#miss violence review

[kacic1]

A todos, boa noite!

Seguindo com a revisita do cinema grego moderno, convido vocês a visitarem Os Filmes do Kacic, para conferir minha crítica sobre esta verdadeira pedrada do diretor Alexandro Avranas. Simplesmente imperdível.

Crítica: MISS VIOLENCE (2013)

🎬🎞🎥📽📺

#movies #cinema #filmes #geek #popculture #nerd #osfilmesdokacic #thriller #review #drama #miss violence #criti a #critica #critica miss violence #miss violence review #miss violence 2013 #alexandro avranas

[sameteeth]

talked to my partner abt fish for 3 hrs we r good now

#also reviewed gneral plot of bsd and discussed state violence and watched salmon and tuna cutting videos... #so i feel a lot better. unfortunstely missed bedtime by a mile -_- but might try to force myself up tomorrow to restart my system lmao #canis speaks

[admiralexclipse]

A Statistics Canada study in 2023 has found that Indigenous women in Canada are killed at a rate 6x higher than non-Indigenous women, and yet police charged 1st degree murder half as often, typically recommending manslaughter or 2nd degree.

Non-exhaustive estimates have suggested that over 4,000 indigenous women and girls (along with 600 men and boys) in Canada have gone missing between 1956 and 2016.

Further reading under the Read More:

#StillMissingandMurdered #MMIW #MMIWG #art #my art #social justice #indigenous #canada

[feyd-meowtha]

Everytime I see some interview or review about how amazingly 'terrifying' Austin Butler was as Feyd-Rautha I die a bit inside. Like how could they miss the point so entirely?

The baron is terrifying, Rabban is terrifying, Piter is terrifying but Feyd? Yeah sure he'll kill without remorse, he'll plot, he's sneaky and will even enjoy inflicting pain if it strokes his ego or ambition but in the context of his house....... He's the most reasonable one! The charismatic one, the one that the people can love. He's the Harkonnens' best face, their ticket to leading the universe, not by pure violence but by marriage and politics. He's even born of a father who tried to run away from them entirely.

The way that Feyd is supposed to take power is by being MORE MERCIFUL AND MORE REASONABLE than the harkonnens who came before. Even if he's motivated by ambition rather than kindness (so is Paul, in many ways), he's supposed to swoop in and RESCUE the people of Arrakis from the hands of his brute brother. JUST LIKE PAUL HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE SEEN AS A BETTER ALTERNATIVE, if not an outright saviour.

Yes he's cruel and yes he is scheming but the savagely they keep ascribing to him in the movie belongs to Rabban and the true psychopathic sadism to Piter, and then finally obviously the Baron is the worst evil schemer there is. I do not understand why they've given him a bunch of traits that are better exemplified in the other members of his house and gotten rid of the things that made him a unique Harkonnen enemy and an effective mirror to Paul.

Hell in the book he even LOOKS like Paul (curly dark hair) and it's implied that the baron is attracted to both of them, implying he has a certain type.

Sigh.

It just feels so lazy and uninventive, but most of all it's just a shame because it's so much less interesting than it could have been. Compared to that, having him do a batman voice and feed people to his cannibal harem for fun is just so.... lame.

#dune meta #dune part 2 #dune #feyd rautha #paul atreides #feyd/paul #austin butler #timothée chalamet

[chaedomi]

JEWEL OF OBELIA

SUMMARY . to them you were a jewel, precious and highly valuable. they, in turn, will express their strong emotions toward you, even if it means resorting to... more hostile methods.

CHARACTERS . ATHANASIA / CLAUDE DE ALGER OBELIA

WARNINGS . YANDERE, female reader, platonic, ooc, violence, death, suicide, unhealthy relationships (if i missed any, kindly alert me)

WORDCOUNT . 1.7k+ / MASTERLIST.

LETTERS . why have all the readers in my manhwa fics originally died so far... anyway, can you tell where i started losing motivation?

IN THE novel, Lovely Princess, the story went like this. True to its title, the book contained Lovely Princesses. There was The First Princess, akin to the moon, who held a gloomy and foggy disposition. Then came The Second Princess, resembling the sun, bright and cheery. And finally, The Third Princess, similar to the stars, was reserved but gentle and a source of comfort.

You were… The First Princess’s younger half-sister. Although your mother was unknown (you were found inside a basket in the gardens crying) those jeweled eyes and your uncanny appearance close to The Emperor were solid proof that you were in fact of royal blood. It was… certainly strange to learn that the book entailed you as an 'unimportant' character. While The Second Princess was adored by the whole continent, the love the people harbored for you, The Third Princess, could put The Second Princess to shame. They treated you as though you were some supreme gift bestowed from the heavens, to be treasured and pampered. And among those who glorified you… was your father, The Cold-Hearted Emperor. You were like The Protagonist more than The Second Princess could ever be.

You were also… the best sister anyone could ask for to The First Princess. Because The First Princess was deprived of affection in her life, she mostly relied on you to fill the gaps in her heart. And you endearingly did so, trying your best to shine a light inside her darkness. It soon became that you both were inseparable, attached by the hip.

…So, obviously, you will spiral down into despair over The First Princess's death. You knew The First Princess was innocent of The Second Princess's poisoning. She was simply too sweet to commit a vile act, especially when she too took a liking to The Second Princess. But, alas, your reasoning went through one ear and out the other, and without proper evidence, your father executed The First Princess.

However, just as The Emperor's wrath was not to be underestimated, so was the extent of your grief as you promptly took away your life hours after The First Princess's execution. And that was the sad ending of your story, The Third Princess.

HOW WAS THAT ANY FAIR??? The confusion of the roles and the cheesy plotline were already bad enough on their own, but your unnecessary death pretty much destroyed the chances of her leaving a positive review. Was it done to reestablish the fact you were an unimportant character, or to remind everyone that The Second Princess is the original best girl in the story…? No amount of copious explanations can ever make ATHANASIA understand the validation for your death.

What she can come to understand however is that you, out of all people, did NOT deserve to die. You had all the rights to receive a happy ending just like The Second Princess… and that is what she aspired to make a reality as she was tossed into the fantasy world of the novel. It was obvious that it all went to hell when The First Princess was executed at the hands of The Emperor. So, in order to avoid your death, she will have to avoid hers first.

A genius plan, she dubbed it, stealing various riches from the Ruby Palace to live the rest of her life on as she escapes. She also thought of the brilliant idea of taking you along with her, after all, being inside the palace is kind of… the reason for your death, was it not!? Why not avoid the source altogether!? Or… that is what was supposed to happen before she accidentally stumbled across The Emperor four years early. Now, she will have to scrap that genius plan. Damn…

On a bright note, as time passed, using an alternative plan, Athanasia eventually evaded all chances of earning death at the hands of her father. This means that you too won’t have a pitiful ending as you originally did! Yay!

You truly didn’t deserve to die, and Athanasia will keep on saying it as much as needed. The years she spent beside you as your sister, further strengthened her motivation to keep you alive. She also understood why The First Princess had a strong attachment toward you. Innocent, Pure, Patient, Merciful, and Kind… who wouldn’t swoon over a person with such admirable traits? What struck her heart the way it did, was your affection. In her previous life, Athanasia… didn’t have people around her to provide her with love.

So, it surprised her a lot when it happened. Sure, she had love from her Nanny and the rest of the maids, but yours had her heart pumping, energy rushing through her veins. It was warm… a feeling she wanted to cling to for an eternity. Was it silly that she felt envious of a fictional character? To think that The First Princess was subjected to this kind of treatment from you… How did it feel to live her dream? Not that it matters anymore. Now, she can have you to all herself! You wouldn’t mind if she got a little… greedy, right? Of course, you won’t! After all, if you learned of her tremendous effort to keep you safe, why wouldn’t you reward her with more of your presence? What she does is in your favor. So, don’t get too upset if what she does seems a bit extreme, alright? It’s all for your benefit.

Betrayal can hurt. But, betrayal stings when it comes from the person you trusted and loved the most. You didn’t understand why it had upset her more than it upsetted you. More so, if she was so against the idea, why hadn’t she said so first? She was supportive about it too, choosing to help pick out a perfect disguise for your outing in the town. So why was it that on the day you were about to leave, lo and behold, there was your father by your doorway, inclusive of his knight… and your sister beside him, smiling triumphantly? Maybe if you had paid attention to how the shine left your sister’s eyes as you told her of your plan, you could have avoided such a dreadful punishment.

What bugged you the most was how Athanasia carried out her day normally, and acted sweetly to you, as if she didn’t partially contribute to the punishment of breaking your legs. Today was no different, as she sat on the chair beside your bed rambling on about her day. “You know, that’s the most I’ve seen Daddy upset.” She laughed, tracing her finger down your legs. “Usually, he would never dream of even hurting a strand of your hair. What you’ve done was really bad…”

She smiled at you, her jeweled eyes looking all the more terrifying under the dark lighting in your room. “I don’t understand. I should feel despaired seeing my sister in so much pain. Why does it bring me so much relief?” She sighed, holding one of your hands in hers. “...You scared me terribly with what you told me earlier. My mind couldn’t stop focusing on the many possibilities that would arise with you out there. Even worse, what if they learned of your true identity, and an enemy nearby attacks you?”

“I agreed with your plan, solely to avoid trouble. If I said no, you would have avoided me, right? I… don’t ever want to see you in danger, or place you in it, knowing I could have done something to prevent it. Not like anything like that will happen anytime soon!” She gently poked your injured legs. “I will help ensure that too.” You didn’t realize that the tears building in your eyes began to fall, your sister’s fingers quickly working to wipe them away.

In the novel, CLAUDE naturally favored you more than The First Princess. Upon your first encounter during the festival on The First Princess’s ninth birthday, with an outstretched hand, he escorted you back to the party, leaving your older sister in the dust. You lived a rather lavish life after that, him spoiling you with exquisite goods. So, it’s not like you had to form some extreme plan like Athanasia to protect yourself from the dangers that lurked inside the palace. Everyone here adored you…

Yet, not only did Athanasia’s interference with the plotline create many changes for her, but it also resulted in triggering unsettling events for you. Now that The Cold-Hearted Emperor has learned to display affection for the firstborn he originally detested, where would that place you, the daughter he always loved?

…His methods were very much frightening, even traumatizing, you may add. The numerous times you witnessed something gruesome to the eye, for the littlest offenses toward you. He would imprison, he would murder, he would execute, all in your name. His presence too, was very much suffocating, more than Athanasia, and that spoke volumes.

You hated how they both attached themselves to you, but, if you had to choose, you would pick Athanasia in a heartbeat. For the cold jeweled eyes that scrutinized every movement you made were too much for your poor heart to endure. It was as though he was waiting, waiting for your slip-up, to gain a perfect reason to permanently confine you behind the walls of your bedroom. And you fear… that the day you kissed your freedom goodbye was approaching quicker than you initially anticipated.

“What will it take for you to treat me as normally as the rest?” the (h.c) haired girl wept, clutching on tightly her father’s robes. “Shall I become like my sister, Athanasia? If I do… will I become like a free bird, and be granted more privileges?” grief-stricken jeweled eyes peered up at her father. “Will you finally release me from the shackles you trapped me in?”

“Do what you want,” her father smirked. but, as quickly as her hope came so was it shattered. the piercing concept. his voice in her ears was the cruelest of them all. “Such a thing won’t happen till the day I perish.” what a terrible vow. she knew he would do anything in his power to maintain his promise. and so, the deepest of despair like never before flooded her eyes. what have you done to receive this…?

you were very precious. nothing, not even the rarest pieces in the world could be compared to you; you were the highest value among them all. for all, it was a high requirement to treat you with the utmost importance and respect. yes, to them, to everyone, you were, the jewel of obelia.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #who made me a princess #wmmap #wmmap x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #child reader #female reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 16

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands. 

“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers. 

You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off. 

Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb. 

“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.” 

“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand. 

“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.” 

“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts. 

“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.” 

“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.” 

“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?” 

She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?” 

“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?” 

“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.” 

“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.” 

Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter. 

“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters. 

Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--” 

“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, father.” 

The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small. 

“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.” 

He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg. 

“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.” 

You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king. 

You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears. 

⚔️

You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere. 

The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another. 

“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?” 

“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.” 

You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head. 

“Why does no one live here?” You ask. 

“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.” 

You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion. 

⚔️

Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer. 

Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine. 

He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects. 

You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat. 

She puffs into her palms and groan.  

“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!” 

You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.  

You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat. 

In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so. 

This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you. 

You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent. 

You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you. 

“Your highness,” you hand her the cup. 

She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise. 

“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?” 

Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.  

“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.” 

“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.” 

You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage. 

She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur. 

“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.” 

She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine. 

The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”  

She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat. 

The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips. 

“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.” 

She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.  

“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?” 

“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.” 

You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.” 

“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧PRECIOUS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) As a nature witch, you always wanted your own familiar ever since you were a kid, however, fate seemed to have different plans for you.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) cat boy!hongjoong x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Hongjoong is a cat. mentions of food and drinking. a little bit of violence. mentions of getting injured. questionable editing. lmk if I am missing something

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 8.9k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) My entry for the stuck in summer collab hosted by @a1sh1teruu. This was mainly inspired by cat boy!hwa fic written by @hwaightme! I always enjoy feedback, reviews, and asks so don't hesitate to comment/send an ask!

Humming to yourself, you lock the door to your quaint little cottage nestled in the heart of the woods. Your basket, which is brimming with aromatic herbs and meticulously crafted potions, dangles from your arm as you set toward the nearby town. There’s a spring in your step that reflects the life thriving in the flora around you. As a nature witch, you prefer to live in your element; hence, your chosen abode rests at the forest’s edge, a mere mile from the bustling town you call home.

This distance necessitates a journey by foot, a mile-long expedition riddled with untamed trails and serpentine streams. The unpaved path is untouched by humanity, offering no comfort of a well-trodden road, but in its midst—intertwined with the symphony of rustling leaves, bubbling brooks, and the whispered secrets of the trees—you feel at home.

As you amble past the outskirts of the town, a voice pierces through the tranquil air of the early morning. You falter at the unexpected call of your name and gaze past a waist-high fence to witness Miyeon—the daughter of a fellow witch and cherished friend—hurrying down her front yard with a bundle of fur resting in her arms.

“Y/N! Look! I found my very own familiar,” she says, words brimming with pride and joy. 

Your smile broadens as you congratulate her on her newfound magical connection. As you fuss over the young girl, your friend arrives, scolding her daughter for leaving her breakfast unfinished on the table. After exchanging cordial greetings and a gossip-laden exchange, you bid them adieu, recommencing your journey to Wooyoung’s shop.

As you leave behind the jovial mother-daughter duo, your once-beaming smile begins to wane, usurped by the pang in your chest. The yearning for a familiar casts a shadow upon your heart. Your dreams and visions of such a bond had been nurtured by tales of your parents’ harmonious connection with their own familiars and a childhood fantasy that stemmed from watching and re-watching Kiki’s Delivery Service. Usually, you can easily ward off these dark thoughts, allowing them to be no more than a passing whisper. But today, the loneliness of being a witch without a familiar resurfaces with a melancholic tenacity that defies dismissal.

“Why the long face?” 

Your response to the unexpected voice is a startled screech before you realise that it’s only Wooyoung who is standing at the window of his shop. The playful curve of his lips and the fond glint in his eyes prompt you to mutter a curse under your breath—more in playful annoyance than actual resentment.

You met Jung Wooyoung right after you found yourself in Alusia when you were a bright-eyed young witch, fresh out of the academy. He owned an antique shop inherited from his grandparents and was new in the town too, having arrived only a week prior. In his willingness to find a friend, Wooyoung offered you shelter under his roof when you needed it most—a gesture that solidified the foundations of an unbreakable friendship. Soon, the two of you converted the antique shop into an apothecary—a venture carved from your joint dreams and driven by your unique talents. Wooyoung, with his inherent charm (or, as your mutual friend San teasingly referred to it as Wooyoung being a loudmouth), engaged with clients while you prepared the elixirs and potions that graced the shop’s shelves.

“You are such a menace, Woo,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully in mock exasperation as you step into the shop, extending the basket to him. He lifts the lid carefully to reveal its contents, his enthusiasm palpable as he thoroughly inspects your offerings. “You are an angel, you know that?! I was running low on most of these and—oh?” In a burst of affection, he engulfs you in an unexpected hug, “You've finished Mrs Kim's potion already? You truly are a wonder, Y/N.”

By the time you step out of the shop to return home, it’s past noon, and the sun is high in the sky, casting a glow that makes you squint against its brilliance. But you smile despite the temporary discomfort because the warmth of the summer sun serves as a reminder of your cherished garden. The thought of the flourishing herbs and thriving plants in your backyard makes you smile.

Skipping lightly across the worn, flat stones that act as a bridge over the clear stream, you revel in the prospect of returning home after an exhausting week. The last few days were a flurry of ceaseless activity—the sheer number of concoctions to prepare left you without a moment to catch your breath. So, the mere idea of spending the rest of the day simply resting without worrying about tasks and obligations sounds heavenly. With each step that leads you closer to your home, a sense of serenity unfurls within you, anticipation blossoming like the flowers that line both sides of your path.

On your way, you come across another stream, its gurgling rhythm a soothing undercurrent to your thoughts. Just as you approach it, however, a soft rustling pierces the air, causing you to halt in your tracks. Your brows furrow and your gaze sweeps the landscape for the source of the sound. Nothing seems amiss, yet the sight of a fawn preoccupied with a hidden something beneath the swaying grass causes you to move closer.

A gasp, involuntary and hushed, escapes your lips as your eyes land on a jet-black cat, its form huddled against the earth, a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop of nature. However, it’s not the feline’s presence that startles you, but its pitiable state. Laboured breaths escape the creature, and the emerald blades beneath it are smeared in crimson blood. Without much thought, you scoop the injured feline into your arms. Careful of its wounds, you break into a brisk pace, your heart beating in tandem with your desperate urgency.

Foregoing the cottage, you bring the cat to the outhouse that doubles as your workspace. There, you tenderly set it upon a generously sized cushion at the far table. Despite the anxiety riddling your thoughts, your hands are steady as you collect the required ingredients to heal him. Gratitude unfurls within you for the foresight that ensured your own provisions remained well-stocked, even as you had taken most of the supplies to the apothecary.

Once you’re armed with everything you will need, you fuss over the wounded feline. As you carefully begin healing the cat, a whispered prayer escapes your lips—an offering of gratitude to the nature spirits that guided you to the cat for if you had been even a few minutes late, he would not have survived whatever ordeal had led to his pitiful condition. As you work, the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting hues of purple and orange in the sky. The cat’s exhausted form eventually surrenders to peaceful slumber, and though relieved, you still find yourself unable to depart for the comforts of your cottage.

Fetching the futon that you use when the making of a potion demands vigilant oversight, you nestle into its warmth. From the glass ceiling, you smile at the star-strewn sky that arches above you. Like this, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, you fall asleep, unknowing that your life is now intertwined with the cat’s own.

Your eyes flutter open to the soft morning sunlight piercing through the windows of the outhouse and your gaze shifts to the feline. You smile as you see the cat is doing better and leave the cat to its peaceful slumber to fix up a quick breakfast for yourself, only returning with a list of potions you must deliver to the shop the following week.

You put your phone onto your desk and begin your work, enveloped in a symphony of tranquil melodies that mirror the serenity of the forest that lies merely a few paces from where you stand. As you are immersed in your craft, the sun reaches its zenith, casting its warmth upon your workspace. As you work, a subtle shift draws your attention—a faint movement that you catch in the corner of your vision.

Turning to the source of movement, your eyes settle upon the cat, the creature finally stirring from its slumber. Wariness born from a shared unfamiliarity—yours with its nature, and its with yours—causes you to stay where you are. You wait with bated breath as the little guy brings his paws to his eyes to rub them, followed by a languid stretch. A yowl of discomfort leaves him, echoing through the space, and you can’t help but inhale sharply at his distress; he probably hears it because the very next moment, he’s on his paws and hissing at you.

You observe him with a mixture of understanding and patience, knowing that such a response comes from the fear and uncertainty of finding oneself in unfamiliar surroundings. You raise both your hands to show that you mean no harm. 

“Hey, it's okay,” your voice flows with reassurance, carrying with it an aura of compassion that you hope the cat can sense. “You're safe here, I promise. Please, just… rest some more. Moving might cause more harm than good right now, and it took me a while to treat those wounds of yours.”

The cat’s eyes narrow in distrust as his eyes rake over your form. Eventually, however, his cautious resolve gives way, and with a subdued huff, he eases back onto the cushion. You can tell that he is still wary of your presence, so you return to your task.

Stirring the potion, you softly break the silence. “You know, you’ve been out for almost a day. I was growing rather concerned, to be honest.” The cat tilts its head subtly, almost as if he’s curious, so you continue your train of thought. “Your injuries were quite severe. It’s a relief to see you awake.”

As the hours tick by, you remain absorbed in your work. Bottles and vials are filled with elixirs and put into another basket, each labelled with care and precision. While you work, you can feel the cat’s watchful gaze upon you. Once your tasks are completed, you shift your attention to your companion, who is now fast asleep. The feline, who was so cautious of you merely hours ago, now embodies a tranquillity that makes your lips quirk up at the corners. As you tidy your workspace, your heart brims with warmth, and once done, you begin preparations for lunch in your cottage.

The golden rays of the sun filter through your kitchen windows, illuminating your countertop as you cook a simple yet hearty lunch. You walk out of the kitchen, wanting to awaken the cat to give him some food, but as you enter the living room, a curious sight awaits your gaze. The cat is seated in front of the coffee table, blinking at you lazily. At his curious behaviour, your magic reaches out gently, a fleeting touch that reveals nothing out of the ordinary, causing you to hum in confusion. 

Armed with food, you step closer to your companion, emboldened by the silent affirmation that he won’t run away. “Would you mind if I turn on the TV?” Your query hangs in the air, and a melodic meow is the only answer you get before he’s diving headfirst into the meal you had prepared. Considering his response a go-ahead, you tune into Pirates of the Caribbean, the movie becoming a backdrop to your shared meal.

As the credits of the first movie start to roll, you can sense wariness in the cat’s watchful eyes, but this morning’s feral hiss has yielded to a tentative harmony. Noticing how entranced the cat is by the movie, you don’t turn it off as you clean the dishes, a gesture that you suspect he appreciates. Returning to the living room on completion of your chores, you find the once-restless creature nestled upon the sofa in cosy contentment—an image that both warms your heart and fascinates you.

You settle into the opposite end of the couch, and open your grandmother's book of remedies. The sounds from the TV fade into background noise as you read through the tome, and you can’t help but think about how oddly domestic this moment seems.

Emboldened by how relaxed your new companion looks, you decide to talk to him. “Hey, buddy, would you mind if I checked on your wound? Just to make sure it's healing the way it should?”

The feline responds with a subtle shift—a repositioning that unveils its wounded side. As you approach, your heart swells due to the delicate trust blooming between you. If you’re surprised by how quickly he is healing, you don’t let it be known. “Looks like you will be fine by the end of the week. I’d love for you to stay here with me until then, but the choice is yours.”

Your offer hangs in the air for a moment before he meows, sealing the agreement. The cat settles back into the same position in which he’d been watching the movie, so you assume that means he’s going to stay in cat-speak.

Yet, a lingering thought flits through your mind—the matter of a name. “What do we name you, though?” you ponder aloud, your voice a soft murmur. You drop random names that seem fitting for a cat. Most receive only a nonchalant disregard, save for an outright hiss at the name “minion”.

As you are at your wits’ end, an idea strikes you. “What about Captain... Jack Sparrow?” The last part is whispered, so you don’t know if he heard, but you’d shorten it to Captain anyways, so in your humble opinion, it is the perfect name.

In the wake of your suggestion, the feline’s eyes light up in affirmation, making you smile. “Okay then, Captain it is,” you declare softly, marking the beginning of a bond, one forged in the quiet moments and shared names bridging the divide between the two of you.

In a surprising twist, Captain Jack Sparrow defies your initial expectations by choosing not to leave your cottage even after his recovery. The once-wounded feline weaves his presence into the very fabric of your life in the form of a plush cat bed nestled within a spare room. Though, in hindsight, it was an unnecessary purchase as the bed remains pristine and untouched, while the cat himself stakes claim to your couches and book-laden shelves.

During the day, the uppermost shelf of your work area becomes Captain’s sanctuary, where he slumbers amidst the tomes stacked alphabetically. With time, Captain inches closer, from lower shelves to the corner of your very table—a silent testament to the trust that has bloomed between the two of you.

Then, one day, the gentle touch of a paw upon your hand breaks through your concentration. Wide-eyed, you find yourself captivated by the slumbering form of Captain. For the next hour, you don’t dare move your hand, driven by the irrational belief that any movement on your part could shatter the delicate companionship you’ve woven over months of shared moments.

The seconds stretch like an eternity, yet you remain still. When Captain awakens to find you in such a vulnerable state, his response is one that eases your fears—a gentle nudge of his nose against your hand in gratitude and acknowledgement and leaves before you can process what happened.

That night onwards, you find Captain curled up at the top of your closet during the night. The first few times, the sight of his glowing orbs startles you, but with time, you find yourself comforted by this silent guardian who watches over you as you slumber. When you tell Wooyoung about this, his response is one of gentle reassurance. “He probably watches over you to protect you as you sleep during the night.”

Speaking of Wooyoung, the first time you ask Captain to accompany the town on your visit, he seems a little sceptical. “It’s your choice, Captain. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright. I just thought you would like some change of scenery,” you tell him. As you gather your belongings and secure your cottage, you expect Captain to stay back. However, as you lock the door, you find him perched upon the fence, waiting for you. And when you introduce Captain to Wooyoung, it is a new experience, to say the least. Laughter spills forth as you are unable to suppress your mirth as Captain scratches your friend’s hand in an instinctive response to Wooyoung’s attempt to lift him into his arms.

“You have adopted a devil, Y/N,” he screeches, pointing at Captain while cradling his arm protectively. Your cat, on the other hand, is sitting on his haunches while licking his paw—the picture of angelic innocence.

“Please, I would scratch you too if you tried to scare me. The only reason I don’t is because you’d whine about it for days. Captain might just be the guardian I need to keep you in check, aren’t you, bud?” The answering meow causes another round of joyous laughter to burst forth from your lips.

You’d think Captain’s initial aloofness would deter Wooyoung but, Captain's coldness only seems to fuel your friend’s determination as he tries everything he can to get Captain to like him—from treats to gentle pets to whimsical trinkets—all in an attempt to win over the feline. Yet, Captain remains steadfast, his indifference to these gestures firmly intact. And it is not as if this attitude is reserved for Wooyoung alone.

Ever since that first trip where he accompanied you, Captain follows you each time you visit Alusia. As you navigate the streets of the town, he treads his own path, a few paces away and often on higher surfaces while you go about your business. The townspeople, on learning of your feline companion, attempt to win his affection, but he doesn’t seem like people (or people touching him), so eventually, they give up trying. However, he still accepts treats from them despite you telling them not to, but the way he looks at you has you quickly going back on your words. How can you say no when he looks at you with his large eyes that seem to hold entire universes within them?

During one such trip to Alusia, a jewellery shop captures your attention for a moment, but as your mind is preoccupied with the bubbling concoction back at the outhouse, you walk past the display without lingering. In your haste, you don’t even realise that Captain has stopped in front of the big window and isn’t following you. It is only the sensation of something amiss that prompts you to retrace your steps, leading you to the forlorn figure of Captain seated before the shop—a sight that tugs at your heartstrings.

A sigh escapes your lips as you crouch beside him. “Would you like to explore what the shop has to offer?” you inquire gently, recognising the twinkle in Captain's gaze as he looks up at you.

Though your feline companion is a delight to be around, sometimes you can’t help but be sceptical of the little guy. You have often caught him reading your journals or tomes as if he understands them, prompting speculation about his understanding of human knowledge. Yet, those notions are quickly discarded when he settles onto the page with a languid yawn. “Cap’n, my books are not cushions for napping,” you always chide him in playful exasperation, only to be met with a dismissive glare and a subsequent shift into your lap. Amongst all his quirks, one stands out—his remarkable understanding of human speech. Whenever you ask him something, he answers with a meow or a hiss (it’s easy to tell which is for which), just like how he answers your question about the shop with a meow.

With a nod, you offer your arms as a welcoming perch for Captain to leap into and enter the quaint shop. The glittering array of chokers fascinates him, prompting you to lead him towards the displays. He studies each piece carefully, and at the end of this impromptu stop, Captain is adorned with a collar—which is more of a choker, really. A topaz moon and vibrant red marigold pendants grace his new accessory, shining beautifully as the sunlight hits them.

For the rest of the week, Captain's spirited headbutts and unabashed demonstrations of fondness keep you on your toes, simultaneously warming your heart and distracting you from your potion-making. His playfulness leads you to scold him gently because you are worried that he could get hurt while you work. “Cap’n, I know you love your new collar, but I need to concentrate on my work, or you could get hurt.” Despite your reprimand, his adoration remains undeterred, but he does quiet down as you work and lingers nearby, a reassuring presence amid your bustling workspace.

Weeks pass, and one night in mid-August, you are jolted from your sleep by a distressing nightmare—a rare occurrence for you as you rarely dream. Gasping for breath, your magic surges instinctively, tethering you to the calming embrace of the forest that surrounds your home.

As your panic settles and you feel calmer than before, you reach for the glass of water on your nightstand, only to be startled when a pair of glowing eyes meet your gaze from the heights of your closet. It’s a familiar sight, yet the remnants of the unsettling dream create a tremor within you.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Your hand instinctively rests over your pounding heart as you chide him, the mixture of residual fear making your voice tremble.

