best black suit, pencil skirt just brushing the tops of her knees, black tights beneath warding off the crisp fall air. She had spent extra time on her hair that evening—adding a little extra dry shampoo, teasing the golden-brown strands into a gentle curl at the ends. She even went so far as to add an extra layer of mascara before she came to her senses.

There was only one reason Feyre was putting in this extra effort, despite the minuscule chance that the reason would even be present at the mixer.

United States Attorneys surely had better things to do than attend every attorney/law-student networking event in the city.

And besides. Feyre was still unavailable, even if Tamlin had barely laid a finger on her the past few weeks, as busy and stressed with work as they both had been. Even if in her mind, her relationship with Tamlin had long since come to a crashing halt.

So she had resisted the urge to dab on some blush before she rushed out the door, tying her black overcoat around her waist as she rode the elevator to the lobby. Just a half hour later, she found herself engaged in a spectacularly dull conversation with a pair of junior associates from one of the other firms in Prythian. Feyre had forgotten their names almost as soon as she had heard them, distracted as she was with thoughts of her mission for Rhys—with thoughts of whether Rhys might be present tonight.

“Do you have plans to pursue partnership?” One of the attorneys—a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and brown eyes—inquired, taking another sip of her mixed drink. The woman was tipsy, but quite adept at hiding it. If Feyre hadn’t spent years observing her older sister Nesta’s drinking habits, she might not have noticed.

Unfortunately, the woman was staring at Feyre so intently that Feyre decided she would be forced to answer the question. Feyre’s mind raced, and she genuinely wondered whether saying, “I don’t know—nor do I much care at this point,” might be disadvantageous to her career. If it might get back to Hybern & Night.

But then she felt a hand at her elbow, a warm male body sidling up next to her, the scent of citrus and the sea washing over her in a wave.

“Feyre, darling. You’ve been avoiding me. My father insisted I meet his firm’s future associate.”

Feyre bit back her smile as she turned her attention from the attorneys in front of her to the man who had just stepped up to her elbow. Blue-black hair slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it. Violet eyes dancing with mirth. Black-on-black suit only emphasizing his imposing figure.

“I didn’t realize we were engaged in a game of hide-and-seek,” Feyre said. “Will you excuse me, ladies? It was wonderful to meet you both.”

And she allowed Rhys to whisk her away, through the crowded ballroom where the event was being held and up a set of stairs, where he pulled her out to a small balcony overlooking one of Prythian’s many parks to the rear of the building.

“That’s twice now,” Rhys noted, releasing Feyre’s elbow only when she leaned against the railing, her own elbows resting against the cool metal.

“Twice what?”

“That I’ve saved you from the vultures. However will you repay me?” Rhys asked, leaning onto the railing next to her.

“I’ll think of something,” Feyre said quietly, raising her eybrows.

“How are you holding up?” Rhys asked.

Feyre blinked. She had expected him to press her for details on Tamlin’s movements, or perhaps encourage her to try just a little harder to get him something, anything he could use to find justice for his little sister.

“I’m—fine,” she said haltingly. “Tamlin has another trip in two weeks, but you already know that. He’s…resistant to the idea of me hanging around Spring Solutions. Keeps insisting it’s going to interfere with my studies.”

Rhys sighed, shifting on his feet. Feyre tried to ignore how the motion brought his arm closer to hers, so close she could feel the heat of his body soaking into hers. “He may be an insufferable bastard, but the man is cautious.”

Feyre tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her wince at the words “insufferable bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, once again surprising Feyre at how adeptly he said the right thing, how flawlessly he interpreted her mannerisms and expressions. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Feyre shook her head. “You have every right, Rhysand. After what he did to your sister…”

Rhys let out a long sigh. Feyre echoed him a moment later.

"You called them vultures," Feyre said after several silent moments passed.

"And?"

"Why did you become an attorney if—if you find most of those people in there as abhorrent as I do?"

Rhys shrugged, the movement causing his shoulder to brush against Feyre's. "I come from a very long line of attorneys. In a way, it was the only future I ever really considered for myself. Even though I hated the way my father's work kept him so busy, how he constantly chose his billable hours over his family. I knew he never had any passion for the law he practiced. He merely craved the money, and the prestige, and the reputation."

Feyre turned to observe Rhys, studying the side of his face as he gazed out over the park.

"But I think watching all that made me want to be a different kind of attorney. Someone who cares about the people I'm representing, the cases I'm bringing. And a career as a prosecutor seemed like a good place to start—at least for now.” Rhys paused, as if weighing whether to say what he said next. “I'm not sure if it's made me any better than my father."

"For what it's worth, Rhys, I don't consider you a vulture."

Rhys met her eyes then, his face so open, so vulnerable, for one brief moment. "Likewise," he said quietly.

Feyre grimaced, choosing not to argue with him. Even though she was the one chasing the money that came with a big law job. Even though everything Rhys had said could very well describe her situation exactly.

“You want to get out of here?” Rhys said suddenly.

Feyre turned to look at him. “And do… what?”

“Take a walk. Grab a drink. Do anything other than talk to those insufferable sycophants prowling around that ballroom.”

Feyre swallowed, and before she could talk herself out of it, she heard herself saying, “Let’s go.”

An hour later, Feyre was two glasses of wine deep, laughing at something Rhys said to the strangers they had befriended at the bar a few blocks from the networking event. She hadn't had this much fun in—in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she went out with her friends on a whim, talking about everything and nothing, without discussing law school or work or anything serious.

But Rhys was fun. And Feyre was enjoying herself immensely. She even felt a little sad when Rhys paid the tab over her protests, insisting that he remembered all too well the weight of law school loans, before he ushered her out of the bar.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said as they emerged into the dark streets of Prythian.

“You don’t have to do that,” Feyre said.

“It’s dark and we’re downtown.”

Feyre bit her lip, but nodded in assent, turning right to lead Rhys in the direction of her apartment. They made it all of five steps before Rhys's phone rang.

"Sorry," he mouthed at Feyre, answering the call and guiding her over to the edge of the sidewalk.

"Night speaking," he said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Feyre leaned next to him, grateful for the buzz of the alcohol keeping her warm and relaxed as she waited. Grateful that it kept her from thinking too hard about the fact that she had just gone out with drinks. With Rhysand. Alone.

But the languid peace coursing through Feyre's veins evaporated when Rhys stiffened next to her.

"Who is this?" Rhys bit out.

Feyre shivered at the ice in his tone.

"Tell me who you are," Rhys growled, even as he seized Feyre's elbow and tugged her down an alley to their right, pushing her against the wall and crowding close, as if he could shield her very existence from the world around them.

"Who is this?" Rhys demanded once more.

Who the hell was on the other end of that phone call?

"Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed, the phone going dark in his hand as whoever he had been speaking to hung up.

"Who was it?" Feyre whispered.

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me."

"What did they say?"

Feyre felt the blood drain from her face as Rhys explained.

"We have to go," Feyre said, hands coming up to push at Rhys's chest.

"No. I have to get you home. I'm calling Cassian. He'll handle it." Rhys unlocked his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Feyre gritted her teeth. "We're two blocks away. I'll be fine. Let's just go."

And before Rhys could argue, she took off down the alleyway, jaw set.

They made it to the alley in less than five minutes, Feyre skidding to a halt at its mouth. Rhys had just hung up with Cassian, whom he had told to meet them there as quickly as possible. Feyre made to plunge into the dark alley, but Rhys grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "Stay behind me," he insisted, moving in front of and stalking slowly down the alley.

They were halfway through the space when Feyre caught sight of what looked like a pile of rags or fabric slumped against the alley wall about twenty feet in front of them.

Only, they weren’t rags, Feyre realized, watching the dark lump on the alley floor shift as Rhys approached.

It was a person—a man—laying on his side, head facing away from them, legs tangled together.

Azriel.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to the agent, the two glasses of wine she had drank earlier now threatening to come up when she beheld the state Azriel was in.

Two black eyes were already forming, his eyes so swollen they were mere slits in his red, black and blue face. Dried blood crusted the skin under his nose and continued all the way down his chin.

Feyre rested an arm on Azriel's shoulder, praying the agent wasn't bruised there as well.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

To her surprise, the agent chuckled. “Believe me, Feyre,” he grunted, his raspy voice echoing slightly in the alley around them. “I’ve had worse.”

Feyre bit her lip as Rhys brushed a hand lightly over her shoulder before joining her on the ground before Azriel.

"How long?" Rhys asked.

"Half hour," Azriel rasped, a series of hacking coughs interrupting him before he could continue. "Maybe longer."

Feyre saw the shadow of rage that passed across Rhys's face as he realized how long Azriel’s attackers had waited to call him. But he didn't verbalize it, instead murmuring, “Let’s get you up, friend." He gripped Azriel’s shoulders and pulling him into a seated position. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the agent, allowing Feyre to more fully appreciate just how battered his face was.

“Gods,” Feyre breathed, following Rhys’s lead and ducking under one of Azriel’s arms.

“It was Spring,” Azriel said quietly, once they had managed to drag him halfway down the alley.

Feyre sensed, rather than saw, Rhys stiffen at the words.

“How do you know?” Feyre asked quietly.

Azriel coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the alley floor in front of them. “They jumped me,” he said. “Took my gun, then a few of them held me down so they could take turns hitting me. I couldn’t do anything but let them—let them—” He broke off. “Then they dumped me and said they would send someone to retrieve me. I didn't know if that meant someone to finish the job, or help. The only other thing they said, the whole time, was right before one of them stomped on my head: 'Stay the hell away from Spring Solutions. Or else.' I was out cold after that. I think."

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

What did or else mean?

None of them spoke another word as Rhys guided them to the mouth of the alley, where a black car awaited. Rhys ripped open the door, revealing a tense-looking Mor in the backseat. She beckoned, taking Azriel from Rhys and Feyre.

Rhys got into the front seat, and Feyre climbed into the back with Az and Mor.

"Gods above," Mor breathed, surveying the damage done to Azriel's face. "What happened?"

Rhys explained as Cassian drove them quickly away from the alley, winding through the dark streets of downtown Prythian.

"Do you think they know?" Mor asked. "About Feyre?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. It was just a coincidence that she was with me at the time."

"They're getting more confident," Cassian noted, pulling his car to a stop in a darkened side street.

It took Feyre a moment to recognize where they were.

"I'll walk you to the building," Rhys said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car.

“What?” Feyre demanded, mouth falling open as her eyes found Mor's. "I can't go up there knowing—knowing." She broke off, unable to finish her thought. How could she return to her apartment after people from Tamlin's company had just beat Azriel into a bloody pulp just to make a statement?

"Please, Feyre. We need to get Azriel medical care, and the longer you're with us, the greater the chance your cover is blown," Mor pleaded, one manicured hand brushing back Azriel's silky black hair.

"I want to help," Feyre said quietly as Rhys opened the car door next to her.

"You are helping. You already have helped," Rhys said, reaching inside the car to unbuckle Feyre's seat belt. "We need to keep you in a position where you can help."

Feyre swallowed, and let Rhys coax her from the car.

"I'll call you to let you know how he's doing," Mor offered as Rhys shut the door.

Rhys was quiet as he escorted Feyre to the side entrance of her building. "Use that earpiece as soon as you get upstairs. Let us know you go to your apartment safely. Okay?"

"And what if my cover is blown?" Feyre asked.

"If we don't hear from you in ten minutes, I'll come bursting into that apartment myself. They wouldn’t waste time on Azriel if they found out about you.”

Feyre repressed a shudder at the implication in those words: That if Tamlin’s people discovered her treachery, they would come straight for her rather than risk her retreating to the FBI before they could silence her.

Feyre gritted her teeth, lingering in the open doorway.

"Please, Feyre. We have to get Azriel help."

There were so many things Feyre wanted to say, things that the attack on Azriel now made impossible. Had it really been less than an hour since she and Rhys had sat in that bar, laughing and talking without a care in the world?

But Feyre said nothing, instead letting the glass door swing shut between her and Rhys. And since she knew Rhys wouldn't turn to leave until she did, Feyre trudged up the stairs, fighting the urge to turn back for a last glimpse of the attorney watching her.

Taglist: @rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #acomaf #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #feyre x rhys

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laughingogre · 10 months

Text

The Recluse and The Huntsman

Teaser/chapter 0 for the fic I’m writing since I have Miguel ATSV brain rot and I can’t keep all this good stuff to myself anymore. This wasn’t edited or anything like that so expect possible changes to both the characters and the plot in the future. Okay byeeee! EDIT: I made a playlist to go along with this story, the first 3 tracks accompany this chapter.

Premise: Miguel has always felt like an outcast in spider society because of the way he got his powers. But after meeting Saanvi, he’s never felt more proud to be one-of-a-kind.

Pairings: Original character x Miguel O’Hara, anti-hero x hero, enemies to rivals (it’s complicated) to lovers

Warnings: Violence… and that’s about it for this piece of the story but this list is going to get much longer very quickly.

Driving rain and the slight fog that followed with it brought a neon haze upon Nueva York tonight. A fusion of colors so outstanding that memories of another life were starting to shake off dust in her mind. Flashes of memories from an annual fireworks festival sparked a little warmth in Saanvi’s heart. Less than thirty seconds went by before she snuffed it out, leaving herself icy; instincts sharp and ready. Long, slender fingers on sure hands opened the heavy black case that lay next to her on the rooftop. Satisfaction curled her lips into a small smile as the new and improved rifle looked back at her, gleaming in the neon haze.

