#nothing is going on n in a split second she stands up to go beat up somebody

[luveline]

hi jade!!!! hope you’re doing well❤️

i’m not sure if you’ve done this before but i just finished reading your aaron fic where reader flinches during an argument with him and i was wondering if i could request that with spencer!? that aaron one had me MELTIN

luv you so much! 🤍🤍

thank you lovely, and thank you for your request! cw implied past domestic or childhood violence

Spencer is taller than he realises, you’d suggest. He doesn’t understand that he can be intimidating because he’s spent years of his life intimidated, and thought harmless. 

“You’re not going,” he says, towering, so, so tall where he stands in front of you. 

Your hands are sweating, but you hold your ground. “Of course I am. I’ve been her consultant for the last three years, Spencer, any mistake she’s made is one she made from my advice.” 

Your frustration colours your words, tightens them, your throat burning as you try to explain it to him. All he’s hearing is the potential danger. His eyes are squinted with it, curls falling into his eyes. He’s too busy arguing with you to brush them away. 

“You can’t walk into an active war zone. Do you even know what that’s like? You’ve never been to these places, you can’t begin to understand the danger you’d be in if you went.” He tries to take your hand. You take a step away from him. “I don’t know why you’re being like this.” 

“Like what?” you ask, immediately doubly pissed off. 

“Refusing to see that what you want to do is impossible. You wouldn’t be any help to her, you’d only be in danger.” 

“I wouldn’t be any help?” 

“You know what I mean!” His voice bounces off the walls.

“I’m not sure I do, Spence,” you say, vitriolic as he again takes a step toward you, his open hand extended. “Why don’t you explain it to me.” 

“Y/N,” he says, stepping forward again. 

You step back, not wanting your back to a wall but not wanting to be closed in either while he’s so angry, you’re so angry, your heart is beating hard between your ears. “Seriously, tell me why I’d be so fucking useless.” 

“Angel–” Spencer’s hand leaps up toward your face. 

You flinch back hard, the back of your head clipping something marginally softer and your back forced under an alcove with a huge thwacking bang, an odd cry of distress pressed to your closed lips as you sink away from him. Spencer doesn’t feel like Spencer for that split second, he’s someone else trying to shut you up, and he’s close enough to do it. 

“Y/N,” he says, riddled with heartbreak, “Y/N, it’s fine. You’re safe. It’s just me.” 

You slide down the wall to the floor. Heart pounding. Blood rushing all over, and then suddenly stopped. 

“It’s just me,” he says again, softer now. “It’s just me.”

But it isn’t just him. There’s always going to be someone else cornering you, there’s always—

A slim-fingered hand cups your jaw. Spencer’s crouching in front of you now with remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything to you.” 

“I know,” you try to say. It comes out as nothing but hot air. You clear your throat. “I know.” 

“It’s just you and me in here.” He rubs your chin with his thumb. “It’s always you and me, right?” 

You breathe out as tears well hot and heavy in your eyes, caught in all your lashes. “You put your hand up and I just thought– I felt like you were gonna hit me and I know you aren’t gonna hit me, I felt like you would.” 

“I was putting my hand up for the cabinet. I was trying to stop you from smacking your head on the cabinet,” he murmurs, his lips hardly parted. “I did. But I shouldn’t have closed you in.” 

He shows you his hand, the one he’d rested so carefully against your jaw and cheek. His knuckles are a sore red and the skin around them mottled —that had been the thwack. You’d knocked your head into his hand and he’d stopped you from getting hurt. He must’ve done it quickly, with no regard for himself. 

Spencer isn’t the kind of boy who’d hit you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mumble to yourself, dropping your chin to your chest. Tears press hot behind your eyes. It took a few beatings for you to start anticipating them, and a crueller violence after that for it to stay. To flinch at a familiar hand? “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” He couldn’t speak any softer. He’s on his knees in front of you, a picture of gentleness. The annoyance he’d spoken with only minutes before is nowhere to be seen. 

For flinching, and falling apart. “I didn’t mean to…” 

“Yeah, I know. It doesn’t even matter, right? I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, and I,” —he ducks his head to meet your eyes, his voice taking on a loving dulcetness— “know you don’t like yelling, I shouldn’t raise my voice. I’m the sorry one.”

You’re relieved he isn’t mad. You honestly don’t think Spencer would ever lay his hands on you, but it wasn’t thought that made you duck away from him, it was the pure fight or flight of a remembered trauma. The memory of a raised hand and the pain of a blow to your face.

“It’s not about the shouting,” you confess. 

He rubs your arm. “Angel, I know.”

You watch his fingers rub up and down your arm, the gentle tug of your skin with each pass. “Why do you call me that?” you ask quietly. 

“Would you prefer something else?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you’d sound saying anything else.” 