Observing your distress, Captain gently descends from his vantage point to the expanse of your bed. A soft meow accompanies his movements, and his eyes seek yours before he nuzzles his head against your side. Sighing, you relent, succumbing to his affection. Your touch is tender and reassuring as you pet his head gently, “It’s alright, buddy. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just startled by the nightmare.��

Cocooned in the soft cotton sheets, you lay back down to go back to sleep and notice Captain curling up by your side with a gentle purr. His tail encircles your wrist in a protective gesture as if trying to ward off the shadows that threaten to disturb your sleep. From that night onwards, most nights, you awaken to find him nestled by your feet or right by your pillow—a silent guardian whose comforting aura intertwines with the magic that surrounds you. 

Time passes and one season transitions into the next, and before you know it, you’ve been living with Captain Jack Sparrow for almost a year. As yet another summer rolls around, you notice his presence has brought profound happiness to your existence. While he may not be the familiar you once yearned for, he has become a source of unwavering support, and his mere presence never fails to brighten up your days.

However, there’s an unexpected shift in Captain’s behaviour one day, he seems restless, and it only intensifies during the night. Despite your attempts to understand what’s wrong, you can’t seem to figure it out, which leaves you both perturbed and anxious. As dawn breaks, you decide professional insight is necessary and bring Captain to the town’s vet, only to be told that your cat is in perfect health. Though baffled, you’re relieved to know that Captain is not in any particular danger. On your way back home, you venture into the apothecary only to be met with a frantic San and aghast Wooyoung. 

“What's wrong?” You ask softly, only for Wooyoung to burst into sobs as he throws himself into your arms. 

Turning your gaze to San, his weary visage reflects the toll whatever ordeal he has gone through has taken on him. His voice is a blend of exhaustion and urgency as he relays the heartbreaking news to you, “Miyeon vanished in the forest. She had been working on her first test as a witch-in-training and didn’t return.” 

You know how important the test is, for it is the first step in any witch’s path towards the prestigious academy in the capital. San continues to explain that when the young girl didn’t return home, even as the stars twinkled in the rapidly darkening sky, her mother raised an alarm and the townspeople searched for her throughout the night to no avail.

“It’s as if she vanished into thin air, Y/N,” San’s voice is filled with the fatigue of fruitless searching and worry for Miyeon.

Your brows furrow, “Do you have any idea where she might have gone missing?”

San shakes his head with a sigh, “The only thing we found was her bracelet, and that was miles away from where she should’ve been—near the rocky caves close to the mountains.”

The information stirs a gasp from your lips, for the mountains lie nearly fifty miles away from Alusia’s borders. “But that's miles away. How could she have ended up there?”

Weariness is evident in every line of San’s face as he levels you with a sorrowful look, “No one knows.”

Days stretch on, heavy with a gnawing sense of uncertainty, as Miyeon’s absence continues to hang upon Alusia like a dark cloud that just won’t leave. The ominous shadows that loom over the forest deepen as more individuals vanish without a trace, their fates shrouded in a veil of mystery that defies explanation. Countless efforts have been in vain, leaving everyone in a state of collective apprehension. Venturing into the heart of the forest with San and Wooyoung, you’ve even journeyed to the rocky caves where the bracelet had been discovered. However, you find no tangible clues, and the sombre truth of your fruitless attempts sinks in.

Weirdly enough, amidst the sense of dread and uncertainty that surrounds the town and the forest, your cottage emerges as a safe haven. Whether the protective spells you’ve cast around its perimeter have deterred the sinister force or some other unknown factor is at play, whatever has been prowling in the forest doesn’t seem to approach your home. Your heart fills with relief at this, for it ensures the safety of not only yourself but also of your feline companion.

Captain has been venturing into the forest stealthily; however, you’re attuned to the subtle shifts that accompany his absence. Despite your worry, you permit him these solitary ventures as not only is your confidence in his instincts unwavering, but you also know that he wouldn’t stray too far to put himself in jeopardy. True to your belief, he returns to your side by the time you’re done with the day’s work.

However, one day when Captain doesn’t come back home by dusk, you reach out to Wooyoung, informing him that you will set out in search of your cat. Your friend’s apprehension is palpable even through the texts, and he reminds you of the prevailing danger that has claimed Miyeon and others, yet your determination overrides his caution.

Urgency propels you into the forest’s depths as the sun sets even further, washing the canopy above you in shadows that stretch like fingers reaching out to pull you into their darkness. An unsettling hush descends upon the surrounding area, a peculiar silence that leaves you both aware and wary. Your senses are on high alert as you advance deeper into the foliage and look for your cat.

As you spot a clearing in front of you that is bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight, you notice Captain Jack Sparrow in the middle, his attention fixed on an unseen presence shrouded within the trees on the other side. 

“Captain?” At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, his meow fraught with urgency. As he hurries to your side, his head nudging against your leg, you recognise his plea for you to retreat.

“I’m not leaving without you,” you tell him softly but with enough conviction in your voice that elicits a resigned meow from Captain.

He positions himself in front of you, his lithe form a protective barrier between you and the hidden danger that holds his attention. The silence seems to pulse with malevolent energy, and the hairs on your arms stand on end as you brace yourself for what awaits.

And then, from the gap between the trees, steps out a figure that you have only seen within the pages of the books you’ve read—a demon. His arrival disrupts the eerie stillness, his form emanating an aura that sends a shiver coursing down your spine. Horns, reminiscent of an infernal crown, emerge from tufts of his long hair. Intricate tattoos wind their way along his arms like serpents of darkness, and wings resembling a bat's silhouette stretch ominously, casting shadows that dance in tune with the forest’s secrets. The deep crimson glow of his eyes sears a path into your very soul, leaving you trembling beneath his gaze.

Your heart beats wildly within your chest, your senses keenly aware of the danger that emanates from this being. As the realisation that you stand before a high demon dawns upon you, you cannot help but inhale sharply.

Though fear courses through your veins, your mind functions with remarkable clarity. A plan takes shape, and your instinct for self-preservation and the well-being of those you hold dear compels you to act. Fingers trembling, you manage to send a discreet message to Wooyoung and tell him to bring a priest whose knowledge and skills would be able to banish this entity back where he belongs.

Beside you, Captain Jack Sparrow emits another series of hisses, his agitation a mirror to your own. The feline’s protectiveness seems to amuse the demon, for his lips curl into a sinister grin. “You think your feline companion is any threat to me? You’re foolish to think so, little witch.”

Your heart pounds as you face the looming demon. With your makeshift weapon—a sturdy stick—grasped firmly, you weave determination and resolve into your stance. Your gaze shifts to Captain, his eyes reflecting the trust he places in you. Kneeling before him, you utter your words in a hushed tone. “Can you distract him for me?”

Captain Jack Sparrow meets your gaze with unwavering intensity, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. His nod is resolute, a testament to his loyalty and his faith in you. Without hesitation, he catapults himself toward the demon, a feline embodiment of courage and defiance.

With a sharp breath, you drag the stick into the forest floor as you etch a devil’s trap. Each stroke in the soil forms a link in a mystical chain, a barrier that could keep the demon trapped until the priest arrives with Wooyoung. The forest seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation as you carve your intentions into the earth, invoking protection and safeguarding magic into each gesture.

Just as you make the last stroke on the earth, a piercing howl of agony pierces through the silence. Panic claws at your chest as you stand, your eyes locking onto Captain, who now lies amidst the underbrush. The demon’s glee is evident, a sickening grin that sparks a fire of anger within you.

Even as your heart races with a mixture of fury and desperation, his taunting words punctuate the air, “You can’t hurt me either, little witch. You’re too weak to go up against me.”

Your voice, though laced with tremors, carries a fire born of defiance. “You underestimate me, demon. My strength lies in more than just might.”

As the tension builds, you brace yourself, a fusion of anger and resolve fuelling your next steps. For some reason, a smirk dances at the edges of your lips, the action adding to the demon’s simmering fury. His snarl of irritation is a satisfying confirmation that your audacity has hit its mark, goading him into action. Without warning, he hurtles toward you with terrifying speed, and instinct kicks in, your body moving with a fluidity born of desperation as you sidestep his oncoming assault, your heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and a fervent prayer for Wooyoung to be quick. He’s your anchor, your beacon of hope, a lifeline that promises light at the end of the tunnel.

Your attempt to land a punch only garners a momentary victory, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt of satisfaction through your veins before the demon's ferocity reignites. Your “fight” with the demon is more of a dance between predator and prey. The demon is tireless, his attacks relentless, and your resilience the only thing keeping you from succumbing to his power.

As you’re trying to catch your breath while also simultaneously dodging the demon’s attacks, a movement in the corner of your vision catches your attention—a graceful, stealthy approach. It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, emerging from the undergrowth despite being hurt himself. You can see the fire in his own eyes as he moves closer to the two of you.

Your focus narrows as the duel intensifies. Yet, in a split second, your world tilts on its axis. The demon’s strike finally lands its mark, and an agonising pain flares in your abdomen as his blade pierces through you. Your gasp of pain mingles with the harshness of your exhale, the world momentarily spinning as you lose your grip on reality.

Amidst the searing agony, a small hope presents itself—a diversion in the form of your cat. Captain’s launch distracts the demon, his collision with the devil turning the tide of battle. A triumphant surge courses through you as the malevolent entity stumbles ensnared within the conjured lines and symbols of the devil’s trap.

Hope blossoms anew as the demon’s growls turn to roars of rage. It’s a momentous turn of events, however, the sweet taste of victory is swiftly tempered by the urgency of your injury. Blood flows from your wound, a crimson river that threatens to drown you in its tide. 

But as darkness threatens to claim you, the forest is pierced by the sound of familiar voices. Wooyoung’s call is a lifeline, as he and the priest, followed by San, move toward the heart of the clearing. Their arrival sparks a surge of relief within you, the fervent prayers you’d cast finding their answer.

For your two friends, the demon, now in the custody of the priest, takes a backseat to the immediate urgency of your wound. Bloodied and battered, you succumb to the overwhelming sense of fatigue that washes over you, your vision flickering as you teeter on the precipice of consciousness. As the world blurs and wavers, you hear Captain’s mournful meows and Wooyoung’s desperate pleas as San works to stem the bleeding. Darkness envelops you, but not before you grasp the hands of those who are by your side, hoping to give them some comfort.

As you gradually resurface from the depths of the unconsciousness, you’re met with a hazy awareness of your surroundings. The soft rustle of leaves, a gentle breeze, and the warmth of the sun’s rays brush against your senses, weaving together a mosaic of sensations that bring you back to the world of the living.

As your eyelids flutter open, the world swims into focus, and you realise you’re laid down in the comfort of your bed. With careful and deliberate motions, you navigate meticulously to take note of any aches along your body. The pain is there, an ever-present reminder of the brutal encounter with the demon, but it’s not as overwhelming as you initially feared.

Summoning the strength to sit up, you’re acutely aware of the effort it takes. Your muscles protest the movement, a chorus of twinges and discomfort that underscore the extent of your injuries. You exhale a measured breath, grateful for the incremental progress that you’ve made in whatever number of days you’ve been unconscious. 

You wonder if Wooyoung or San are downstairs, for you hear movement and sounds drifting through the air—evidence that you're not alone. With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, you muster the energy to call out. “Hello?”

In response, the sounds shift—a plate clatters in the sink, and footsteps echo through the corridors as they draw nearer. You await the reply with a mixture of anticipation and unease, as the door to your room creaks open, revealing an unexpected visitor who seems as surprised to find you conscious as you are to meet him. The stranger stands framed in the doorway, his presence both enigmatic and captivating. Your gaze sweeps over him, capturing the details that distinguish him from any other human.

His silver hair shimmers like moonlight swept in an artful disarray around his face. His brown eyes are warm and expressive, and his petite nose adds a touch of whimsy to his features, a charming little thing that lends him an air of approachability.

Yet, what captivates your attention most are the silver cat ears that adorn his head. They peek from behind his tousled locks, a hint of something magical, a connection to the feline that has become such a significant part of your life. And there, nestled against his throat, rests the same choker you had bought for Captain—the final object that weaves a thread of familiarity between you and this stranger.

You blink at the unexpected revelation, your mind whirling as it tries to reconcile this silver-haired stranger with the raven-furred feline companion who had been a constant presence in your life for over a year. The pieces of the puzzle rearrange themselves in your perception, forming a new and baffling image that challenges your understanding of magic and reality.

“Please don’t tell me that you’re the cat who’s been living with me for the past year,” your incredulity and confusion are woven into the words that hang in the air between you.

He blinks back at you, the innocence in his gaze casting a surreal contrast against the situation you’ve found yourself in. “Um, okay?” His response is soft, almost timid, and a pang of empathy stirs within you.

“But, you… I didn’t sense a single ounce of magic in you,” you murmur, your words imbued with a touch of bewilderment. The dichotomy between his appearance as a cat and now as a being with apparent human attributes leaves you struggling to grasp the threads of truth.

He shifts uneasily in the doorway, his cat ears betraying his discomfort as they flatten against his hair. As your brain races to piece together the implications of his transformation, Captain—your erstwhile feline friend—interjects with a soft sigh, “That’s because our magic is way different. Nature witches can rarely sense dark magic unless it’s threatening.”

“Oh… WAIT— WHAT DO YOU MEAN DARK MAGIC?” 

The elusive and sinister nature of dark magic indeed renders it undetectable to your innate senses. But to think you had been living with a creature who practised dark magic made you shudder.

“I am a mage, well—I was one until I declined a fae’s advances. They cursed me to live as a cat for the rest of my life,” he confesses, his voice carrying the weight of a burden he’s carried for far too long.

Your emotions teeter on the precipice of uncertainty. Part of you instinctively yearns to distance yourself, wary of the unpredictable nature of dark magic and its ramifications. Yet, another part—perhaps the more empathetic and compassionate side—compels you to understand.

“And how did you turn back?” you inquire gently, the words wrapped in a blanket of cautious curiosity. You observe his response closely, measuring his demeanour, and his expressions, seeking any sign of deceit or danger.

He meets your gaze squarely, his eyes carrying a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “I called in a favour another fae owed me. They helped me out and managed to undo some of the curse… but I was to stay a cat until I felt the heartbreak of almost losing someone precious to me,” he confides, his voice trembling with an authenticity that resonates with your intuition.

“Precious?” You echo the word.

The notion seems almost surreal, a subtle revelation that has you momentarily flustered. Your heart flutters in an unfamiliar rhythm, a dance choreographed by the unexpected emotions swirling within you. 

He observes your reaction, a gentle smile playing upon his lips as he regards you with tender familiarity. “You're precious to me, Y/N,” he admits, the words carrying an honesty that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is a caress, drawing you into the depths of his sentiment. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you, and you find yourself holding your breath.

He probably senses the shift in your breathing and looks at you in concern, so you force yourself to inhale, coughing a bit as you choke. Once he sees you’re fine, he continues, his words laced with a trace of melancholy. “So… you almost losing your life changed me back. Not fully, though, never fully. I’ll still be able to turn back into a cat and then back into this form. That’s what I’ve been doing while Wooyoung and San come to check up on you.”

The notion of him resuming his dual existence as both a cat and this silver-haired individual evokes a sense of both wonder and sympathy. Your gaze lingers on him, searching for traces of the feline friend you’ve known for so long within the person before you.

“Oh…” The word slips from your lips, laden with a complexity of emotions that you struggle to articulate.

He shifts slightly, his demeanour carrying an air of uncertainty as he speaks. “Um… I can leave if you don’t want me around any—”

You interject, the words tumbling from your lips before he can finish his sentence, a resolute assertion that quashes any hint of rejection. “No! I just… I'll just need a while to… uh… yeah.” You gesture vaguely, the swirl of emotions within you manifesting in a flurry of gestures that you can’t seem to articulate into words. He nods at you, and the silence that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric as he shifts his weight.

“Would you like something to eat?” he offers, seeking to ground the situation in something familiar. “I'm not the best at cooking, but I make a nice porridge and considering you haven’t eaten in a couple of days, it's best if you have something light to eat.”

Your quick nod is accompanied by a brief departure and a swift return, a bowl of porridge cradled in his hands. When you notice that he’s about to leave you alone again, you can’t help but call out. “Wait.” As his steps pause in response, you invite him to stay with a gentle smile, the words unspoken but the sentiment clear.

Curiosity laces your words as you venture into uncharted territory. “So… can you still do magic?” The inquiry stems from a genuine desire to understand the extent of his transformation and the implications it holds.

He takes a seat beside your bed, his posture relaxed as he contemplates your question. “I haven't been able to use any magic since you got injured. The demon, he hurt me with the same knife he used to hurt you… and uh, I think whatever magic I have sort of reacted with yours…” His gaze finds yours from beneath the fall of his bangs, an unspoken query hidden within his eyes, “Do you feel any different?”

“I can't tell right now…” As silence settles between you, you sense the opportunity to delve further, to uncover a piece of the puzzle that he’s held close. “What's your name?” you ask, your voice soft yet insistent.

“Huh?” He seems momentarily taken aback as if the question isn’t something he expected.

“Your name,” you repeat.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” The response seems to hang in the air, a bridge between the past and the present, a marker of his identity before the curse that had transformed him.

An uncomfortable quiet follows, the weight of revelations and the unspoken understanding rendering words momentarily inadequate. Seeking a refuge in the familiarity of action, you take another spoonful of porridge, the act providing temporary solace.

Breaking through the silence, he cautiously inquires, his voice softer than before, “Is it okay?” The gaze you direct at Hongjoong carries an unspoken question, “The porridge?” he clarifies.

Your response is a nod as you offer him a tentative smile that reflects your gratitude. “It's really tasty. Thank you.”

Hongjoong’s nod is a humble acknowledgement, his gaze holding a fleeting yet meaningful connection with yours. As the seconds tick by, another awkward silence settles, but this one holds the gentle promise of the unknown.

That evening as the sunset paints the evening sky in hues of purple and orange, you find yourself in the presence of Wooyoung and San. Their eyes, suffused with the relief of your recovering strength, mirror the unspoken concern that brought them here. Nestled at your side, Hongjoong has resumed his feline form, a steadfast source of familiar comfort as Wooyoung tells you about the people who had gone missing. As the priest banished the demon, they were liberated from the captivity of the demon who was using them as a source to draw power. You are glad to know that Miyeon and the others have safely returned to their homes, and the four of you enjoy an evening filled with the warmth of companionship.

As your body completes its healing process, a newfound awareness awakens within you—an inkling that your magic has indeed undergone a transformation. Engaging Hongjoong in conversation about this, you both reach a consensus that teaching each other about your respective magic could be the key to unravelling the intricacies of your unique connection.

You start small, inviting Hongjoong to partake in nurturing the growth of herbs and other flora and having him observe the delicate craft of potion-making. With patience and thoroughness that speaks to the depth of your understanding, you slowly and meticulously introduce him to the art that has been your life’s calling.

Conversely, Hongjoong takes a more theoretical approach. Armed with the wealth of knowledge he has amassed over the years, he embarks on the journey of studying dark magic alongside you. Evenings become an intimate soiree of shared books, a merging of his wisdom and your practical expertise. The pursuit is not without its challenges, especially for him as the concepts of dark magic are both familiar and alien, a delicate dance between his past experiences and his present identity.

Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of your interactions dissipates, and you settle into a rhythm, an understanding blooming from the mutual pursuit of knowledge. Hongjoong’s presence becomes an inseparable part of your magical undertakings, his assistance serving as both catalyst and amplification. The mundane tasks of your craft transform into collaborative ventures that find their completion with newfound ease and velocity.

In this partnership, you both traverse uncharted realms, unearthing hidden gems of wisdom and forging new techniques. You discover the intricacies of advanced protective charms, the nuances of spellcasting, and the delicate balance between the ethereal and the tangible. Every conversation brings new insights as his eyes aglow with passion while he delves into explanations that light up your understanding.

Hongjoong isn’t oblivious to the subtle shifts in your demeanour either, the way your attention seems to gravitate toward his words with an almost magnetic pull. He playfully teases you when you zone out while listening to him, but beneath his banter lies a quiet satisfaction at having captured your focus.

One summer evening, almost two years after you found and healed Hongjoong, you find yourself basking in the warmth of his presence. As Hongjoong delves into the mysteries of Tarot cards, your attention wavers. Mesmerised by his words, your gaze inadvertently drifts to his lips, where the graceful dance of his explanations seems to take on a sensual rhythm of its own. Lost in the tempo of his speech, you’re barely aware of your growing fascination until the sound of his clearing throat breaks through your reverie. Flushing in embarrassment, you avert your gaze, your heart racing at having been caught by him.

Hongjoong chuckles softly, a melodious sound that carries warmth. His fingers, feather-light and tinged with confidence, slide beneath your chin, lifting it until your eyes meet his. His touch is tender, a silent reassurance that dissipates your unease, even as his eyes search yours with an intensity that ignites a flutter in your chest.

The air between you seems charged with unspoken desires, and as Hongjoong’s gaze darkens, your heart skips a beat. His presence is magnetic, his proximity an intoxicating pull that leaves you breathless. The realisation that this is a defining juncture in your connection dawns upon you, your anticipation matched only by the uncertainty of what's to come.

“May I kiss you?” Leaned in so close that his breath dances upon your lips, Hongjoong’s voice is barely a whisper as he seeks permission, his question hanging between you like a promise. His eyes, fixed on your mouth, reflect the yearning that pulses through his veins.

Your nod is almost imperceptible, a fervent agreement that is all the confirmation Hongjoong needs. His lips descend upon yours with a delicate reverence, his touch a gentle brush that sends sparks through your very being. A deep, resonant purr thrums from within his chest, the vibrations of which reverberate against you as he draws you closer to himself.

Hongjoong’s kiss unfolds with a tenderness that contrasts the unspoken longing that has been growing between the two of you. His lips move against yours in a rhythm that speaks of his own vulnerability, each touch conveying a deeper sentiment. But as you respond in earnest, his tongue glides across your lips, prompting longing to flare through your veins.

Your lips part, the connection broken only for a moment as you both draw a ragged breath. Yet, the space between you feels electric, the air pregnant with the promise of what’s to come. Giving in to desire, Hongjoong’s kisses trail along your jaw, igniting sensations that tumble forth as a soft, involuntary whimper. The velvety brush of his lips against your skin seems to write a narrative of its own as if he’s trying to make a home in your very soul.

With a husky murmur, Hongjoong guides you forward, his voice a seductive entreaty that resonates through your core. As his teeth graze beneath the collar of your shirt, a shiver courses down your spine, “That's it, love,” he exhales, his words a sultry invitation to unravel the depths of your desires. “Let me hear you.”

The fervour of your shared moment is interrupted by a sudden, urgent knock on your door. The sound jolts you both out of the cocoon of passion, and you exchange a hasty yet intense kiss as if to imprint the sensation on your soul before pulling away. Breathing heavily, you share a lingering glance before reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace and heading to the front door, your heartbeats echoing the electricity that still courses through your veins.

As you open the door, you’re met with the sight of Wooyoung and San, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They look at you and Hongjoong with knowing smiles as if they can sense the transformation in the air, but they refrain from commenting. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy that has bloomed between you, and you’re grateful for their unspoken understanding.

In the days that follow, you and Hongjoong continue navigating your newfound connection. The kiss remains unspoken, yet its imprint is undeniable. The two of you seem to share a mutual agreement to explore this uncharted territory without the constraints of labels or expectations, allowing your relationship to unfurl naturally.

With Hongjoong by your side, every interaction becomes a wordless conversation, every shared glance a testament to the bond that has formed between you. The ease with which you navigate each other’s thoughts and emotions astounds you as if you’ve known each other across lifetimes.

With Hongjoong, you find solace and a rare understanding that extends beyond the realms of mere companionship. With him by your side, life seems to flow effortlessly, and even the challenges that come your way are met with a united front, the strength of your connection acting as a shield against adversity.

As time passes, you realise that what you have with Hongjoong is more profound than any bond you could have hoped for had you connected with a familiar. Yours is a love that has grown from mutual respect, shared experiences, and the unspoken promises that linger between your glances.

You might have longed for a familiar as a young witch, but now you realise that fate had something even better in store for you—a soul who understands you in ways words can never express and a heart that beats in harmony with your own. With Hongjoong by your side, you found the person who complemented your magic, someone who loved you and would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you knew that you’d do the same for him.

#collab : stuck in summer #hongjoong x reader #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong headcanons #hongjoong reactions #hongjoong fluff #cromernet #outlaw/precious #ateez fanfic

[rapeculturerealities]

Two Women Died on an Alaska Mayor’s Property. No One Has Ever Been Charged. — ProPublica

Kirk and Norton, both Inupiaq, had each dated sons of the former borough mayor, and the sons had previously been convicted of beating each of them. One of the sons had admitted to strangling Kirk twice before. Another pleaded guilty to kicking Norton in the stomach when she was six months pregnant.

No one has ever been charged with a crime in connection to the deaths.

In a state where women are 2.5 times more likely than the national average to be killed by a man and Alaska Native women are especially at risk, elected leaders here have repeatedly pledged action. The Department of Justice declared a rural law enforcement emergency in Alaska following a 2019 report by the Anchorage Daily News and ProPublica on glaring lapses in local policing. Two years later, the governor created a state council on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Persons, and in 2022, new investigators were hired to solve cases like Norton’s.

Unexplained holes in the investigations into the deaths of Kirk and Norton call into question this commitment, a review by the Anchorage Daily News and ProPublica found. More than that, the events leading up to the women’s deaths illustrate how police, prosecutors and judges here have regularly given pass after pass to people accused of domestic violence and strangulation.

#Kirk #Norton #mmiw #Inupiaq #Tw murder #Domestic violence #intimate partner violence

[she-is-ovarit]

Trans research and scientific consensus

(2020) - Study of 139,829 students finds that in comparison to other students, transgender identity, especially non-binary identity, is associated more with perpetrating bullying than being bullied. Non-binary identity was most strongly associated with involvement in bullying, followed by [transgender] opposite sex identity and cisgender identity. 

(2023) 21 leading experts on pediatric gender medicine from 8 countries wrote a letter to Wall Street Journal expressing disagreement over how gender dysphoria in youth is treated, voicing concerns against things such as the affirmative model and research conducted outside of the US has found hormonal interventions for gender dysphoria to be without reliable evidence. Among these international experts is Dr. Rita Kaltiala, chief psychiatrist at Tampere university gender clinic and author of several peer-reviewed studies on trans medicine and Finland's top authority on pediatric gender care.

(2023) Landmark study from Denmark on 3,800 transgender patients pulled data from hospital records and applications from legal gender changes and discovered 43% of this group had a psychiatric illness compared with 7% of non-trans group, and despite "gender affirming care" and legal gender changes, still had 7.7 the rate of suicide attempts and 3.5 times the rate of suicide deaths. Researchers state this rate is likely even higher due to missing data.

(2016) Study finds association with increased risk of multiple sclerosis for trans women taking estrogen/reducing testosterone levels.

(2023) Metadata study shows, at best, no improvement for patients in gender-affirming care. "The conclusions of the systematic reviews of evidence for adolescents are consistent with long-term adult studies, which failed to show credible improvements in mental health and suggested a pattern of treatment-associated harms. Three recent papers examined the studies that underpin the practice of youth gender transition and found the research to be deeply flawed. Evidence does not support the notion that “affirmative care” of today’s adolescents is net beneficial."

(2011) Long term follow up of 324 transgender people having undergone sex reassignment surgery in Sweden, found that trans women retained male patterned incidents and rates of violence and had a greater significance and rate of rape and sexual violence than cisgender men. The study also found, "Persons with transsexualism, after sex reassignment, have considerably higher risks for mortality, suicidal behaviour, and psychiatric morbidity than the general population. Our findings suggest that sex reassignment, although alleviating gender dysphoria, may not suffice as treatment for transsexualism, and should inspire improved psychiatric and somatic care after sex reassignment for this patient group."

(2020) Largest study to date on 641,860 people finds association with autism and "gender diversity", "Gender-diverse people also report, on average, more traits associated with autism, such as sensory difficulties, pattern-recognition skills and lower rates of empathy — or accurately understanding and responding to another person’s emotional state".

(2022) US study examining 10 years of data on 952 people finds large percentages of young adults prescribed hormones for trans identity no longer getting the drugs 4 years later. Discontinuation rate for both sexes combined = 30%. Female discontinuation rate as high as 44%. The standard disinformation pushed is that only 1-2% of people who begin medical transition end up desisting. But these figures show that in this cohort of young adults, the overall rate of discontinuing hormone treatment ranged from a low of 10% to a high of 44% within a space of just 4 years.

Abruzzese et al. 2023 'The Myth of “Reliable Research” in Pediatric Gender Medicine: A critical evaluation of the Dutch Studies—and research that has followed'

More to come.