Hellooo beautiful, she thought. While assessing all the upgrades, the multi-functional scope and walkable trigger she requested had her grinning maniacally. She made a mental note to give Drago a little more praise for his gunsmithing as she set up a stand in the darkness of the alcove. Cycling through the scope’s options allowed for eight different modes of visibility and detection, with heat-seeking sensors that stood up against even this night’s hellish weather.

Scanning the city for a few minutes allowed Saanvi’s dark eyes to adjust to the new level of detail the scope afforded them. Once her senses were fully immersed, the hunt was on. A den of data pirates had been having way too much fun with the identities of over half the city’s even-remotely-wealthy citizens. Ever the champion of fair play, she was going to bring that fun to an end by leveling their ranks. A glance at the watch face on the inside of her left wrist showed it was just before 02:00 AM. If the intel she scrubbed was accurate, a 12-person heat signature would pop up in less than 60 seconds.

Rifle loaded and ready, she took aim and waited. Intel was good—a warehouse four klicks away lit up with bodies. Once she had a count of twelve, her finger slipped into the trigger guard and onto the trigger in a swift motion. It didn’t leave the trigger until none of them were left standing. Smoke drifting from the barrel caught the light of an ad for aphrodisiacs and coiled pink and red against the shadows of the alcove. A smile cut across her face again as a leap off the building’s edge plunged her into the deluge.

Broken glass and rubble crunched underneath graceful steps as she leisurely filled a bag with data drives, cash, and whatever valuables her victims had stashed away. Once their warehouse was picked to the bones, Saanvi took a few photographs of the scene. Horrific images of bodies that were all bloated and bruising from the new ammunition she and Drago had developed. She knelt down near the worst-looking of the bodies, preparing to take a sample. As she pulled out a small vial and tool kit, the incoming presence of another threat sent her up the wall and into the ceiling’s vent system. Damn… intel must’ve been bad… there’s more of them. Sight limited by the vent grates, alarms went off in her head to escape as she felt the intensity of the aura peaking. There must be at least five more people about to walk into this room. Morbid curiosity won over her senses, so she repositioned herself in the vent to catch a glimpse of the intruders. Footsteps that seemed almost deafening from the intensity with which she listened for them indicated it was only one person. Good strategy, sending a scout. Eyes glued to the vent, she saw a massive silhouette peel around the corner. Her senses flared up at the sight of the figure beneath her: a man standing at least six feet tall, clad in a form-fitting suit that was dark blue with pulsing sections of red. The mask on his face had a menacing symbol on it that seemed to move the way facial expressions would. It started to stir a memory inside of her but an old emotion bloomed before recall could happen. For the first time in years, fear filled Saanvi’s veins. Thoughts only of escape and safety pinging in her mind. Run. Hide. Home. Run. Hide. Home. Go. Her head became a glitched mp3 but she couldn’t take her eyes off this predator. While the hulking figure below spoke in a low, annoyed growl to someone she couldn’t see, she stilled her mind and listened for the sound of pouring rain. The sound that would lead her away from this thing beneath her as fast as possible. Her crawl through the ducts to safety began with bated breath, a silent prayer that finished only after putting two klicks of distance between herself and whatever anomaly was in that warehouse.

Once back on the rooftop where her night began, her body shuddered hard, trying to fight off every feeling of the last few moments. She failed, senses made raw and primal by a hit of animalistic fear. Suddenly she could feel everything—single drops of rain and the chill that was trying to rob her of every last iota of body heat. Memories of another life came to her again, this time in echoes of her mother’s voice bewaring her of those made to be like her but not born as they were. ‘The universe is wide and more wild than our forest. You may meet something made to be even deadlier than you or I.’ The steel in her mother’s voice at that moment wasn’t lost on her then or now.

Saanvi had finally crossed paths with Miguel O’Hara that night. Only she didn’t register him as such. To her, she had come face to face with her mother’s fear made flesh: an unnatural union of arachnid and human.

***

It had been two weeks since that night and the nightmares weren’t letting up. Tonight was no different. Having been woken up by her own fearful thrashing yet again, Saanvi migrated from the bedroom to her studio. A pot of Cuban coffee brewed in the corner, filling the air with a pleasant smell. Fingers rapidly gesturing at holo-screens that were returning more of the same useless information. She knew everyone called him Spider-Man. She knew everyone (or almost everyone) considered him to be a hero. But she wanted more than just news articles and conspiracy theories from bloggers. What she wanted more than anything was to find out what Hell he came from so she could send him back to it. There was only one way to do that where he wouldn’t be pointing his fangs at her. Before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep at her desk, Saanvi had pinged a few connections. By the time the sun shone on the city again, she had unofficially launched an infiltration and intelligence gathering mission against Spider-Man.

#miguel o'hara #fanfiction #fanfic #miguel o’hara x oc #across the spiderverse #atsv #spider man #spider-man #spider-man 2099 #Spotify

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lizzieonka · 5 months

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Opened Twitter and this is the first thing I see

Kaiser’s smile… is genuine… and it’s with Ness 🥹💖

(Edit: adding the long block of text below from my reblog because I want it on the parent post as well.)

Man, this panel just made me love Friends to Lovers even more. Enemies to Lovers is hot and all, but it always comes with so much more pain than the former… And wouldn’t it be better if it doesn’t have to hurt first?

I love KaiSagi as a ship, I really do, but man, KaiNess, in spite of how twisted it has been, has that underlying tenderness that KaiSagi just doesn’t have (except for maybe that one time Kaiser caught Isagi by the hair when he fainted because he happened to be right next to him).

And call me cheesy, but I love tenderness. I love devotion. I love it when a character patiently stays by someone’s side no matter what the other becomes or how they themselves have changed. That’s a kind of trust that’s hard to come by—trusting in all the different versions of your partner, and trusting that they’ll also accept all the different versions of you.

Ness, in spite of his ugly obsession with Kaiser, genuinely cares for him and wishes for his happiness more than anyone else. He never stops believing in him, always finding him worthy even when Kaiser himself does not.

And Kaiser, despite how he treats Ness, is the one to seek him out first during a match when he notices him breaking down. He calms him and reassures him that everything will be alright. He takes the pressure off Ness’ shoulders and carries it himself.

These two are so fucking messed up right now, I admit. But there was a time that it wasn’t like that, you know? And the fact that these two are still together even though they’re no longer like that just… makes me want to cry a little. Where can you find a love like this?

I cried a bit during the BachiSagi separation arc, but my god, I think I’m gonna cry much more when KaiNess breaks up. I haven’t even read the new chapter yet, and I’m already so moved just from an image alone. How much more when I actually read the translation?

#kainess #michael kaiser #alexis ness #blue lock #blue lock manga #blue lock spoilers #blue lock leaks #lznk #kainess supremacy

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

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Humans are Space Orcs “Facial Expressions”

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

“Why are we even here?”

At the front of the room, The Grizzled Tesraki Bridge officer took his seat. One of his ears was partially mangled, and his dark Ochre fur stuck up in strange places only adding to his grizzled appearance.

In the front row, the young Tesraki that had spoken tapped a foot impatiently against the floor.

The room was filled with new recruits to an asteroid mining cooperation in the Quadinspira galaxy. There were More than a dozen bored looking Tesraki, a Rundi or two and even, to everyone’s surprise, Four Vrul, who had only just begun appearing in the private sector after the downfall of their current government in a surprising coup . The front row also boasted a finnari or two and the odd gibb, though no one expected it to last very long.

“Look, the less questions you ask, the sooner I can get through this presentation.” The grizzled tesraki rubbed his mangled ear, “Corporate has made this a mandatory introduction course, and for once I tend to agree with that decision.”

“Seems more like a waste of time to me.” Someone muttered.

The grizzled tesraki’s head jerked to the side following the muttered comment, “I may have a bad ear, but that doesn’t mean I’m deaf.” The entire class shifted nervously at the tesraki’s strange behavior. The average Tesraki wasn’t nearly so confrontational.

He crossed his arms again, “have any of you ever met a human.”

There was a pause around the room, but no hands were raised.

The Tesraki snorted, “Than that is exactly why you are here because corporate thinks, rightly, that you should have some warning before you go into an environment with humans. Otherwise, you're setting yourself up to get a mangled ear.” The entire class was paying attention now, trying very hard not to stare at the Tesraki’s mangled ear.

“Did…. did a human….”

The tesraki stomped his foot on the ground in amusement before letting off a sound that was oddly similar to a strangled bark. The group glanced around at each other nervously, “You’ll get used to it.” The tesraki muttered before leaning back against the wall, “No, a human didn’t take my ear off, it got messed up in an industrial accident, and in fact, a human is the only reason I am alive right now. Those bastards have incredible reflexes when they want, but my point is that humans CAN and HAVE done these sorts of things to people, and it is my job to make sure you pay attention to the training we are about to give you.” He turned towards his desk and tapped a button on the tabletop dimming the lights and starting up a holoprojection at the front of the room.

The darkness was momentarily broken by a greenish loading screen before a video flipped on.

The image was of a mostly nondescript brownish gray vrul with prismatic orange eyes sitting calmly at a desk facing the camera. The little banner under the video read.

Dr. Krill Chief of Surgery at Arcadia Noxumber Hospital: Human Anatomy Expert.

The little vrul shifted in his seat, “So, you plan on working with humans.” He nodded slowly to himself, “Well before you begin, I have been asked to give a little presentation to ensure the safety of you and all of your nonhuman colleagues.” The video switched to be replaced by an interactive medical diagram of a human in question, “A human is a sentient omnivorous predator species from the quad inspira galaxy hailing from a class A death planet. Due to the hostility of their home environment, it has become clear, that conflicts in a cross species workplace can become dangerous for any nonhuman worker.”

The diagram flashed, “While humans generally tend to be a docile and social species, capable of getting along with anyone they come in contact with, it is important to remember that the human need for survival is more heavily ingrained in them than it is in us, for this reason, humans may respond violently or unpredictably to situations they find threatening or unfamiliar. Their emotions are prone to changing rapidly and sometimes violently, though this is the exception to the rule.”

The diagram vanished, turning itself back to Dr. krill, “I cannot teach you everything there is to know in this short video, but I Can give you a crash course on some knowledge you are going to want to have if you interact with humans, and that is….” The screen flashed again, and the next image that showed up was a close up headshot of a human.

The image was so startling that some of the students jumped a little in their seats, distrubed by the strange expression, the predatory forward facing eyes, and the rubbery lips pulled back from a wide array of glittering white teeth.

“Human body language, most importantly human facial expressions are going to be some of the most important aspects of your nonverbal interaction with humans. Humans have the most mobile face out of almost any species on earth. There are 43 muscles in the human face alone, and are specifically designed for social communication with other humans. Additionally the enlarged whites of the eyes serve to allow other humans to more easily read their eye movements.

This expression you see here is a common facial expression you might see on humans, and one that you should be pleased to see. The human smile is unique among sentient species and unique among their own primate cousins. The smile actually evolved from the “fear expression.”

Another image flashed on screen, of a very similar expression, lips pulled back over flashing teeth, but this time the eyes were wider, where in the other image they were somewhat scrunched, causing little wrinkles to radiate from the edges of the eye.

“Historically speaking, the “fear” expression was also used as a sign of submissiveness towards more aggressive members of a human pack. By showing this expression humans might have helped to avoid conflict. Over time this expression evolved somewhat to indicate that the human has friendly intentions, using a “submissive” expression to indicate that they are not intending to be dangerous. Note the differences between the “fear” face and the “smile”. A smile might result in the closing of the eyes, or squinting, which would reduce the functionality of the human’s primary sensory organ, vision, while the fear face opens the eyes wider to allow in more light and increase the usefulness of the primary visual system. I must note here that a human can “Fake” a smile, but if the muscles around the eyes don’t move, it is likely to be a fake smile. Additionally it is important to remember body language in context, a smiling human will open up their body in a submissive way, holding their arms out, exposing their chest, lifting their chin to expose the throat, while an afraid human will curl in on themselves, lift their shoulders, and lower their chin. Additionally, they are likely to lift their hands to protect their face.

Another image appeared on screen, this time it was a similar image, but somehow more unsettling than the first two. The teeth were still showing, but this time they were more obvious, and the eyes, while squinted were turned down so far that the skin around the nose wrinkled, “Smiling or fear should not be confused, with a snarl, which is an aggressive facial expression you are unlikely to see on a human unless they are incredibly angry. You see the teeth are still pulled back, but the lips are pulled thin, the brows are dropped low to protect the eyes, and the muscles around the nose are punched inward. The snarl may be preceded by an angry face.”

The slide flipped again and this time, the image was of a human with its mouth closed, usually full lips were pulled tight into a thin line and almost inverted. The chin was down and the nostrils were flared. The brows were pulled tight together, and the eyes were wide and staring. The room shifted nervously, “It is best to avoid a human if you see this face, lips pulled thin, with such an intense stare. Humans don’t generally tend to hold eye contact for long periods of time. If a human is staring at you with this much intensity, it is often going to be a bad sign, and it is best to move.”

The screen flipped again, to show a row of a few more expressions, “It is best to differentiate human expressions that are happy and angry for your own safety, but here are a few quick examples of other expressions. Disgust”

The screen flashed.

A human with lips pulled back, though the expression was uneven, the head was slightly turned away, and the nose was wrinkled.

“Contempt.”

Eye contact, one side of the mouth pulled up, lips slightly pressed together.

“A human that shows contempt towards you is not necessarily going to be violent, but it might be best to move departments if you can.”

“Sadness”

Corners of the mouth turned down, eyebrows turned up in the middle instead of down.

“Other than facial expressions, there are a few human vocalizations that may be beneficial for you to hear.”