“You’re sort of like an angel.” He sounds earnest and shy at once. “You know? You're pretty, and sweet when you aren’t mad at me, and–” He pauses at your soft laugh. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.” 

He brings both hands to your cheeks and wipes at the dampness of dissipated tears under your eyes with his thumbs. He holds your face without hurry nor roughness nor want to straighten you out; he doesn’t encourage you to lift your head, he only meets your eyes as you are, letting you decide what you want to do. 

“Thanks, Spencer,” you say. 

He leans in to kiss your cheek, his hair brushing your nose. You hold still, but you aren’t afraid.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[fandomnerd9602]

Her Valentine

Stepsister!Wanda x Male Reader

For @lifespectator and @aloneodi

Valentines Day Special

“Are you crazy?” Your stepsister Wanda asked you but it was playful and with a slight giggle. She grabs the pillow on your couch and playfully smacks you with it.

“I don’t see the big deal,” you say with a smirk. “Mom and Dad want us to bring dates for Valentine’s Day dinner and I want to bring you”

“Detka” she moans and groans, “you really want them to know about us?”

“I have had the most amazing time of my life with you,” you caress your thumb across her cheek. “And I want the whole world to know about you and me”

Wanda giggles and collapses against your chest. “You’re serious?”

You kiss her forehead, “Wanda you’re my friend, my love, my very soul. I’m ready when you are”

“Okay” she smiles at you, “I’m ready to tell them”

It’s now Valentines Day. You picked Wanda up from her college dorm. She stands before you, dressed in a simple red blouse and cardigan.

“Wow” you whisper, “you look amazing”

Wanda blushes and eyes you up and down, “I could say the same about you, detka”

You lead her out to your car, pausing to open the door for her too. The drive to your childhood home was one full of anticipation and a little bit of dread.

“What if my papa is not happy with this?” Wanda asks you a little worried.

“We’re responsible adults now. I guess they’ll just have to be okay with it.” You shrug, “but I want his approval. Even if he wasn’t my stepdad, he’s still important to me too”

You approach your childhood home and walk arm in arm with Wanda. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was from being in her presence or the anxiety of what was to come.

Your mother was the one to answer the door, “(Y/N), Wanda! Happy Valentine’s Day my loves” she giggles before hugging the two of you. “Where’s your dates?”

You tried to answer but Wanda spoke up, “right here,” she gave you a playful jostle, “had to get Y/N’s head out of the books sometime”

Your mom gave a little roll of her eyes. Your stepfather Django was kind of shocked that you and Wanda didn’t bring any dates with you.

“I’m surprised at the two of you,” Django says, “Wanda you were telling me that you were dating someone nice.”

“I am, Papa” Wanda says with a little smile. “I know they’re the one I can’t live without”

“And what about you, Y/N?” Your mother said, “what can you tell us about your girlfriend? She didn’t bother to come”

“My girlfriend is amazing,” you sneak a little glance at Wanda. She gives you the go ahead. It was the moment of truth.

“I’ve loved her for so long. I was content before thinking all we could be was friends, close like siblings, but I know she feels the same…” you feel your resolve weaken just for a split second but then it strengthens again, “I did bring my date this year. And I know that Wanda is the only woman I will ever love”

Django’s eyes go wide. And so do your mother’s. Wanda’s hand moves across the table and clasps yours.

“Y/N is my detka,” Wanda smiles at you, “papa this was only recent. Y/N’s been there for me through everything. I love him and I don’t want anyone else.”

Django looks to you and Wanda but he says nothing. Wanda takes a deep breath.

“I love him and if that’s not alright with you, then I…I…”

“I approve,” Django smiles. “Y/N is perfect for you.”

“Really?” You look to your stepfather, he gives you a nod.

Your mother embraces Wanda, she gently says, “You’re the most amazing young woman, Wanda. Seeing you and Y/N grow together…it’s beyond words.”

Django hugs your mom and looks at you and Wanda. “Just no funny business under this roof” he gives you a wink. You try to hide a blush of embarrassment.

Wanda giggles and hugs you tight. “Of course, Papa” she answers for you.

Valentines Day. You were never really one for it. But now you look forward to it every year. A time for love. A time for joy. A time to remember the day you were able to admit to the whole world how much you were in love with Wanda Maximoff.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #stepsister #step siblings #stepsister Wanda #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #modern au #male reader #x male reader #wanda maximoff x male reader #valentines day

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Four

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; 20.6k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello darling readers, it's Dana! Happy April, I am so excited to bring you this month's update; Chapter Four! We're picking up exactly where we left off, and there's lots going on in this chapter. Expect a bit more paranormal happenings in this chapter, particularly towards the end (nothing TOO frightening, but I figured I'd warn in advance) Of course, we have a few moments of angst, a handful of flirtatious banter, and a lot more information revealed about the hybrids themselves. As always, I love to hear from readers; comments or questions! Please know that I will answer each response in time, I am currently going through an emotional time with my family 💜 The taglist is still open, as well. Without further ado, please enjoy this update, and thank you so much for reading and supporting my work!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Immediately, Y/N could see Namjoon recognized the relation between her and her mother– if he was taken aback, it didn’t show. However, his face completely changed like night and day as he broke out into a fond grin at her mother after a beat. 