#trans #transgender research #transgender health #trans health care #gender critical #detrans #desistance #detransition #FTM #MTF #non binary #gender studies #gender identity #LGBTQ #trans identity #gender diverse #autism #gender dysphoria #gender affirming care #gender affirmation #transitioning #protect trans kids #protect trans youth

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Six

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Happy June my darlings! This is an update I've been eager to share with you all for quite some time, and there's a lot that goes on in it. This chapter is tamer in respects to the paranormal, and delves more into interpersonal relationships between the hybrids and Y/N herself. There is indeed another scenting scene in this chapter, which is certainly heated, reader discretion advised! This chapter ends on a critical plot twist and cliffhanger, and I hope you all find it both shocking and entertaining. The taglist is open still (shoot me a message or comment to be added), and as always, I adore hearing back from readers; whether it be questions, reviews, theories, submissions, or gushing over the hybrids together <3 Enjoy, lovelies!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N’s vision only faded to black for mere seconds, feeling like she was floating and the only anchor tethering her to reality were the arms wrapped around her waist. Quivering as she came down from what she could only describe as blissful euphoria, she blinked, eyes focusing on a painting of pink peonies nailed to the wall above Seokjin’s dresser. At once, remembering where she was, she jolted on Seokjin’s warm thighs as he nuzzled his nose against the tender mark he had made, murmuring too quietly for her to make out the words– or was he purring? Y/N’s entire body flushing at her position, straddling the jaguar hybrid’s lap, her arms limply hanging off of his broad shoulders, she squirmed in his arms, his hands fisting in the material of her sweatshirt. 

“J-jin?” Y/N breathed, another shiver rolling through her body as Seokjin pressed his face further into the crook of her neck at the sound of his nickname. “Are you alright now?”

Humming in assent against her skin, Seokjin nodded, the damp strands of his blue-black waves tickling her cheek with the movement. Weakly, Y/N chuckled with relief; the image of him curled up on the floor moaning in pain when she returned home frankly scared the wits out of her. Unable to help herself, Y/N reached up to toy with Seokjin’s hair while he exhaled slowly into her neck, her fingers running through the silky waves and carefully avoiding his sensitive ears. 

Pulling away from the crook of her neck, Seokjin’s hands dropped from her waist down to her hips lightly, rearing his head back so he could dopily smile at Y/N with his teeth. Overwhelmed by both the action and viewing his gorgeous face from inches away, Y/N swallowed nervously, squeaking when Seokjin squeezed her hips playfully. 

“You probably want to shower after your long day out, hmm?” Seokjin mused, cocking his head to the side lazily as he scanned her flustered expression. Biting her lip, she returned his gaze suspiciously. 

“Is that you subtly trying to tell me I stink?” Y/N teased, shock settling over Seokjin’s beautiful face. 

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat, getting a better hold on her hips as he bent his knees and got to his feet, scooping her up in one graceful moment. Scrambling to get a hold around his muscular neck, Y/N cursed, instinctively hooking her legs around Seokjin’s waist as he began to walk out of his bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye and amongst the overwhelm, she caught her copy of Lord of the Rings laying open on his bed. 

“No, you could never stink,” Seokjin insisted, Y/N thankful that he couldn’t see her iron-hot face while he carried her down the stairs. “The water will soothe your marks,” Seokjin continued softly, Y/N not missing the way he had included Namjoon’s bite with his comment. 

Thinking of the wolf hybrid sent a strange shock of pain down her spine, Y/N was saddened by the fact that he hadn’t come out of his bedroom to say goodbye to her that morning. She considered the possibility that Namjoon was feeling embarrassed with how he came into her bedroom the previous night, though he had nothing to be bashful about in her book. Even as Seokjin passed by Namjoon’s bedroom door shut-tight, Y/N’s heart sank, somehow knowing he was locked away in there rather than enjoying the last of the sunny afternoon outside. 

Once reaching her bedroom, Seokjin gingerly lowered Y/N to her unsteady feet, seemingly reading her conflicted expression. Moving his hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, Seokjin offered her a half-smile. 

“You’re worried about Namjoon,” Seokjin murmured, his orange eyes flickering to the bruised spot on her neck the wolf hybrid had made, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone comfortingly. Leaning into the touch naturally, Y/N sighed, eyes downcast. 

“He’ll come around, don’t worry,” Seokjin encouraged, his voice dulcet as he dropped his hand from her cheek. 

Nodding, Y/N perked up a degree, not wanting to make Seokjin uncomfortable with her excess of worry. Perhaps he was right, maybe she was reading too much into Namjoon’s absence– he could have been absorbed in the books and his paranormal theories. 

“You’re right, it’s probably best to just leave him be for now,” Y/N agreed, subconsciously brushing her fingers over the wolf hybrid’s bite. To her surprise, the wound was painless, and she was desperate to change the subject under Seokjin’s scrutiny. 

“Jesus, it’s already Wednesday evening… I’ve done almost nothing to prepare for the cookout,” she lamented quickly, all at once recalling how her mother had badgered her about place settings earlier in the day. 

“We’ll all help out! Yoongi mentioned earlier that he wanted to talk to you about cooking the food, and even Taehyung has expressed some excitement about it out of the blue,” Seokjin grinned, Y/N completely taken aback by how quickly he had recovered from writhing on the floor in pain by simply biting her. 

“You guys are Godsends…” Y/N muttered under her breath, thankful that she’d have several pairs of hands to assist her in all of the tasks she had saved to the last minute. “Alright, I’ll wash up and come find you all in a bit. I know you wanted to watch more Masterchef today, so we can do that too.”

Smiling at her fondly at her remembrance, Seokjin nodded once, shyly heading towards her door with his rounded ears fluttering the whole way. Y/N didn’t know where his shyness was coming from all of a sudden, when he had just carried her down the stairs as if she were a sack of flour. Shutting the door behind him, Y/N hurried to the bathroom, steam filling the room as she prodded at both painless marks on her neck. 

Snorting at herself in the mirror as she mentally compared them to vampire bites, she thought to do a little more research on the act of scenting itself. At the very least, she could arm herself with information; about potential cues for when hybrids should scent before discomfort, primarily. Thinking back to the stupefying sensation that she felt after each bite, Y/N felt that she should read a forum about that, as well, considering she had no rational explanation as to why that sensation would occur. Stepping into the shower with haste, Y/N scrubbed at her skin harshly, eager to catch up with her hybrids after her day without them. 

By Thursday morning, Y/N was hoping that the panic she was experiencing wasn’t registering on her face and filling the room with negative energy. She had a mile-long grocery list after consulting with Yoongi the previous evening about the menu, unable to resist indulging his every whim as he came up with dish ideas. The staircase was still unfinished– Y/N worried it would get scuffed if guests wanted to explore the house and see her newest renovations of the second-floor bedrooms– she had to hit the liquor store for booze and pick out her outfit. Then there was the preparation of the backyard by stacking wood for the fire pit, dragging out chairs to put around it, and cleaning off the picnic table. Additionally, she had to take the hybrids to the mall, forgetting she had scheduled haircuts for them a while back, and she figured they could pick up outfits of their own while they were there. 

Stirring her coffee by the slider door in the kitchen, her eyes glazed over as she gazed out at the backyard, wondering why the hell she didn’t move the cookout to the following week after all that had happened recently. Y/N supposed that it was too late to cancel it, Ben already texting her about how eager he was to meet the hybrids in her group chat with him, Laura, and Alice– the other two reacting to his message with emphasized thumbs-ups. The hybrids themselves were practically bouncing off the walls as well, or at least the ones present in the kitchen. 

“Yoongi, you’ve been sharpening that knife for five minutes. I think it’s sharp enough now to cut through bone,” Hoseok complained from his seat on the barstool, rubbing his temples as he slumped over his coffee mug, drooped ears and all. Y/N noticed Hoseok wasn’t exactly a morning person over the past few days. 

Turning, Y/N watched Yoongi put the knife-sharpening steel down on the granite island, his upper lip curled up in a snarl at the fox hybrid’s comment. She knew Yoongi was secretly anticipating cooking for such a large amount of people; he had even got up early to make several soup stocks in large pots, the herbal concoctions simmering away on the stove. Jeongguk, lounging on the breakfast nook booth, was totally wrapped up in reading something on his phone, his feet kicked up on the seat so no one else could sit with him. 

“Yeah? Using a dull knife is a surefire way to A) do more work, and B) slice off a finger,” Yoongi calmly shot back, returning the knife back to the block by the stove. 

Hoseok grumbled something Y/N could not hear from her spot by the door, eyeing Jeongguk sideways to see if he was listening to the antics. One of his tapered ears flickered in her direction, though he did not tear his eyes from whatever was holding his attention on his phone. Swirling the remnants of her now-empty mug of coffee, Y/N slouched her way to the carafe, knowing that she’d need to be sufficiently caffeinated to get through her long day. 

In the middle of pouring another healthy mug of dark roast, Y/N caught movement from the entrance to the kitchen from the foyer, Taehyung shuffling into the room sleepily in his black hoodie, hands in his pocket and hood pulled over his head, mouth dropped open mid-yawn. Delighted to see him so early, Y/N pulled out an additional mug for the Kodiak hybrid, the one with Sailor Moon on it, filling it generously as Taehyung dragged his feet to her side. 

“Morning, Tae,” Y/N greeted gently, the knowledge that he liked the nickname she gave him so much tucked in her back pocket. Nudging her hip with his own, he accepted the mug quickly, adding cream to his coffee with a small smile on his lips. “How’d you sleep?”

“Slept well. You?” Taehyung’s sleep-thickened voice struck her like static shock, even while the sleeves of his sweatshirt were slipping over his hands as he sipped his coffee. 

“As well as I could, today is pretty packed so I was tossing and turning throughout the night,” Y/N answered truthfully, leaning against the coffee bar as her to-do list haunted her mental space. Humming throatily at her response, Taehyung bent down to face her, trying to get a good look at her face. 

“Don’t stress. You have help,” Taehyung replied simply, sending her a wink. Blushing, Y/N nodded, noting how often Taehyung seemed to get in her face these days.

After a drawn-out breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, Jimin and Seokjin joining her and the others in the kitchen eventually, Y/N waited by the front door for everyone to get ready to head to the mall. Her spirits were somewhat dampened, considering she had only caught glimpses of Namjoon the previous night sneaking into the kitchen for a package of chips and a water refill, wondering if he’d even bother coming along with her to the mall. Part of her wanted to march into his locked-up bedroom and demand to know what was going on with him, but the larger part of her was still very much intimidated by the wolf hybrid. The longer the stretch of time went on since he had scented her, the more awkward she felt about confronting him again. Still, she ached to see his face, to hear his deep, rich voice responding to her inquiries. 

It was another sunny day, the skylight bathing the foyer with dusty sunshine. The house was pretty warm, and Y/N remembered she could turn on the new A/C units since they had been installed the day she picked Namjoon up from the shelter, so she did so promptly to keep her hands busy as they all idled by the door. Adjusting her thin tee shirt uncomfortably, she scanned the grocery list in her other hand as she listened to Hoseok and Seokjin bicker by the stairs. 

“Jinnie, you’ve barely put a dent in that book even though you’ve been carrying it around everywhere. Are you trying to pick up girls at the mall?” Hoseok teased, staring pointedly at the copy of Lord of the Rings tucked under Seokjin’s arm. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Seokjin spit through his teeth, using his free hand to punch the fox hybrid on the bicep with enough force to send Hoseok stumbling back a step. “I told you to stop calling me ‘Jinnie’, are you becoming hard of hearing?” 

Jimin, from beside her, rolled his eyes so hard Y/N was worried they would fall out of his skull, waiting patiently for everyone to arrive by the door so they could leave. Taehyung, too, was leaning against the door with a bored look painted across his features, unimpressed by the noise coming from the two across the room. Jeongguk stomped down the stairs with a heavy tread, eyes still glued to his phone and almost missing the last step before catching himself on the wobbly banister. 

She was just waiting on Yoongi and Namjoon, the former bravely knocking on the wolf hybrid’s bedroom door and slipping inside, mentioning that he’d ask Namjoon if he was going to the mall for Y/N, which warmed her heart dangerously. After a few painstaking moments of burning a hole through Namjoon’s door, Yoongi emerged, the wolf hybrid reluctantly in tow. Finally getting a good look at him since he had scented her, Y/N choked on her intake of breath, Namjoon looking better than ever in light wash jeans and a navy tee shirt Y/N had ordered for him. 

Thankfully, Jimin had encouraged everyone to the car, Y/N stiffly sliding into the driver’s seat next to Namjoon, who was fastidiously ignoring her by sticking his face into the library copy of Wuthering Heights and his ears flat against his skull. Not exactly expecting such a chilly demeanor from the wolf hybrid, Y/N switched on the radio, doing her best to ignore him right back. It was difficult, an almost gravitational-like pull begging her to reach out and grab a hold of his hand resting on his thigh. Gritting her teeth, Y/N set her navigation for the mall a town over, feeling Taehyung from behind her fiddle with a lock of her hair through the gap of the headrest. She temporarily forgot about the wolf hybrid brooding beside her, Taehyung’s curious touch distracting her as she began to drive down the street. 

Forking over a fistful of cash at the Auntie Anne’s counter, Y/N shook her head with amusement as Hoseok noisily slurped a Salted Caramel Chocolate Frost beside her, his tail brushing her leg as it swished back and forth happily. The others were similarly enjoying pretzel dogs, nuggets, and large slushy drinks, clumped around a bench nearby the counter. Taking a bite of her own cinnamon-sugar dusted nuggets, Y/N sat beside Jeongguk on the bench. The elk hybrid had a bit of hot salsa cheese dip on the corner of his mouth, chewing his roasted garlic and parmesan pretzel quite ravenously. Giggling, Y/N wanted to wipe his face for him, but didn’t want to risk the possibility of him running away to the opposite end of the mall. 

The mall was fairly empty, considering it was a Thursday afternoon, much to Y/N’s relief. There was still some time before the haircut appointments, Y/N surveying the salon beside a Victoria’s Secret several yards away. Munching thoughtfully, Y/N considered buying some new undergarments while everyone was getting their hair done, but shivered at the thought of any of them catching her pick out panties. A hand snuck in between her and Jeongguk, a pinched-off piece of a classic pretzel being waved in her face. Craning her neck upwards, Seokjin offered her a goofy, affectionate grin as Y/N accepted the piece from his fingertips, trading it with one of her cinnamon-sugar nuggets. 

“So, your appointments are in about ten minutes, I suppose I should check you all in,” Y/N tossed her empty pretzel cup into a garbage can by the mall fountain, accidentally interrupting a conversation between Yoongi and Jimin while they sat on the ledge of the fountain. Both hybrid’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice cutely. “Where the hell did Namjoon go,” Y/N muttered, scanning the immediate area for the wolf hybrid. 

Tapping her shoulder lightly, Taehyung pointed a little ways away from the pretzel counter, Y/N spotting Namjoon reading the mall directory map while sipping on his lemonade. Without Y/N saying anything to him, Taehyung took off in Namjoon’s direction, and after several moments the wolf hybrid followed the former towards the salon with great distaste painting his features. Namjoon really seemed to dislike Taehyung, Y/N thought. The others trailing behind her into the humid salon like students to a teacher on a field trip, Y/N caught Hoseok sniffing the hairspray-scented air with a slightly nervous expression. 

The young woman working at the reception desk assessed the large number of people crowding her waiting area with poorly disguised shock, scrambling for the appointment book. 

“Good afternoon, I’m sorry… Did you make an online appointment? And for whom?” The woman pulled her eyebrows together, squinting at the appointment book with a flush settling over her cheeks. 

“Stacy, you have to start recording the online appointment requests in the book. It’s a good thing all of the stylists can check the online bookings too. These are the seven hybrid cuts, the appointment was made over the weekend,” A tough-looking woman came around the corner leading into the main part of a salon, her rockstar-style pixie cut dyed a vibrant purple. Spluttering, too busy staring at Taehyung beside Y/N unabashedly, Stacy didn’t seem to hear the other woman. 

“Mm-hmm. I’ll start doing that,” Stacy responded dreamily, moving on to ogle at Seokjin with equal admiration. 

Grinding her teeth, Y/N watched the woman with the purple hair, presumably a stylist judging by the apron tied around her waist, roll her eyes at Stacy. Y/N knew all of her hybrids were extremely handsome, but something about Stacy’s excessive coyness all of a sudden bothered her, even when she offered them all coffee sweetly. 

“Alright gentlemen. All of the stylists are ready, we scheduled a good block of time to do your cuts since we didn’t have too many details about styles on the form. Fault of the form, of course, not you, hun,” the purple-haired woman assured Y/N quickly. “We really need a new online system. I’m Karlie, by the way.”

“Karlie, nice to meet you. Is it alright if I mill around the mall while they’re here?” Y/N asked, not keen on cramming her ass into one of the stiff-looking plastic chairs in the waiting room for an extended period of time. She also had a side mission: looking around for gifts for both Jeongguk and Namjoon’s upcoming birthdays. 

“Go right ahead, we’ll send them on their way once they’re done and I’ll shoot you a text, since you’ve already paid for the cuts online beforehand. I’m sure they’ll be able to find you,” Karlie waved her hand, motioning for Jimin, who was closest to her, to shuffle into the main room of the salon. Jimin stalled, staring at Y/N with wide eyes. 

Each hybrid looked a tad bewildered that Y/N was leaving them there, Karlie and Stacy giving them a moment in the waiting room before their appointments. Even steely Namjoon had his jaw set in trepidation, looking entirely out of place in the flowery salon. 

“I’ll stay on the first floor, so you won’t have to worry about me straying too far from the salon here. It’ll be nice, I promise– they’re all trained to work with hybrid’s hair, you’ll feel fresh and relaxed after. I think they do hot towel treatments here, I read it online,” Y/N patted Jimin’s back gently, trying her best to comfort them all earnestly. “And afterwards you guys should pick out some clothes, too. I’m sure you’ve been wanting to get things in your own styles.”

“Ready, gentlemen?” Karlie popped her head around the corner, Y/N getting the feeling she was listening in the whole time. “You’re in good hands, several of the stylists themselves have hybrids at home.”

Still looking somewhat unconvinced, Y/N watched her seven hybrids disappear around the corner into the salon’s main room, Karlie attempting to make small talk with Jeongguk cheerily. Rocking on her heels, Y/N felt remorseful as an intrusive thought popped into her head– perhaps they thought she was going to ditch them at the salon and return home without them. Of course, that would never happen in a million years; Y/N already couldn’t picture her life and future without any of them in it. 

Circling the first floor a couple of times in search of a store to look for gifts, Y/N mumbled to herself, nothing quite striking her as uniquely Jeongguk or Namjoon. She put down the pack of sparkly silver earrings that caught her eye for Jeongguk in an accessory store, deciding they were a bit too flashy for him. Usually, she was quite good at picking out birthday gifts for her loved ones, but the two she was shopping for at the moment were tough nuts to crack. 

She found herself in a shoe store across from the salon, searching for a new pair of slippers for herself since her current pair had a hole by the big toe. Waiting for the sales clerk to ring up the pair she selected, Y/N checked her watch, not believing such a little amount of time had passed. It was startling how much she missed the hybrids even after less than a half hour, Y/N trying to peer into the large door of the salon as if she’d be able to catch a glimpse of them. All she saw was Stacy at the desk, talking on the phone and twirling a lock of glossy brunette hair around her finger. 

Swinging the bag with her slippers around in her hand, Y/N strolled into the bookstore one door down from the shoe store, hoping she could pick up something in there for Namjoon at the very least. Unsurprisingly, as she had zero impulse control in a bookstore, Y/N filled up her basket at lightning speed. Towards the back of the store, Y/N located the slim shelf with the occult books, sliding her finger along the spines as she read the titles. She had many of the books, but some of the titles were from new occult authors she had never heard of before. Scooping up a thin paperback of protection spells, Y/N promptly dropped it into her basket without much of a thought. She picked out a couple other occult books she thought Jeongguk and Namjoon might like– The Paranormal Investigative Field Guide and Spirits, Entities, and Cryptids: a Comprehensive Collection of the Supernatural. 

Inching towards the journals, Y/N spotted a beautiful black leather one sitting on the shelf, with carved filigree on the front and an elegant clasp to keep it shut. The paper was almost linen-like in texture, the whole journal practically screaming Jeongguk, whose current journal was looking a little worse for wear. Grinning to herself, Y/N selected a set of inky pens to go with it, happy with her choices so far. She was thinking about heading to the electronics store the following week for a video camera, thinking a whole “paranormal investigation” theme for the elk hybrid would be perfect for him. 

As for Namjoon, with just one book for him in her basket, Y/N knew she’d have to think about what else to get him for a few more days. She simply didn’t know enough about him yet, she concluded, with a pang of sadness. Part of her wanted to call her mother for any ideas, but didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing Y/N admit she knew less about her hybrid than she did. The thought of her mother bragging about how wonderful the wolf hybrid was, or scolding Y/N for not being more observant of Namjoon’s interests, sent a shiver down her spine. 

After having the cashier carefully wrap up the books, Y/N lugged the heavy bag to her car, moving as quickly as she could from the parking lot back into the first floor of the mall, praying that none of them had been looking for her within the five minutes she had popped out. Settling a palm over her racing heart, Y/N checked her phone for any messages from Karlie, discovering nothing from the stylist, but instead a single text from Hoseok. 

Curiously, Y/N tapped on the notification, snorting loudly at the attached image the fox hybrid sent. It was a somewhat-blurry candid of Jeongguk, sitting grumpily in a styling chair with a cape velcroed around his neck, under a hair dryer with a shower cap stretched over his conditioner-caked hair. The shower cap had several holes cut into it to accommodate his antlers and ears, his eyes downcast as he stared at his phone with clear annoyance. Saving the image, Y/N sent Hoseok back several laughing emojis, amused that the hybrids were getting so pampered at the salon. It made her want to return to Stacy at the front desk to schedule a haircut for herself. 

Trying to find a comfortable place to sit for a bit, Y/N wandered by the food court, spotting a new boutique that must have opened recently, boasting an end-of-summer sale on a window sign. Intrigued, Y/N breezed into the store, the bright interior still holding a lingering paint smell in the air. Leafing through the sales rack, Y/N stopped at a beautiful lavender sundress marked half off. Pulling it off the rack, Y/N admired the simplicity of the patternless fabric. Likely falling mid-thigh, the waist fitted and skirt flared out, the dress was held up by spaghetti straps and had a sweetheart neckline with ruching and a bow holding the fabric across the bust together. Delighted, the tag reading that it was, in fact, her size, the material wispy and soft, Y/N knew she had found her outfit for the cookout, having the perfect sandals at home to go with the dress. 

With her outfit in hand, Y/N’s spirits were soaring, finally looking forward to having an opportunity to dress up and have fun with all of her friends. Perhaps she was being a little bit cynical earlier in the day dwelling on all of the things she had to accomplish before she could enjoy herself at the cookout, but as Taehyung had said, she now had help. 

Sitting at a large table in the food court by herself, Y/N gently set down the two trays of boba milk tea she was able to score from the counter that usually had a line wrapped around the food court. Again, part of her felt like she wasn’t really encouraging healthy choices as far as food and beverage, but she wanted to get the hybrids an extra treat for enduring such a lengthy appointment while she twirled around the mall by herself. 

Scrolling through her Twitter feed, Y/N hummed to herself, simultaneously stabbing the wide straw through her boba lid. Her phone buzzed in her hand while she watched some sort of mindless Tik Tok on kitchen organization, grumbling as she opened up the message. It was Karlie, letting her know that a couple of her hybrids were all set and on their way. Straightening up in her seat, Y/N scanned her surroundings, trying to remember what everyone was wearing as she squinted at a passing group of elderly women power walking in sneakers. As she drummed her fingers against the table, Y/N checked her watch– over an hour had passed since she had left them at the salon. She wondered if they’d return with highlights, with all that time. 

“Y/N, my darling! There you are, did you get me another sugary drink? Is this your way of apologizing for subjecting me to an hour of hairspray inhalation?” Hoseok’s loud voice came from her right, Y/N whipping her head around as he slid into the booth next to her with a wry grin on his face. 

His mahogany hair was neatly trimmed now, cropped in the back and around the sides in a sort of bowl-cut manner, his waves parted down the middle and gleaming brilliantly even under the unflattering fluorescent lighting of the mall. Her mouth had dropped open to accuse him of teasing her again, but her tongue turned to stone now that she could see his face so clearly. Winking at her speechlessness, Hoseok pried one of the boba cups out of the paper tray, diving in promptly. The metal screech of the chair across from her had her squeaking, tearing her eyes from Hoseok to land on Yoongi standing over them, eyes narrowed at Hoseok with peevishness. 

“Stop bitching. I was sure you were going to start moaning when they put that hot towel over your head, Foxy,” Yoongi countered, his silky black hair still long and beautiful, but the sides above his human set of ears were shaved neatly, offering a more edgy look than when it was entirely overgrown. 

“Are you picking a fight with me Yoongi?” Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, though didn’t seem particularly bothered by Yoongi’s comment. Hoseok, Y/N had noticed, tended to let things glide right off his shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi scoffed, tilting his head contemplatively as he accepted a cup from Y/N. 

Y/N caught his eyes zeroing in on the sides of her neck as she leaned away from him, where the lilac bruises were watercoloring the skin where Namjoon and Seokjin had scented her. Flushing violently, Y/N tried to maintain eye contact with the leopard hybrid, his irises like a kaleidoscope of greens and golds, and it was hard to dissect the thoughts behind them. 

“So it went well? Any hiccups?” Y/N cleared her throat, breaking her eyes away from Yoongi’s feline stare with difficulty by swirling around the boba in her cup. 

“You mean, did anyone cause a scene? No,” Hoseok replied through a mouthful of tapioca pearls. 

“Come on, Hoseok, you’re putting words in my mouth,” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder softly, though he did see right through her pretty accurately. “I was wondering more along the lines of if anyone ended up with a shitty haircut.”

“I don’t know about that. Jeongguk got some weird shaved style, but I guess it’s all about preferences. My tastes are more classic,” Hoseok puffed out his chest, always taking an opportunity to make fun of the elk hybrid when he could. 

“Yeah, Foxy. The salad bowl cut is very classy,” Yoongi teased, crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. Hoseok called Yoongi ‘Fabio’ under his breath, Y/N’s head spinning as she tried to keep up with the antics. 

“Oh, Seokjin is close by,” Hoseok perked up, chin tilted towards to the right as he gazed off into the distance. Brow cocked, Y/N tried to see whatever it was that he could, but only caught a glimpse of the elderly women lapping around the first floor again. 

“Jimin and Taehyung, too,” Yoongi added, his tone disinterested as he picked at his nails. 

“How do you kn–” Y/N began, Yoongi chuckling at her, making the words die on her tongue before she could finish. 

“Their scents, silly girl. How do you think we found you, in the first place?” Yoongi drawled, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth. Appalled, Y/N gawked at Yoongi with disbelief, wondering when he had gotten so bold. She preferred when she made him flustered. 

“Stop teasing her, Yoongi, she got you a drink, after all,” Hoseok chided distractedly before waving his hands in the air enthusiastically, spotting Seokjin several feet away with Jimin and Taehyung in tow. Pot calling kettle, Y/N thought with minor amusement.

From where she was sitting, it appeared that Seokjin had gotten a very similar haircut to Hoseok, though his curls were tighter than the fox hybrid’s and his bangs were longer, skimming right under his eyebrows. He hurried over to the table once he saw Hoseok’s exaggerated arm flailing, Y/N placing the bag with her new sundress on the floor to clear the spot on her other side. Seokjin predictably slid into the booth as soon as it was vacated, bringing a light floral scent coming from his hair when he shook it out with a content sigh. 

Jimin was next to arrive at the table, Y/N hoping her eyes weren’t bugging out of her head when he smiled at her brightly, his honey-blonde hair cropped short neatly and styled in a slicked back way, a single strand falling on his forehead like Clark Kent. Nearly choking on a tapioca pearl, Y/N couldn’t believe how much Jimin looked like a model, the entirety of his sculpted face perfectly visible now. She felt Hoseok’s shoulders shaking with laughter next to her, which she actively ignored when Taehyung took his seat beside Yoongi. 

“What is this?” Taehyung asked curiously, inspecting the drink Yoongi passed to him warily. “What’s the stuff at the bottom?”

Taehyung cocked his head at Y/N, apparently speaking to her, his curly dark hair bouncy and trimmed now to frame his face, the bulk of it that clung around his neck shaved to expose the elegant column of it. Even his ears were more visible now, they were rounded and small, and it made her want to squeal upon seeing them. Y/N was completely overwhelmed; perhaps she should have just allowed the hybrids to walk around like mountain men now that she saw them with runway styles. 

“It’s milk tea. The stuff at the bottom is tapioca pearls, they’re soaked in a sweet syrup, I think you’ll like it,” Y/N answered as succinctly as she could, cringing as she watched him try to peel the plastic off the top of the cup. 

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi snatched the cup away again, stabbing a straw into the plastic lid for Taehyung before returning it like an impatient parent. The whole table watched the Kodiak hybrid take a tentative sip, his garnet eyes narrowing at the taste contemplatively. Y/N gave him a thumbs-up, which he returned after a moment, draining the cup about a quarter of the way– she thought it was safe to say he was enjoying it. 

“The other two are almost done, Miss Y/N. I think it was a little difficult for the stylist doing Jeongguk’s hair to navigate around his antlers and piercings,” Jimin volunteered helpfully after a few beats, leaning back in his chair comfortably. Hoseok nodded in agreement, a smirk ghosting his lips as he processed Jimin’s subtle condescending tone towards the elk hybrid. 

“Okay, as soon as they get here we’ll head up to the second floor. There’s a huge hybrid clothes store up there– so you all can pick out clothes for yourselves, you know, express your personalities and whatnot,” Y/N fiddled with her straw while she spoke, trying to conjure up images in her mind of what styles they might all gravitate to. 

“I already have more clothes than I’ve ever had,” Seokjin started to giggle from beside her, apparently making a joke. Trying not to react to another clue into Seokjin’s past, reminded of his time at the shitty circus company he had been sold to, Y/N shook her head sadly. 