The room was filled with a sound it was almost impossible to describe, it was like a screech but done in short sharp bursts. Multiple sound clips were played and all the sounds were different, but contained a similar repetitive pattern. It was a strange and unnerving noise to stay the least, “Believe it or not, this is one of the best sounds to hear coming from a human. It's called laughter, and usually means they find something entertaining. If you make a human laugh it's generally considered a god thing, though it can often be used in certain situations to break tension.”

“Those of you with sensitive ears may want to cover them for this next sound, because if you hear it you will likely want to run. This is a human’s warning/distress call and may indicate danger.”

The Tesraki clamped their hands over their ears just in time for the room to be filled with a soul rattling screech that made everyone in the room flinch, and the desks to vibrate. Multiple clips were played, over and over again, terrified screeching like tortured animals, sometimes translation equipement even picked up words.”

“HELP! HELP! HELP ME!” The words devolved into incoherent screaming that left the entire room shaken when it faded,

“Generally indicates fear, or pain, and can be a warning for other social species to leave, or even call for aid. Oddly enough a human will not require a class to learn our facial expressions, as they are incredibly socially intuitive on most occasions. Again I must remind you that humans are not inherently violent, and that aggression only happens rarely, statistically speaking, But I am still eager to caution you.”

The video flashed back to the doctor who was leaning against his desk now, “At all costs it is your mission to make friends with the humans, iIt is extremely beneficial to both parties, and speaking as someone who has many human friends, I am likely in one of the safest locations in the galaxy, so be safe, remember these tips I have given you, and good luck.”

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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verdantglow · 1 month

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Hiiii, hellooooo, I saw your Homestuck au and I love it. Love your art !!! I wanna eat everysingle one of them they are so-

Ok so, I had a few questions if you don't mind like, how did Scar and Grian met? Like- how they become moirals? Aaaand what would be the quadrants between Mumbo, Scar and Grian

Aaah hi! & thank you so much! (I’ve never had someone say they wanted to eat my art, that’s such a high compliment, omg…)

So Scar & Griann. They met while playing the VR version of Flarp around mid adolescence!

Actually, the VR edition of Flarp is how all the various groups of characters know each other. When they were around 7-8 sweeps old, they all signed up for & played a VR Flarp called Third Life. After the campaign ended, they stayed in touch & over the years they’ve played four more campaigns over VR, occasionally adding in more players. (This is very odd for Flarpers & really just for trolls in general. Maintaining relationships outside of your quadrants once you’re an adult & off planet is exceedingly rare, but this group is now around 12-14 sweeps & just finished playing the Secret Life module together.) (…There might be something to be said about the complex shipping chart that has developed holding them together in some ways.) (But mostly they’re just all friends, for whatever shade & value of friendship is possible as an adult troll.)

Anyway! Back to Scar & Griann! Griann ‘accidentally’ (no one is sure how accurate that word is) led to Scar’s first death in the Third Life campaign. We can guess that either Griann really thought Scar wouldn’t die or he just is piss poor at thinking things through, ‘cause killing a sea dweller, even in a game, when you were not supposed to… Well let’s just say that Griann vowed his first life to Scar & Scar, whether by dint of being the friendliest sea dweller you’ve ever met or because he was genuinely placated by the vow, didn’t pursue revenge IRL as he was entitled to by troll custom.

(It’s important to remember here that 1. Griann is a mutant candy red blood & 2. everyone was around the age where blood colour starts showing in your eyes, making it harder to hide your hemostatus. Given Griann wasn’t a full adult, so there was just a tint of red to his irises, during the Third Life campaign most of them assumed Griann was a rustblood. & a such a low blood killing fucking royalty out of turn, frankly most of them were pretty damn shocked that Scar accepted the vow instead of killing Griann on the spot, at least in game. It was very much a defining moment for everyone’s thoughts of Scar.)

So Griann & Scar teamed up & feelings… happened. Most of the rest of the crew saw their relationship as a somewhat forced moiraillegence, Griann placating Scar for his own safety as well as that of others while voicing his desire to leave the partnership to almost anyone who’d listen. By the end of the campaign, the forced part fell off people’s estimations, as Grian obviously became closer & closer to Scar. But it still seemed like a pretty cut & dry moiraillegence, albeit a kinda dysfunctional one, given how much death & destruction Scar still enacted on everyone.

When they were asked about their fresh moiraillegence after the campaign, they both just kinda smiled & nodded, trying not to think about all the confusing vacillating make outs that happened on Monopoly Mountain. & they’ve been living in ??? ever since.

Now, Mummbo Jummbo. My favorite jade blood. (My only jade blood lol.) He & Griann have known each other since they were grubs & have always been pretty much inseparable, despite Mummbo not picking up VR Flarp until the group’s second campaign.

No one knows what the heck is going on between Griann & Mummbo. They are utterly, helplessly devoted to each other in a way that everyone speculates whether they flushed or maybe ashen or ??? Like. Scar & Griann, while they keep up the image of them being moirails, anyone who really knows them can see quadrant vacillation clear as day. That’s not too out of the ordinary. But Mummbo & Griann? Extremely odd by troll standards, particularly adult troll standards. They seem to swing between pity friends & hate friends, as many troll friends do; they just do it at an intensity & velocity that most trolls find baffling outside of quadrants.

(The truth is Mummbo’s quadrants are completely empty & he prefers it that way. Aroace king right here. If you ask if, he’ll just say that quadrants are too much fuss & confusion for him. Though it is worth noting that Mummbo’s main point of reference for what quadrants look like for a long time was whatever the fuck Griann & Scar have going on, which, is, uh, not particularly stable & frequently somewhat unhealthy. Love them though.)

Mummbo & Scar become good pity friends after being introduced by Griann post-Third Life campaign, though they also have their hate friend days. Heck there have even been a few times that others have suspected Mummbo was pitch flirting with Scar (like during the Secret Life campaign when Mummbo said, rather loudly, in public, something to the effect of ‘get good.’). But really it’s a case of the hate friendship aspect of their relationship flaring & Mummbo being utterly clueless to flirting of any kind, even when he seemingly is the one doing it.

#whoops wrote a novel #grian #goodtimeswithscar #Mumbo jumbo #scarian #desert duo #trafficblr #trafficstuck #I just love… weird relationships defying social expectations…#it’s the queer in me.#also aroace Mumbo fucking slaps.#verdant answers #also I’m having so fucking much fun answering these asks!#thank you to everyone sending them!#I love getting to share all this with more people who get it.#(I am eternally lucky that my fiancé also has fandom brain & used to be a Homestuck)#(so they are capable of understanding my rambling)#(but it’s so dang nice to have more people to talk to!)

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ladytauria · 4 months

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AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH “Let me ride you.” for... jaycass :"O

ahhh thank you so much for the prompt <3

so, initially i wasn't sure what to do for this one, but then yesterday, i read a post from @deepwithintheabyss, and, uh. well. later that night i wrote the first 300 words for this <3

it ended up being jaytimcass instead of just jaycass, and uhhh. somehow it spiraled into a little over 4k of... pure smut. featuring: established jaytim with dom tim and sub jay having a threesome with dom cass <3

oh, and a tiny bit of incest, because in one line tim does call cass his sister<3

same day edit: some rephrasing, sentence restructures, and some clarifications added in certain spots. nothing major has changed, though, so if you've read it already you don't need to reread <3

>> AO3 <<

Tim and Cass (and to a lesser extent, Steph) share everything. That’s just a fact. Clothes, safe houses, gear, food, showers, toothbrushes—

—and sexual partners.

Albeit, Jason’s more than that to Tim. Tim loves him, wholeheartedly, which—everything he’s ever seen and read says that should mean he wants to keep Jason all to himself.

And he does. Mostly. With one little exception.

Tim loves him, adores him, and that means… he wants desperately to share him with Cass. Not all the time, or even frequently, but. She’s such a part of him that it feels only natural for her to share in this too, even if it’s only once.

Which is the only reason he brings it up to Jason at all.

Jason’s response is a quick and emphatic no. Tim doesn’t pout or plead—he takes the rejection gracefully, kissing his cheek and reassuring him that no is a complete sentence, and if he’s not comfortable, that’s okay. Tim still loves him, he’s not upset.(Maybe, privately, a bit disappointed, but he knows better than to say that.)

He’s pretty sure that’s the end of it.

Until Jason brings it up again, later. The image, the thought, hasn’t left his mind, and… tentatively, he’s willing to try it.

Which brings them to now. Here. In Tim’s bedroom, the lights low, the three of them stripped to their underwear. Cass hangs back for now, perched to the side, watching.

Tim straddles Jason’s thighs. It splays his legs wide open, the kind of stretch that might burn a little if he wasn’t as flexible as he is. He’s got both hands buried in Jason’s hair, tipping his head back so he can kiss him hard and deep—fucking his mouth with his tongue.

Jason moans under him, hands resting on Tim’s hips. Spit smears around their mouths, dripping down their chins. It’s wet and messy and good, especially with how lax Jason’s mouth is. If Tim’s own tongue wasn’t in the way, he’s sure Jason’s would be hanging out like a dog.

God.

He’s so good. Part of Tim wants to glance over at Cass, ask with his eyes, Do you see this? Do you see how beautiful he is for me? But he doesn’t, because right now, this is about Jason.

About getting him comfortable and aroused and ready for Cass to join them.

He plunges his tongue as far in Jason’s mouth as it’ll go, straining his frenulum in the process. It’s worth it for the noise Jason makes; for the flex of Jason hands on his hips. Fuck. Tim loves how strong he is, how easily he could manhandle him if he really wanted to.

How he doesn’t, because he wants Tim to manhandle him instead. (And Tim does, and can, because he may be small, but he’s strong.) He wants to be good. And that—

It’s heady.

He tugs Jason’s hair with one hand, drawing a delicious noise from him. His other hand slips down, gliding over Jason’s neck, shoulder, to grip at his bicep. The muscle is pliant under his hands; squishing easily when he kneads at it. Under the fat and lose muscle, though… Solid as rock. That makes Tim moan, licking into Jason’s mouth one more time before pulling back.

The lack of air is making him dizzy.

Jason, too, he thinks, judging by the way he blinks blearily at Tim, sucking in a deep lungful of air like he’d forgotten he was supposed to be breathing. It’s cute. Cuter still is the high noise Jason makes when Tim attacks his neck with lips and teeth and tongue. He refreshes old, faded markings before moving down, down.

He slides his other hand from Jason’s hair now—down his neck, over his shoulder and down to his collarbone, where it’s joined by the other. He cups Jason’s pecs in his hands. They fit in his palms almost like tits, fat and relaxed muscle plush and soft as he kneads with his fingers.

Jason’s moan is high and sweet.

It gets higher, sweeter, when Tim wraps his mouth around a nipple.

He usually likes to start slow. Soft. But he knows Cass’s mood tonight is neither of those things. Patient as she’s being, there’s an antsiness in her. Tim had offered to reschedule, but…

He’d known by the look in her eye what his sister wanted. He also knew that Jason was more than capable of rising to the occasion, regardless of how Tim chose to prep him. Still. Tim was going to get him used to it now, starting by sucking hard on his nipple… and following that with a scrape of his teeth.

Jason shudders, his skin pebbling with bumps, a sweet little whimper in his voice.

He hears Cass shift. Chances a quick glance over at her, and nearly smiles at what he sees, the way her gaze has gotten more intense. More interested. He can’t blame her. Jason really does make such lovely sounds.

It motivates Tim to draw more from him. He plays with Jason’s nipples until the man is shying under his touch—then, he leaves a ring of bruises around his pecs, loving the way he squirms.

Tim can feel Jason’s hips working. Small, minute shifts, seeking friction. His cock strains at his briefs—tight, black, with a little bit of red lace trim. Tim presses the heel of his palm against it, letting Jason grind on it.

It makes him pant, open mouthed, body trembling with each breath. When Tim takes his hand away, he whimpers again, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. A glossy sheen of tears coats them, starting to gather in the corners.

Adorable.

Tim kisses his nose, and shoves at his shoulders. Jason goes, falling back into the bed willingly. He looks up at Tim with the sweetest expression—needy and wanting and so so adoring. Tim loves him.

Jason lifts his hips obediently when Tim hooks his fingers in the waistband of his briefs. They look so good on him it’s almost a shame to take them off, but. Tim knows for a fact what’s underneath is far prettier. He tugs them down his legs and tosses them toward the hamper.

Tim skims his fingers up the underside of Jason’s cock, watching the way he shudders; bumps pebbling on his skin. The flesh of him is hot under Tim’s fingers—precome saturates the head, drooling down the shaft. Tim swipes his finger through it, and sticks it in his mouth, ignoring the needy whimper Jason makes, instead humming, pleased, at the feeling of salt on his tongue.

“Grip the headboard, Jay— Good boy. Knees up for me, yes, just like that, that’s beautiful.” Tim reaches—Cass hands him the pillow he was looking for, and he thanks her with a brief smile. Jason blinks at her, like he’d forgotten she was here—and then smiles, shyly.

Cass smiles back, ghosting her fingers over the underside of his thigh. Jason shivers, arms twitching. Before Tim can ask, he’s raising his hips, letting Tim slip the pillow under them.

Cass hands him the lube next.

Tim cups Jason’s balls. Lifts them to expose his perineum, and drizzles lube over it, letting it dribble down to Jason’s hole. Jason flinches, keens. The headboard creaks under his grip, his hands twisting around it.

He stays where he was put, though, even as tears trickle down his temples. Cass hums, pressing up against Tim’s back, stroking over Jason’s calf as she hooks her chin over Tim’s shoulder.

Tim rolls his balls in his palm in reward—Jason shudders, head tipping back with a soft moan. Then Tim lets them go so he can slick up two of his fingers. He circles them around Jason’s rim, massaging the muscle. The muscles in Jason’s thighs twitch as they quiver. His belly jumps.