“Jin, I’ll help you pick out some things. You definitely don’t strike me as someone with a developed fashion taste,” Hoseok reached behind Y/N’s back to pat Seokjin’s shoulder with excessive force, the jaguar hybrid grumbling with agitation. 

“Do they have shoes? I’m probably going to need some boots when I work outside…” Jimin traced a fingertip over his chin in thought, one of his sandy ears twitching. 

“They do, but if you don’t find anything you like, there are other shoe stores around,” Y/N replied, noticing that Yoongi’s ears had perked up in the same direction as Jimin’s. She had a feeling Namjoon and Jeongguk were due at the table at any moment. 

“Here come the gray clouds,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, Y/N resisting the urge to kick his shin from under the table. 

Y/N placed her hands on Hoseok’s arm to push him out of the booth so they could get a move on, keeping in mind that they still had to hit the grocery and liquor stores before they went home. Hoseok leaned into her touch, grinning cheekily as he hauled himself off the vinyl seat, Seokjin graciously handing Y/N her almost forgotten shopping bag containing her new sundress. 

As she turned around after thanking Seokjin, Y/N almost slammed face-first into a broad chest directly behind her, stumbling backwards to prevent the collision somewhat inelegantly. Reeling, Y/N registered Namjoon in front of her, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. His ears were turned downwards against his skull, his silvery strands swept up to reveal his forehead for the first time with the shorter cut he had opted for. Dazzled, Y/N forgot all about how he had been ignoring her, a stupid smile stretching across her face as she took in how lovely the wolf hybrid was. 

“Hi Namjoon,” Y/N offered him one of the final milk teas with a cheerful expression, encouraged when he took it without hesitation, craning her neck to peer around his shoulder to greet Jeongguk. 

The elk hybrid, looking the most dramatically different compared to when he had arrived at the mall with a head of shoulder-length shaggy hair, appeared both a touch exasperated but mostly smug. The sides of his head were shaved into an undercut, the tops and back of the style maintaining some of the length of his chestnut locks. The style almost emphasized the way his antlers encircled his head like a crown, Y/N barely even recognizing him with the shiny gel holding the strands in place– he was holding a jar of gel in his hand that he had purchased from the salon. 

Holding out her bag with her sundress in it, Y/N urged Jeongguk to drop the jar inside of it, trying her best not to shrivel up under his cocky, confident expression directed right at her. Luckily, Jimin extended an olive branch by giving the elk hybrid the last milk tea, and they were all on their way to the second floor without much fuss. 

“My stylist was so nice. She told me she had a calico cat hybrid at home, named Ruby,” Seokjin, from his spot in front of her on the escalator, announced. “She said I had ‘pretty eyes’.”

Chuckling, stepping off of the escalator with care, Y/N took the chance to admire Seokjin’s vibrant orange eyes rimmed with thick black lashes in appreciation. His stylist wasn’t wrong. 

“Yeah, it was actually relaxing. I didn’t know what to expect, at first. I thought she was just going to shave my head,” Yoongi commented, his fingertips brushing Y/N’s wrist as she led the way to Hybrid Outfitters. “My old barber on the North End never listened to me. I always walked out of there with something crazy… he was like eighty, not like I could say anything to him.”

Reaching the front of the store, Y/N scratched her head, making sure everyone was present. Growing hot all over, she felt like she needed to check the original appointment booking to see if she had over generously tipped considering how beautiful all of their haircuts had turned out. Swallowing hard, Y/N shifted from one foot to another as they walked into the shop in one big huddle. Everyone was looking at her expectantly when she didn’t tell them to split up, her nerves getting the best of her as she revealed part of her inner monologue impulsively. 

“All I can say is… you all look very handsome,” Y/N blurted, half wanting to pay a compliment and half unable to hold herself back. “Go ahead and pick out anything you like, I’ll just hang out near the fitting rooms!” 

Cringing from her lack of a filter, she sped further into the store without waiting for the hybrid’s reactions to her comment. Thankful that none of them had chased after her, Y/N let out a ragged sigh as she sunk into the worn cushions of the sofa next to the fitting rooms. Gritting her teeth, she glued her eyes to her phone to temper her embarassment, trying to read the long thread of messages in the groupchat that she had missed. 

Ben Alpin: Just picked up the cupcakes. The boxes barely fit in the back of the Lexus

Alice Santos: Is it necessary to mention the fact that your car is a Lexus each time you’re in it

Ben Alpin: Yes, it’s in the manual

Laura Santos: I picked up some outdoor toys for Kai and Daisy today, bubbles and chalk mostly. Y/N, do you still have that kiddie pool in the garage? 

Ben Alpin: Laura, you’re an angel!

Alice Santos: That kiddie pool must be from WWI, didn’t we throw it out when we helped clear out your grandma’s hoard of old shit?

Ben Alpin: It has Barney on it, for Christ’s sake Al. It can’t be older than me

Y/N: I think it’s still in the garage, I’ll check when I’m back at home. Took the hybrids out for some new clothes, and to help with the grocery shopping

Alice Santos: Oh, so you haven’t been killed by the seven men living in your house?

Laura Santos: Al, tone it down!!!

Y/N: NO!! I told you, they’re sweethearts. See for yourself tomorrow. BTW – they heard the whole phone call from the other day :(

Ben Alpin: Did you guys have another Facetime without me

Alice Santos: Yes

Laura Santos: I’m sure they knew we were just concerned, Y/N! 

Y/N: That’s what I explained to one of them. He has a bit of a penchant for interrogation

Ben Alpin: We don’t even know their names yet, care to enlighten

Laura Santos: Or what TYPES of hybrids they are! Ben told me they were ‘exotics’ ?? 

Taking a deep breath and crossing her legs, Y/N tried her best to keep up with the constant stream of text messages rolling in, deciding it was only fair to give her friends a little bit of background instead of having them come to the cookout flying blind. 

Y/N: Ok, ok 

Alice Santos: ???

Y/N: There’s Seokjin, a jaguar hybrid, Taehyung who’s a Kodiak bear. Hoseok, a red fox, and Jimin is a coyote hybrid

Ben Alpin: Holy shit. Like those giant bears from Alaska???

Alice Santos: Which one has the ‘penchant for interrogation’

Y/N: That’s Namjoon, he’s a Northwestern wolf hybrid. 

Laura Santos: And the other two?

Y/N: The youngest, who’s about the same age as me and you girls, is Jeongguk. He’s an elk hybrid. The last is Yoongi and he’s a leopard hybrid… though I swear, I feel like I’ve met Yoongi before, it’s the strangest thing. He used to work at some bar under the table in Boston before I adopted him

Ben Alpin: Maybe you tried slipping him your number during a blackout bar-tour one Friday night in grad school. You DO love your cute bartenders

Laura Santos: LOL very possible for her

“Y/N? Does this look alright?” A quiet voice in front of her distracted Y/N from sending an expletive response to Ben’s dig at her. 

Looking up, Taehyung was standing next to a fitting room, trying on silky ruby colored short-sleeved button down and a pair of baggy black cargo pants, his fingertips tugging on the hemline of his shirt contemplatively. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Y/N got to her feet, approaching Taehyung, motioning with a finger to have him turn in a circle. He did so obediently, holding his arms out wide, a playful smile on his lips as Y/N assessed the look. 

“Looks very nice. Maybe tuck in the front of the shirt into your pants? Do the pants fit right, or are they too big?” Y/N tilted her head, wondering if they sold belts. 

  “No, they’re supposed to be loose. Should I wear this tomorrow?” Taehyung tucked in his shirt as she suggested, casting a look into one of the full-length mirrors behind him. 

“Yeah, why not? That shirt brings out the pretty red in your eyes,” Y/N replied, ignoring her phone buzzing a hole into the back pocket of her jean shorts. 

“Pretty!” Taehyung exclaimed, surprise coloring his features as he turned back to stare at Y/N with shock. “You’re bold today, aren’t you?”

Placing her hands on her hips, Y/N shook her head, unable to deny the accusation. 

“Just speaking my mind. It’s not like I can lie to you all, now that I know you can sniff it out,” Y/N teased, poking him on his shoulder with a smile. Taehyung was fun to tease; his cheeks flushed brilliantly and it was an opportunity to see his cute toothy smile. 

“That’s right. No more secret-keeping for you,” Taehyung leaned down to level his face with her’s, Y/N almost rearing back before Taehyung poked the fleshy apple of her cheek in retaliation. “I have a few more things to try on. You should help the wolf, he looks lost.”

Spluttering, she watched Taehyung’s shoulders shake as he turned and disappeared into his fitting room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Y/N to place a hand over where his fingertip had been. Remembering she was in public,Y/N frantically made sure no one was staring at her, spotting Hoseok holding up a thin sweater against Seokjin’s chest with a contemplative cocked brow towards the front of the store. Nearby, Jeongguk was sifting through a pile of black tee-shirts on a table. 

Trying to locate Namjoon, Y/N weaved her way further into the store, waving to Jimin and Yoongi by the jeans, finally finding the wolf hybrid by the sales racks at the back of the store. Humming, Y/N watched Namjoon’s ear twitch while his back was turned to her, Y/N running her fingertips over a caramel-colored crew neck sweater, the thread impossibly soft. Plucking it off the rack, Y/N held it up, noting that it was in Namjoon’s size. 

“This would look nice on you,” Y/N commented nonchalantly, watching the wolf hybrid’s shoulders stiffen out of the corner of her eye. 

At a glacial pace, he shuffled over to her, assessing the sweater with narrowed eyes. Reaching out to grasp one of the sleeves, he ran a thumb over the material, his eyebrows lifting in what Y/N perceived to be consideration. 

“It’s my size,” Namjoon mumbled, taking the sweater from her gingerly. “How did you know?”

“I pretty much have all of your sizes memorized. They were on your information sheets back at the shelter, and I wrote them down on my phone so I could place that online order of clothes over the weekend,” Y/N explained, brushing off the fact that Namjoon’s tone was on the side of accusatory. Namjoon grunted in response, returning to pawing through the section with his sizes, seemingly gravitating towards earth tones as he piled up a couple of items in his arm. 

Y/N suggested a few more items, and Namjoon surprisingly accepted each one, though he didn’t reply to her verbally any further. It was like she was back to having a one-sided conversation with him in the shelter while he was still shifted into wolf form, Y/N feeling remorse flood through her body. She thought she had been making progress with cracking through his tough exterior, but it seemed they had taken one step forward and two steps back. She missed his insightful responses to her questions, and most painfully of all, she noted that he took extra care to avoid physical contact with her– always standing a good two feet away from her proximity. 

After a while, Yoongi and Jimin sought her out after paying for their clothes, each with large bags swinging from the crooks of their elbows. Thankful to have two hybrids that actually wanted to speak to her, Y/N watched Namjoon make his escape to the checkout line, where all of the others were waiting to pay for their armfuls of clothing. 

“Did you find some boots Jimin?” Y/N asked the coyote hybrid, walking between him and Yoongi, to wait outside of the store for the others. Yoongi was so close to her, she could feel his body heat as the three of them leaned against the railing overlooking the first floor of the mall. 

“I did, they had some real nice ones, too. They’re not roper boots, but they’ll do,” Jimin shook one of his shopping bags lightly, his closed-lip smile making his eyes scrunch up into slits. 

“That’s good! And you both found some clothes, that makes me happy,” Y/N sighed, muscles melting into the metal railing they were leaning against. Her back was killing her, and her day wasn’t even halfway over. “Two more stops to make, the grocery and liquor stores. Then we can go home.”

Yoongi inched even closer to her, if that was even possible, as she spoke. Eyeing him, she watched him pick his nails again, noting he was particularly fidgety that afternoon, as well as sharper of tongue. Thinking that it would be wise to do her extensive research on scenting later, Y/N wondered if Yoongi was beginning to feel the discomfort of not doing so. Leaning her shoulder into his upper arm, Yoongi looked down at her curiously, a strand of his inky hair falling forward into his face. 

“Our piano lesson is tomorrow,” Y/N reminded him excitedly, enjoying the soft smile that bloomed across his face. “You think we’ll be able to squeeze it in between cooking and the actual cookout?” 

“For sure. I’ll just teach you some basics to get a foundation, after we get some of the prep done for the food. We’ll do the lesson earlier in the morning, after breakfast,” Yoongi replied after a few moments, drumming his fingertips along the metal banister of the railing. “I’m sure if you delegate certain tasks to the other guys, they’d be more than happy to help out. Hey Jimin, can you chop wood?”

Jimin made a choked noise, his reverie of watching a clump of young children race each other on the first floor interrupted, apparently not listening. 

“I can,” a voice from behind had the three leaning against the banner turn, Taehyung emerging from the store with his lengthy receipt and three shopping bags. “That was pretty much my whole job before I got here.”

“There you go. Taehyung, won’t you help Y/N with the firewood for that old firepit in the backyard?” Yoongi urged, Y/N shrinking in embarrassment against Yoongi’s arm as Taehyung’s eyes shifted from her to the leopard hybrid with confusion. 

“Of course,” Taehyung returned without hesitation, stiffening as Hoseok and Seokjin appeared, flanking his either side. 

Embarrassed to even ask for help in the first place, Y/N wanted to step on Yoongi’s foot when he asked Taehyung to perform a task for her, even though she knew the leopard hybrid was trying to get everything to run smoothly for the next day’s event. She refrained from stamping down on his toes as she stared at the floor, not wanting to risk him backing out of teaching her piano in the morning. Most of all, Y/N didn’t miss the way Taehyung had accidentally given her a clue into his past workplace, making her wonder when exactly she’d learn more intimate details.

When Jeongguk and Namjoon finally joined the rest of them, Y/N chatted with Jimin and Hoseok on the way back to the car about some of the guests they’d be meeting. She summed up the list of people as best she could, glaring at a middle-aged woman rudely gawking at the group of them in a judgemental manner in the parking lot. Catching the interaction, Hoseok gave her a gentle pat on the back, his lips pressed into a ‘what are you going to do?’ smile, opening her car door for her. 

Clambering in, she thanked Hoseok as he gently shut the door, starting up the car as everyone piled in. Once again, Namjoon returned to his book beside her, though Y/N could feel his eyes on her every so often as she drove to the grocery store. One step forward, two steps back. 

The rest of Thursday passed by in a whirlwind. Grocery shopping was a breeze with eight people to scatter around the store for specific items, and hauling crates of liquor into the house was even easier– no one allowed her to carry in a single bag, apart from a carton of eggs. Taehyung and Jimin immediately went to the backyard with the keys for the garage, milling back and forth with lawn furniture, wood from the woodshed, and axes.

After a while, Namjoon went outside to help with the furniture and hosing off the picnic table with Jimin to avoid too much contact with Taehyung, only after reading a large chunk of Wuthering Heights in the breakfast nook. To her great astonishment, Namjoon must have been listening to her talking about dragging the kiddie pool out from the garage on the way home, settling it on the grass and filling it with the hose. After Y/N watched them for a bit, Hoseok and Seokjin volunteered to help her with applying a quick-drying varnish to the staircase. She was hoping that it would dry before those who slept on the second floor went up to bed.

 Y/N spent the evening with most of the hybrids in the kitchen, eating leftovers, prepping vegetables with Yoongi and and to her great surprise, Jeongguk. Somewhat begrudgingly, the elk hybrid offered to scrub potatoes. Y/N was merry, enjoying her company while they listened to a playlist Hoseok created on the portable speaker she couldn’t locate earlier in the week; she found out he had it in the basement the whole time. Everything she was worried about that morning had pretty much been taken care of, Yoongi’s methodical approach to prepping and cooking leading her to believe they’d be enjoying themselves outside with the guests the next day sooner than she thought. 

On Friday morning, Y/N woke up with the sun. Nerves awoke her more than anything, but the promise of Yoongi’s piano lesson after breakfast brightened her mood significantly. After her shower, Y/N shimmied into her new sundress, shocked to see how good it looked on her in the full-length mirror as she did a little twirl. Taking some extra time to style her hair to cover the fading injury on her forehead and apply some makeup, Y/N grinned at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back. It had been a while since she dolled herself up, between long hours at the veterinarian hospital and lazy weekends spent renovating. Slipping on her sandals clumsily while she fastened earrings into her lobes, Y/N gave herself a spritz with a light perfume before skipping out of her bedroom. 

Noises in the kitchen gave away the fact that she was not the first one up and about, even Namjoon’s bedroom door wide open and empty as she passed by. The cookout wasn’t until 12:30, but apparently the hybrids were keen on getting an early start, as Y/N heard Hoseok’s cheerful whistling from the kitchen. The third beautiful day– weather wise– in a row, Y/N enjoyed the light flooding into the house, following the scent of toasted everything bagels to the kitchen. 

To her great surprise, everyone was already in the kitchen still dressed in pajamas, the chaos of seven different male voices clashing at once. None of them seemed to notice her as she hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen, Seokjin and Hoseok arguing loudly by the toaster oven, Yoongi by the stove with Jimin lurking behind, and everyone else glued to their phones at the breakfast nook. 

“Morning!” Y/N waltzed into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee bar.

Immediately, all noise ceased in the room, Y/N cringing as a loud clatter of a knife was dropped onto the granite countertop cut the sudden silence. Hand stilling against the coffee carafe, she turned abruptly, trying to make sure no one lobbed off a finger. Heart plummeting to her stomach, the blood drained from her face as Y/N was met with seven pairs of eyes boring holes into her in various expressions of astonishment, each hybrid frozen in space like they were carved from marble. As if she was transported back into high school, Y/N wondered if the skirt of her dress was tucked into her panties, her fingertips brushing the circumference of the hemline automatically. Clearly not the issue, as she felt the skirt flow freely against the tops of her thighs, Y/N chuckled nervously. 

“What?” She blurted, feeling extremely self-conscious that all seven of them were staring at her so intensely, tugging on the material of the sundress. “Oh fuck, is the dress hideous? I thought I had decent taste without Ben being there to help me, Jesus. I should have sent him a picture before I bought it.”

Scrambling for the dropped knife, Yoongi attempted to resume chopping the mound of peeled potatoes beside him, Hoseok hissing by the toaster oven as his hand landed on the hot grates of the rack. Several voices piped up at once in the meantime, frantically. 

“N-no, it’s pretty–” Jimin started hoarsely, fumbling with the potato peeler he was gripping with white knuckles. 

“Who’s Ben?” Came Taehyung’s voice urgently from the breakfast nook simultaneously. 

“You look beautiful,” Seokjin blurted from the toaster, all three responses taking her off-guard. 

Forgetting about the coffee, Y/N felt her confidence bump up exponentially, standing up a bit straighter. Namjoon’s library book was dropped clumsily by his feet, finally making widened eye-contact with her for the first time since the night he scented her, his mouth dropped open a fraction. Even Jeongguk’s dark eyes trailed her form from head to toe, not unlike when he had assessed her the day she had picked him up from the shelter. 

“Stop r-really– I mean, thank you,” Y/N corrected herself, reminded of her mother scolding her for not accepting compliments. “I guess I forgot to tell you about Ben, universe forgive me. He’s been my best friend since we were kids, and he’s actually the reason I came to adopt you all in the first place. I went with him and his fiance to adopt their daughter Daisy the night I found you guys at Gerry’s,” Y/N explained, attempting to pour herself coffee normally in order to distract herself from being watched so closely. 

Wanting to break up whatever energy that had manifested with her arrival in the kitchen, Y/N brought her coffee mug over to Yoongi’s free side, balking at all the work he had already done. It was still so early in the morning, but she felt like she had overslept, seeing that Yoongi had already made two vegetable sides and had a chili simmering away on the stove. 

“Yoongi, did you get up at three or something? I’m not going to have anything to do at this point!” Y/N complained, her lower lip jutting out as she realized the leopard hybrid had already made the salad dressing recipe she showed him on her phone the day before, the jar sitting on the island all sealed up. 

“I got up once I heard your shower running,” Clearing his throat roughly, Yoongi trained his eyes on the potato he was cutting, the knife shaking with his unsteady grip.

Nodding, Y/N bent low, trying to catch the leopard hybrid’s eyes to convey a sense of gratitude playfully, but he remained stonily focused on his task. Growing uncomfortable with the eerie silence in the kitchen, Y/N began to nervously hum to herself while starting on a fruit salad, picking up a strawberry draining in the colander in the sink and cutting it on a smaller board next to Yoongi. 

“Hoseok, is your hand alright, honey? Do you need some burn cream?” Y/N paused her strawberry-slicing, the fox hybrid looking like a deer in headlights as she addressed him. 

“Oh, uh no thanks, I’m fine,” Hoseok answered, his voice a pitch higher than normal as he inspected his left hand. 

“Okay, good. Why don’t you put that playlist back on, I really liked it,” Y/N scraped a pile of sliced strawberries into a large bowl with the flat of her knife, hoping that a bit of music would cut the tension. 

Maybe they didn’t like her perfume, or she had interrupted an important conversation by her arrival in the kitchen? Whatever it was, each and every one of them were behaving strangely; even Jeongguk, who had migrated from the breakfast nook to the barstool directly across from where she was slicing fruit, watching her with rapt interest. She perked up a degree as Hoseok switched on the speaker to a punchy 80’s song, grateful for the noise. 

To her great relief, Seokjin struck up a normal conversation with her from his spot next to Jeongguk as he munched on his bagel, asking all sorts of questions about her friendship with Ben. She didn’t mind filling Seokjin in on her childhood spent running around the backyard with Ben, seeing it as an opportunity to describe her best friend to the hybrids before they met the fiery lawyer that afternoon. Y/N knew Ben would have a bulleted list of queries for each hybrid when he got there, the thought making her bite down on her lip. She hoped Ben wouldn’t be too hard on them, worried that he’d meet his match when it was Namjoon’s turn to be grilled. 

Taehyung excused himself from the kitchen to shower and change shortly after she had finished mixing the fruit salad, only after the conversation about Ben turned into a discussion of Laura and Alice. Y/N wondered if she was losing it or if she had detected a jealous spark in his eyes when she was talking about her friends– or perhaps it was something else entirely, Taehyung could definitely be difficult to read at times. Shortly after Taehyung left, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin cleared out similarly to get showered and dressed, each of them scrambling from the room like they saw the Babadook. 

“I think we’ve done everything we can until people arrive,” Yoongi announced, skimming a palm over the sparkling granite Y/N had finished wiping down, all of their hard work either chilling in the fridge or gently simmering away on the stove. “What’s everyone else bringing?” 

“My dad makes a ‘famous’ mac and cheese– it’s very good, but don’t say anything, it gets to his head. My parents will bring the meats and the black bean burgers for the grill, too. Laura and Alice have this family sangria recipe that they always make for the cookout, but I’m warning you now. Don’t have more than two glasses,” Y/N shook her finger at Seokjin, who definitely had a weakness for wine-based cocktails. “Sal’s family will bring some pizza or ziti, the neighbors usually bring wine. Oh, and Ben ordered a ton of cupcakes.”

“Okay, so nothing we already made… that’s good,” Yoongi leaned against the refrigerator, his face flushed. It must have been from standing over the stove for so long, laboring over a giant batch of the most delicious mashed potatoes Y/N ever tasted. 

“How long does this… thing usually last?” Jeongguk asked somewhat indelicately, pushing up the sleeves of his sleep shirt to his elbows, Y/N once again trying to make out the forms inked onto his skin. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to look at them more closely. 

“Well, it goes on until nightfall, and for a while after that,” Y/N met Jeongguk’s dark eyes, the sweet rounded shape of them contradicting his entire demeanor. “You don’t have to be around for the entire thing, at all, you can hang out and watch movies in the parlor if you want. Just grab some food, and maybe say hi to a few people… I’m not going to force you to be out there all night or anything.”

Seokjin grimaced as she spoke, shooting the elk hybrid a reproachful look. At that point, Y/N was more than used to Jeongguk’s cynical way of speaking, truly unfazed by it, especially with the toothpaste stain he was sporting on his sleep shirt. Besides, Jeongguk’s question didn’t really bother her. The last thing Y/N wanted was any of the hybrids to feel pressured into doing something they didn’t want to, no matter what. Whether she could find the words to express that in a future conversation was another story entirely. 

“Okay… I guess I’ll just see how it goes,” Jeongguk muttered, pushing himself off of his barstool with a grunt, his forearms flexing as he used the granite countertop as a brace. “See you in a bit, then,” he added, a touch more gently as he locked eyes with Y/N a final time before he left the room. 

“Insufferable kid,” Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, one of his ears twitching in annoyance as he watched the elk hybrid slink away. “Every time he opens his mouth, I’m worried you’re going to start throwing punches, Yoongi.”

Darkly chuckling by the fridge, Yoongi used his shirtsleeve to dab at his dewy hairline, Y/N beginning to grow concerned that he was coming down with a fever with how pink his cheeks were. 

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Yoongi sighed, earning a snort of laughter from Seokjin as the latter began to get up from his seat. “It’s a shame, too. We’d match up pretty well in a fight.”

“I’d prefer if we kept the fighting to a minimum,” Y/N placed her hands on her hips as she walked the two hybrids to the staircase, Seokjin’s thick lower lip jutting out into a pout. “I’d hate to have to patch up those pretty faces of yours.”

“Y-you!” Seokjin choked, tripping over his own foot trying to ascend the first step, his tail going ramrod straight in surprise. “You–”

“I’d say the chances of an actual fight breaking out are slim to none, so you don’t have to worry about our ‘pretty faces’,” Yoongi cut Seokjin off abruptly, lightly shoving the jaguar hybrid up a few steps so he could ascend them as well. “Give me a half hour, and I’ll meet you at the piano, silly girl.”

Tutting at Yoongi’s preferred nickname for her, Y/N watched the two hybrids hurry up the stairs, Yoongi nudging the still-reeling Seokjin along with gritted teeth. The leopard hybrid was certainly feisty that morning, Y/N wondering if the late nights and early mornings were getting to him, or if anticipation for the cookout was setting him on edge– or as she had speculated at the mall the previous day, he was beginning to feel the discomfort of not yet scenting her. Worrying her lip with her teeth, Y/N tried not to read into it too much, remembering that Yoongi had promised her he’d tell her when he’d need to scent. Shaking her head, Y/N began to head upstairs herself so she could take a few moments to herself in the music room. 

Y/N spent some time organizing the chaos in the music room, sliding vinyls into a shelf neatly when she found them strewn around the table with the dusty record player. She discovered that Taehyung had made a trip to the garage to check out her uncle’s old records, after all– tucking a frayed Pink Floyd album into place with a small smile. From down the hall, she could hear Seokjin singing in the shower, his voice deep and sweet. 

Perching on the worn leather sofa by the record player, Y/N scrolled on her phone for a bit, deciding to take a few minutes to do some more investigating on scenting. This time, she went on a forum, those who posted on it being hybrid owners, experts, and researchers. Finding the drop-down menu, she scanned through multiple topics: predator hybrids, understanding behavior by species, scenting– bingo. A rather long post was pinned to the top of the page once she tapped on it, written by a person who studied hybrid behavior. 

Many new hybrid owners often ask the question: what exactly is scenting, and why do hybrids do it? The answer to the second query is not clear as of yet, though there have been several theories. Scenting itself is the act of a hybrid displaying a sense of ownership over their adoptive human. Depending on species, the hybrid will likely initiate the act of scenting within days, sometimes hours, within their adoption. In some cases, hybrids ignore their urges to scent their adoptive human for a multitude of reasons; the most common is the fear of being abandoned after the scenting process, as many hybrids are returned to shelters for not living up to expectations for people unfit to adopt hybrids in the first place. 

If a hybrid ignores the instinct to scent for too long, it will affect them physically. First, behavior becomes agitated, quick-tempered, and the hybrid will display jealousy towards others around their adoptive human. Other hybrids may become increasingly clingy, seeking out physical contact whenever possible. Second, the hybrid will begin to feel ill, the symptoms ranging from a feverish temperature, intense headache, and decreased control over their strength. It is important to monitor these kinds of reactions in your hybrid, as the discomfort can become dangerously overwhelming for them. 

The act of scenting allows the hybrid to “claim” their adoptive human. Hybrids have incredible olfactory senses, and will become extremely sensitive to their adoptive human’s scent. When the hybrid scents, they often search for a spot on their human where the scent is most concentrated– the neck and wrists, for example. The actual ritual includes a bite, usually painful for a moment, before it is soothed by an enzyme in the composition of the hybrid’s saliva and the mark will become painless almost immediately. 

Hybrid canine teeth coat themselves with yet another enzyme once the skin of the human is punctured, which enters the bloodstream, which is the true purpose of scenting. This particular enzyme will live in the bloodstream of the human for a certain amount of time, infusing the human’s scent with the hybrid’s. While the mark is soothed and healed by the enzyme in the saliva, the enzyme coating the hybrid’s teeth is the one that does the actual scenting. After soothed, the mark will become painless. After a stretch of time (length of time depends on species), the ritual will have to be repeated. 

Often, I receive questions about the sensation humans experience during the ritual of scenting. The sensation is most commonly described as euphoric, leaving the human giddy and their muscles becoming lax. The soothing enzymes in both the hybrid’s saliva and the coating of their teeth are both to blame for this. I am led to believe, based on my research of hybrids the past forty years, that the enzymes attempt to calm the human’s natural fight or flight instinct. It would only be natural for a human being to withdraw from such a ritual, so I believe that this is an evolutionary result in hybrids to set their humans at ease. The sensation is harmless, and wears off after several minutes. 

“What are you reading?” Yoongi’s gravelly voice frightened her enough to flinch upwards to her feet, dropping her phone on the leather couch with a flop. “Whatever it is, I’ve never seen you so concentrated.”

The leopard hybrid was leaning against the threshold into the room, eyeing her with mild interest, the damp strands of his long black hair neatly combed back. He was wearing a brand-new outfit; a satiny black button down patterned with red roses, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of black slacks, and shiny, new black loafers. It was unbelievable how good he looked, Y/N getting the feeling he knew it, too, with the cocky arch to one of his brows. 

“Just some article!” Y/N blurted, smoothing the skirt of her dress down nervously, watching Yoongi stifle a chuckle as he made his way towards the grand piano, spotted tail curling languidly behind him.

As he got closer, Y/N noted that his cheeks still had a pinkish tint to them. She watched, rooted to her spot, as Yoongi placidly lifted the fallboard to reveal the sepia toned-keys on the ancient piano. His elegant fingertips skimmed the ivory with reverence,  Y/N almost feeling like she was intruding on a private moment. 

“Let’s get started,” Yoongi began, tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear that had fallen onto his cheek. “Come here, take a seat,” Yoongi motioned towards the piano bench with two fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, settling himself on the edge of it. 

Shyly, Y/N joined him, trying to give him enough space on the bench as she sat beside him, the warmth of his leg through his pants as it pressed against hers sending goosebumps over the bare skin of her thigh. Apparently unaffected, Yoongi began to flip through pages of the beginner’s book he purchased at the music store, eyebrows pulled together in contemplation. Nervously, Y/N twiddled her thumbs in her lap, praying that she wouldn’t totally suck and let Yoongi down. 

“Here, we’ll do this one first,” Yoongi nestled the booklet on the shelf above the keys, Y/N curiously scanning the page before scoffing in disbelief. 

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Seriously?” Y/N whined, Yoongi snickering at her bewilderment. 

“What, did you think we were going to start with Chopin? I’ve gotta establish a baseline with you somehow,” Yoongi replied, his right hand moving to play the simple, short melody. 

“Fine, so how do I play it?” Y/N studied the way his fingers danced on the keys, trying to memorize the sequence at which he pressed down on them. Humming, Yoongi pointed to a particular key. 

“This is what we call ‘Middle C’. Think of it as the halfway point between the higher and lower notes on the piano. The song starts with two C notes. Go ahead and hit them,” Yoongi requested, an encouraging expression on his flushed face. 

Doing as she was told, Y/N cringed as her fingers plunked the key a little too harshly, making Yoongi flinch into her shoulder with a hiss. Shaking his head, Yoongi placed his hand over hers, using his index finger to apply the correct pressure to use. 

“The keys are weighted. The more pressure you apply, the louder the sound. You don’t have to hammer down onto the keys, unless the score calls for it,” Yoongi explained patiently, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice. 

“How will I be able to tell? Sheet music looks like hieroglyphics,” Y/N felt Yoongi draw his hand away, staring at him with exasperation. She didn’t expect to be such an impatient student, but Yoongi was a more than obliging teacher– he didn’t seem to mind her brattiness. 

“You’ll learn, not today though. If we can get through this melody, I’ll teach you some music theory next week,” Yoongi murmured, scanning the pout on her face thoughtfully. “Okay, let’s keep going. The next note is G.”

For about half an hour, forbearing Yoongi answered Y/N’s every question, demonstrated how to play the melody over and over, and even indulged her request to play a favorite tune of hers. Eventually, Y/N could play the melody all the way through, albeit a tad clumsily. The first time she finished the song without mistake, she was nearly vibrating with excitement, Yoongi passed his hand over her back with pride, squeezing her shoulder with a grin on his face. 

“Against all odds, I did it!” Y/N leaned into Yoongi, practically ready to throw her arms around him for being patient enough to teach her. 

“You did, I’m very proud of you. You’re an exemplary student,” Yoongi declared, Y/N clocking the sweat that began to dew around his hairline, and the way his arm had moved down to encircle her waist firmly. Feverish. Clingy. 

“Don’t butter me up too much, Yoongi. What if I get lazy and don’t practice enough because you’re too easy on me?” Y/N leveled her face close to the leopard hybrid’s, his pupils dilating from her proximity, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Assessing him, she continued gently. “Yoongi… are you okay? You’ve been flushed all morning.”

He didn’t answer, holding intense eye contact as Y/N moved her hand to brush hair out of his face, using the back of her hand to press against his forehead to check his temperature. Exhaling through her teeth sharply, his flesh practically sizzled under her touch, Yoongi’s eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. In the back of her mind, she knew what was wrong with him, an animalistic noise beginning to rumble from the back of the leopard hybrid’s throat. Y/N was spellbound by how her touch affected him, the grip he had around her lower waist tightening as his fingertips wound themselves into the fabric of her sundress, appearing to make an attempt at controlling his breathing pattern. 

“I–” Yoongi’s hoarse voice shot a lightning bolt through her, his free hand reaching up to snatch her wrist before she could pull it away, his eyes snapping open. Freezing, Y/N felt her own eyes widen, his grip delicate but unyielding. “I know you know. You’ve been eyeing me like that all morning… yesterday, too.”

A light gasp escaped her lips as Yoongi adjusted his grip, closing his eyes once more to run the tip of his nose against the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. He shuddered, pulling her flush into his arms as he inhaled deeply, Y/N’s wrist limp in his hand as she processed his words dripping with meaning. She practically melted in his embrace, something sounding close to a purr coming from Yoongi’s chest as she found herself bracing her uncaptured hand on his thigh. 

“You n-need to–” Y/N began, stiffening as she felt the soft petals of Yoongi’s lips brush over her pulse point, the skin tingling in response, unable to break away from his lidded gaze. 

“You smell so good,” Yoongi groaned softly, nuzzling her wrist against his face distractedly. Stomach flipping over, Y/N felt her knees turn to jelly, thankful that she was seated and supported upright in Yoongi’s arms. “Hell. ‘s driving me crazy.”

Her breath began to quicken, barely recognizing the dangerous look in Yoongi’s hazel eyes as his lips brushed her skin with every word. Gripping his thigh with urgency, Y/N pressed her wrist closer to his mouth eagerly, feeling utterly possessed as her heart hammered around in her chest. A dark chuckle coming from the leopard hybrid had a shiver rolling down her spine. 

“Yoongi,” Y/N heard herself whine as if she was a third party looking on, anticipation filling every cell of her body. At the sound of his name, Yoongi moved his hand from her waist to cradle her cheek, cooing at her.

“I know, sweetheart. It’ll only hurt for a second,” he whispered, Y/N leaning into his rough palm as she felt the hot brush of his tongue lave over her pulse, sending her heart rate galloping. 

Discovering it impossible to tear her eyes away from the leopard hybrid’s attention on her wrist, Y/N held her breath as Yoongi pressed an open-mouth kiss to the tender area, once again moving his hand away from her cheek and back to around her middle. It was almost all too much, his tail mindlessly curling around her lower back as he gently traced his incisors over her skin. Still, she was reeling from the pet name he used on her, even as he started to quiver with the heady concentration of her scent overwhelming his senses. 

As his sharp teeth pierced her skin, more gently than Namjoon or Seokjin had done so, Y/N still couldn’t stop the small yelp from escaping her lips at the sting. Protectively, both Yoongi’s arm and tail curled tighter around her waist. Y/N became completely boneless, her body sagging into Yoongi’s chest as the cloudy haze descended onto her. Dazedly, she watched a drop of her blood dribble down the length of her wrist, Yoongi pulling his teeth from her skin urgently to collect the trail of blood with a drag of his tongue. It was almost erotic, watching him shiver with relief as he soothed the aching bite with a series of soft kisses and small swipes of his tongue, Y/N trying her best to squash down the thought as best as she could while her head began to swim. 

Sighing dreamily, Y/N closed her eyes as Yoongi’s grip on her wrist softened, the feeling of either his eyelashes or the tips of his hair tickling the fresh, painless bite. With his slackened grip, Y/N felt herself free to move, curling herself further into Yoongi, loopily threading her arms around his waist once he freed her wrist, nuzzling her face into his collarbone. His chest vibrating with a soft purr, Yoongi allowed Y/N to hug him in her delirious state, using one hand to card through her hair fondly. 

“Take it easy for a minute to come down, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmured against her hair, Y/N giggling as she pressed her cheek into the satiny fabric of his button down. He smelled sweet, like vanilla and cloves. “I tried to be gentle… I don’t think you’ll bruise.”

“Hmm… that’s okay even if I do. You were gentle,” Y/N limply attempted to lift her head from her chest, not wanting to make the leopard hybrid uncomfortable with her prolonged clinging. 

Still feeling dizzy, Y/N used the piano as a brace, three clashing notes ringing out as her palm pressed into the keys, snapping Yoongi out of his reverie of twisting a lock of her hair around his index finger. He wasn’t flushed anymore, the crease between his eyebrows that had appeared 24 hours ago gone completely. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Y/N broke eye contact, pulling the cover over the piano keys to prevent herself from smashing any more keys in her slight stupor. 

“Come on, I’ll help you downstairs. There’s a few more things you wanted to do before people arrive, no?” Yoongi urged, getting to his feet with one of his hands stretched out towards her. Taking his hand shakily, Y/N allowed him to pull her up and support some of her weight with his arm slung around her upper back. 

“Mmm, yeah. Gotta set the table, start up the fire, turn on the backyard lights,” Y/N slurred, descending the stairs at a snail’s pace with Yoongi’s assistance. “But the cooking is done. Thank you for helping so much. You really are quite the chef.”

Yoongi belly laughed, his eyes scrunched up in half-moons as he led her down the last step, arm sliding from her body as she became more stable on her feet. Thankfully, she had regained feeling in her knees, though now that she had a clearer head, looking Yoongi in the eye was difficult. A wave of bashfulness washed over her, Yoongi seeming to sense it as he smiled at her softly, linking his pinky finger with hers to pull her to the kitchen. 

“Oh, what did you two get up to?” Hoseok was coming in from outside at the kitchen slider, the plastic wrapper of the tablecloth Y/N got at the grocery store crumpled up in one of his fists, his eyes narrowing at Yoongi. 

“Don’t ruin my good mood, Foxy. Did you put out that tablecloth?” Yoongi broke the link of their fingers, making his way to the glass slider to peer outside. Hoseok frowned at Yoongi, one of his ears twitching with agitation. 

Hoseok looked fantastic, somehow pulling off a colorful aquamarine Hawaiian short-sleeved button down and white shorts, his shirt hanging loose to reveal a white tank top under it. Almost immediately, his chocolatey eyes focused on Y/N’s wrist as she approached him to peek outside, Y/N pretending not to notice as the fox hybrid stared at Yoongi’s mark. 

Outside, Jimin and Namjoon were busy carefully placing cutlery on the long wooden picnic table, the string lights already illuminated. The grill was on, waves of heat coming off of it and tools placed on the side burner. And by the firepit, Taehyung in his outfit he picked out yesterday was prodding at the beginnings of a bonfire with an iron stake, adding a split log with practiced ease. 

“Wow, you guys did everything! What did I do to deserve you all, seriously,” Y/N exclaimed, genuinely taken aback with the sheer amount of work all of them did to help her host a party with many guests they hadn’t even met yet. “Ah, we’re going to have so much fun. I’m going to fill up that old tin basin out there with ice for the beer and seltzers.”

Both hybrids beside her had gone stoically silent with the first half of her statement, appearing a touch taken aback. Tearing her eyes from Jimin, clad in a pair of very well-fitting blue jeans, Y/N attempted to make haste to the freezer for the ice bags, Hoseok promptly catching the crook of her elbow. 

“Way ahead of you. I already took care of it,” Hoseok cocked his head, his dimples appearing cutely when he grinned at her. “You know, while you were tackling the complicated melody of Twinkle Twinkle.”

“Hey! I tried my best, Hoseok,” Y/N lightly shoved Hoseok with her hand on his forearm, finding it impossible to be insulted. She was beginning to think that Hoseok could read her mind, or at the very least he shared a brain cell with her. His humor was something she genuinely enjoyed, reminding her of Ben in many ways. “Thanks, by the way. I guess I should ask what else should be done, even though it seems you all have it under control.”

“What time is it, anyways?” Y/N wondered, checking her watch distractedly. Shit. “Christ almighty. We have like forty minutes!” “Relax, darling. Almost everything has been taken care of, we’re just waiting on the two still primping upstairs. Want a drink, or something?” Hoseok strolled over to the island, where someone had set up a sort of DIY cocktail bar. “How about a French 75? First cocktail I ever learned to make. Although, it might not match up to Yoongi’s bartending skills.”

Yoongi scoffed from beside Y/N, rolling his eyes peevishly. Giving Y/N a squeeze on her shoulder, Yoongi slid the glass door open to head outside, scooping a Budweiser out of the ice bucket on the patio before checking on the grill. Jumping as she heard the loud pop of Hoseok uncorking a champagne bottle, Y/N brushed it off as she skipped over to the fox hybrid.

“Okay, I’ll have one, but only if you have one too,” Y/N helpfully placed two fluted glasses in front of the fox hybrid, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “It’ll take the edge off. Don’t let my mother corner you tonight, I’m worried she’ll scare you away.”

Hoseok’s hands stilled while he was peeling a twist of lemon with a knife, staring at her incredulously. One of the traditions of the annual cookout was her mother pulling out tarot and oracle cards by the fire, guests able to get small readings from her if they wished. Y/N’s fear was that one of the hybrids would get trapped into a reading, especially if both their and her mother’s inhibitions would be lowered by the flowing alcohol. The last thing she wanted was her mother creeping them out with her startlingly accurate predictions. 

“Your mom is sweet,” Hoseok replied simply, vigorously shaking the metal cocktail shaker. “It’ll take a lot more than her telling me about your awkward teenage years to scare me away.”

“Hoseok! You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” Y/N exclaimed, refraining from smacking him on the arm with a scowl as he strained the liquor into the flutes. 

“Just a little. You make it too easy,” Hoseok topped off each cocktail with champagne and his lemon twists, gently handing her one of the glasses with a sly smirk. “Cheers!”

Muttering, Y/N clinked her glass with his, watching him take a small sip with narrowed eyes. The drink was sweet and refreshing as it hit her taste buds; perfectly balanced. She found it easy to forgive his teasing. 

“Okay, let’s bring these outside. I’m going to set up the lawn games, unless that’s been taken care of too,” Y/N dragged Hoseok by the elbow to the slider, the fox hybrid playfully putting up a bit of resistance as she towed him to the door. 

The lawn games had not been set up yet by the hybrids, much to her relief. With a task she could finally accomplish on her own, Y/N let Hoseok and Jimin follow her into the rickety garage for the bin containing everything she’d need. Sneezing upon entry to the dusty building, Y/N fumbled her way through the darkness to yank on the metal chain attached to an ancient lightbulb, illuminating the space with amber glow. Distantly, she contemplated whether or not hybrids had some kind of night vision as many animals did, considering none of them bothered to turn on any lights while they dragged furniture out of the garage all day. 

The French 75 coursed through her bloodstream potently as she stacked hand-stitched bean bags beside a weathered cornhole board on the lawn, listening to a playlist she had sent Hoseok to stream onto the outdoor speakers. She was beginning to feel jittery knowing that people were going to be arriving any moment, even though everything was in place exactly how she pictured. Earlier in the week, she couldn’t have imagined that she’d be in such a good position; plagued by worries about the hybrids getting along, tasks being forgotten. Y/N didn’t know if her seven hybrids were putting on a front to help her out with the event or avoiding conflict between each other, but regardless she had never felt more excited to introduce them to the circle of her closest loved ones and friends. Truly, she believed the event would further loosen them up, and maybe break down some of the walls most of them had put up– not that she could blame them. 

“Are we the first ones here? Oh, Y/N, help Grandmother,” Y/N’s mother made her grand entrance from the backyard gate propped open by Taehyung, with her father and grandparents in tow. Her mother was in a whimsical, drapey maxi dress, her willowy elbow interlocked with Y/N’s grandmother’s. 

“Grandmother, I’m so happy you’re here,” Y/N rushed to the tiny elderly woman’s side, genuinely tearing up at the sight of her– in the backyard of the home she once commanded. 

Y/N hadn’t seen much of her grandparents for the past month, an uptick of emergencies at the animal hospital preventing her from making visitations with them at her parent’s house. Her grandmother, a woman of incredible wit and strength, was amongst Y/N’s favorite people. While she was quite old, age never dimmed her brilliance, her round eyes brimming with that probing all-knowing. Y/N could only assume that her mother had filled her grandparents in on her adoptions after their excursion at the shops on Wednesday, as neither of them seemed jarred at the sight of seven hybrids milling around the backyard awkwardly. 

Hooking her elbow with her grandmother’s, she happily received a kiss on her cheek from her easy-going grandfather, watching her mother and father hurry towards the kitchen slider with their bags full of provisions. Promptly, Jimin sprung into action, relieving her father of two bags as they stepped into the house. Her mother trailed behind more slowly, Seokjin approaching her hurriedly to grab her woven purse hanging from her wrist precariously. The jaguar hybrid looked positively heavenly, like a Jane Austen hero in his loose-fitting white button down and straight leg black slacks, grinning at her mother politely. 

“So, these are the hybrids you’ve adopted, my dear. All men?” Her grandmother murmured slowly, Y/N grimacing as she caught Namjoon’s eyes by the picnic table, his long fingers poised between leaflets of the pages of Wuthering Heights. 

“I’m sorry, Grandmother… I should have told you sooner,” Y/N felt her cheek burn in both shame and embarrassment, aware that her hybrids could hear every utterance. “It all happened so quickly, but I think you’ll like them all once you get to know them.”

Snickering throatily, her grandmother sat comfortably in a cushioned lawn chair with Y/N’s help, her spry grandfather wandered off nearby to check on his clump of rose bushes he had planted beneath Namjoon’s bedroom window decades ago. Pulling her light blue cardigan tightly around her body, her grandmother grasped Y/N’s hand with purpose.

“The house looks very nice. You’re caring for it well, my love,” her grandmother remarked, stroking the back of Y/N’s hand with a weathered thumb. “It’s about time all those bedrooms got some use again.”

“I agree. It’s been a long time since the house has been this lively,” Y/N smiled softly, smelling her grandfather’s minty aftershave as he settled into a chair beside her grandmother, his white handlebar mustache curling up when he grinned at her benignly. “Can I get you two a drink? The usual?” 

“WhistlePig?” Her grandfather brightened up, grasping a hold of her grandmother’s hand. 

“I picked some up yesterday,” Y/N winked, straightening up. “You haven’t met him yet, but one of the hybrids, Jimin, loved that bottle of Farmstock Rye you brought on the 4th. I got a few more bottles of it just for you two.”

“Very good, my dear. You send that Jimin my way, he sounds like an alright fellow,” her grandfather rasped in response, Y/N spiriting away to make her grandparents drinks quickly, knowing that more people would be arriving at any moment. 

“Now, Seokjin, dear… do you like to read? I host a book club with hybrids at the Boston Public Library bi-weekly! Sweet Namjoon has been a part of the club for a couple of months, so you’d already have someone you know there. The next meeting is on Monday, you’re more than welcome to join, We’ll be starting a new book the meeting after next,” her mother rambled while pouring a healthy glass of white wine for herself and the jaguar hybrid, while her father and Jimin nursed bottles of Budweiser as they slid packages of hamburgers into the fridge. 

“Yes, ma’am, I love reading. Is it really okay to join the book club? Will I be behind?” Seokjin replied somewhat timidly, gingerly accepting his glass of wine as he caught sight of Y/N standing nearby mixing up a gin martini. 

“Of course it’s alright, sweetheart. You won’t be behind at all! Our meeting Monday will be to discuss the book we finished, and you can get a feel for how the club is set up. If you enjoy yourself, you can check out a copy of the next book we’ll read for the following meeting and you can truly participate next time,” her mother explained, Y/N marveling at how much of a liking her mother had taken to Seokjin. Truthfully, Y/N thought the book club would be a good thing for Seokjin; an opportunity to make friends and perhaps get closer to Namjoon. 

“If you’re up to it, Jin, I’ll drive you into the city with Namjoon on Monday. The three of us could pick up dinner takeout afterwards,” Y/N added, her mother perking up with Y/N’s encouragement. Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out with his small grin, his tail curling around behind him in response to all of the attention. 

“Okay, that sounds nice,” Seokjin agreed shyly, sipping his wine with a pleased expression. He was really too sweet for his own good, Y/N thought. 

“Oh, you’re going to restore that old stable? I wish I had better carpentry skills, I could give you a hand, Jimin.” Y/N heard her father lament, the coyote hybrid shaking his head with his signature heart-stopping smile. 

“That’s quite alright, sir. I’ve done a fair share of work on stables before. Not much needs to be done in order to have it suitable for boarding,” Jimin leaned back on the countertop by the fridge, Y/N’s eye catching a bright glint from the gold belt buckle threaded through the loops of his blue jeans. 

He was wearing a simple sky blue fitted tee shirt, tucked into his jeans and showing off his lean figure. Trying not to stare, Y/N tore her eyes from the coyote hybrid’s form, balancing the two drinks in her hands. From outside, she heard her grandfather exclaim in delight, cutting off both of her parents' separate conversations with Jimin and Seokjin so they could peer out the window. Where her grandparents were seated by the firepit, Taehyung had added more wood to the dying bonfire, grinning ear to ear as her grandfather clapped with glee. 

Startled that Taehyung had taken it upon himself to introduce himself to her grandparents, as he was usually so avoidant when it came to speaking to people other than Y/N herself, Y/N made a beeline outside with the drinks so she could witness the spectacle. On her heels, Seokjin trailed after her, ditching Jimin in the kitchen with her parents. Y/N had the feeling the coyote hybrid could hold his own against them. 

Taehyung, kneeling beside her grandmother and poking the bonfire with an iron rod, was nodding along with something she was saying, Y/N unable to process the words as she approached the clump of chairs. Gingerly, she handed her grandfather his tumbler of whiskey, the large ice cube clinking around in the cup as he took it with a shaky hand. Placing her grandmother’s gin martini on the table beside her, Y/N cocked her head at Taehyung, who blinked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. 

“So you’ve met Taehyung,” Y/N raised her voice a decibel to accommodate her grandfather’s dim hearing, giving Seokjin an appreciative rub on his arm as he appeared at her side with an open can of vodka seltzer for her. “This is Seokjin!”

“What did you say? Tae-hyung? The young man introduced himself as Tae,” her grandfather croaked loudly, confusion coloring his face. Snorting, Y/N felt her insides warm, Taehyung looking at the ground bashfully as her grandfather repeated his nickname. “Nice to meet you, Seokjin, why don’t you take a seat, son.”

Cheeks red, Seokjin obediently plopped down in a chair beside her grandfather, tracing his fingertips over the condensation coating his wine glass. Taking a sip of her seltzer, Y/N scanned the immediate area, spotting Jeongguk at the edges of the untrimmed hedges smoking, his hair slicked back with the new gel and predictably dressed in all-black. Squinting, Y/N made out the material of the complicated pants he had on, straps circling his legs; was that leather? Thinking it was far too hot to be wearing leather, Y/N smirked, perching herself on the armrest of Seokjin’s chair. 

Hoseok was filling up a second basin with ice he had located in the garage by the picnic table, apparently having an urgent conversation with Yoongi as the leopard hybrid placidly handed him bottles of Corona from a box set on the table. Again, Y/N wondered where Namjoon had wound up, not able to locate him in the vicinity. 

Feeling Seokjin flinch behind her before actually hearing a familiar car honk, Y/N got to her feet, knowing it was Sal and his family, getting ready to haul trays of ziti into the house. 

“Dear, is that Sal? Was little Tony coming this year?” Her grandmother perked up, directing her attention to the gate into the backyard. 

“Yeah, he said he could make it. Though, he’s not little anymore, Grandmother, Tony’s in high school now. He’s on the football team,” Y/N explained, grasping Seokjin’s hand to drag him to the gate for assistance, motioning Taehyung to follow as well. 

Making a noise of surprise, Seokjin swiftly set his wine glass down before she could pull him away, adjusting his grip so he could intertwine his fingers with Y/N’s, the action triggering butterflies to flutter around in her stomach. His thumb skimmed Yoongi’s mark accidentally, a strange tingle shooting up from her wrist to her elbow. Taehyung unlatched the gate, Y/N inspecting the slightly excited expression that had appeared on his face. Y/N was hoping Taehyung could become friends with Anthony, considering he hadn’t quite warmed up to any of the other hybrids enough yet. 

“Oy, give us a hand here, Y/N?” Angie called, standing by the back of the van with a big stack of foil trays. Hurrying to her aid, Y/N let go of Seokjin with a touch of remorse. “Pretty dress, hun. So happy to be here.”

Angie made air-kissing sounds as Y/N took a couple of the trays from her, Y/N quickly introduced the two hybrids to Angie, Sal Jr., and Sal himself as they handed them tray after tray. The passenger door of the van swung open, Anthony hauling himself out while precariously balancing a large box of what Y/N presumed to be cannolis. 

“Hey Tae, man! How you doin’?” Anthony greeted the Kodiak hybrid, after he smoothly said hello to Y/N with a cute kiss on her cheek. “Sick outfit, bro.”

“Thanks, you too,” Taehyung replied, his tone on the side of unsure. Anthony always dressed well off the clock, though Y/N thought the kid took a little too much inspiration from The Sopranos with the colorful striped button downs. 

With equal excitement, Anthony began to introduce himself to Seokjin while the clump of people filed into the backyard, Y/N grateful that Anthony now had so many guys to chat with during the cookout. In years past, there were often a larger number of women at the cookout in comparison to young men, mostly her mother’s friends. 

After carting all of the food from Sal into the house, things had already become pretty noisy with the Italian family’s arrival. It set her at ease now that the attention wasn’t entirely focused on her own family, thankful that they had shown up and breathed life into the afternoon. Finally, she had located Namjoon: he was sitting in the grass under a large tree beside the picnic table, though hidden from view from others in the backyard. Breaking away from Taehyung and Seokjin for a few moments as they were preoccupied with whatever Anthony was explaining to them with wild hand gestures, Y/N made her way to the wolf hybrid once she had spotted the silvery fur of his tail beside the tree. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Y/N blurted, as Namjoon immediately put his book down upon hearing her approach, his eyebrows raised in expectation. “Just checking on you. Here.”

Wordlessly, Namjoon accepted a Corona from her, Y/N purposefully picking out a lighter beer for the wolf hybrid. He looked impossibly handsome, with hunter green drawstring pants and a tan short-sleeved shirt with tortoiseshell buttons clasping them shut, his moonlight hair swept off his forehead and the sun reflecting the iridescence of the strands. Carefully, Y/N lowered herself down beside him, noting the way he stiffened a degree at her proximity, watching her peer down at the open book on his lap. He was almost finished with Wuthering Heights, Y/N registered as she took a sip of her seltzer. 

“What do you think about the book?” Y/N attempted to initiate conversation once more, quite frankly sick of not being able to speak with him like she could before. She could only pray that he responded, as he popped the cap off of the beer and sniffed it with mild interest. Several emotions played across his features, Y/N almost able to see him sorting through his thoughts.

“Hmm… I remember your mother saying it's one of your favorites, correct?” Namjoon murmured, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a sip contemplatively. 

“That’s right. You won’t offend me if you hate it, if that’s why you seem so torn,” Y/N giggled, biting her lip as she brushed off an inchworm that was mapping a path up Namjoon’s forearm. “I’ve been missing your insight on things.”

Y/N admitted the last part of her sentence nonchalantly, though she was surprised she was able to confess that so easily. Namjoon was startled, either by her words or the fact that she’d touched him, fiddling with the pages of the book as he processed.

“It’s not that I hate it. The characters, Cathy, Heathcliff, they’re all insufferable, sure. The whole time I’ve been reading it, I was struggling to understand why you like it so much,” Namjoon answered after a few moments, Y/N nearly fainting with relief that he was actually speaking to her with more than just a short, forced sentence. 

“Well, it’s just that. None of the characters are particularly likable, Nelly as the narrator is incredibly biased, following the timelines can be confusing especially because there are two Cathys. I think that for a young woman to write a book so vulgar and brutal all those years ago is an impressive feat. The inherent darkness of the story is what hooked me in the first place, and it keeps me coming back. I’ve probably read it five times over the years,” Y/N attempted to sum up her reasoning for loving Emily Bronte’s masterpiece, but found it difficult with Namjoon’s rapt attention on her face while she spoke. 

“So you like stories with darker subject matter,” Namjoon mused, seeming to recover from her earlier comment. “It’s beautifully written, I just didn’t expect so much moral corruption from the characters. I’ve read Jane Eyre by Emily’s sister, which has its fair shares of thematic shock and darkness, so I half-expected this novel to be similar. I was pleasantly surprised, I’ve never read anything like this.”

Delighted, Y/N gave Namjoon the brightest smile she could muster, thrilled to have someone she now lived with to discuss some of her favorite novels. Eyes widening a fracture at her enthused reaction to his words, Namjoon took a swig of his drink, diverting his eyes back to the pages. 

“They made a decent Jane Eyre movie adaptation back in 2011. We could watch it sometime, if you’re interested,” Y/N offered, beyond pleased that he was speaking to her again. 

It was like she had entered a little bubble with just her and Namjoon in it, the chaos of the cookout behind her temporarily forgotten. She was taken aback further when Namjoon nodded and chuckled airly, a dimple appearing in his cheek with her idea. Resisting the urge to poke the crater in his cheek, Y/N giggled with him, taking his response as agreement. A cool breeze rolled by, ruffling Namjoon’s silky hair and carrying the scent of honey with it. He stopped laughing when his bitten ear fluttered, leaning forward to look over Y/N’s shoulder curiously. 