Tim pushes in with his index finger; just to the first knuckle. He keeps rubbing his rim with forefinger, biting back a smile as Jason fights to stay still. His cock drools, dripping onto his abdomen. Cass pets over Tim’s belly, humming as she watches. Her other hand is still tracing patterns over Jason’s calf.

He pushes in to the second knuckle, rubbing at Jason’s walls. Jason is hot around him, his passage silken. He pumps his finger once, twice—then withdraws. Jason whimpers, though it cuts off sharply when Tim plunges back in with both fingers, to the second knuckle. Jason clenches around him, wiggling his hips, a needy, plaintive sound in his throat.

Tim works his fingers, quickly working his fingers in to the third knuckle. Jason’s passage spasms around him, as if he can milk his fingers.

“Needy,” Cass says.

Tim hums in agreement, and Jason whines, pouting at them both. The pout drops off his face when Tim crooks his fingers, rubbing over his prostate. Jason’s lashes flutter, mouth open in an O, more tears rolling down his face as he whimpers. His hips twitch a little, like he can ride Tim’s fingers.

The angle’s not good enough, though, and he’s forced to simply take what Tim gives him.

When Tim adds a third finger, Jason keens again, bucking, hands straining against the headboard. He can feel Cass’s breathing deepen, feel the way her hand presses down on his belly, the way she presses closer against his back.

“Taking me so well,” Tim croons as he stretches Jason open. He tears his eyes away from Jason’s face to watch his hole, the way it swallows Tim’s fingers. Such a pretty sight. He hums to himself.

Tim keeps teasing him, massaging his prostate, stretching his walls, until Jason is sniffling, crying, sweet, desperate sounds falling from his mouth. Then, Tim takes pity. Cass slicks up the plug Tim had set out, passing it to him when it’s ready. Tim withdraws his fingers. Jason doesn’t even have time to whine before Tim is rubbing the base of the plug against his hole.

It’s a little thicker than even three of Tim’s fingers—he watches Jason’s hole stretch to accommodate it, enjoys the way he strains, arching up off the bed, sweet little cries leaving him.

Tim rocks it until he’s sure it’s nestled right against his prostate. Then he pats Jason’s thigh. “Good boy,” he praises.

Jason sniffles at him, widening his eyes, pleading silently.

Cass laughs sweetly in Tim’s ear.

“Not yet." His cock throbs at the way Jason’s face drops. He holds his hand out automatically, accepting the final toy from Cass—a cock ring.

Jason whimpers at the sight of it, but he doesn’t put up a fuss when Tim works it over him, fixing it to the base of Jason's cock. He kisses the tip, precome smearing on his lips, and pets Jason’s flanks.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says. “You just relax for me. Deep breaths—just like that, very good. Keep your hands on the headboard for me.” He cards his fingers through the hair on Jason’s belly a few times, watching as Jason does what he’s told, eyes fluttering shut.

When some of the tension has eased from his shoulders, Tim moves, sliding up to sit next to Jason’s head, leaning back against the headboard. Cass crawls after him, her movements graceful and languid like a predator. Jason, eyes open again, watches her with wide eyes. She straddles Tim’s thighs and twins her arms around his neck, toying with the short hairs at his nape, making him shiver minutely. Tim cups her hips, stroking his thumbs over the v leading to her groin.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” she echoes, mouth twitching. The light in her eyes is dancing with amusement and anticipation. Tim tips his head back as Cass kisses him; mouths moving in perfect sync, tongues slipping and sliding together wetly, neither of them taking more from the other than they’re given. Push and pull—back and forth. A dance Tim thinks both of them were born knowing the steps to.

The headboard creaks. Jason whines pleadingly.

They ignore him.

Tim’s hands smooth up Cass’s rib cage, counting each bone under her skin before palming her breasts. He knows Cass doesn’t usually wear a bra—that the lacy thing cupping them is for their benefit alone. He plays with her nipples through the fabric, enjoying the way she rolls her hips against him in return.

When she nips his tongue, he goes for the band, unhooking it with practiced ease. Cass shrugs it off, tossing it carelessly over her shoulder.

The headboard creaks again as Jason makes a soft, plaintive sound. Tim smiles into Cass’s mouth before she breaks the kiss. This time, it’s her turn. She pays only a little attention to his chest—pinching his nipples until he squirms. Then she focuses on other things, spaces of his body that Tim had never known were sensitive until she found them. His side, his stomach, even spots on his back. Cass works them all while Tim holds onto her hips and moans.

It drives Jason crazy beside them. Tim can hear him squirming. Hear the sweet, needy sounds he makes. Can picture the way tears fall on his cheeks. It would be so easy for him to look over, to see it for himself, but.

Ignoring him while they put on a show will drive him that much crazier. And Tim loves to drive Jason crazy.

Tim’s turn again. He kisses Cass’s neck, using far less teeth than he had on Jason and leaving no marks. His hands roam her body, mapping out the places that make her squirm, make her breathing hitch, make her even moan. It’s always a treat, getting a sound from Cass. She’s so silent. (Tim likes that too, though: reading her pleasure from breath and expression alone.)

They don’t stop until both of them are leaking through their underwear; damp spots where their arousal pools the thickest.

Tim discards his—Cass does the same above him, both of them tossing them carelessly. He turns to Jason again, finally, finding him watching them. He’s just as Tim pictured; face rosy red, tears glistening in his eyes and on his cheeks, hands twisting around the headboard, grip white-knuckled. A pearly pool of precome glitters on his stomach.

Tim strokes his cheek with his knuckles, stopping to cup his jaw, thumb catching over his full bottom lip. Jason’s lips wrap around the tip, suckling., looking up at Tim with wide, pleading eyes.

Tim smiles at him. “Good boy,” he praises. “Being so patient, keeping your hands where I told you… Do you think you can keep being good for me?”

Jason nods, immediately, curls falling into his eyes.

Tim brushes them back to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Of course you can,” he croons. He takes a condom off the bedside table, sitting up. He works his hand over Jason’s cock, gentle, making sure it’s thoroughly coated in pre before he rolls it on. He can hear the way Jason’s breath hitches in anticipation. “You’re gonna stay nice and still, and let her ride you, aren’t you?”

Jason’s breath hitches, and he nods again; quick, sharp jerks. “Yes. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Tim strokes his face, fingertips skimming over his jaw. He looks over at Cass, nodding, giving her the go ahead.

She’s all languid limbs when she climbs over Jason, settling onto his thighs. Tim lies on his side, ignoring his own erection in favor of propping his head up with one hand, and trailing the other over Jason’s chest, twirling his fingertips through the wiry curls.

Cass wraps her hand around Jason’s cock—looking pale and small against his cock. The contrast makes his fingers itch for a camera. She rubs the tip through her folds, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth parted.

The headboard jerks under Jason’s grip, knocking against the wall. Tim kisses his jaw. Cass teases Jason for a moment more—Tim can see her eyes glittering under her lashes, the twitch at her mouth that shows just how much she’s enjoying the sounds Jason makes.

And then…

Cass slams down, taking Jason to the root with a single thrust.

He shouts—Tim is half worried the headboard is going to snap under his hands. It doesn’t. Instead, it slams back against the wall again; a loud sound that makes him glad he doesn’t have neighbors. Jason’s chest heaves, his arms shake.

Cass sets a hard, brutal pace. Tim can barely hear her soft grunts under Jason’s cries. She switches back and forth between riding him and grinding on him, rubbing her clit against him. Fat tears roll down Jason’s face; his skin is flushed from head to chest. His tongue lolls out of his mouth—Tim can’t resist plunging two fingers between his lips.

He’s rewarded by Jason sucking; cheeks hollowing, swallowing around them. Tim pets his tongue idly, turning back to watch Cass.

He can tell the moment she comes—clamping tight around Jason’s cock, her movements stilling. Jason lets out a strangled cry, teeth grazing over Tim's skin. Cass's head tips back, chest thrust forward. She still looks so composed; only a slight flush on her skin; the barest sheen of sweat.

She isn't still for long. Bending backwards, reaching for the remote at the foot of the bed. Jason’s brow furrows in confusion at the sight of it—until she presses the button, and the plug in his ass buzzes to life. Jason’s breath hitches. He whines needily around Tim’s fingers. He pumps them, fucking Jason’s mouth properly, watching the way his eyelids droop. He pants, breath hot and humid.

Tim brushes his mouth against Jason’s ear. “Such a good boy, letting her use you like this,” he whispers. “Letting her use that pretty cock of yours to make herself come. A sweet little toy for her.”

Jason moans around his fingers, shivering, looking up at Tim through his lashes. His sucks turn more insistent, and Tim chuckles. “Do you need something more in your mouth, baby?”

Jason whines, nodding. Tim drags himself back up, moving until Jason’s head and shoulders are pillowed on his legs. He takes his fingers, wiping them on Jason’s cheek. He feeds Jason his cock.

Tim will never tire of Jason’s mouth. His body is a furnace, running a few degrees hotter than everyone else’s. He feels molten and soft around Tim’s flesh, and when he sucks—

Stars dance in Tim’s eyes.

He pets Jason’s face, deepening his breaths to try and keep them even. Jason moans, whines, cries around Tim’s cock—but he never, ever stops sucking and licking, doing his best to bob his head, and staring up at Tim, hazy-eyed and adoring. He soaks up ever stroke of Tim's hand like he's starving for it.

If Tim was even a fraction less horny it would make his heart ache. As it is—he just gets harder, belly tight and hot.

He's nearly undone when Cass comes again—Jason's mouth tightening around him, moaning long and low, the sound vibrating around his cock.

Tim reaches out with his other hand—Cass takes it, tangling their fingers together. She’s showing signs of exertion now, sweat glittering and glistening on her skin. As beautiful now as she is on stage, arms raised in a perfect pirouette.

She squeezes Tim’s hand.

Tim squeezes back. He taps Jason’s cheek with the other, getting his attention. “You’re going to make Cass come one more time, baby,” he says. “And then you get a reward, alright?”

Jason hums, blinking slowly up at him in acknowledgement. His lashes are clumped with tears, eyes rimmed with red. Tim strokes a finger down the line of his nose, over his bulging cheek.

Cass’s pace is slower this time—her hips rolling. Her breaths quicken, quiet moans tumbling from her mouth. The movements of Jason’s mouth grow clumsier; too focused on Cass. Tim doesn’t mind. He is too.

When Cass’s stomach starts to tighten, the muscles flexing, showing off her abs, Tim lets go of her hand, rising up a little to pull her into a kiss over Jason’s head. He hears, feels, Jason groans—the vibrations make him moan. A particularly hard thrust has Cass tensing, then coming with a sigh, melting against Tim’s mouth.

She pats his cheek when she pulls away, smiling at him, eyes hazy and face pink, looking far more relaxed than when they started. Tim smiles to see it. She slips off of Jason, resting on his other side, curling her legs under her.

Tim eases his cock from Jason’s mouth—when he whimpers, Cass replaces it with her fingers. Jason’s eyes blow wide in surprise, and then he sucks eagerly. Cass smiles down at him.

Tim settles between his legs, cupping his balls lifting them as if he's testing the weight of them before making a low, sympathetic noise. "Aw, poor baby. You're so full. I bet it hurts, doesn't it?"

Jason whines around Cass’s fingers. Tim is sure he would be begging to come if he could speak—especially when Tim rolls them in his palm, rubbing them with his fingertips. Jason thrashes his head, his hips moving in short, aborted jerks as he tries to stay still, like Tim asked.

“What do you think, Cass?” Tim asks, contemplatively. “Has he earned it?”

Cass hums, her mouth quirking on one side. “Hasn’t made you come yet,” she points out, to Jason’s distress. Idly, she starts circling one of his nipples with her free hand. Tim watches his chest jerk, both up and away.

Tim lets his eyes widen, pretending surprise. “You’re right. He hasn’t. That’s not really fair, is it Jay?” he asks, and Jason whines, pouting around Cass’s fingers. He’s so cute, with his curls falling into those big, pleading eyes, glassy with lust and tears.

Ignoring him, Tim hums contemplatively. “Although... I did promise him a reward for making you come again." He pets Jason's thigh, cocking his head like he's thinking. “Hm… I suppose for your reward, darling, I’ll take this off for you.” Tim eases the cock ring from him, and lets it fall on the bed beside them. “But if you want to come…” He grabs the base of the plug, Cass turning it off as pulls it out. “You’re going to have to do it on my cock. Think you can do that?”

Jason nods, frantically. His cheeks have hollowed, and Tim knows he’s got to be sucking Cass’s fingers like a champ. He can see her moving slightly, probably petting his tongue.

Tim lets the plug drop on the bed with the cock ring. He grabs the lube again. Hisses at the cold liquid on his heated flesh before he strokes himself, smearing it everywhere. He doesn’t bother with a condom; just lines himself up with Jason’s hole, lifting up one of Jason’s legs and pushing it toward his chest.

With one snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt.

Jason sobs. His cock and balls twitch, a spurt of precome splattering on his skin. He tightens beautifully around Tim, making him snarl at the tight, wet heat of him.

Cass hums, watching with dark eyes. She presses her mouth against Jason’s temple and whispers, just loud enough for Tim to hear, “Beautiful.”

The praise makes Jason shake, sobbing again. Cass brushes hair from his forehead, looking from him to Tim, clear approval in her eyes. Keep him, she tells him silently, without so much as moving her lips.

I intend to, Tim says back, snapping his hips again. Jason keens.

Cass keeps petting Jason, touch firm and soothing, letting him suck on her fingers as Tim fucks him. He uses the same pace as Cass, right at the very start. Hard and punishing, slowing occasionally to roll his hips, angling for Jason’s prostate.

It doesn’t take very long at all for Jason to come. Especially not when Cass starts teasing his tit again—scraping a nail over his tight, puckered nipple.

Tim has to hold his hips and Cass his shoulders to keep him from arching completely off the bed, mouth hanging open in a silent shout. He paints his own chest with come—Tim helps him, massaging his balls and perineum while fucking him shallowly.

When Jason collapses, he looks half passed out.

Tim pets his flanks, giving both of them a moment to catch their breaths and then... he keeps going, chasing his own bliss in the tight heat of Jason's body.

Cass drags three fingers through Jason’s come—examines them curiously, tilting them in the light. Then, she slips her fingers from Jason's mouth, holding up the ones covered in his come instead. Jason swallows them down without hesitation, moaning when he tastes himself on her fingers, and that—

That’s when Tim spills, deep inside him. He feels Jason shudder, hears his quiet moan, feels the way he clenches around him. He clenches tighter when Tim pulls out, as if he can hold him inside, but Tim ignores him. A line of come follows his cock; Tim scoops it up with his fingers, stuffs it back inside, using them to keep him plugged while he snags the plug. He uses his come to slick the plug before working back inside him. As soon as it's settled, Jason sighs sweetly, relaxing back against the mattress, suckling contentedly on Cass's fingers.

Tim crawls up to the headboard, settling down on Jason's other side. He strokes Jason's cheek. "You can let go of the headboard now, sweetheart," he whispers. Jason blinks up at him. It takes him a second to comply, and when he does, it's slow, finger-by-finger before he lowers his arms. Cass slips her fingers from his mouth, then; she and Tim each taking one of his arms, massaging them. Jason hums, low and rumbly like a purr.

Tim raises Jason's hand to his mouth, turning it to kiss his palm before threading their fingers together. "Very well done, sweetheart. You were so good for us, thank you."

Jason shivers, blinking sleepily at him, a little smile on his mouth.

Cass sweeps Jason's bangs from his face again so she can kiss his forehead. "Good boy," she tells him when she comes back up. Jason blinks at her, wide-eyed with surprise. Then he flushes, smiling shyly at her. She smiles back, sweetly, patting his cheek before leaning over him.

Tim meets her halfway, sighing into her slow, languid kiss.

They say sharing is caring, and right now, Tim couldn’t agree more.

#jaytim #jaytimcass #timjay #batcest #tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #paprikadotmp4 #asks and answers #prompt fills

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sweetwhispersofchaos · 10 months

Text

Red, White, & Blue

A Rooster x Phoenix one-shot Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, oh and lots of smut. Explicit. Minors DNI! Word count: 7240 Story and Cover Image Edit by me Prompt #74 from @creativepromptsforwriting @creativepromptfills (Feel free to reblog) A day late and a dollar short, this is my Fourth of July story.

Description: Rooster isn't a fan of the fourth, it was too close to the anniversary of his dads death. Phoenix tries to help him make new, happy memories.

After the Dagger squad completed their mission they dispersed back into the wind, separating to their four corners of the world to continue with their original units. Rooster found himself back in Japan to complete another five months of service there before being moved again. When his orders came down for San Diego, he wasn’t sad at all. He spent the last 5 months reconnecting with Maverick via facetime and now they could catch up on the years they missed with each other. There was a bonus to this assignment as well. Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote were all stationed there as well.

Rooster moved in April and by May was settled into his small apartment and with his new unit. He spent his days flying and nights banging on the piano at the hard deck with his friends. Maverick had retired finally and was helping Penny run the bar while consulting for the NAVY, so it was another way to spend time with his long-lost family. Things were going well, and he couldn’t complain.

Then his least favorite time of the year rolled around. July 4th was an important day for the country he served proudly, it was Americas birthday. Rooster, however, never felt much like celebrating. His dad had died just a few days prior to the holiday. His first fourth without his father was spent snuggling in his mother’s lap, watching fireworks from their backyard in Corpus Christi, Texas, while she sobbed uncontrollably. They never really celebrated the holiday; it was just too painful for his mother. She told Rooster one time when he was in high school and asked, about how July 4th was his father’s favorite holiday. He and Mav would have cookouts for their pilot friends that included at least one of them getting burned while running from fireworks and lots of singing americana themed songs off key. She looked so sad as she recalled these memories to him, and he decided to never bring it up again.

The fact that his father was a military man added insult to injury. Everything about the holiday was pomp and circumstance surrounding those who sacrificed for freedom. Rooster always struggled to see all the uniforms, military vehicles in parades, and fly overs on that day, so he decided to just ignore it, never going anywhere, never participating when asked, or celebrating at all.

When Mav and Penny invited him and his fellow aviators out to Mavericks hangar for a huge get together, Rooster panicked. He was getting along so well with the older pilot, and this might throw a wrench in everything. He didn’t want to be rude but how would he let the man down gently without telling him why he would be sitting on his couch with a beer and ignoring the outside world that day?

He tried. Several excuses later Penny had sweet talked him into making an appearance, especially after Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote had all enthusiastically accepted their invitations. Rooster was disgruntled to say the least. The thought of Maverick wanting to celebrate during this time of year really rubbed him the wrong way, and Phoenix must have picked up on that notion. The day after the invitation conversation at the Hard Deck, she cornered him at work before their hops.

“What’s up your ass, Bradshaw?” she asked from behind him as he walked towards the hangar door.

Rooster stopped in his tracks, swearing under his breath. He was hoping she wouldn’t bug him about it, but that woman never missed anything when it came to Rooster and his emotions. He turned around and found her standing with her arms crossed, an eyebrow inclined to the roof, waiting for an answer.

He sighed then tried to play it cool. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Bullshit” she immediately spat. “You couldn’t get out of the July 4th invitation fast enough last night. What gives? Don’t like us anymore?” she smirked.

“Depending on how much you continue to bug me about this, I might not.” He said completely dry.

Phoenix took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them. “I’m coming over after work to get one of your shitty beers and you’re going to tell me.” Then she lightly shoved his shoulder with her helmet before walking around him and heading for her jet.

Rooster turned and watched her go, rubbing his face with his free hand in exasperation before walking out into the California heat. He never thought he would have to have this conversation with anyone, especially Phoenix. They had always had a thing of sorts, although they never made a move past being best friends. They were close and had been since they met at Top Gun 8 years ago. They told each other everything and travelled around each other’s orbit, but he always kept her at arm’s length, not wanting to bring anyone into his personal shit nor start something he wasn’t sure he could see all the way through. It had been a few years since they had seen each other in person when they were both called back for the special detachment and Rooster began to feel all sorts of feelings again. But he still wasn’t sure he wanted to bring her all the way into his bubble.

Guess she was going to push her way in whether he wanted her to or not.

After work he tried to slip out before she could catch him but no such luck. Phoenix was already leaning against her jeep parked next to his Bronco. Rooster let out an exasperated breath as he approached her, having half a mind to remove his shades so she could see his irritation on full display, but it wouldn’t have mattered, a satisfied smirk on her face already.

“Would you believe me if I told you I already have plans this evening?” he asked as he stopped at the front of the Bronco to address her.

She stood up and grabbed her backpack from the ground “Not in the least. Start driving Bradshaw, I’m right behind you.” Then she practically skipped to her driver’s side door and hopped into the jeep. Rooster just shook his head then trudged to his own door, taking his time getting in and turning everything on, hoping it would deter her, but knowing better. Damn that woman, if he didn’t like her, he’d hate her. She never took his crap, or anyone else’s, he had to give her credit for that.

Once they pulled into his complex, they both walked silently up to his door but before he could unlock it, he turned to face her. “Look. I’d rather be alone right now.” Was all he said.

Her smile became a little crestfallen as her eyes dropped from his. She took a slow breath then looked up at him. “Listen, I can respect that if it wasn’t so obvious that you’re in pain over something. How long do we have to be best friends before you let me in? We went eight years without me knowing about the whole Maverick situation. You don’t have to hold all this shit in, you know? I want to be here for you, not just as coworkers and drinking buddies.” Then her eyes drifted down to her hands that were fiddling nervously with the strap from her backpack. It wasn’t often she dropped her tough exterior but when she did, it was usually with him and he found it beautiful.

Rooster contemplated for a minute. How long was he going to keep her pushed out of his heart. If he was honest with himself, he had let her in a long time ago, he was just scared, for so many reasons. They were coworkers, which was a weird grey area to begin with, then the thought of doing to her what his dad had done to his mom, leaving her broken and alone, just about killed him to think about. Then there was all his personal bullshit. She had her own issues in life to worry about, why should he bog her down with his own misery?

Was he being fair though? She was a big girl, maybe he should let her decide for herself if he was worth the trouble, she was obviously willing to put herself through on his behalf. For years he had been her go-to person, why couldn’t he finally let her be that for him? He steeled his resolve, turned back to the door, unlocked it, then held it open, using his other hand to wave her into his place.

She looked up at him quizzically at first then a meek smile crossed her face, and she breezed past him. The apartment was sparse, and she had been there plenty of times that it was a second home for Phoenix at this point. She dropped her backpack in the closet by the door, toeing off her sneakers, then walked into the kitchen without a word. Rooster did the same, dropping his bag and shoes into the closet before flopping into his recliner, already exhausted from the conversation he was about to have. He heard the pop of two beer bottles then she brought him one before tucking her legs under her on the end of the couch closest to him.

They sat in silence drinking from their beers for a while. He was starting to think maybe she had changed her mind when she spoke up.

“I’m not sure what to ask to get this conversation started.”

He exhaled “It’s pretty cut and dry. My dad died 33 years ago on June 30th, 1986.

Her eyes went big. “Rooster, that’s tomorrow.” she all but whispered.

He only shook his head in slow affirmative then took a long draw from his beer.

“My mom loved that man deeper than any love that ever existed, I think. When he was killed,” he took a ragged breath, trying to hold it together, “it liked to have killed her too. The fourth became more of a day of mourning than a happy occasion for us. Mom didn’t feel much up to doing anything that day.” He paused for another drink.

“Sure, that makes sense.” Was all she said before taking a swig of her own beer.

“That woman was such a character. You would have loved her. She was hard not to love. I mean, I’ve told you some of the wild and wacky stuff we did when I was growing up. Holidays were always a big deal, except the fourth. The only place we ever went was to the cemetery sometimes but as I got older, I just couldn’t go and watch her lay on that patch of grass and sob for hours in the Texas sun. “A few tears escaped his eyes, much to his protests. Before he could wipe them though, a small, calloused hand reached up and swiped his cheek gently. He looked at her, her eyes watery and filled with compassion.

“Rooster, this is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to grieve however you feel is best. If that means holed up here on the fourth, then do it. I don’t mind covering for you.” She hesitated, “or I could come hole up here with you. So, you’re not alone?”

He let loose a soft smile “I’d like that.” He said with a rasp in his voice before he could stop himself. Was this the clutch his mom had on his dads’ heart? Is this what it felt like? He didn’t deserve this tough, hardheaded, yet gentle woman. She suddenly made what felt like the world’s worst day into something to look forward to.

“Do me a favor? Talk to Mav. I know he might try to talk you into going to the party but give him a chance to prove you wrong. He deserves to know what’s on your mind.”

Rooster just nodded then finished off his bottle. She chased hers until it was empty and then stood and reached for his bottle. Phoenix threw them away then moved to the closet to put her shoes back on and grab her bag. He stood and walked to the entry way, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall watching her.

She spoke over her shoulder “I hate to chat and run but I’m meeting up with a couple of girlfriends at the gym.” She turned and almost ran into him as she closed the closet door. She was so close he could feel her breath on his crossed arms. Her eyes drifted up to his and he smirked.

“So, what are we going to do Sunday for the fourth?” he asked cheekily.

She only stared at him then exhaled into a smile. “Whatever you want Lieutenant.” S stepped back, opened the door and disappeared.

Rooster wasn’t sure what to make of that comment but suddenly the fourth didn’t seem so scary.

The next day after work, Rooster went to dinner at Penny’s house like he did most Wednesdays. This was a somber meal considering the day, and Mav struggled to get through his toast to Goose. Rooster hadn’t seen Mav on this anniversary in many years and he could tell it aged the man more and more as the years passed. He would probably always blame himself for what happened, no matter what anyone said. Rooster wondered if he would ever have to go through something like that. Hazard of the job and all.

After Amelia went to her room to work on homework, he had the dreaded conversation with Penny and Mav. He was pleasantly surprised when they were both extremely understanding, even Mav. Rooster could tell it stung a little, under the circumstances, but they agreed he should do what he needed to do and that he was always welcome if he changed his mind.

Rooster helped Penny carry a stack of dishes to the kitchen and began to rinse them while she toweled them off and placed them in the dishwasher.

“So, do you mind if I ask what you plan to do for the fourth?” she asked calmly.

“I don’t mind. Phoenix is coming over.”

He caught the eyebrow raise and intrigued look she gave him out of the corner of his eye, but she didn’t press, and he didn’t say more.

Maybe he and Phoenix could make some new memories to replace the bad ones? Suddenly, for the first time since he was three years old, he was looking forward to the fourth of July.

The rest of the week at work seemed to drag and there was an obvious tension between Phoenix and himself, but in the best possible way. They used their flying as flirting, and it bordered on foreplay in the air. They pushed each other, goading the other on and passing smart ass remarks back and forth to each other. Even Coyote made a sideways comment that Friday about it.

“Could you two and your planes get a room please?” He cracked as they walked back to the hangar from their jets.