“I think more of your guests have arrived,” He whispered due to his close proximity, Y/N able to feel the heat coming off of his body. 

Straightening up, Y/N could hear the babbling of a child’s voice from the driveway, suspecting Ben and his family were about to join them. Wobbly, she got to her feet, Namjoon peering up with her with an expression softer than he had afforded her in days. With a happy sigh, Y/N extended her hand to help Namjoon up, the wolf hybrid tentatively sliding his palm against her’s, standing up to his full height with ease. 

“Could you come with me and help out with getting all of the cupcake boxes out of Ben’s car please? You can go right back to reading after, promise,” Y/N asked, releasing his hand as soon as he had his footing.

“Sure. I think I’ll save the ending for tomorrow,” Namjoon acquiesced, his dimples still indenting his cheeks cutely. While Y/N was learning that Namjoon could be moody, she didn’t mind, especially if she got to see those dimples every now and again. 

“Jesus, Y/N. You really don’t realize what seven hybrids look like until you see them all clumped together back here,” Ben muttered in Y/N’s ear, setting a bag filled with children’s toys down on the grass by the kiddie pool. 

After a slightly awkward exchange between Ben, Namjoon and herself hauling boxes of cupcakes into the garage refrigerator, Ben assuming his stony lawyer disposition and Namjoon being his usual chilly self, Namjoon had escaped to get himself another beer while Y/N and Ben caught up for a moment. Roy, who had broken up the awkward tension a degree by parading Daisy around on his hip, was introducing the little rabbit hybrid to enthusiastic Hoseok and Jimin, the former who was talking to her in a silly voice. 

“Yeah, there’s quite a few of them, each of them special in their own ways,” Y/N leaned into Ben’s side, grateful that he seemed to be so tame that day. Tutting, Ben pointed across the yard at Jeongguk reading something in his journal, drinking from a Red Solo cup with a cigarette burning between the fingertips grasping the glass.

“I’ve never even seen an elk hybrid, who was that again? He looks like a manager at Hot Topic,” Ben remarked, a hand on his hip. 

“Hush, Ben, I don’t want you ticking any of them off,” Y/N managed, though it was incredibly difficult to stifle a laugh crawling up her throat. “That’s Jeongguk, the youngest.”

“Okay, well so far I like the two being nice to my daughter. That wolf hybrid was a little, uh. Unfriendly,” Ben scratched his close-cut red beard, squinting at Namjoon shuffling towards Yoongi for a word. 

“He’s not. They’ve all been through a lot, I think it’s only natural for them to have cautionary walls up,” Y/N reminded Ben, watching him swirl his cocktail around in his glass. 

“Look at you, Y/N! I feel like you’ve finally matured in a matter of a week, maybe this was a good thing for you, after all,” Ben snorted, used to Y/N’s petulant behavior when with him. 

“Wish I could say the same about you. Daisy looks so cute, by the way. I remember when you bought that sundress,” Y/N slowly circled towards the gate with Ben, watching her neighbors flood in, ushered by her mother and father. 

“She was so excited to come today. I actually stopped by Laura’s earlier this week to introduce her to Kai. They get along well, even though Daisy is a bit older. She couldn’t stop talking about the ‘hybrids from the gray place’ too, which I’m assuming are your guys,” Ben confessed, waving at Daisy chasing after Hoseok, who was running away from her slowly so she could catch him by his tail, laughing wildly. “Alright. I’m going to make my rounds. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the questioning to a minimum, I want to have a good time and that includes not pissing you or Roy off.”

Left by herself, Y/N watched Hoseok and Jimin joyfully play with Daisy, giving Roy a break to chat with her grandmother. Downing the rest of her second drink, Y/N fished out another seltzer from a nearby ice bucket, jumping in surprise once she stood up and registered Jeongguk in front of her, the scent of smoke coming off of him powerfully. 

“Hey, Jeongguk, how’s it going? Did you meet some new people?” Y/N pressed her free hand to her irregular heartbeat, Jeongguk adjusting the neckline of his new band tee shirt with The Cure on it. He really did look like a manager at Hot Topic, though it worked on him, Y/N thought. 

“I said hi to your parents, and the dude with the little bunny. Your mom started pulling out her tarot cards, she’s roping Yoongi into a reading,” Jeongguk replied, eyes on the open gate. “More people here than I thought, the jaguar seems a little overwhelmed.”

Making a noise of exclamation, Y/N scanned the backyard for Seokjin, finding him hanging back by the tree Namjoon had been earlier pulling at his shirtsleeves. Calling his name gently knowing that he could hear easily, she motioned for him to come to her, his ears flattened to his skull anxiously. Jeongguk, shockingly, stayed with her as Seokjin approached, a neutral expression on the elk hybrid’s face. She’d never tell him, but she thought it was pretty sweet of him to tell her about Seokjin’s unease. 

“You alright, honey?” Y/N asked, running her hand down his back soothingly. Seokjin’s broad shoulders sinking down a bit at her touch. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just have to get used to the crowd, sometimes I get a little overwhelmed,” Seokjin flashed her a little smile, ears perking up at some sound she could not hear. Jeongguk, too, was focused on a spot behind her. 

“If it gets to be too much, you can always go in the house and relax. I’ll sit with you for a bit, too, if that makes you feel b-better,” Y/N encouraged, stuttering when Seokjin pulled her in for a side-hug. 

“Thanks, sweets,” Seokjin’s voice was muffled by her hair, his lips pressed into it comfortingly. 

Blushing furiously once he released her, Seokjin smiled at someone behind her, a series of surprised gasps coming from the guests. Spinning on her heel, Y/N couldn’t stop the squeal coming from her lips, Alice strolling through the gate in bell-bottom jeans and a white ruched crop top, and a large bucket full of icy sangria in her arms. Close behind was Laura, her thick braids skimming her collarbones as she shifted Kai in her arms, his tiny fists full of the material of her green polka-dotted sundress, followed by her husband Tyler carrying a comically large box of Truly seltzers. 

Immediately dumping the sangria on the table with the ice bucket, Alice flung herself into Y/N’s arms, her caramel perfume wrapping her in a warm hug. Laura joined in on the embrace as soon as Tyler’s arms were free to hold Kai so he could bring him over to Daisy and Roy, all three girls squeezing the life out of each other. It had been far too long since she had seen them, Y/N thought tearfully, Laura stroking her hair gently as they pulled away. Jeongguk cleared his throat uncomfortably, Alice’s eyebrow shooting up into her hairline once she realized the two hybrids were standing there. 

“Oh shit. Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” Alice quipped, Jeongguk turning pale at the title and taking a sip of his drink to hide it. Snorting into her hand, Y/N realized she probably should have warned the hybrids a bit more about the twins. “Let me guess. Jeongguk?”

“H-how? Did you know my–” Jeongguk choked on the sip of his drink, Seokjin’s shoulders shaking with laughter as Alice held up a finger. 

“Y/N debriefed us of all your names already, it was only fair,” Alice cut him off, eyeing the elk hybrid from head to toe. “Hmm… and you. You’re either Yoongi or Seokjin, kitty,” Alice redirected her attention to Seokjin, amusement vanishing from his face to be replaced with astonishment. 

“That’s Seokjin! Cool it, Al,” Y/N spoke around a gasp of laughter, trying not to enjoy the mortification washing over Jeongguk and Seokjin’s glazed-over eyes. 

“Nice to meet you boys, hope you’ve been nice to our Y/N,” Laura extended a hand, assuming her motherly tone of voice as Seokjin robotically took her hand to shake it. 

“Laura,” Y/N whined, cringing as Jeongguk shook her hand with white knuckles.

“Are the Santos twins here? Come here, my girls!” Y/N heard her father shout from the picnic table, bouncing Kai on his knee with glee. 

Giggling, Y/N felt herself get dragged to the table by Alice, Seokjin close behind as they left Jeongguk reeling by the gate. As she caught up with the twins and her father, Yoongi approached them, politely introducing himself to the twins, both of whom immediately took a liking to. Similarly, Jimin seated himself across from Y/N’s father, sipping on some whiskey as he joined the conversation. Between the group of them, it was pretty amicable, Y/N blushing when Yoongi pulled her close to brush an eyelash off of her face. 

Y/N kept a close eye on her mother doing readings by the fire, performing a couple on her neighbors before moving onto Anthony followed by Taehyung, who hadn’t left each other’s sides since the former’s arrival. After a while, Alice pulled Y/N away, asking if she could show her the cupcakes Ben had brought. 

Once they were in the dark garage, Alice began to laugh uncontrollably. Confused, Y/N shut the door to the fridge, staring at Alice with confusion. Alice pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to stop the onslaught of laughter rippling through her. 

“Okay, now I get it. They’re all hot,” Alice gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. Heart plummeting to her stomach, Y/N lobbed a cocktail napkin at Alice that was wrapped around her newest French 75 Hoseok delivered to her with pink cheeks from chasing Daisy around. 

“Alice! That is so not the reason why I adopted them! As a matter of fact, they were in their animal forms when I happened to find them at the shelter,” Y/N whisper-yelled, praying to the sky none of the hybrids could hear her between the walls of the garage, the music from the speakers outside, and the commotion from all of the guests. 

“Whatever! Regardless, you failed to mention they were so handsome. I like that one in the Hawaiian shirt, the fox hybrid… good with kids. Hoseok, I think?” Alice calmed down, watching Y/N’s face carefully. Y/N knew when Alice liked to read her expressions, though she had become a master at concealing them from her. 

“Yeah, Hoseok’s great. You two would really get along, both of you get off on making me squirm,” Y/N followed Alice back outside, her friend’s bouncy curls shaking with laughter as they stumbled back out into the bright sunshine. Several drinks in, and Y/N was already feeling a tad loopy. 

“You know Laura and I were just worried about you with all these guys in your house. Especially when we found out they were all men… but they seem like really sweet hybrids. Rough around the edges, but I think they found the right home,” Alice declared in a sobering tone of voice. 

Pulling Alice in for another hug with the relieving sensation of one of her closest friends approving of her hybrids, Y/N could hardly believe how different her life was compared to exactly a week ago. Then, she was preparing to eat a hummus wrap on her lunch break, thinking about her home renovation schedule, and was very much alone. Now, she was enjoying herself with friends and family on a beautiful August afternoon, with seven hybrids that would still be with her even when the party was over. 

Only a tad tipsy, Y/N hooked her elbow with Alice’s, ready to follow the path into the backyard from the garage with glee. She had been meaning to check on Seokjin, even though he seemed much more at ease since he had sat in a lawn chair beside her grandmother, striking up a conversation while they sipped their beverages together.

“Y/N, honey. Can I have a word?” Her mother interrupted Y/N’s inner monologue, Alice blowing both of them a kiss before skipping into Hoseok’s direction in the backyard. 

No idea how her mother had slipped away from the clumps of people waiting to get their cards read by her, Y/N presumed whatever she had to say was important. Hoping that it wasn’t an announcement that she had forgotten to prepare something for the cookout, Y/N allowed her mother to pull her closer to the driveway and completely out of earshot– Y/N could hardly even hear the playlist Hoseok had made for the cookout. 

“Honey, I received messages for you. I know you hate when I do this, but it's important,” her mother rushed out, taking a hold of Y/N’s forearms firmly, a serious glint in her eyes. “I was just reading cards for our guests, your hybrids, and I had a strong vision.”

Swallowing, Y/N began to sweat, more than well aware her mother’s visions came true ninety percent of the time. Possibilities raced through her mind’s eye as she registered her mother’s words; did she see an upcoming conflict, a new ‘love match’, or something darker– was the entity that Jeongguk and Namjoon banished still lurking? The way her mother’s face was pinched indicated that whatever it was, the message wasn’t pleasant. 

“Mom, what is it? You’re scaring me,” Y/N whispered, her mother’s hand curling around her forearm urgently. She appeared disturbingly conflicted, eyebrows pulled together and mouth twisted into a grimace. 

“Honey, I was just reading cards for Taehyung,” her mother began, her eyes unfocusing, Y/N recognized that she was receiving another vision. “Oh my G-!”

“Hey, hey! Oh, are you alright? What happened? Is Tae okay!?” Y/N steadied her mother, feeling ice-cold panic flood through her. Shuddering, her mother regained her strength after a few beats, Y/N biting her lip raw. Finally, she was able to articulate, her voice misty and eyes faraway. 

“Taehyung, you need to be careful around that man. Full of vengeance, bitterness, betrayal,” her mother dug her fingernails into the flesh of Y/N’s forearm desperately, Y/N getting the feeling it wasn’t entirely her mother alone speaking to her at the moment. Y/N could sense the presence of something else. “Though, I don’t think he’ll hurt you. But he has secrets.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N pressed desperately, trying to pry off her mother’s ironlike grip on her forearms, her next response causing Y/N to still, frozen in utter horror. 

“That young man… Taehyung. He hides many things, shares with no one. The seven of swords, a knife. Always on the run, he’s found his place to hide. He’s killed before– he’s killed a man.”

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

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

[slytherheign]

FEARLESS | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: high school senior!tasm!peter parker x high school senior!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: loving peter in secret for far too long becomes exhausting for you when you think he will never love you back. in order to distract yourself from your growing feelings, you start to follow a friend’s suggestion—not knowing that it will only cause you harm.

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, manipulation, fire, unhealthy obsession/toxic ex, and canon-typical violence. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title + i mixed it with a plot from this request sent by @willowhaired (thanks for requesting! hope it’s okay that i didn’t follow some things in your request. i changed some parts in order to match with taylor’s song). btw, this is angst with happy ending. enjoy reading!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS FEARLESS (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

“Class dismissed!” you heard your teacher announce. The rain that was pouring down outside was heavy and your eyes widened when you realized that you forgot to bring an umbrella. Your seatmate, Peter Parker, who just happened to be your neighbor and your biggest crush, turned to look at you. He seemed to notice the slight panic in your eyes. “Come with me,” he offered.

“Really?” you asked.

“Well, I have an umbrella and a car. You don’t…” he paused. “Unless you want to walk in the rain by yourself. It’s your choice,” he teased. 

“Oh no–please,” you laughed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Come on then,” he said, putting your notebooks in your bag and then picking it up before he stood up. There he was again, being the gentleman that he was, doing the exact same things that made you fall in love with him. 

You and Peter weren’t best friends, but you two were close. Being neighbors since you were children played a huge part in that. You would never tell him, but he was actually your first crush. The first boy who made your heart jump since then and until now. When you were 6 years old, you told him you loved him while you two were playing, you were too young to know the deep meaning of the word “love” back then. In response, he told you that he loved you too because you were like a little sister he never had.

You remembered that response as you grew up, always reminding yourself that he would never love you back in the same way you loved him. And because you were too scared to risk and lose the relationship you two had, you were fine with being his little sister as long as it meant getting to be close to him.

It hurt you. Being close to him but never close enough to touch him in the ways you wanted to. You have seen him get in and out of relationships, let him cry on your shoulders when someone broke his heart. You have always been there through ups and downs, offering advice to him for his relationships to work. Little did he know, your heart shattered each and every time.

You had a couple of ex-boyfriends, both of them breaking up with you before the relationship could even last a year. One of those men was Harry Osborn, who just happened to be Peter’s best friend. You were sad, of course, but it was probably better because you knew that you couldn’t give your all to those relationships. You tried to find Peter in those men you dated, and it was probably why those relationships didn’t work out. 

Peter opened the umbrella in one hand while his other carried your bag; his bag was on his back. He made a gesture for you to come closer and you did. The rain was harsh but you paid it no mind, there was a glow off the pavement as he walked you to the car. He opened the door for you when he reached the car, and you went in immediately.

The close distance between the two of you and the confined space of the car made the smell of him strongly enter your senses. The sensation of his presence made the hair on your skin stand up unsolicitedly. As you drove down the road, you wondered if he knew just how you were trying so hard not to get caught up with your feelings and just kiss him. He was just so cool, he didn’t even realize how he absentmindedly made you want him when he ran his hands through his hair. God, how could a man be this beautiful?

It could get better than this, you knew that. It could get better than you longing for him behind the curtains. But you were terrified. You were deeply in love with him, but you could never imagine him loving you back. 

After that rainy day, Peter offered to drive you home from school daily. You were hesitant, scared that the more time you’d spend with him, the more you’d hurt your heart. But before you could say no, your mouth muttered the opposite of what you wanted to say. You agreed.

You wished for more than the road trips, but for now, you would settle for the slow drives from the school to your home, capturing and remembering every moment you were in his passenger seat.

You knew you could always tell him what you truly felt, but it was always a matter of fear.

If there was one thing Peter knew about his enemies, it was that they always come for the ones he loved the most. That was why he didn’t tell anyone yet that he was in love with you. The only person who knew except himself was his best friend, Harry. He liked to believe that no secrets existed between the two of them. They were inseparable since the first year of high school when they first met each other. Right now, they were seniors and everything remained the same.

He could not be any more wrong. See, Harry was madly in love with you. When you dated him, he felt like the happiest man in the world but he always noticed that you loved another man. And when he saw the way you looked at Peter, he knew. He made plans in secret to hurt the two of you. If he couldn’t have you, then Peter couldn’t have you either.

For a while, he was skeptical of his plan. He didn’t want to do it anymore. He loved you and Peter was his best friend, he didn’t want to continue his plan any longer. Besides, the only thing he knew was that you were in love with Peter, his best friend probably didn’t feel the same towards you…

But then Peter decided to tell him that he was in love with you, and… well, that made him angry. 

He decided his plan would continue.

You remained friends with Harry even after breaking up with him. The breakup was mutual and there were no hard feelings. Just yesterday, he made a joke that you have been single for a long time and that you should download a dating app. You disagreed immediately, telling him that you were never a fan of dating apps. But then he said something that changed your mind.

“You should at least try. Surely, you can’t wait for that person forever?” 

He definitely knew you were in love with his best friend. And with the tone in his voice when he said that suggestion, it made you think that Peter didn’t feel the same. If there was someone who would know if Peter was in love with someone, it would be Harry. You knew they never kept secrets from each other. 

So you did what he suggested. You downloaded a dating app, and in an instant, you were already matched with someone named Nick. You talked to him for months, pretending to be interested in every conversation he tried to start. Nick was nice, you shared a few hobbies and interests but he wasn’t Peter. It was hard to find someone when the only one your heart wanted was Peter. 

And then Nick asked to meet up with you. You didn’t want to. You told Harry about it and he said to give it a go. “If you never try, you never know, right? Just wear your best dress and imagine it was Peter,” he advised. You smiled in return, before texting Nick to accept his offer.

A week prior to your meetup, you found yourself constantly texting Nick, just talking about each other’s lives casually.

Can’t wait to see you next week 😉

You chuckled a little bit as you entered Peter’s car. Another school day has ended. Peter entered the car next. You put your phone in your lap as you adjusted your seatbelt.

Just wear your best dress, and I’ll take care of the rest ❤️

Unbeknownst to you, Peter got a glimpse of your text messages. He felt his mood change in an instant, but he tried not to show it to you. However, it was very obvious because he did not talk to you for the whole ride home. He would glance at you every once and a while but you were too busy exchanging messages with Nick on your phone to notice. 

“We’re here,” he said with no enthusiasm in his voice. He got out of the car before making his way to your side and opening the door for you. You quickly shut your phone off and got out of the car. “Thank you,” you smiled at him but he just nodded. He didn’t even look into your eyes. Maybe he was just having a bad day, you thought.

You knew something was off when he didn’t walk you up to your door. “Pete, is everything okay?” you asked.

“Huh? uh–yeah. Just having a bad day. Don’t wanna talk about it,” he answered simply.

“Oh okay…” you proceeded to go into your house. Something inside you wanted to go back to him but you stopped yourself before you could even run to where he was standing and hug him right there. He didn’t want to talk about it, he probably wanted to be alone at the moment.

“Thank you!” you yelled, smiling as you waved him goodbye from the door of your house. Peter met your eyes for the first time that day, he smiled a little before waving in return. He left as soon as you closed the door.

“How’s your day?” your mom asked you the moment you closed the door. ��All fine,” you smiled, walking towards her before hugging her. “That was Peter again, right? What’s going on between you two?” she teased. You didn’t answer, and instead ran up the stairs and went straight to your room. Your mother laughed at your reaction.

You locked your room and changed into a more comfortable outfit. You repeated your mother’s question in your head as you sat on your bed. What really was going on between you and Peter? To be honest, you didn’t know. You still loved him. Your heart still called his name. Nick was just a distraction—a distraction you hoped would be enough to stop your growing feelings towards Peter.

Suddenly, a notification popped on your phone. A new message from Nick and Harry. You first opened Nick’s message, it was just the location for your meetup next week. The next one you opened was Harry’s.

Did Nick send you an address yet for next week? Can you update me?

You quickly typed a reply.

What a coincidence. He actually just sent me the address but it’s unfamiliar to me. Why do you want to know?

You saw the three dots on your phone that told you he was typing. It stopped for a long while, it was almost like he was contemplating what he was going to send. The dots showed up again after some time until he sent a message.

I think I know where that address is. Should I take you there?

He didn’t answer your question. Nonetheless, you were glad for his offer.

Really, you would do that? Thank you! ❤️

A WEEK LATER.

Peter was doing what he always did, sitting on a rooftop ledge as Spider-Man, looking at the city as he waited for someone who needed his help. Everything was peaceful for a while, it was just him, the wind, and the buzzing noises from cars and people. His eyes caught something familiar. A car heading into a part of New York where not many people went. It didn’t take him a long time to realize that it was Harry’s car. He swung quietly through buildings, settling on one where he could see the car more properly. 

There you were, sitting in the passenger seat of a car heading into an almost abandoned part of the town. His senses immediately alerted him of danger. He watched as the car stopped in front of an abandoned house. He saw Harry guiding you into the house and he sneakily entered it from one of the windows. He settled behind a table, a place where he could observe you without you noticing.

You were wearing a black dress that highlighted the shape of your body. You already were beautiful for him, but seeing you in that dress made him aware that you were the most beautiful girl in the world. He could spend his day just staring lovingly at you if it wasn’t for the current situation. 

He saw the confusion on your face as you looked around the empty building. It was then the moment Peter realized that today was the day you were meeting up with Nick. The only problem was Nick wasn’t here and it was just an empty building, and he could tell by the look of your face that you were close to panicking. 

Just as Peter started to stand up and walk towards you, Harry entered the building with a wide smirk plastered on his face. Peter quickly returned to his hiding position.

You pulled out your phone from your purse and called the number Nick gave you. At the exact same time, you heard someone’s phone ringing in the building. You turned to where the sound was. It came from Harry, he was laughing. And then he showed you a phone in his hand with your name on it as the caller. You ended the phone call, and the ringing on Harry’s phone also stopped.

“Harry, what’s going on?” you started to take a few steps back. “Where’s Nick?”

“There’s no Nick,” he admitted, a sly smile showing on his face. “I made it all up.”

“But–why?” you were starting to tear up. This place was not familiar to you. The more you looked around, the more you realized that escaping was not an option. There was one open window but it was far from your position. There was also a huge fallen table blocking it.

Peter stood up from his position and silently moved closer to where you were. He took advantage of the shadows and his spider-like abilities to move without having any of you notice it. Suddenly, he felt his foot touch a liquid substance. It was gasoline, it came from a hose that was close to his hiding spot. His eyes tried to trace where the hose came from but his spot gave him a limited view. He knew it was from outside the house but he didn’t know exactly where.   

In just seconds, the house smelled like gasoline, and the floor was flooded with it. Apparently, the hose that Peter discovered wasn’t the only one. There were a lot scattered around the house and they released the liquid substance at the same time.

“Do you smell that?” Harry snickered. “I know you do. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I planned this all by myself. I even installed the hoses.”

“Harry, what the fuck are you doing?” you questioned.

“Taking back what’s mine,” he replied. “I love you, Y/N. I never stopped.”

He stepped closer. “Take me back. Be with me again,” he demanded.

“You’re fucking insane. Get away from me.”

“And if I don’t want to?” he mockingly asked.

“Harry–stop. Please. We’re still friends, right? W-we can still be f-friends,” you shakingly tried to reason out. He only shook his head. 

“Say you love me and you can still leave this house breathing,” he warned.

“Harry–”

“Say it.”

You shook your head, frustrated tears were coming out of your eyes.

“Say. It.”

“No–” you whispered.

“No?” he asked.

“No,” you answered sternly. You would rather die than spend your life stuck with him.

“Then you leave me with no choice but to–” he pulled out a lighter from his jacket. Your eyes widened. 

Someone from the shadows shot out a web to Harry’s hand, preventing him to move his hand and light the object he held. Spider-Man soon stepped out of the shadows. “Get out, Y/N,” you heard Spider-Man demand you and you instantly ran straight to the door. You didn’t even dare to question how he knew your name.

The door was locked as expected. While Spider-Man and Harry fought, you tried to look around for something that would help you destroy the handle. Your eyes caught a crowbar covered in gasoline laying on the floor close to a wall. You made your way to it cautiously, careful not to let yourself get caught up with Harry and Spider-Man. For a moment, you saw the lighter escape Harry’s hand as Spider-Man punched his face but your focus was on the crowbar so you just let them deal with themselves.

You did your best to hit the door forcefully with the tool when you returned, but it was hard to break since the crowbar was covered in gasoline which made it slip from your hand almost every time. All of a sudden, Harry was able to retrieve the lighter and flicked it. As soon as the fire showed itself, he threw it on the floor.

The next thing you knew, the house was on fire and smoke filled the air. It was getting hard to breathe, even Harry was coughing weakly. You tried to shift your attention to the door again. This time, trying even harder to open it. You kicked, threw your body weight on it, and hit it with the crowbar again, but it only managed to do little to the door. 

When the smoke increasingly spread in the house, Spider-Man felt that his mask was suffocating him. To be able to breathe more properly, Peter decided to remove the mask from his face. He wasn’t worried about showing his face, Harry was already passed out, and you were busy breaking down the door. Besides, he was already planning on telling you he was Spider-Man some of these days, he might as well do it now.

After a more few tries, you eventually managed to break the door handle and kick the door open. You were about to call Spider-Man to alert him but the words got stuck in your throat upon seeing his face.

Peter looked up as he felt you staring at him. “Get out of here, Y/N!” he yelled.

It seemed that your feet were stuck on the floor and your mind stopped making rational decisions because you stayed there in shock. “Peter?” you spoke.

“Y/N, GET OUT! LEAVE!” he yelled again. His voice made you jump and you instantly followed his demand. You left the house still thinking of him. You were already starting to walk to your house when your heart ached out of being worried for Peter. “Fuck it,” you whispered under your breath. You turned back, making your way back to the burning house. You called the authorities on the way.

Peter was still inside when you returned. You squinted your eyes, hoping to see more of him through the fire. He was carrying Harry, trying to get him out of the house but he was struggling because of the fire that surrounded him. 

This was the part where the brain fought with the heart. Your mind was pleading for you to go home, save yourself, and get a good night’s sleep. But your heart insisted on staying, helping Peter, and putting yourself in danger.

Your heart only needed to softly whisper Peter’s name, and you were already all in.  

And so, you entered the house fearlessly.

You used your arms to cover your head from the falling debris as you made your way to Peter. His eyes did a double take as soon as he saw you. “What the fuck are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to leave?!” he questioned, worry and stress showing through his voice.

You ignored his questions and instead insisted on helping him carry Harry out of the house. You were both silent even after the job was done. For a while, it was just you, Peter, a passed-out Harry, the house that was on fire, and the sky that decided to rain.

After a few minutes, you heard the sirens that alerted you that the authorities were arriving at the scene. Peter looked at you as if to ask if you called them, and you nodded in response. He put on his mask again.

You watched as the firemen dealt with the burning house. Peter, now back to being Spider-Man, talked with the authorities about Harry and what happened. Harry was still passed out and being carried to an ambulance that would direct him to the hospital to get treated before he would face the consequences of his actions. As for you, you sat in the ambulance getting checked by the medics. You didn’t have any major injuries, just minor ones. When they offered to get you to the hospital just to be sure, you politely declined them and insisted on staying with Spider-Man.

It was as if the universe decided to help with the burning house because the rain decided to turn into a storm. You found a bench close to the house for you to sit on. The storm was getting harsher, but you refused to leave the place without Peter. You just crossed your arms to cope with the growing cold the wind delivered.

After waiting for a few more moments, the house wasn’t on fire anymore and the authorities left the scene for the day. As soon as they left, Peter removed the mask and walked towards the bench you were silently sitting on. “I would offer you a coat, but I don’t have one,” he stopped in front of you. 

You looked up at him, standing up so you could look at him properly. “You okay?” you asked, noticing a few bruises on his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Are you?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine… still kind of shocked though. Didn’t expect my day to turn out like this,” you told him.

“Why were you using a dating app in the first place?” he asked jokingly.

You knew he was only teasing, but his question struck a nerve in you. To forget you, you wanted to say. Sorry for the mess, I only wanted to fucking forget you. Sorry for trying to move on. Sorry because I fucking love you.        

Instead, you answered with another question. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me you’re Spider-Man?” your voice raised unintentionally.

His eyebrows furrowed with the tone of your voice. He tried to get closer to you but you stepped back, rolling your eyes. “Why is your ex fucking insane?!” he matched your attitude.

You scoffed. “Why is your best friend fucking insane?!”

“I–stop. Y/N,” he said softly. He realized from the way you were shaking that you were probably stressed and traumatized because of what happened. His suspicions were confirmed when you suddenly broke down crying. He instantly covered your fragile body with his frame. He hugged you tightly, letting you sob all the stress and frustration away. It was still storming, but none of you cared. 