Bob choked on a snort, Phoenix just made a taunting face at him, and Rooster looked away trying to hide the blush he could feel crawling across his cheeks.

Phoenix shot back “Only if you and your ego get one first.” Everyone laughed and then parted ways for their weekend festivities. When Rooster made it out to the parking lot, he found Phoenix once again leaning against her jeep right next to his Bronco.

“So” she said once he was close enough to hear.

“So” he replied, nonchalantly, as he tossed his gear into the back of the Bronco.

“So, I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah, if you still want?”

She snorted her reply, her face looking skeptical. “Change your mind Bradshaw? I could always go over to Mavs with the rest of them?” her eyebrow raised in amusement as he came to stand in front of her, dangerously close again, looking down on her from behind his aviator shades. She was playing coy and he kind of liked it. Oh no, he had decided once and for all that this cat and mouse game was done and his fourth was going to be the best one in the history of his fourths.

He slid his glasses down his nose, looking over the top of them as a Cheshire cat grin crossed his face. “Two pm, don’t be late.” Then he winked and slid his glasses back up.

She shook her head with a chuckle and they both jumped into their cars and drove away.

At 1:45PM Sunday July 4th Rooster was a nervous wreck. He had secretly thought of this moment for a very long time. Was he getting ahead of himself? Maybe all she wanted was to flirt and keep things platonic otherwise? Only one way to find out, he figured. Anything to distract him from how he normally felt on this day.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror, sporting a patriotic Hawaiian shirt over his usual white tank and a pair of khaki shorts. He could hear the sarcastic remarks already. He hoped the surprises he had for her would be appreciated, at least for the effort. He decided the only way to move forward was to take a page out of Carole Bradshaw’s book of unconventional fun. Even though she never did anything entertaining for the fourth, he used his imagination based on every other holiday they had celebrated together and went to work.

At two o’clock on the dot he heard a knock at his door before it swung open. He quickly grabbed a white beard and patriotic top hat and threw them on before exiting his bedroom “Bradshaw, come help me” She called out, her smaller frame bent over trying to pick up a few grocery bags. He had to smile at the visual. She was wearing a tiny red tank top and very short denim shorts, her own pair of aviator shades covering her eyes, and her car keys were hanging out of her mouth while she struggled with the bags. He smiled at the sight.

Phoenix raised her head to look at him and froze on the spot, her car keys slamming to the ground as her jaw slid open. He put his arms out as if to say “ta-da” and she began laughing hysterically. She was laughing so hard she began to grab her side and used her other hand to clutch the door frame.

“What” she laughed more, trying to breath “are you wearing Colonel Sanders?”

He scoffed then walked to the door and scooped up all the bags in dramatic fashion. “I’m Uncle Sam, thank-you-very-much.” Then he winked and made his way to the kitchen, listening to her continue to cackle and gasp for air.

“You’re letting out all the bought air, get in here, would you?” he called from the kitchen as he began pulling items from the bags. There was a considerable amount of alcohol, some junk food, and a bakery carton of red, white and blue sprinkled cookies. The door closed and she finally appeared in the doorway, immediately busting out into another fit of laughter as soon as she saw him. She was wiping tears from her eyes and clutching her side still.

“You have GOT to take that off or I’ll pee myself.”

“Aw come on, where’s your sense of fun?” he asked.

“You look like Santa came to visit for the fourth.” She giggled.

“Ok, that did it.” He said flatly and removed the items.

“That’s better” she said and moved into the kitchen to give him a hug, raising up on her tiptoes so she could wrap her arms around his neck. Something was instantly different about this hug. Sure, they had hugged plenty over the years. Being in many near death situations will do that to you. But this was a different hug. They weren’t pulling apart. No one moved or let go. They just stood in the middle of the kitchen, her arms around his neck, his strong arms wrapped around her middle, very still.

“Glad you could come” he said barely above a whisper into the side of her head.

With that she pulled back some, a shy smile on her face as they continued to hold each other.

“I wouldn’t have missed Santa Sam for the world.” She said with a grin, and he poked her side, knowing full well she was extremely ticklish. She released a very unladylike snort and turned around to run, shouting behind her “Ok now I do have to pee.” The bathroom door closed, and he waited just a couple of seconds before he heard a loud “Oh shit” from the lavatory.

She found another one of his surprises.

A few minutes later she came running back into the living room where Rooster sat on the couch waiting for her. She launched herself at him, landing with her legs straddling his lap, her hands attempting to get to his neck, but he held her wrists firm, laughing deeply at the feigned angry look on her face.

“Seriously Bradshaw, a fucking Uncle Sam inside the toilet lid? You about gave me a heart attack!” She continued wrestling with him, trying to get free.

All Rooster could do was laugh much in the same way she did when she first arrived. Her position hadn’t been lost on him either. This was not a position they had been in before and he was starting to sweat through his laughter.

“Oh, come on, that was funny you gotta admit.” He said and then with his hands still firmly wrapped around her wrists he maneuvered her arms behind her back and held her there, a prisoner. His prisoner. She stopped squirming in his lap, thankfully, and just stared at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not admitting anything” she said low, and he just gave her a small, pursed lip smile before he did it. He made his move. Rooster sat up, held her wrists, and brushed his lips briefly across hers. He immediately opened his eyes, hoping she wasn’t pissed, but all he saw was a beautiful flush across her cheeks, her eyes still closed. She sunk a little and wiggled her arms trying to go free, so he released her wrists. Her hands moved to his chest and her lids slowly fluttered open. Their eyes met and he almost dissipated under the warmth of the melting chocolate staring back at him.

He brought his hands up to cover hers on his chest, rubbing small circles on the back of them with his thumbs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking.” He said, genuinely sorry that he took advantage of the situation. A rueful smile played across her face and then without warning she was on him.

Her hands slid up his chest, across his shoulders, wrapping around the back of his neck as she leaned in. His eyes were open in shock at first as she began kissing him, but this time it was deep and needy. His hands moved to her hips, gripping them tighter than he probably should, and he pulled her closer until she was resting against him. She slid her tongue across his bottom lip, and he was all too happy to part them for her. Their tongues began to dance, and a small moan escaped her that sent a chill all the way down his spine.

No sooner had it started, she was pulling away from his face, flustered but smiling a genuine and radiant smile.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask for a very long time. Glad you decided to skip the asking and just get to the good stuff.”

He was gob smacked. Natasha Trace does not throw caution to the wind, quite literally. This almost feral and lackadaisical version of his best friend had him more confused than he was before their talk the other day. Why didn’t she ever say anything?

Before he could ask, she lifted herself from him and reached her hands out to pull him up.

“C’mon Colonel, any other surprises?” she asked.

His mind went down a wicked path and it must have shown on his face because she lightly smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. “For the fourth you pig.”

He chucked then took her hand in his and lead her to the small dining table near the kitchen. The table and walls were covered in cheap dollar store decorations including plastic patriotic plates, cups, and cutlery.

“You really had fun with this didn’t you?” She asked him.

“Just wait, there’s games and everything. My mother would be so proud.” He said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Of course, there is.” And she just rolled her eyes.

An hour later the table was covered in various snack packages and discarded beer bottles. Papers for name that patriotic tune and a fourth of July crossword sat discarded next to a small Bluetooth speaker. They had moved their chairs closer together and were looking at a piece of paper together.

“Rooster, some of these are just gross.”

“That’s the point of the game This or That. Gotta find the lesser of two evils.”

“Fine, but I refuse to go through with anything actually on this sheet.”

“Not a requirement.” He said with a smile.

“Ok I’m going first then.” And she snatched the paper from his hands. “Let’s see” she said as she poured over the options. “How about this. Wear a mullet forever or have red, white and blue hair forever?”

He sucked air through his teeth as if this was the toughest decision he’s ever had to make. “You know, I rocked a mullet for most of second and third grade. Wasn’t pretty but at least it would be closer to regs than colorful hair so, mullet it is.”

Phoenix laughed as she passed the paper. “I want to see those pictures!”

“No way.” he shook his head and picked up his drink. “I’m pretty sure I burned those pictures.”

“Liar. Now ask me one.”

“Patience mam. I’m working on it.” He took a drink and put his bottle back down. He looked down the list and asked, “Would you rather drink ketchup through a straw or eat mayo with a spoon?”

She immediately acted as if she was gagging. “I don’t like either of those.”

“That’s not the point of the game Phee, you gotta choose.”

She shot him a dirty look and grunted “Fine. Sucking a condiment through a straw, regardless of what it is, just sounds shitty so I’ll go mayo with a spoon.” And her body shuddered in disgust.

He laughed then passed the paper back to her.

She skimmed her finger down the list and made comments as she went. “That one is gross too. I don’t want to know the answer to this one. I already know the answer to that one.”

“Whoa whoa whoa know it all, ask it anyway. I might surprise you.”

She looked at him annoyed. “Trust me you won’t. Not on this one.”

He sat back and crossed his arms, daring her to ask with his expression. She rolled her eyes again and spoke in a very sarcastic tone. “Would you rather sing all night or dance all night?” Then she tossed the paper down in front of him, sure of what was coming next.

Rooster contemplated his answer though then an idea hit him. He pushed his chair back and stood up, Phoenix looking all together confused. Rooster fiddled with his phone for a minute then hit the power button on the small speaker. A Jason Aldean song started up and he held his hand out to her.

“If the answer involves you then the answer is dancing all night.”

She looked stunned as she reached her hand up to meet him. The next thing he knew they were in front of his couch, her right hand enclosed in his left as he held her close, their bodies swaying to the music.

Rooster started singing the words to the song quietly into the top of her head.

“I think technically its cheating if you sing while dancing, per your insistence that you have to choose one or the other for the game.”

He chuckled “Ok, dancing only.” Then the arm he had around her lower back pulled her in closer and she turned her head sideways to rest it on his chest. They continued to sway through the end of the song and then all the way through another song before she spoke again.

“Rooster?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s dance all night.”

The implications of her statement hung thick in the air and his swaying faltered. He looked down as she looked up at him, something desperate sparkling in her eyes. There was no going back from something like this. He warred with himself for a split second before he made his decision.

Rooster slid both of his hands under her ass and lifted her up suddenly, causing her to let out a tiny squeak. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, and they began kissing. These weren’t small, meek kisses. These kisses were intrusive. Tongues dipped in and out and her teeth grazed his bottom lip, causing him to squeeze her ass. Rooster began walking towards his room, barely able to see as they continued to kiss hard and furiously.

Once in the room, he used his foot to close the door before turning and pressing her back to it. He stood holding her against his bedroom door but pulled his lips away to look at her one more time.

Between ragged breaths she asked “what?”

Rooster swallowed hard, touching his forehead to hers. “This will change everything. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.”

He felt her lips place a light kiss on his forehead.

“Rooster, look at me.” And he did. “I want everything to change. Now please, change it.”

He didn’t need to hear anymore. His lips crashed into hers and the race was on. His mustache created chill bumps on her skin as his lips worked their way down her neck until he was lightly sucking on a sensitive spot near her collarbone. Her nails were starting to dig into his back, and it made him suck harder, eliciting pants from Phoenix that were like music to his ears. Her body was writhing against him, clearly searching for more.

Rooster slowly lowered her to the ground until she was standing and grazed his lips lightly across her collarbone and shoulder as he turned her to face the door. With her hands resting on the door in front of her, he gently slid some of her hair out of the way and sucked on the back of her neck. She moaned her approval.

His hands slid up her sides until they were resting on her breasts, slowly needing them through her tank top and bra. She moved his hands and yanked her shirt over her head, momentarily pushing his lips away from her neck. When his hands moved back to her breasts, he realized something amazing, her bra was a front clasp.

His fingers made quick work of the small hooks and as the cups fell away his warm hands covered both breasts, another moan escaping her pretty mouth. He began rolling her nipples with his fingers and her ass grazed his dick, making him jump. Roosters’ hands moved to her shoulders and slid the red lacy bra down her arms until it hit the floor.

Phoenix turned around and crushed her lips to his, frantically removing both of his shirts. As they skimmed lips, she traced her tiny fingers over each curve of his abdomen then he felt her pert breasts pushing against him as she wrapped her arms around his midsection.

Rooster wasn’t sure how much more he could take; his brain was screaming. His cock was screaming. He wanted her to scream.

They began moving towards the bed, never ending the waltz their tongues were dancing together. Rooster unbuttoned his shorts and let them drop to the ground before he unbuttoned hers. Before he could lower them though, she stepped back, panting and flushed. He was worried that she had changed her mind but then she gave him the sexiest grin. She turned around and hooked her thumbs into the top of her shorts. What happened next almost dissolved Rooster on the spot.

Phoenix bent over slowly, and as she did, she pushed her shorts down gradually, revealing a thin pair of red lace panties. There she was, her ass in the air, and she wiggled it ever so slightly, teasing him. He was done playing. Eight years of sexual tension was a huge itch, and he was about to scratch it so good she just might cry.

He gave her right ass cheek a small spank and she gasped. Before she could react further though, he grabbed her hips and turned her as she stood back up. Then, with his eyes connected to hers, he lowered himself to his knees. His fingers skimmed the outside of her legs as he placed a small kiss to her stomach. He slid his fingers deliberately up her thighs until he hooked his thumb into the single string holding up the panties on either side. Then he was lowering them, smoothly crawling his fingers across her skin as he did.

He wanted to worship her. She deserved nothing less. This was an enormous gift she was giving him, and he didn’t want to waste it.

She stepped out of her panties and then ran her hands through the tufts of his brown curls. When she tugged on it, he growled then leaned in and swooped his tongue across the outside of her heat. He could smell her arousal and his cock throbbed painfully. She tugged again and he raised his head to look at her. She looked at him through hooded eyes, lust radiating from her skin.

Rooster used his hands on her hips to move her until the backs of her legs hit the bed and she sat. Staring straight into her soul, he placed his hands on her knees then pulled them apart, spreading her wide. Without warning he buried his face between her soft thigs and ran his tongue from her vagina to her clit, producing the most beautiful cry from her as she threw her head back.

He smirked to himself then slid his arms under her thighs, wrapping them all the way around and gripping them tight. He blew a light breath onto her wet slick, and she shuddered. Then he began lapping at her opening as if it were the best ice cream he had ever tasted. His tongue pushed into her, and she whimpered. His tongue moved north and began a beautiful assault of her clit. He started slow, savoring the movement of her body against his face and the tiny noises she began to make. He circled her then sucked gently, gradually picking up the pace. She moved her hips in rhythm with his tongue, a barrage of obscenities pouring from her mouth. She was getting close, and he could tell.

Rooster removed one of his arms from her leg and she made a noise of protest until two of his fingers entered her wet folds and she cried out. He hooked his fingers and thrust them quickly while his tongue struck her mound faster and faster. This tempo unraveled her forcefully, her pelvis grinding into his face and fingers as she threw her head back and let out a shriek, he was sure the neighbors had to of heard. She twisted and pressed against him as she rode her wave and her movements slowed as his did. He slowly skimmed her slit with his tongue as he removed his fingers, her pants shooting straight to his core.

He stood and looked down at her, naked and open to him. She was a vision of beauty and he felt so overwhelmed by this scene his stomach tightened.

Phoenix let her head roll to the side, her eyes opening to meet his as her breath finally slowed. She reached out to his swollen dick, trapped in his boxer briefs, and ran her hand from base to tip. His whole body jumped, and an unattractive noise escaped his mouth. Her lips curved into the sexiest smile and without hesitation she gently pulled the waistband away from his cock then yanked the underwear all the way down in one swift movement.

Before Rooster could react, her tongue was on him, grazing the underside of his cock until it reached the tip. She licked the precum away then took him whole, filling her pretty mouth with all of him. Animalistic noises echoed from his mouth as she hollowed out her checks to suck him hard. Her hands were cradling his balls and the base of his penis as she slid her mouth up and down in agile movements. He was seeing stars and getting close. As much as he would love to see her mouth take his cum, he had other ideas of where he wanted it to go.

Rooster ran his hands through her raven hair then gently pulled her back until her mouth was empty of him. She looked at him with innocence, knowing full well how naughty she was being. He looked at her hungerly and his voice came out extremely husky when he told her to move back. She obliged, using her feet to push herself further onto the bed.

He crawled across the bed with her and as she lowered herself back onto her elbows, he placed his hands on either side of her and dropped down for a deep kiss. When she pulled away, he gazed into her eyes before wrapping his arms around her and laying her all the way onto the bed smoothly. His eyes searched hers the whole time, looking for any ounce of doubt or fear before he crossed the last precipice of their relationship. Knowing where his mind was, she reached out to stroke his cheek with her hand. A beautiful smile grew, and she said the one word he needed to hear. “Please.” She almost whispered. He only nodded his head and moved in closer between her legs.

He placed his lips on hers, languid kisses shared between them as he aligned his cock to her entrance. With her arms wrapped around his neck he slid in, and she inhaled sharply, her chin lifting to the ceiling. Rooster peppered her jaw line with light kisses as he began to move, gradually at first. They had waited eight years for this moment, he wanted both to savor it. His lips moved down as he rocked into her and took first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, his tongue circling each one until she was begging for more. Her pleading made him brave. Before she even had time to register what was happening, he had grabbed her around her waist and rolled over, his back landing on a stack of pillows, Phoenix still connected and now, on top of him.

She placed her hands on his chest, steadying herself, before a dangerous look crossed her face. Whatever happened next, he knew he was going to enjoy it immensely.

Bracing herself she began rocking back and forth, grinding her sensitive bud against his pelvis. Her head rolled and lulled with the movements, his hips swaying to meet her. She sat up as she continued to rub against him and raised her hands into her hair, putting her exquisite breasts on full display for him. He reached up and pinched her nipples between his fingers as she let out moans in time with her movements.

Rooster brought one of his thumbs to her mouth, beckoning for her to suck on it, which she did like a good girl. Then he brought his thumb to her clit and began slow circles that had her calling for God. The harder he pressed the more she pushed down, her actions becoming more erratic as she reached behind her and grabbed his inner thighs for support. Seconds later she was falling apart again, a cry erupting from her mouth that ripped right through his body, awakening something feral and needy in him. Before she could come down from her high, he had rolled them over again and was burying himself so deep in her that he thought he might shatter immediately.

His mouth was sucking at her collarbone while her hands clawed at his shoulder blades. He pounded into her with all the force he could muster, her cries growing louder with each thrust. Suddenly he realized she wasn’t just wailing incoherently. His name was pouring from her mouth. Not his callsign, but his name.

“Bradley, oh god Bradley” she yelled over and over as he crashed into her. Something about his name on her lips had his mind and body spiraling. With two more fast and hard plows he blew his load into her as he called her name into the void.

“Oh Natasha, holy shit.” His cock exploding forcefully into her body.

He stilled buried to the hilt, both breathing intensely, tiny whimpers escaping her mouth with each heave of her chest. As his mind came back to earth, he regained some of his bearings and eased the tension of his body from against hers. His lips met hers in a tender kiss that she reciprocated as best as she could between heavy breaths.

His heart almost burst when she smiled at him, her cheeks flushed, a sheen touching her brow. She was stunning and it made his heart clench. This was it for him. No more shutting her out. He wanted all of her like this, over and over again, for eternity. He had found his happiness.

As he softened, he slid out of her and sat back on his heels, watching her regain composure as her breaths became steadier. She raised her hand for help, and he grabbed it, sitting her up gingerly. She bent her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her chin came to rest on the top of her knees, and she gave him a gorgeous mega watt smile.

Rooster moved next to her and laid back on the stack of pillows. He rubbed circles lazily on her bare back, connecting the scars he could see. Into the dark she suddenly spoke, pulling him out of his trance.

“Bradley?”

“Yeah baby?”

She peered over her shoulder at him with her eyebrow raised, wearing a smirk.

“Can we do this every Fourth of July?”

He chuckled then opened his arms, beckoning her to join him. She laid back and nestled herself to his side while he wrapped his arms around her. He placed a peck to the tip of her nose and the corners of his mouth raised.

“Let freedom ring, baby.” And they both fell into a heap of laughter and bliss.

Just like that the Fourth of July became his favorite holiday, year after year.

#top gun maverick #natasha phoenix trace #top gun phoenix #natasha trace #top gun fanfiction #phoenix x rooster #bradley bradsha #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #natasha trace smut #rooster x phoenix #roonix #creative writing prompt

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 1 year

Text

siren song - chapter 6*

previous chapter: chapter 5

Masterlist

A/N: FIRST: I edited last chapter and added more detail. I wasn't really happy with how it turned out so there's a bit more. Also, MAJOR NSFW warning!! First time writing out smut so I hope it turned out okay!!

Ghost

31 August 2022

1300, Mexican Special Forces Base, Las Almas

As he ran an oiled rag over the barrel of his gun, Ghost thought of summer storms.

Everyone knew when they were coming; the clouds themselves were enough, but the sweet thickness of the air that accompanied them was a dead giveaway. As was the silence the preceded its arrival, the sounds of birds and insects both absent.

Everyone knew the destruction they caused, evident by the flooding and harsh winds that knocked tree trunks onto houses. Roads left undrivable, buildings in ruin.

And even knowing when these storms were about to hit land and knowing the devastation they could leave in their wake, people still sat on their porches and watched as darkness neared, not bothering to hide from its wrath.

And to some, this may seem foolish.

But a Ghost was not one of those people.

He knew there was a beauty in the calm before the storm but also the havoc swirling within it. Lightening tangled like spider webs in the sky would brighten the night like no other, and the heavy downpour didn’t have to feel like drowning; sometimes it was a drink of water after nearly dying of thirst.

And maybe because of all these things, he thought of her too.

She was an enigma. Calm like a gentle breeze, but fervent like a wildfire. Seemingly ruthless and sadistic, but merciful and disciplined. She was not afraid of him, and that was a rare thing in itself; Most people avoided Ghost, not that he was complaining. But she wasn’t fazed, didn’t look at him different because of the mask he wore, and that alone was a fact he reveled in.

During their fight, he could feel the measure of her strength with every hit and determination with every block. The feeling her mouth wrapped around his thumb kept coming to his mind over and over, as did the sight of her smug expression after she bested him. And most of all, the look she gave him afterwards, when he pulled her in close; desire and longing, one he wasn’t sure he could deny if it came down to it.

Ghost took a couple of deep breaths, trying his best to push out all of the images of her. Her sultry gaze, a lacy bra underneath a white tank top dotted with blood, the sound of her moans over the comms, the feel of her against his body.

“Fuck…” Ghost mumbled, finally managing to wrangle up his errant thoughts and return to the task at hand.

He was reassembling his weapon with ease, barely even registering the motions, when Soap walked in.

“Lt.,” he greeted, setting his rifle bag at the foot of his bed. Ghost nodded his head in return and traded out the newly assembled weapon for his side arm. As he began taking the pistol apart, Soap sat on the side of the bed.

“Has Siren come back yet?” Soap asked him.

Back? Ghost thought. He wasn’t aware that she had gone anywhere.

“Last I saw her was a few hours ago. No idea where she is now,” Ghost told him.

Soap hummed in acknowledgement, a contemplative look on his face. “Shepherd called for her about a half hour ago.”

That struck Ghost as odd. Not that he didn’t think she was capable of dealing with Shepherd; no, he was more concerned that he, a Lieutenant, was not asked for.

“Wonder why,” Ghost said out loud.

Soap shrugged. “Think it was about the other night?”

Ghost could guess that he was talking about the night she went undercover. A night he was sure he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“‘Dunno,” Ghost said.

Probably not, he thought to himself. Shepherd didn’t seem too phased by it and from his instructions that night, he seemed to expect that level of performance.

Before he could contemplate anymore, the woman plaguing his thoughts walked through the door to their room, barely sparing either of them a glance as she hurridely grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom. Ghost and Soap shared a puzzled look, not sure what to think of her lack of acknowledgement.

—

Siren

31 August 2022,

1400, Mexican Special Forces base, Las Almas

You looked in the mirror and once again, you were someone different.

There were no indications of a hardened soldier or an assassin who preyed on weak men. The woman in front of you had kind eyes and a soft smile, a vision of what could have been if life had dealt you a different hand. Sometimes you mourned that life; Maybe by now you’d have a little house and a nice partner to settle down with. But every time you tried to imagine it, you just couldn’t. It was more like forcing a puzzle piece into where it didn’t fit; it would never work, not without cutting out parts of yourself.

Instead of the tight ponytail you typically sported, your hair laid over your left collarbone in an easy braid. The makeup you wore was subtle this time. You didn’t need to stand out; you didn’t need to be the most stunning, most desirable woman this time. You needed to blend in, inconspicuous enough to get near but not draw too much attention. You wore a flowy yellow and orange sundress topped with a jean jacket. You looked “normal” and that was exactly what you were going for.

You put a knife in your jacket pocket and left the bathroom, tote in hand. You walked out and placed the tote by your bed before turning to your teammates. You felt their stares from the moment you walked in and that didn’t change once you left the bathroom in civilian clothes.

“What did Shepherd need you for?” Soap asked as you got a crossbody purse to put your wallet in.

“He wants me to go out for intel,” you told him. “Just me.”

“Alone?” Ghost asked incredulously. “No backup?”

You nodded and put on your flats.

“Not sure that’s a great idea,” Soap commented.

“Regardless, it’s a direct order,” you said, looking at both of them. “I’m not doing what I did last time. Its minimal contact, just listening for Alejandro’s boys to translate.”

“It’s reckless is what it is,” Ghost told you sternly.

You rolled your eyes before letting out a sigh. “You’ve never gone on a mission alone with no backup?”

Ghost didn’t respond to that which is exactly what you expected. He seemed the type to work alone with little to no protections that he’d come out alive.

“You don’t know me, Lieutenant,” you said harshly, taking a step closer to him so you could look glare into his eyes. “You have no idea what kind of shit I have done. The kind where a wrong move leads to death and extraction isn’t an option. This is nothing. Just because I’m not a man—“

“That’s not what this is about,” Ghost interrupted, stepping even closer so you were toe-to-toe. “We are a team. I don’t give a fuck if it’s you or Soap. We shouldn’t take risks if we don’t have to.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Direct orders from Shepherd supersede yours.”

For a brief moment, you glared at each other, neither of you giving in.

“She’s got a point,” Soap said, much to Ghost’s chagrin.

Ghost took a breath as if he were going to respond but you spoke instead. You needed to get out there soon and going back-and-forth with your superior wasn’t getting you anywhere. “I’ll wear an earpiece this time. You can talk to me if you need to and let me know if they hear anything suspicious. The braid should cover it.”

A beat passed.

“Fine,” Ghost conceded, the slight frustration present in his tone. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and watched as he left the room, likely to the control room.

You gathered your things, tossed a goodbye to Soap over your shoulder, and began looking for Alejandro to let him know the plan and to acquire an earpiece.

—

Once again, you found yourself in a bar in Las Almas, different than the previous one for obvious reasons.

You sat alone at a table in the corner of the room, sipping a cranberry vodka and mentally going over your backstory today. You weren’t planning on needing it but men have come up to you unprovoked before.