“Shhh,” Peter cooed. When your crying stopped, he held your face with his hands. “Why did you go back?” he asked, looking into your eyes.

“Because I wanted to help you,” you answered.

“And? I know that’s not the only reason you did it.”

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or lie your way out of the conversation. But after the stunt you pulled earlier, you knew Peter wasn’t stupid and would realize the truth sooner.

“Because I care for you. In ways I cannot describe,” you answered truthfully.

“Why do you care for me?” he asked.

“Peter…”

“I need you to say it,” he whispered close to your face. Your nose was close to touching his.

“I won’t because I know you don’t feel the same,” you closed your eyes.

“Open your eyes.”

You opened your eyes.

“Look at me.”

You did what he said.

“Say it.”

It was time to tell him, without fear.

“I love you.”

Peter smiled, before pulling your face closer to him and kissing you hard. Your eyes widened, not expecting him to kiss you. All along, you thought your love was one-sided, but the kiss you were sharing right now proved otherwise. It was your first kiss with him and it was flawless. You closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, you only pulled away when you needed to catch your breath.

“How are you feeling right now?” he smirked. “Did I kiss all your worries away?” he teased.

“I don’t think there’s a word that could do justice to what I’m feeling right now,” you chuckled. “I’m so happy–I feel like my heart is dancing. I could dance right now.”

“Really?” he asked, a clever smile showing up on his face. Suddenly, he offered a hand in front of you. “May I ask you for a dance?”

You accepted his offer. The only music was the storm as it loudly poured on the pavement, but none of you minded it. You swayed with him, giggling as you stared fondly at each other. 

You were wearing your best dress, dancing with Peter in a harsh cruel storm, taking each other’s hands as you both drag yourselves head first into your lives and hearts. To be honest, you didn’t how it would get better than this.  

“Can I tell you something, Y/N?” he asked, gracefully turning you.

“Of course,” you smiled.

“My heart races for you so fast that I just need to let this out–I love you. I love you so much. I want to spend every day with you. When you’re sad, I want to be the one you run to. When you’re happy, I want to be the reason why. When you’re sick, I want to be the one who takes care of you. When you’re in trouble, I want to be the one who saves you.”

You stroked his cheek lovingly. “I love you too, Peter. I’ve admired you ever since we were children and up until now. When I think of my future and who I want to spend it with–it’s you. It’s always been you. I’m afraid of rejection, that was why I didn’t tell you the moment I knew I have feelings for you. I was always scared that you would turn me down. That’s why all these years I chose to love you behind your back. But now… now that all’s been said and done, I’m not afraid anymore. If what you’re asking me is to enter your life as your partner, then I’ll do it fearlessly.”

He turned you one last time, before putting a hand on your back and on the back of your thigh, gently bending you backwards so he could kiss you deeply once again. Each time he pulled you in his arms, you got a little more brave. As it turned out, all it took for your heart to not be fearful was Peter.

Love really was fearless.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker angst #tasm peter parker fluff #spiderman angst #spiderman fluff #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x y/n #andrew garfield x reader #spiderman #peter parker #marvel #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield fanfiction #the amazing spiderman #andrew garfield #fearless: the fic #tasm!peter parker x reader #rheignwrites: sweet street

[fangirl-writes]

Doppelgänger

Benny Weir x Fem!Reader

MBAV Masterlist

Warning(s): near-death, canon-level violence

Request: can be found here.

Notes: This is a mix of multiple things that we’ve seen in MBAV episodes while also stealing a little bit of plot from the Vampire Diaries. Hope you like it! 

PS: I kinda want to make this into a full fledged fic because I had so many ideas that were hard to package into a one-shot but we’ll see if I ever actually do that.

Summary: A doppelganger traps you in a mirror dimension and slowly sucks the life out of you so it can take your place. Will Benny and friends save you in time? (yes obviously, but the suspense)

You stare across the room, into the only window in the otherwise dark room, the yellow glow of it staring back at you.

It was a tragic way to die, in a place without light, where your loved ones would never find you. All the while a cheap copy of you wandered freely, fooling your friends and your Benny.

Benny. Would you ever get to see him again?

Perhaps you’d get lucky and he would peer into the mirror so his eyes would be the last thing you saw before the life finished draining from you.

He’d probably feel so guilty, think it was all his fault. 

But it wasn’t.

If there was anyone to blame, it was the vampire who seemed a regular bane to the existence of White Chapel and its inhabitants.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

In the school’s theater, in a dressing room we’ve seen before, lies a cracked mirror that once held the spirit of Olivia Frye. And while her spirit no longer posses it, that doesn’t mean the magic of the mirror is gone.

The vanity lights flicker on in the otherwise dark room, illuminating the pale face and blue eyes of Jesse Black.

Reaching into his pocket, Jesse pulls out Benny’s spellbook.

He opens it on a marked page, running his fingers across the paper before reading aloud: “Zacaroth Maznacaroth. Dimitte hunc spiritum e carcere, ut iterum vivant.”

As he reads, the mirror begins to repair itself, the cracks sealing up. But as they are doing so, a mist also starts to leak from the glass.

A grin spreads across Jesse’s lips and he chuckles darkly. “Welcome back, my dear.”

Before him stands the ghostly figure of who appears to be you, but she’s faded, missing the color in her body that signifies life. Except for her eyes that shine the same unnatural blue as Jesse’s.

The following morning, you, Ethan, and Benny are walking down the hallway of White Chapel High as Benny searches in vain for his spellbook.

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally make it vanish again?” Ethan asks.

“No, it was in here last night I swear,” Benny says before groaning and angrily throwing his bag closed. “The one day I wanted to make Ms. Fine forget about our essays and the thing disappears! It’s like it knows when I’m using it for evil. You think my grandma put a spell on it?”

“If she was gonna do that, she’d have done it long before now,” Ethan replies.

“You know, if you started memorizing your spells like you talk about, this wouldn’t be a problem,” You say.

“And if you had agreed to strip studying I would have tried,”

“Okay, gross,” Ethan says, pulling a face.

“Y/N.”

You perk your head up, looking around the hallway for whoever said your name, finding no one in a sea of faces.

“Y/N.”

You turn around, following the voice but still seeing no one.

“Hey.”

You jump as Benny’s hand touches your shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

You let out a breath and smile at him. “Yeah, I just thought I heard someone call my name. It’s probably nothing.”

Benny nods and pulls you closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as you continue your trail to your lockers.

The voices persisted as the day went on, bothering you in class and at lunch, making you feel scared and crazy. Not to mention incredibly distracted.

It made it hard to focus on math or science and especially English where you were meant to be reading Shakespeare and reviewing essays.

“Ms. L/N.”

Ms. Fine startles you out of your stupor and you hurriedly hand her your rough draft, printed and stapled together.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asks and you make a quick decision.

“Actually, I’m feeling a little sick. Can I be excused for the nurses office?”

“Sure. But hurry back.”

You nod and gather your things, exchanging a glance with Benny and Ethan each before leaving.

You really did plan to go to the nurses office until you could talk to your friends, but that damn voice started bothering you again. And in an otherwise empty hallway, it was hard to ignore.

“Y/N.”

“Oh, I’m gonna regret this,” you mumble before heading in the direction of the voice.

You follow it all the way to the theater, which is dark except for the light coming from one of the dressing rooms.

“Please don’t be a ghost,” you whisper to yourself. “Or a vampire, werewolf, ghoul, zombie, whatever. Let me be having a psychotic break because of stress and this voice isn’t real.”

You cautiously peak into the room...and find nothing.

The room is empty except for the vanity and chair. And the voice has gone quiet.

Shaking your head, you walk into the room and sit down in the chair. “Maybe I am going crazy.”

Your a little startled by your reflection, which is pale even under the warm lighting.

“...or maybe I’m actually sick.”

You press a hand to your face, checking for a temperature, watching as your reflection does the same.

Letting your hand drop, you observe the mirror more closely, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Wait a minute, wasn’t this mirror-”

You let out a scream as your reflection surges forward and pulls you into the mirror before jumping out in your place.

You collapse on a cold floor, hurriedly standing back up and rushing toward the mirror’s opening but your reflection holds out a hand, causing the mirror to seal back up and trap you inside.

“Sorry,” she says. “But I can’t have two of us running around to ruin my plans.”

You bang on the glass. “Hey! Stop! Let me out!”

But she’s already gone, leaving the room and shutting the door, enveloping you in darkness.

“Didn’t you see the look on her face?” Benny asks. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Ethan replies. “It’s probably just a headache. You know how too much supernatural stuff gets to her sometimes.”

“Yeah, but this was different. She’s been hearing voices all day. I’m starting to worry this is something bad.”

Benny pushes open the door to the nurse’s office, expecting to find you laying there but instead the small bed was empty.

“Can I help you boys?” The nurse asks from her desk.

“Uh, sorry, but did Y/N L/N come in here earlier?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in here today.”

Benny feels a pit in his stomach. “Right, thank you.”

He closes the door and exchanges a look with Ethan. “She didn’t come back to class and she didn’t come here. So where is she?”

Ethan looks a little more worried now. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Rory says.

Not-you turns to look at him and Rory is taken aback.

“You okay? You’re paler than usual. Did you get bitten by a vampire? Attacked by an abominable snowman? Possessed by a ghost?”

Not-you smiles. “Oh, no, I’m actually an ancient doppelgänger who just looks like Y/N.”

Rory’s eye go wide. “Woah, really? That’s so cool. But...why’re you telling me?”

Not-you pats him on the head. “Cause you’re not smart enough to try and stop me.”

“Oh. Yeah that’s fair. Where’re you off to anyway?”

Not-you hums. “I’m smart enough not to tell you that.”

“Oh, great,” you mumble, watching as your battery drops another percentage, but the bars never move from zero.

How are you supposed to call for help?

It’s chilling, sitting in the dark with nothing but your phone for light. Your eyes can’t even adjust to the darkness because there’s nothing to see; you’re in a void.

A headache is slowly making itself known and you can’t be sure if its from staring at your phone screen or because a doppelgänger trapped you in a mirror.

The supernatural always has a way of giving you a headache. Doesn’t matter what it is.

Ethan can hardly touch you because if he has a vision, you’ll have a migraine for the rest of the week. If Erica, Sarah, or Rory use their superspeed around you, you’ll nearly faint.

Benny’s the only one who can use his powers and not effect you. You aren’t sure why.

He likes to joke that it’s because your soulmates. 

“I don’t know, E, I just have a bad feeling about this,” Benny says. “Sarah! Have you seen Y/N?”

Sarah, who was just putting her bag on her shoulder at her locker, turns to the boys. “No, is she missing?”

“Yeah we haven’t seen her since English and Benny’s freaking out,” Ethan replies.

“Aw, does Benny miss his girlfriend?”

“No, I mean yes, but that’s not what I’m worried about. She’s been hearing voices all day, what if something spooky got her?”

Sarah smiled. “Benny, if something spooky was happening we would surely know by now. Ethan would’ve had a vision or Rory would pop in with some information he doesn’t realize is important.”

As if on cue, Rory appears. “Heard my name!”

“Perfect,” Benny says. “Okay, Rory, give us some of that sweet sweet information. Have you seen Y/N?”

Rory’s eyebrows furrow. “Well, yeah, but she said it wasn’t really her. She said she was an ancient doppelgänger who just looks like Y/N.”

Benny gestures wildly. “You guys concerned now?!”

“Okay, yeah, maybe,” Ethan replies. “Did she say what she was doing or where she was going?”

Rory shakes his head. “No, she said she was too smart to tell me.”

“Curses,” Benny says. “They’re starting to figure out our tricks. Come on, I need to find my spellbook to track her.”

Ethan, Benny, and Sarah hurry off, leaving Rory behind. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, miffed that they disregarded him. 

“Ah, nice to see you in the flesh again,” Jesse says, tossing some popcorn in his mouth.

“I see you’re still fond of the theater where your plans were ruined,” Not-you replies, eyeing the room.

“I’m a sentimental guy,” he says. “And with you, my plans can’t be ruined again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. My doppelgänger might be a mortal but she has the same power I do, under the surface.”

“Don’t tell me your afraid?”

“Not afraid. Just cautious,” Not-you says. “Arrogance is what got you defeated the first time. I won’t make the same mistake of underestimating them.”

Jesse stands up and walks over to Not-you, grabbing her arm. “Starting to get some flesh back, I see.”

“Swapping places with Y/N has helped immensely. Give it a few more hours and I’ll be back to full strength.”

“And Y/N?”

“Collateral damage.”

Jesse smiles. “Then we don’t need to underestimate them. We can destroy them.”

Meanwhile, Benny, Ethan, and Sarah are tearing apart Benny’s room, trying to find his spellbook.

“Goodness me, what’s going on in here?”

“Grandma!” Benny exclaims, popping out from under his bed. ��Have you seen my spellbook?”

“No. Don’t tell me you’ve lost it, Benny, you know how dangerous that is,” she replies.

“I know, I know, but lecture me later, we have to find Y/N.”

“Y/N is missing?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says. “She was switched with a doppelgänger.”

Evelyn purses her lips. “Circe.”

“Who?” Ethan asks. 

“Circe,” Evelyn repeats. “She’s an old witch who caused quite the ruckus in White Chapel. Reverend Black tried to have her burnt at the stake but considering that he turned out to be a vampire I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s resurrected her somehow.”

Benny gasps. “With my spellbook!”

“Follow me,” Evelyn says, leading the group of them to her basement where she digs through a box for a leather bound book.

“Ah!” She says. “Here it is.”

She flips it open, going through the pages before stopping on one. “Here she is.”

“Woah,” Ethan says. “She really does look like Y/N.”

“Doppelgängers were created by nature after ancient beings defied their laws by creating immortality. Circe must’ve tried to make herself immortal, causing the doppel curse,” Evelyn explains.

You’re starting to feel horrible. Your body getting heavier and heavier, a weight on your chest growing. 

It wasn’t like the usual anxiety or claustrophobia you’ve experienced before. No, this felt like your soul was slowly being sucked from your body.

Is this it? you think. Is this really how I’m going to go out?

You raise your phone, the bars still empty and the battery too low for comfort.

“God,” you mumble.

Jesse pulls the Cubile Animus from his pocket. “This is what we’ll use to capture the souls.”

Circe raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that thing going to be able to hold all the supernatural souls? They’re more powerful than human souls.”

“Well, if you happen to have another soul-holder laying around, you just let me know,” Jesse says, scowling at her.

“I’m just saying, maybe you should’ve done some research before you set this plan into motion.”

“It’s going to work.” Jesse snaps, getting into Circe’s face. 

“All right, if you say so,” she replies, lifting a magical hand, glowing gold, and pressing it against the box.

You gasp, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline and your eyes flicker a gold that makes its way down your face, arms, and into your phone, causing it to call Benny.

“If Circe has taken Y/N’s place you need to find her fast. The longer Circe stays in her place, the more of Y/N’s lifeforce she takes,” Evelyn says. “She could die.”

As if on cue, Benny’s phone rings. 

He scrambles to check it, Y/N’s name glowing on the screen. “Oh my god.”

He answers it. “Y/N? Where are you, baby?”

“Benny...” your voice is faint and quiet. “...mirror...”

“Mirror? I don’t know what that means, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

The urgency in his voice is obvious and you’re trying your best.

“At- at school...the mirror...”

“A mirror at school? The mirror at school?”

“Olivia Frye’s mirror!” Ethan says with a snap of his fingers. “In the theater.”

“Y/N, babe, is that right? You’re in Olivia’s mirror?”

“..yes.”

“Great, let’s go,” Sarah says.

“Be careful!” Evelyn replies as they go.

“Y/N, stay on the phone with me, okay?”

You groan. “Benny, I’m so tired...”

They throw themselves into Grandma’s car, Sarah driving.

"No, no, baby girl, stay awake for me,” Benny pleads, hearing your breathing become labored.

“Benny...” you whisper out one last time before the phone goes dead.

“Y/N? Y/N! Y/N, baby, please- god dang it!” Benny throws his phone down.

“It’s okay, Benny, we’ll find her,” Ethan says. “She’s gonna be fine.”

“I hope so, E, I really hope so.”

"Do it now,” Jesse demands.

Circe’s eyes glow gold and she whispers an incantation.

Meanwhile, Erica and Rory are out looking for a midnight snack. 

“Are you sure we should be out here?” Rory asks. “Sarah said there’s a powerful witch out here somewhere. And that she’s working with Jesse.”

“What’s Jesse got against us?” Erica replies. “If anything he should be thanking us for being his only turns that survived. Natural selection in my opinion.”

Suddenly, her body goes rigid and a glowing, white mist flows out of her mouth and shoots off. Her body collapses to the ground.

“Erica?” Rory asks, nervously, leaning down next to her.

Erica’s soul finds its way into the Cubile Animus and Jesse smiles.

Rory’s body follows ensuite of Erica’s, going still and his soul being taken from his body.

And now we’re caught up. You’re dying in unimaginable darkness, weeping. Wishing with all your might that they find you. That you’ll see your friends and Benny again.

Luckily for you, they burst through the door.

Ethan, Benny, and Sarah are to the mirror in no time, Benny’s hand pressing against the glass.

“Y/N! Come take my hand, please!”

“I-I can’t,” you cry, tears rolling down your cheeks as you look at him, his eyes worried, scared even.

“Yes, you can!” He replies. “I won’t let you die! You’re so close, Y/N, just come take my hand.”

It’s hard, and it hurts, but you move.

You crawl, sobbing, towards him.

Benny’s own tears are threatening to spill over as he listens to you crying. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, I love you.”

You reach up. And take his hand.

Feeling your grip, Benny pulls.

Your body comes tumbling out of the mirror and into Benny, who immediately hold you close, whispering “oh my god” over and over.

You’re shaking, still crying. You’re thin, pale, and weak.

“Y/N,” Sarah says softly. “Do you know where the doppelganger is?”

You close your eyes, focusing. “The theater,” you whisper. “They’re at the theater.”

More souls are being sucked into the box: Kurt Lockner’s, David Stachowski’s, all the vampire nurses.

Evelyn, knowing - or rather feeling -  what’s happening, sits in her rocking chair and mumbles a counter spell that will keep her soul inside her body.

Circe growls. “Let go, Evelyn. I’ll get your soul if it kills you.”

“Not a chance.” Evelyn replies.

Sarah hits the breaks hard, putting the car in park and jumping out of the car, Ethan following closely.

“Y/N, stay here, okay?” Benny instructs.

You nod, closing your eyes and lying down.

“Hey!” Sarah kicks open the door to the theater. “Having a party without me?”

“Sarah!” Jesse says. “Glad you can join us. Just in time for Circe to take your soul.”

“Oh yeah? Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” Circe replies, turning to Sarah with glowing gold eyes.

It strikes her then how nearly exactly she looks to you.

“So your the witch who’s stealing my girlfriend’s soul!” Benny shouts.

Circe smiles. “I’m a much better model, don’t you think?”

“Not a chance, honey.”

“Jesse, I’m busy. Take care of them, won’t you?” Circe says. “Your grandmother can’t hold on forever, Benny.”

“What?” Benny cries, becoming angry. He shouts a spell, hurling it in Circe’s direction, who waves it off easily. 

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Come on, Sarah,” Jesse says. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we? What makes you think you’ll win this time?”

“This!” Ethan yells, shooting Jesse in the face with holy water.

Jesse screams.

“Literally never go anywhere without this. We’re smarter this time, don’t you know?”

“I don’t think you nerds have the capacity,” Jesse says, wiping the burning liquid off his face with his sleeve.

Sarah attacks him and Ethan gasps, being overcome with a vision. It’s a vision of Benny’s grandma and Jane chanting the same words she used to defeat Jesse the first time.

When he comes back to, he shouts, “Benny! Your grandma’s spell! The first one!”

The pieces clicking in his head, Benny chants those same words and watches as a bolt of lighting appears and hits Circe in the chest. She cries out, dropping the box that Benny scoops up.

“Hey, Jesse,” Benny says.

Jesse stops, Sarah’s neck in his hand, and looks at Benny.

“This look familiar?”

He opens the box, releasing the souls inside.

Jesse screams, dropping Sarah and running off.

“You coward!” Circe yells. “Coward! AH!”

The souls attack Circe, slowly pulling Y/N’s soul out of her body.

Once it’s out, Circe drops to the ground and fades away in a fog.

Breathing heavily, the three left watch as Y/N’s soul shoots off, presumably back to Y/N’s body.

“We really need to destroy this thing,” Benny says, tossing the box in the air and catching it again.

Erica and Rory burst through the doors, fangs bared, ready for a fight.

“Aw, man, did we miss it again?” Rory asks.

“Yeah, sorry, Ror,” Ethan replies.

“Ugh. I’ve been waiting to tear Jesse a new one for like, ever,” Erica says.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your chance,” Sarah says.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Benny says, shoving the box into Ethan’s hands and running out to the car, the others following.

You’re still sleeping, and breathing, thankfully. But your color isn’t back to normal, neither is your weight.

So, they take you to Evelyn.

“Her body isn’t used to magic,” she explains as Erica and Sarah set you gently onto Benny’s bed. “It’s going to take a while for her to naturally heal. But, if a few powerful magicians were to try to speed things along...”

“We can do that?” Benny asks, hopefully.

Evelyn grabs his shoulders. “We can try.”

They hold hands over your body, shutting their eyes and chanting “Extende in desiderium cordis mei; Sana hoc vulnus cum virtute ignis. Aufer aegritudinem et dolorem; Sanatio est quod offero.”

Your body glows, color coming back to you and your weight returning to its normal size, but you don’t wake up.

“Did it work?” Benny asks. “Why is she still asleep?”

“Even healing magic takes time,” Evelyn explains. “Give her a little bit.”

She pats him lightly and leaves the room, leaving Benny alone with you.

“God, I really thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

The time stretches on as he waits for you to wake up and he eventually nods off.

Which is when you decide to wake up.

You smile as you see him lying next to you and lean over to kiss his cheek.

He shoots awake immediately, practically tackling you in a hug. “Thank god!”

You laugh. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Always,” he replies. “Always.”

#benny weir x reader #benny weir imagine #mbav imagine #mbav x reader

[cowgurrrl]

Angel of Small Death

Pairing: Matt Murdock x lawyer!reader

Author’s note: this may or may not turn into a series plan accordingly

Summary: Nothing seems to go your way around your college rival, Matt Murdock [3.8k]

Warnings: June didn't go to law school so take all legal talk with a grain of salt, discussions of custody cases/child abuse charges, A shitty father, mentions of the Red Room/Widows, canonical type violence, Matt Murdock being a menace to society, set in season one of Daredevil (~2014)

You're fuming when you walk into court. The familiar smug smile at the opposing table doesn't do anything to deter your anger. You slam your briefcase down on the table and stand before Judge Harlow. 

"Good morning, Miss-"

"Your Honor, I find it highly inappropriate I was not informed of Mr. Parsons hiring new counsel. Not only that, but he hired new counsel three hours before our hearing today. There is no possible way for this proceeding to be fair without his counsel being adequately brought up to speed. For this reason, I am petitioning for another court date to be held so Mr. Murdock can be properly briefed about the case." Your words are cutting and exact, as you were trained to make them. In law school, your classmates rarely wanted to go against you in mock trial. Moments like this, when your frustration rises to the surface, make you realize why. The dark-haired man with red glasses clears his throat from the opposite table as he stands. It takes everything in you to remain professional. 

"With all due respect, your Honor, I believe opposing counsel is just stalling. I have reviewed all the necessary documentation, and it is my fault that Mr. Parsons was pressed for time in finding new representation," Matt says. "Mr. Parsons just wants to resolve this issue as soon as possible so his daughter can be brought home safely after such a… harrowing experience with her sister."

"Ms. Parsons is currently being held without bond at Riker's on an unsubstantiated charge that has no bearing on her ability to raise Bea. This judicial hurdle is a hardship I would think Mr. Murdock would be sensitive to considering his status as a defense attorney and not a family lawyer." You retort, and Matt scoffs. You whip around to face him and find him shaking his head as his fingers flex around his cane.

"Do you consider robbery an unsubstantiated charge when it's caught on video and has multiple witnesses willing to testify to what they saw?" 

"Mr. Murdock, if your father kicked you and your thirteen-year-old sister out of the house in the middle of a New York winter, how would you, at eighteen years old, handle it?"

"Order!" Judge Harlow bangs her gavel several times to get everyone's attention, and you take a deep breath. "All of your concerns have been made abundantly clear, counselors, but if Mr. Murdock says he feels prepared, I will have to believe him. However, I do apologize on behalf of Mr. Murdock's office for not properly warning you of this matter, and I trust that he and his office will not make the same mistake again. Now, can we please get on with today's matter without another outburst?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Matt says, that stupid charm dripping from his voice. You bite the inside of your cheek and summon whatever willpower you have left.

"Yes, Your Honor." You say before returning to your table and gathering the relevant documents for the day's hearing. 

Robert Parsons is not the first shitty father you've had to deal with in all your years of family law. However, he might be one of the worst. Bea and Morgan's mother, Diana, died in the 2012 attack on New York. Since then, Robert, an NYPD officer, has been able to keep his emotional and physical abuse of his daughters under the radar until this winter when he kicked the girls out after he found out Bea snuck out of the house. He said he was "teaching them a lesson about discipline." Morgan, a kid herself, panicked when Bea spiked a fever and tried to steal Tylenol and some food from a local bodega. A fight broke out between Morgan and the cashier, and the police (her dad) were called. You've been trying to help them since Megan came to you at sixteen, but the system has been working against you at every turn. It doesn't help that the NYPD doesn't protect anyone as well as they protect their own. 

So, the fact that the asshole changed counsel three hours before one of the most important custody hearings of your entire year was enough to make your blood boil. The fact that the person representing him is none other than your law school rival, Matt Murdock, made you want to scream. Matt Murdock: Columbia's golden boy, a childhood hero who sacrificed his vision to save an old man's life, Battlin' Jack's son (RE: orphan), the guy who made all the girls in your classes swoon, the guy who told you that family law was a waste of your time. "You just wanna deal with whiny kids all day?" He asked you when you got your internship at one of the top family law firms in the city. For a kid who grew up in an orphanage, you would think he'd have a little more compassion for people who deal with "whiny kids." 

It doesn't matter because that was years ago, and you've since worked your way up the ladder to become one of the state's best, most aggressive family lawyers. People come from all over just to get you to represent them against abusive ex-husbands or piss-poor foster parents. You do good work. You know you do. You also know that Matt does, too. You've kept up with him since he graduated, mainly to compare career tracks and see if the days of winning smiles and perfect dark hair would ever end, but of course, it hasn't. Being on his own time in his own law firm suits him, and you hate that it does. 

Maybe that's why you show him absolutely no mercy in the court proceedings. You pull every piece of evidence you have that shows neglect, abuse, or even just a smidgen of the mental anguish he's put those girls through. Matt quickly and impressively pivots and challenges that this is not a criminal court and you're going above and beyond what's necessary. You argue about where Bea should go for about fifteen minutes while the custody arrangement is still in the air. You contest that Bea should go upstate with her maternal grandmother, Susan, while Matt says she should go back with her father after the emotional distress of Morgan's arrest. 

"Do you honestly believe the best thing for a child undergoing such stress is to move her miles away from the only home she's ever known?" Matt asks incredulously, cocking his head in your direction. You narrow your eyes at him even though you know he can't see you and square your shoulders.

"No, but being away from the man with child abuse charges pending might."

"Mr. Parsons is ready and willing to testify in a court of law that Morgan ran off with her sister in the middle of the night, and he was deploying his squadron to help locate the missing children. However, we aren't here to talk about that. We're here to talk about the safest place for Bea, which could later unfold into where she lives permanently until she becomes a legal adult. Do you really feel comfortable enlisting an elderly woman in the care of a rowdy teenager?"

"Thank you, Mr. Murdock, for the reminder of what today's hearing is actually about. I would've worried you were too ready to treat Mr. Parsons as a defendant." You snap, and Judge Harlow calls to order again. You exhale long through your nose and turn to face her. 

"While I appreciate your passion for this case, I encourage you two to find it within yourselves to keep these proceedings as professional as possible," she says. You recognize the tone. It's legalese for "shut the fuck up before you give me a reason to kick you out of my courtroom." "Beatrice Parsons will stay in her current foster home with supervised visits from her grandmother, Susan Kelsey. Given the emotional state of the child, I will not be releasing visitation time to the father until we see an improvement." 

"And Ms. Parsons, Your Honor? Will she be allowed to visit Bea upon her release?" You ask. 

"That is a matter we can revisit upon Ms. Parsons' release from Riker's. Until then, the only allowed contact with the child is her grandmother and the legal teams. We'll reconvene next Monday morning. Court is adjourned." With that, she bangs her gavel, and you're left reeling. Matt and Robert whisper to each other as you gather your paperwork and pack it away again. Your phone buzzes in your jacket, reminding you that you have to meet with another family regarding another custody agreement in two hours. You sigh and quickly make for the door when Matt and Robert start standing from their table. 

You're halfway to the elevator when you hear your name and reluctantly turn around. "Shit," you mumble as Matt taps his cane down the hallway. Thank God Robert is nowhere in sight, and you plaster on a fake smile for potential onlookers. "Mr. Murdock, how can I help you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could hold the elevator for me," he says. "And maybe we could strike a deal on our way down." You chuckle at his confidence and white knuckle the handles of your briefcase. 

"I don't think we could agree on anything within a thirty-second elevator ride, but I appreciate your enthusiasm."

"Really? Not even where I can buy you a coffee?" He asks as the elevator dings down the hallway. 