Today you were Isabella, 25, on vacation from your job. You worked in sales at an advertisement company in the US but were open to other opportunities if they were offered. You made sure your body language was relaxed and casual, and to not linger look anywhere for too long.

It was a moderately populated bar, with patrons playing pool, watching a soccer game on TV, and chatting amongst themselves. You were near a table of men that you were fairly confident were cartel members but didn’t get a good enough look to know for sure. You were hoping the mic would pick up their voices from where you were, but if not, you may have to improvise.

“Alright, hang tight Sergeant while Alejandro listens in,” Ghost said over the comms. You couldn’t really respond so you complied, just sipping your drink and feigning interest in the ongoing game on TV.

In all honesty, you were surprised Shepherd hadn’t wanted more out of you. When he was desperate for results, he normally sent you in with execute authority, willing to toe the line of legality as long as it got answers. And you were fine with that. You made yourself into the weapon that you were, it would be idiotic to not use it. You didn’t lose a bit of sleep over the people he sent you after; they were evil in more ways than one and normally involved in nefarious practices outside of terrorism.

“Keep doing what you’re doing. We’re getting something.”

And so, you did.

You allowed your gaze to roam over to the table of about five men, only picking out a few words from their conversation. A name appeared a few times, “Diego”, possibly something for the Los Vaqueros to look into.

As you looked around, you saw a different group of men, about three, get up from their place at the bar. Just as it looked like they were about to leave, one of them turned around and started walking your way.

You hoped he was going to the bathroom just so you didn’t have to talk to him and ruin any intel coming through from the mic. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem you would be that lucky tonight.

“Hola,” he greeted with a charming smile. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Just as he had begun talking to you, Ghost’s voice rang out in your ear. “Get rid of him, Sergeant.”

“Oh, hi!” you greeted with a smile. “I’m on vacation. It’s my first time here actually.”

“Maybe I could show you around some?” he suggested, standing closer to the seat you were in, leaning on the table with one of his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small, embarrassed smile. “I have a boyfriend. I’m actually waiting for him here.”

“Oh,” he said, looking a little dejected. “I hope you have a good time.”

You nodded and watched his retreating form.

“Good girl.”

You sucked in a breath of surprise at the praise.

Bastard, you thought to yourself. His voice was so dark and deep, and now closer than ever since he was literally talking just to you over the comms. And he knew what he was doing. Likely an attempt to get you back from your fight earlier and the tactics you used.

A little bit of time passed, filled with you keeping your mind under control and Ghost updating you on their progress. Just as you finished your second drink, the men at the table got up to leave. And, just as you suspected, they sported tattoos of the cartel symbol on their bodies.

“Alright, we’ll be there soon,” Ghost said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You paid your tab in cash and left the building shortly after, content to wait on a bench for your ride to pick you up.

Thoughts of Ghost were becoming quite distracting; the feel of his body against yours, his hand around your neck, a hand inching up your thigh after stitching you up. He was effortlessly intoxicating and all you wanted to do was breathe him in. You weren’t blind, either. You knew that he had to feel it too. Why else would he react so strongly after the fight?

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Siren”

And why did that warning feel more like an invitation?

—-

You made it back to the base after being escorted by one of Alejandro’s men. You weren’t summoned for a meeting about their findings yet so you headed back to your shared room, hoping to get out of the dress and back into your tactical clothes.

Upon arriving, you saw Ghost sitting on the edge of his bed, cleaning his weapons again. It was almost ritual-like, with how often he would clean them.

Soap was nowhere to be seen, likely at the dining hall.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted. He looked up and nodded in return, going back to his task without a further word.

You went into the bathroom and began deconstructing Isabella. You took out your braid and let your locks fall naturally around your face. You hung your jean jacket on a towel rack outside of the door, leaving only your sundress to unzip.

You reached around the back to reach the zipper, but it was at a very awkward angle, and not something you could do by yourself.

You sighed. Perhaps this could be the opportunity you had been waiting for to finally get him out of your system.

“Ghost?” you called out. “Can you help me for a sec?”

You felt giddiness rise in your chest, and for once in a long time, it was not because you were preparing to kill someone.

You heard faint footsteps getting closer and two knocks on the bathroom door. You opened it to find your Lieutenant eyeing you warily like you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Smart man.

You stepped away to let him in and shut the door behind him.

“I can’t unzip this,” you told him, gesturing to your dress. “Could you do it for me? Please?”

He nodded once and you turned to face the mirror.

As he came up behind you, you felt the need to push a little bit, just to see what would come of it.

“I told you it wasn’t dangerous.”

He met your gaze in the mirror and narrowed his eyes. “You were lucky.”

“Maybe so,” you replied, feeling his warm hand make contact with your back where the zipper was. “I think I did a great job, though. Worthy of a reward if I do say so myself.”

Every breath between you felt measured, both of you trying to figure the other out as you neared a precipice you couldn’t back away from.

He hummed in acknowledgement and began slowly dragging the zipper down, eyes never breaking from yours.

“After all, you said I was a good girl,” you teased, a smirk forming.

A hand flew to your waist, holding you still as the zipper finally reached the bottom of its track.

You were presenting a clear challenge with your eyes alone, one that you hoped he would take. However, you could see him debating with himself, so you decided to take matters into your own hands with a little provocation.

“Show me what it’s like to be with someone other than people like them,” you told him pointedly.

“Like who?”

“Those weak men,” you said, taking the hand on your waist and guiding it up to your abdomen, “the ones that never take a chance,” and up higher, “the ones that can’t keep up,” and leaving it to rest on your covered breast while you whispered the last part.

“The ones that can’t make me cum.”

A hand flew up to grip your throat, causing you to grin at the motion while he pushed his body tight against yours.

“You’re something else, Siren.” His voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it and it only multiplied the feeling of your arousal.

“I know.” You smiled at him and watched his eyes darken.

He released your throat and pulled the straps of your sundress down your shoulders and peeled it off slowly. It fell to the ground, pooling around your feet, leaving you in a lacy set of underwear and strapless bra while he was fully dressed in tactical gear minus a vest.

You reached around and removed your bra; immediately a hand found your breast and began tugging on your already hardened peak, making you release a quiet moan of pleasure.

Before you could really get into it, his other hand threaded itself into the hair at the base of your skull and made a fist, pulling your head back to look at him in the mirror.

“One rule,” he said. You nodded as best as you could, still slightly distracted by his hand traveling from your breast down your abdomen and stopping right when the tips of his fingers reached your panty line.

“With me, you’re real,” he ordered. “No fake moans. If something doesn’t feel good, you’re going to tell me. This isn’t your job; this is just us.”

You nodded reverently but he tightened his grip causing you to hiss in pleasure-pain.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Ghost. Just us. Now fucking touch me you bastard.”

He chuckled lowly, sliding his hand underneath your underwear and running his fingers through your folds.

“Soaked,” he commented smugly, dragging some of your wetness up to rub your bundle of nerves with his middle finger. You watched the outline of his hand in the mirror, the veins in his arm, the muscles flexing as he began moving his fingers in circles.

“Fuck,” you whispered, just this small touch making you feel so good, so much better than when you touched yourself. “More,” you demanded.

Ghost removed his hand, causing you to whimper at the loss. He spun you around and both of his hands found the edges of your underwear and dragged them down, leaving you completely bare before him. He lifted you by the waist to sit on the sink, your back against the mirror.

He put his hands on both knees and spread them apart, exposing your arousal to him. You watched his eyes flare and his chest rise and fall faster.

He brought his middle and ring finger of one hand to your lips.

“Suck.”

You eagerly opened your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks, caressing his fingers with your tongue. Instead of just staying still like last time, his moved his fingers forward, deeper into your mouth. You stared at him as you swallowed them down, not choking on the digits as he tested your gag reflex. He quietly groaned and removed his now slicked fingers.

The same hand reached down and cupped the apex of your thighs, rubbing your clit a few times before easing his fingers into you, causing your eyes to roll backwards. When you opened your eyes, he waited for you to look right at him before curling them up, eliciting a true moan, one you hadn’t ever heard come from yourself.

He built up a rhythm, going in and out, curling his fingers with every plunge inside, a pressure building up in your abdomen. You were in a constant state of pleasure, mindless to the rest of the world besides the masked man in front of you.

Ghost continued to finger fuck you, dirty and slow, pushing moans out of you effortlessly. You knew you were getting closer and closer and couldn’t stop your words or reactions.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cried out, thighs beginning to shake.

His unoccupied hand came up to grip your chin and level your stare with his.

“Watch me when you cum,” he ordered. You nodded enthusiastically, not willing to take your eyes off of his.

He sped up and rubbed your clit with his thumb on every push in. You moaned loudly, your eyes becoming hooded as the pleasure became too much for your body to handle. You watched him right as he shoved you over the edge, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He helped you ride out your orgasm and when you came down, he removed his fingers, now more slick than they were from your mouth.

Ghost’s other hand raised his balaclava enough to reveal his lips, and he placed his fingers coated in your slick into his mouth, groaning as the taste hit his tongue.

“Your cunt tastes fucking good,” he growled, pulling your boneless form off of the sink and turning you around once again, making you lean against the sink on your hands. Even though you just came, you were drunk on him and wanted him even more, wanted anything he’d give you.

“Fuck me, Ghost,” you demanded, sticking your ass out a little, desperate to feel his cock splitting you open.

“Gladly.” His hands fumbled to undo his belt and pants. You felt his warm, velvety cock against your ass and watched as he spat down on his hand. He stroked himself a few times before lining himself up behind you, looking at you before moving.

“Please,” you whispered.

Ghost pushed his hips forward, his cock entering you in one go and causing you to drop your jaw from the fullness while he let out a loud groan.

“Fucking hell,” he said, hands coming up to grip your hips tightly. He pulled almost all the way out before thrusting harshly back in and forcing a moan from you. He filled you just right, on the right side of painful and the epitome of pleasure.

As he rocked in and out, pulling your hips back into him on every thrust in, you thought that if you died right now, you’d be fucking happy, being impaled on this man’s cock.

You have been fucked by countless men but nothing, nothing could ever compare to the borderline religious experience you were having as his length buried itself inside of you over and over again.

You watched his eyes in the mirror; he would look downward to where he was disappearing inside of you and then up to your face, meeting your eyes with an intensity you’d never seen before. His thrusts picked up in pace, but he never sacrificed firmness for speed, the slap of his hips hitting your skin echoing in the bathroom.

Your moans also picked up in frequency as you began to approach your peak once more, his cock hitting the spot deep inside you perfectly each time. You gripped the sink edge so hard that your fingertips were white with the effort.

He pulled you upright, one hand wrapped around your neck, causing an arch to form in your back as he fucked you. His other hand travelled down to your clit and circled it with precision, causing your pleasure to skyrocket tenfold.

“Oh my god…” you cried as his thrusts continued with a deadly consistency.

“Cum,” Ghost told you. “Cum on my cock.”

You cried out the only name you had for him. He shoved himself inside of you deep and held there while you shook and spasmed around him.

“Fuckin’ good girl,” he said in that gravely tone of his.

He maneuvered your body into another position, bending you more forward and holding your arms behind you. With one hand gripping your shoulder and the other holding your arms, he pulled out slowly and slammed back in, causing an almost-sob to come out of you. You felt so damn good, tears started to prick at the corner of your eyes.

The sound of your wetness became very loud as he continued to move in and out, joining the sound of heavy breathing, skin on skin, and your uncontrolled moans.

“So fucking wet,” he groaned, fucking you with an such an intensity that you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises on you the next day. In fact, you hoped you would, if only to remind you that this wasn’t some dream.

He sped up again; The way he held your body meant that with every thrust in, it jolted you forward but his hands stopped you and brought you backwards instead, making it feel like his cock was pounding into you even deeper than before. You watched yourself getting fucked by your Lieutenant; you looked so fucked out and in a daze. He wasn’t unaffected though. His eyes would occasionally roll back in pleasure and groans would surface after a particularly deep thrust.

“God, Ghost, you feel so good,” you told him. “Never felt like this before.”

“Good.”

Before long, his thrusts became more erratic, signaling he was reaching his end as well. He let go of your arms and instead gripped your waist.

“Touch yourself,” he choked out. You obeyed, rubbing your clit with a furious intensity. You felt yourself approaching an orgasm for the third time, the feeling rapidly increasing with his more vocal groans as he neared the end.

“Shit,” you cried out, falling into pleasure a final time, muscles twitching so badly that Ghost had to hold up most of your weight. By the time you came back to yourself, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He quickly pulled out and came on your lower back, a heavy groan echoing through the bathroom. You both were still for a second, catching your breath.

He was the first to move; he grabbed a washcloth and wiped his spend from your back and rubbed his fingers over the already forming bruises on your waist from when he came.

“’S okay,” you told him, voice hoarse from use. “We should do that again.”

Your Lieutenant looked back up at you. You were a bit of a mess, with hair mussed and a full-body flush present from all the blood rushing. But that didn’t stop you from giving him a serious stare.

“I’m serious,” you told him. “This doesn’t have to be the last time.”

“We’ll see.”

“You’re welcome to stay but I’m going to shower. We worked up quite a sweat.”

He nodded and was quiet for a second.

“I’m going to go out. Don’t need Soap investigating where we both went if he comes back.”

You nodded in agreement and watched as he tucked himself back in his pants and fixed his belt before walking out. You weren’t offended that he was leaving. You were honest about your intentions; it didn’t need to be anything more than sex.

You had a pleasant ache in your muscles, and you felt sore in all the right places, something you hadn’t really ever felt. You were being honest when you said you hadn’t felt anything like that before.

Hopefully it happens again. And soon.

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