"Unfortunately not. I have another client meeting soon. I would've expected a man with his own practice to have similar meetings today, but I guess I was mistaken?" You say as you walk to the elevator. Matt follows suit, laughing at the dig. You press the button for the lobby, and the doors shut, and for a second, it's silent in the elevator. Years of competition and hate linger in the air.

"I've gotta say, I'm impressed with you." He says in a low voice like it's a secret, and you turn to look at him. "Yeah. It's really hard in this line of work to make quite as many enemies as you have." 

"It's not that hard to piss people off when you say they shouldn't have custody of their kids. Just like I'm sure people get pissed at you when you defend murderers."

"I don't defend murderers."

"Oh, Karen Page wasn't a murderer?" The name makes him still next to you as the doors finally open. "See you next Monday, Murdock." You say as you step out of the elevator, leaving Matt in the dust.

For the next week, you bounce between client meetings, hearings, mediations, visits to Morgan in Riker's, and late nights in the office, trying to find a way to take down Parsons and get Morgan out of jail. You would think being the daughter of a cop would be better in this kind of situation. You try to pull every string you can find, milk every connection, and almost beg any defense attorney you can corner for long enough. Still, Morgan remains in Riker's the night before the next hearing, and you're exhausted. 

Your phone rings that night, and you try not to make a habit of answering work calls outside of your normal hours, but the unrecognized number is too tempting to not pick up. "Let's make a deal," Matt says before you can even get out a proper greeting. You scoff and tuck your phone between your ear and shoulder as you close your curtains. 

"Make it worth my time, Murdock. I answered your call on a Sunday night before court." 

"I'm willing to defend Morgan in court and get her out of Riker's by the end of the week," he says. You're about to argue that it's a conflict of interest, that if he'd paid attention in the first semester classes of law school, he would've known that, but he beats you to it. "If you agree to drop this case and get Bea home."

"You're asking me to drop charges of child abuse and reckless endangerment of a minor."

"No, I'm asking you to drop the custody portion for now. The child abuse and endangerment charges will move onto criminal court, but that trial will be a waste of time if you don't have a witness like Morgan." He says. It's true. Even though Morgan is beyond the statute of limitations, Bea isn't. Jurors will be sympathetic to a victim but not a criminal. "No one else is gonna help her, and I'd much rather defend her than her father." 

"So, what happens if Bea goes back and he beats the shit out of her?" You ask as your phone beeps with another notification. Matt starts a long ramble, but you're not fully listening. "Matt, I have another call coming in. Can we talk about this later?" You don't wait for a response. You just end the call and quickly press the red notification, a crackly voice coming in on the other end. 

"And you're sure that's the right amount?" Parsons asks, oblivious to your listening, and someone chuckles in response. 

"That is typically the starting payment," you recognize the accent and glance around your apartment, trying to come up with a plan. "Now, if you keep up the flow, we can discuss upping the payment."

"That shouldn't be a problem. It'll be smooth sailing once I get my kids out of the way. You can tell Mr. Dreykov that."

It's cold. Even under all your layers and your gear, it's cold. The city moves like a living beast all around you, its inhabitants oblivious to you hiding on a rooftop with a gun. It's been two hours since that phone call, and Parsons still isn't home. The call ended within a minute of the notification buzzing on your phone, but they didn't make any plans to meet up anywhere. And why would they if their business together is riding on the results of this custody case? You sigh, your mask pushing the air right back at you, as you sit back on your heels and glance at the night sky.

It's rare that you can ever see stars in New York, but sometimes, if you squint, you can catch little glimpses. You struggle to focus on constellations with the screeching of subway brakes and loud horns penetrating the otherwise peaceful night. You've been doing this for a long enough time that you no longer stress yourself out about things like this. It's work. It's what you're supposed to do, and you get away with it. With all the other masked idiots running around the city— not limited to The Masked Idiots that moved upstate after Stark Tower was destroyed— and the gangs, police are never able to track where bullets are coming from. If they happen to, it's just another job to finish. Not a big deal.

You look to Parson's apartment again and find it still dark and empty. It isn't until you go to adjust the scope that something shuffles behind you, and by that point, it's too late to stop the arms from wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you backward. You throw your head back until you hit something hard, and the grip on you falters enough for you to slip out. There's a mess of punches, kicks, and elbows thrown as you try to get away from your attacker, but with every movement, they seem to anticipate it before you do. It isn't long before you're pinned to a brick wall, too far from your gun, with a gloved hand wrapped around your throat.

"Why are you targeting him?" A deep voice asks above you, and you kick your feet under you, trying to get the upper hand, but he's too strong. His grip on your throat tightens, and you gasp for air. "Last chance." He threatens, and your head swims with no oxygen. 

"The recording," you croak. His hand loosens around your windpipe just enough for you to get more information out. "Listen to the recording. On the phone." He drops you as fast as he grabbed you, and you collapse to the ground in a heap of heavy breaths and gasps. You can hear an old, familiar voice in your head calling you pathetic and weak, but you ignore it to focus on getting breath in your lungs. 

"This is your phone?" The voice asks as he holds up your burner flip phone from 2007, and you scoff.

"Didn't realize I'd be interrogated for my choices in cellphones," you manage, and you imagine the eye roll rather than see it through the red of his mask. You've seen pictures of him before. You've read the articles calling him a vigilante, a wanna-be Avenger, a menace to society. You know him. He stares at you (through you?) carefully as he puts the phone to his ear and listens to the most recent recording from Parson's phone call. You wait for the muscle in his jaw to clench and unclench before pulling yourself to your feet and walking over to him. You take it as a good sign that he doesn't try to throw you off the building for moving and get close enough to him to make out the faint stubble on his square jaw.

"Parson's trafficking girls?" He asks, more to himself than anything, and you nod. "How'd you know about this?" 

"Parson's been receiving huge payouts from off-shore accounts for a few years. All it took was tapping the big mouth's phone to figure out who he was talking to and about what," you explain as you open your hand to ask for your phone back. He obliges, but not without a dramatic sigh. "Y'know, I thought you would've had a better idea of what goes on in the city, Devil Boy." 

"How has this not been flagged by anyone else?" He ignores your jab, much to your dismay.

"The Red Room has informants and Widows in almost every functional part of society. If they want something to stay quiet, they'll find a way."

"I thought Romanoff exposed them."

"Deykov made it impossible to cut ties with the Red Room and other Widows for years. Somehow, Romanoff got out. Barely, but she made it out. There's no way she'd do anything to piss them off now. Not when she's gotten this far," you say. "As far as the public knows, Black Widow is an Avenger and nothing more."

"You got out." 

"I'm not a Widow."

"No?" He asks, and you shake your head. "So, you just had a military-grade weapon and tactical gear lying around?"

"Can't a girl take herself on a shopping spree?" You ask, not willing to justify him with a real answer. The rooftop goes quiet as you think about what the next step is. 

"You don't have to kill him." He says softly, like he's anticipating your reaction. You bite the inside of your cheek and turn to him, annoyance building in your stomach.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I know you want him to suffer, and trust me, he will, but if you want things to change, you need to get information from him. To get information from him, he needs to stay alive."

"What are you? A fucking altar boy?"

"Those girls don't get justice if you kill him."

"Justice," you laugh. "He gets to kidnap, torture, and brainwash little girls, and I'm supposed to just let him rot in prison? Is that justice to you, Red?" He's silent, and you shake your head. "Yeah, I didn't think so." You're about to turn back to your gun and find a way to make him leave you alone when three police cars go speeding down the street behind an FDNY truck. They're speeding and more urgent in their driving than you've seen in a long time. A rogue thought pricks at the corner of your brain, and you mumble a curse. 

Quickly, you open your phone and jam a few buttons until the sound of a police scanner comes through the shitty speakers. "Explosion reported at the corner of Ninth Ave and West 42nd. Multiple casualties have already been reported by people at the scene," a voice reports on the other line, and you hold your breath. "Officer Robert Parsons was reportedly inside the bar when the gas line blew, and he is assumed dead." 

The first thing you do when you get to the office in the morning is file an emergency petition to assign temporary custody of Bea to her grandmother. You're almost positive it'll get approved, considering how there's no one else involved in this custody case. Now free from his obligation to Robert, Matt sent you an email early this morning saying he would defend Morgan in court. You didn't respond. There are too many moving parts to focus on to care about responding to a pity representation in court.

Robert was talking to somebody from the Red Room not even four hours before he died in a fiery explosion. FDNY ruled it as an accident, but you know better. Did he blabber to someone on the force about the off-shore accounts? Did Dreykov's men just finally decide he wasn't worth all the trouble anymore? Did they find out you tapped his phone? If they did, it's only a matter of time before someone finds you. All the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you stare at the blinking cursor on your computer screen. Your secretary, Margaret, saying your name makes you jump harder than it should've.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She says in all her midwestern politeness, and you shake your head.

"I'm just a little jumpy this morning. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night." You wave her off, and she raises her eyebrows at you sympathetically.

"D'you want me to go get you a coffee?"

"No, thank you. I probably need to lay off coffee for a few hours," you sigh. "Did you need something from me?"

"Oh, yes. Someone called and left you a message... A Matt Murdock?" She says like she's hoping you'll recognize the name, and you nod.

"What'd he say?"

"He wanted to meet with you for lunch to discuss something. He didn't say what." Fucking Matt Murdock, you think. Finding a way to wiggle back into your life just because of one stupid case. "I can tell him no if you want me to."

"No, it's okay. I'll meet with him. We have some unfinished business together." You say, and she leaves to confirm lunch plans with Matt's office. You take a sip of your water, and your throat screams in pain from Devil Boy nearly choking you to death. The reminder that he knew about Parson's involvement with the Red Room before disappearing into the night makes your skin crawl. Another loose end to tie up at another time. Still, your head pounds with all the swirling information and the knowledge that there's no way you'll be getting rid of Matt Murdock anytime soon. "Shit."

#matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock #mcu fic #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

[randomgirlyoudontknow]

No one will probably read this, but as a long-time fan of ATLA (as in, I literally watched the show as it aired in 2005-2008), I wanted to share my thoughts on the live action. Let it be known that I am far from an ATLA purist––the original certainly had its own flaws and aspects that didn't age well, in retrospect. Despite the generally negative reviews I've seen from the fandom, I was actually very satisfied with this adaptation! But I’ve seen people saying that the characters were butchered, that it’s a soulless and superficial reproduction, and those who liked the live action aren’t capable of thinking/watching critically, which I wanted to push back against (I mean, I’m working on a doctorate in literature…I am quite literally incapable of watching anything uncritically).

The shift in tone to a darker, more mature one was a positive change, imo. It is definitely a much angrier show than the original, even if some of the characters were not as fiery as they should have been (*cough* Katara *cough*). Overall, while there were certainly decisions made that I didn't agree with (mainly related to pacing and narrative), I thought the cast and crew really captured the spirit of the original, and even added depth and nuance to parts I felt were initially lacking.

In general, I really appreciated the added emphasis on the cost and suffering of war and imperialism, as well as the depiction of the physical effects of bending. Now, I realize this is largely a matter of personal preference––for example, I'm very interested in depictions of war in fiction (I mean, my dissertation partially covers the impact of WWI on avant-garde art & literature, so...). But I've seen several claims that the live action glorifies war and violence in a way that is meant to traumatize the viewer, and I simply don't think that's true? While the original handled war, genocide, trauma, etc. in a phenomenal way for a kid's show in the early 2000s, it was also still sanitized when it comes to death and injury, to an extent that I feel like we, the viewers, almost lose sight of the fact that bending KILLS. Sure, we were exposed to its after effects, like the death of Katara and Sokka's mother or Zuko's scar, but there's something to be said actually seeing and acknowledging the very palpable danger that something like firebending presents.

I've even seen someone say that the show's depiction of "gratuitous violence" constitutes a "profound misunderstanding" of the source text, which I think is frankly a bad faith take. The death and violence, though more realistic, is still not a major focus of the show, nor is it glorified in any way. A glorification of violence would look like indiscriminate killing and maiming for the sake of edginess (looking at you GOT). We would see graphic depictions of death and injuries, which simply does not happen in this show (they even joke about the fact that we never see anyone die in Ember Island Players). War and fighting are still treated with the same depth and gravity as the original, only this time, the severity of its consequences isn't obscured from the viewer.

I also thought the show's handling of trauma (especially Katara's) was excellent. The choice to have Katara's mom's death revealed in flashbacks (specifically when around firebending) was something that really stood out to me. And the new characterization of Bumi, which I realize was quite unpopular, was another change I quite appreciated. His bitterness and cynicism seemed more in-line with someone who had endured 100 years of war and the suffering of his people at the hands of a brutal imperial force. Lastly, I was pleased to see the narrative attempt to address the role Iroh played in the Siege of Ba Sing Se (something that was absolutely missing from the original). The Earth Kingdom soldier confronting him and calling him a butcher was a powerful moment, for me. I truly hope the show continues to dive into this aspect of his character in future seasons.

Speaking of characters, I loved that we got extra background and insight into several of the characters. Zhao, for example, was unexpectedly quite funny, and his actor really did a phenomenal job of fleshing him out and making him feel like a real person (as slimy and smarmy as he was) rather than a stock, cartoon villain. And I have to give kudos to the actors who played Sokka and Zuko––they both did an incredible job of embodying their respective characters, in a way that felt highly reminiscent of the original. In particular, I thought the handling of Zuko's backstory was truly outstanding––perhaps even better than the original.

All in all, I felt the live action did a really nice job of balancing the darker sides with the light. While I've seen fans complaining that the show doesn't have the same goofiness and lightheartedness, I actually thought the humor worked really well––it was one of the few times I felt the overly ironic, Joss Whedonesque one-liners actually fit. Sure, the humor was a lot drier and more toned down than the original, but I nonetheless thought it carried the show's spirit well (loved that they let Sokka say “ass” not once, but twice). There were moments when I genuinely laughed out loud! I also appreciated how, despite the more mature tone, hope, friendship, and harmony still remained the most important aspect at the end of each episode.

There's a lot of room for improvement, but I was overall very satisfied with the live action, and I'm very glad that the series has been renewed. I'm very excited to see what the cast and crew does with the rest of the show!

#tl;dr i really enjoyed the live action #long post #there's honestly so much more i could say but my brain is currently fried #this is probably a little all over the place but i just finished up a book review and i am incapable of forming coherent thoughts #atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #natla positivity

[paperlunamoth]

Is anyone else just entirely enraged by how blatantly sexist 99% of anime is? Like, some of the best stories I've ever come across, the most beautiful visuals I've ever seen in storytelling, the most brilliant examples of raw creativity I've ever encountered, have come from anime. There are some anime that will forever be near and dear to my heart, because they are just so well made and impactful as stories and works of art.

But darn near every anime is RIDDLED with a dozen different sexist tropes and constant examples of blatant sexism. The women are generally significantly less competent and significantly more annoying than the men. Every female character who isn't an old woman is sexualized, even minors are sexualized, just in a "cutesy" way. You got 14yo girls with tits large enough to cause serious medical problems. There's regular fanservice (which unsurprisingly rarely services hetero women), panty shots, butt shots, girls practically thrusting their boobs into people's face. Sexual assault is regularly played for laughs and treated as perfectly acceptable behavior as long as the victim gets to smack her assailant and look annoyed afterwards, which has the added bonus of diminishing the impact of sexual violence by equating its severity with that of physical violence. Access to women's bodies is used to motivate male characters, and it's treated as though it is perfectly healthy for a man to pursue such access in the absence of genuine interest on the woman's part, or for a woman to be comfortable objectifying herself and using access to her body as currency. Sometimes women are portrayed as using access to their bodies to "coerce" men, as though women's bodies are something that men need, and women wanting something from men first in order to access them is a form of bullying or humiliation akin to making a starving person dance for their supper. I could go on. There are probably a lot of other things I missed because this is just an off the cuff rant and not meant to be comprehensive.

Point is, I hate this shit. I hate how just being aware of and caring about the issue of misogyny renders it damn near impossible to enjoy otherwise enjoyable things, and I hate that otherwise enjoyable things are sexist in the first place. And you never hear anybody talk about this, either, which is just the rage-cherry on top. Whenever an anime is being critiqued or reviewed or just generally discussed, all but the most egregiously sexist series being talked about by the most militantly liberal people will be spared even a passing, casual mention of how sexist they are. A character who seems vaguely racist or homophobic? Of course people will mention that (as they should). But constant sexism baked into the very bones of the series? Not worth bringing up, apparently.

#rant #venting #anime #feminism #radical feminism #radblr #luna's

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: another week ahead.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gates open as horses snort and kick. The dawn air is ripe with impatience. You and Merinda watch as you stand east of the front doors. The luggage is clustered near the stables, to depart once all of the nobles have trotted their steeds from within the walls. 

Your encounter with the king lingers in your head but the echo of his anger and the scent of spilled ale is enough to deter you. A maid will not be missed. Merinda can’t tear her eyes away from it all. Her expression is longing and doleful. 

“A pity we must stay here with Lady Rezlyn,” she mutters, “she’ll be miserable without her daughter.” 

“I’m certain she will miss her,” you agree. 

“She won’t have any to indulge her,” Merinda sniffs, “or distract her.” 

“Mm, I suppose. Perhaps she will be too sad to be angry,” you suggest. 

The noise of mail approaches and you look up. You expect the soldier to pass by as all others have done. It is the same steely soldier who’d been at the king’s side that morning. Merinda steps closer to you as the man’s grey eyes are fixed on you. 

“Maid,” he barks, “find a cart.” 

You frown and look over at Merinda. 

“The king has sent for a lady maid for his wife,” the soldier explains, “you.” 

He points at you with his gauntlet and you flinch. The king has not forgotten or changed his mind. It was wrong of you to assume. You grab Merinda through her sleeve and squeeze. 

“Just me, sir?” you ask. 

“We needn’t a dozen of the traitor’s servants,” the man scoffs in return, “come. You will travel with the others amid the bedrolls.” 

You blanch and cling to Merinda. She whimpers and you turn to her, the reality setting in on your at once. Your chest feels as if it’s being crushed as you face your lifelong companion. As close to a friend as any might have in your position. 

“Mer,” you croak. 

“Save your tears, there’s no time,” the soldiers grits. 

Merinda pulls you into an embrace. “Be safe,” she whispers with a sniffle. 

“You too,” you part and look her in the face, “Mer, I--” 

“Yes, I know, me too,” she frowns, “you must go.” 

“Yes, you must,” the soldier insists and points towards the stable.  

Merinda lets you go and the fabric of her sleeve slips from between your fingers. You follow the soldier, looking back at the lone maid as she watches after you. You can see her wringing her hands. She’s never been the nervous sort. 

You take in a deep breath and turn forward. The soldier marches you to the back of a cart and points inside. There's just enough room for you among the chests and casks within. You climb up, moving your skirts from under your knees, and sit against the side. You don’t have anything to worry about leaving behind. 

He stomps away and you lean to see him around the wall of the cart. He disappears and you sit back and huff. Off to the capital and then the Hinterlands. You look down at your dress, the apron and wool frayed with your labour. You will be cold once you turn north, you hope you might bear it. 

There’s a clink of metal and horse hooves. You look up as a speckled grey steed appears by the cart. You gulp and gape at the large beast as its equally grey master holds it by the reins. The steely soldier shoves a wad of leaves into his mouth and chews. 

“Come this far,” he grumbles through sloppy gnashing, “just to guard the luggage.” He snorts and shakes his head, “I’m not in the mood for trouble, maid. You keep in your cart.” 

You lower your head as you bend your knees, and cross your arms across them, “yes, sir. Thank you.” 

He chews in the lull between you. He turns to spit the leaves onto the ground and kicks dirt over them. His horse nuzzles at his shoulder as he shrugs it off. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he girds at last, “you won’t once you see the snow.” 

⚔️

The day rolls by with the wheels of the cart. You jostle with the movement as the grey soldier rides abreast of the luggage train. Ahead, the royal party and soldiers lead the way on the long road to the capital. There’s a glimmer of excitement in you, a sensation you’re not used to.  

You’ve only ever heard of the capital from your masters. Lady Jazlene’s tales of sparkling banquets and golden plates and raucous dances. Lady Rezlyn was more likely to talk of the courtly whispers, who is marrying who, which earl despises which count, and scandalous affairs of those already bound to another. Your anticipation is routed by a sadness; you don’t know that you’ll ever see Merinda again to tell her of all you see. 

You pick at your nails and watch the rippling clouds above. The blue sky appears as a sheet of pure satin with streaks of soft ivory. The sunlight streaks from the horizon, weaving into the cornflower expanse and limns over the soft green leaves of swaying trees. The smell of pollen and dirt breezes from the forests and the rustle of tall wheat drifts in from the rich fields. 

As you take in your homelands, you feel a twisting in your chest. You will miss it very much. You never put special thought to it before, you never considered the ties that bound you to this land, but now they tug and strangle you near to tears. This is what you know, it is what you don’t that terrifies you so much. 

You rock as noon burns high, rattled by the bumpy earth below. The grey horse hovers closer and you look up to soldier scowling down at you. You shy away and cough as dust is thrown up by the wheels. The man grumbles and steers his horse closer. You slump your shoulders down, wondering why he hovers. 

Perhaps it is your masters who cast suspicion over you. You are one of them. New allies forged in deceit. The more you think of Lord Dustan’s deception, the more uneasy you feel. You always thought the duke was at least a good lord, now, you don’t know what to think of him. 

“Aye,” something hits the cart, landing next to your feet. It’s a water skin, a thick hide strap attached to it. You peek up at the soldier and reach for it, the water swishing within. “Your summer lands are dry as ash.” 

You consider the skin before you uncork it. You pause and try to see the man through the beaming rays of midday. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Mm,” he grumbles and keeps his horse in line the end of the cart. 

You drink, not too much, just enough to sate, and you offer it back to him over the side of the wagon. He takes it and strings it back around his shoulder. You sit back, facing away from him. The horse trods on without expedience. 

The soldier is just as silent as ever. You hear some shuffling, something brushing, it is barely discernible from the leaves fluttering in the distance. There’s a nudge on your shoulder, the man holds a small bundle of cloth in his gauntlet. 

“Sir?” You crane and turn your body. You accept the handful. “Thank you.” 

He nods and sets his sights on the horizon, undeterred by the blazing sunlight. You look down and carefully unwrap the linen from around a medley of nuts and a hunk of cheese. You suspect they were taken from the castle kitchens. 

“I...” you glance over at him, “would you like some too?” 

You cradle the food towards him and his brows form a vee. He reaches beneath his mail and pulls out a stick of dried meat. He wiggles it at you and takes a bite. 

Your lips curve slightly, “thank you...” 

“You have better manners than the turn cloak’s daughter,” he bristles through his mouthful. 

You take a nut and turn it over between your fingers. You don’t know what to say to that. You nibble on the nut, crushing it between your teeth noisily. You look up and meet the soldier’s grey irises. 

“You are kind,” you gesture to the food, “not like the guards at the castle.” 

“Mm, a symptom of the summer lands, I fathom,” he mulls with a shake of his head. “Though war can make any unkind.” He pets his horses main, a thoughtless act as he speaks, “soldiers are plunderers more oft than not.” He drags his hand back and adjusts the reins, “you will not stray far when we make camp. These men have been marching for months.” 

You blink as you break off a piece of the hard cheese, “yes, sir.” 

“You understand me,” he states, not asks. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Bryce,” he says curtly. “And your name, maid?” 

You take a moment to process his request but you issue your name before tasting the bold cheese. You make a face. It is not your favourite. You often live on the dry rye bread and butter, and the chunk broth leftover from the hearty stews served to your masters. 

“Aye, I didn’t like it either,” he remarks, “let’s hope there is better fare awaiting us in the capital.” 

⚔️

Night falls and the party makes camp. You help cover the wagon with a few other servants, ready to sleep beneath the canvas with the chests of clothes and books. You sit beside the wheel in the dirty, watch the sky glitter with stars as you bask in the cool night. You’ll retire soon but the sun lingers in your skin and burns. 

Footsteps mulch towards you. You look up, expecting another servant headed for a piss in the trees. The figure is broad and stiff. You recognise Bryce before he reaches you. You stand expectantly to meet him. 

“I was only about to retire,” you assure him and turn to touch the canvas, recalling his earlier foreboding. 

“No,” he says, “your queen requires her maid.” 

You pause, “oh, yes, certainly.” 

He sighs, “she requires many things I would not put to word.” 

You flutter your lashes, not quite sure of his meaning, though his tone is sharp. Lady Jazlene does not always inspire kindness. You put your head down and turn to follow the soldier. 

Bryce walks beside you through the camp. Soldiers snore or sit and chatter, others clean their blades, and several sit around fires roasting whatever they could catch in the brush. Towards the front of the train of slumbering steeds and stalled carts, larger than the canvas on crooked poles, is a grand silk tent, glowing from within. 

Your escort stops just outside, exchanging a nod with the two soldiers standing before the flap. You can hear Jazlene’s shrill voice from within. It is too dark to make out the expressions of the guards or the man at your side. One of the soldiers pulls back the fabric to let your through. You bow your head as you enter. 

“This isn’t fair!” Jazlene roars, “I am a queen now and I will not be treated as a child!” 

You peer around, expecting another to be at the mercy of her wrath. It is only her. She rages around the space, stamping and snarling. Her skirts are stained with the dirt of the road as her steps hitch now and again. 

“I will not sit a horse again! It is not good for a lady to ride as such!” She stews, “Where is my father?” She rushes towards the door, brushing by you as she pushes through the flap, “fetch me my father, now!” 

“Get inside,” a soldier growls. 

“You do not command me! I am the queen--” 

“The king bids you stay within,” another drones without emotion. 

“Ugh, stupid men,” she retreats and swirls, her skirts swishing against you, “empty-headed soldiers! What do they do? Carry their swords and run to their deaths! I am a lady, a queen! And they speak to me as if they are above me!” 

Her rant continues as if you are not even there. Even having touched you, she has yet to notice your presence. You look around and go to the corner where a bottle sits on a crate, with a wooden cup near it. You pour the wine as the queen continues her tirade. 

“Your highness,” you offer the cup, though you avoid her harried route around the tent, “you must be tired from the road.” 

She stops short, looking at you as she pulls her chin back. You cannot tell if she is surprised or affronted by you. She huffs and stomps towards you. You steel yourself as she snatches the cup and sniffs the contents. 

“Food! I am hungry,” she snaps. 

“Yes, your highness, I will fetch something,” you assure. 

She narrows her eyes at you. Her lips slant. “Your highness, yes, you recall, I am the queen.” 

You turn and go to the entrance. You poke through and the soldier angles his spear across your path. You gulp and stay at the threshold. 

“She is hungry. Is there food?” 

“Aye, I will fetch it,” Bryce’s voice startles you as he looms in the shadows. 

You thank him before you retract back behind the silk. You stay close to the door as you wait and Jazlene slurps down the wine between furious mutters. As she reaches the bottom, she turns the cup upside down and wiggles it in your direction. It’s empty. 

You take it and refill it to the brim. The wine might calm her should she imbibe enough. Lady Rezlyn was always jollier when she had a healthy helping of red. 

As you bring it back to her, she faces you with a sneer. She glares at you and takes the cup. You stand, trapped in her distaste. You cry out as you feel something sharp on your stomach. You look down as she pinches you through your apron and twists. You clamp your jaw tight as you hold back a squeal. 

She lets you go and drinks deeply as she struts away from you. You put your hand to the sore spot and resume your place by the door. It is better than a slap, though that may still be to come. 

As you stand just inside the flap, you hear the approach of boots. The soldiers utter low words, ‘your highness’ and you barely step out of the way as the silk is drawn back. The king steps inside as you sidle away. You still as he glowers around the space, the flicker of the torch planted in the ground reflects in his golden eyes. 

“Wife, half the camp can hear your tantrum,” he says, “queen’s do not behave as chil--” 

Before he can finish his remonstrance, Jazlene is billowing towards him in her satin skirts. There’s a splash that fizzles in the air, tense silence rising as the king’s words die on his tongue. He closes his eyes against the liquid assault, wine dripping down his face and wetting his dark lashes. He sucks in a deep breath and his hands fist as Jazlene snickers cruelly and throws the cup at his chest. 

“If you treat me as a child, then I may as well act as one,” she retorts. 

The king doesn’t react. His posture is locked, his shoulders squared and his jaw set in stone. Slowly, he expels his breath and opens his eyes. Jazlene’s mocking smirk trembles and falls. 

“You are worse than a child,” he accuses and grabs her by the shoulders, “you are nothing more than a vicious cat.” 

“Get your hands off me,” she sneers as she writhes in his grasp, “unless you mean to be a husband, eh? Do you think you might prove yourself this time?” 

He growls and squeezes so she winces. She whimpers and beats on his thick arms. He walks her backwards as her feet shuffle beneath her to keep from tripping. 

“Husband, you cannot blame me for being unhappy. I have not been t-treated as a queen should--” 

“You have not earned it,” he shoves her and she lands on the stuffed mattress across the ground. “Be quiet. The camp needn’t lack sleep on your account.” 

Jazlene pouts up at him. You see the battle in her, of anger and fear. The king snarls down at her, “go to sleep.” 

She bats her lashes and pushes herself up on one elbow. She reaches to her skirts and tugs them up, “husband...” she shows her leg, “please...” 

He doesn’t move. He stares down at her for a moment then turns on his heel. He takes a step then falters. His gaze meets with yours. You quickly look down, realising then he was unaware of you. You shouldn’t have seen that. He falls back into step. 

“Do not make me return,” he barks as he shoves through the silken flap. 

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