After a split second of deduction, Y/N figured that apparently, her mother was who Namjoon knew at the library. Feeling completely out of place as her mother hurried from out behind the desk and gave Namjoon a tearful hug, Y/N was positively flabbergasted. What were the chances of Y/N adopting a hybrid her mother knew? The book club, by law of the state, could only accept adopted hybrid members, and until a few nights ago, Namjoon was very much unadopted. 

“You came by every day! I thought something bad may have happened to you,” her mother broke free from the hug slightly, wiping a tear from her eye as she assessed Namjoon, like she was searching for injuries. 

Namjoon tilted his head, her mother right about that– he had landed in Boston’s “finest” shelter after being dragged off the street in his wolf form. Unadopted, it was likely that Namjoon had found a way to put up a front about his situation and was somehow found out later on. Her mother couldn’t have been the one to report Namjoon judging by her genuine relief upon seeing him, Y/N thought, but the missing explanation on how he had gotten into the book club in the first place was piquing Y/N’s curiosity the most. 

“I’m alright,” Namjoon replied, rich voice muffled by the velvet shawl covering her mother’s shoulder. “Something… came up,” he added as he pulled away, eyes darting from Y/N to her mother, seemingly examining similarities and differences in their features. Her mother frowned sympathetically but did not pry, seemingly knowing better than to do so with Namjoon. As if just remembering Y/N was standing there gawking at the pair of them, her mother pressed a hand to her chest. 

“Oh, honey, I forgot to call your hybrid’s name over the intercom, I’m sorry, Namjoon, one moment…” her mother rushed back behind the desk, Namjoon raising his eyebrows at Y/N, who was floundering under his pointed gaze. “What was his name?”

“Uh, mom. It’s alright. Namjoon is the said hybrid,” Y/N scratched the back of her head, Namjoon clearly unimpressed she had panicked right away not being able to find him. Her mother was instantly confused, looking from her to Namjoon with suspicion. Expecting her to make an elaborate spectacle, Y/N braced herself, only to be met with her mother’s careful composure. 

“Huh. Snuck past the law, didn’t you, you smart boy,” her mother reached out to ruffle Namjoon’s hair, dimples appearing in the wolf hybrid’s cheeks, because of course he had them. Her mother then squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, adding, “This is my daughter I’ve mentioned before, which I’m assuming you’ve gathered by now. And you can return to the book club again, I need your help leading the discussions once more. They’ve been a bit uninspiring since your absence.”

Namjoon appeared to glow under her mother’s praise, but Y/N thought she may have been buttering him up a bit too much. Her mother had a knack for flattery. There was also the unspoken that hung around the atmosphere, her mother’s lack of interrogation and swift acceptance forming a pit in Y/N’s stomach. Usually, she’d be the type to pry out every detail of how Y/N had managed to become acquainted with Namjoon, but shockingly her mother refrained, seemingly occupied in rummaging around in the returns rack. She pulled out a book from behind the desk, handing it to Namjoon: Wuthering Heights. 

“This is the book we’re reading for the next two weeks. Started it yesterday, so the others don’t have too much of a head start yet,” her mother folded her arms over her chest, looking particularly smug that they were reading one of Y/N’s favorite books as she noticed the eager grin growing on her daughter’s face. “You can ask Y/N just about any question you have about that particular book and she’ll bring out all ten of the essays she’s written on it.”

“Jesus, mom. Exaggeration much?” Y/N scoffed, watching Namjoon carefully tuck the book under his arm. “I only wrote two essays on it,” she muttered under her breath, unable to deny her great obsession for everything Bronte circa her college days. 

“Excuse me, I’m scheduled to meet someone for an interview here at 10, but I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go?” A young man anxiously gripping a map interrupted the conversation by catching the attention of her mother behind the desk. 

“Oh, you must be Joseph! I’ll take you up to the office myself,” her mother exclaimed, glancing at Y/N and Namjoon. “I’ll see you two on Friday, alright? Y/N, honey, don’t put that salt on the windowsills, it’ll stain the finish,” she added, motioning for Joseph to follow her around the desk. 

With that, she was gone in an instant, leaving Y/N with a hybrid who still seemed to resent the fact that she thought he had run away. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Y/N started to sweat under the beret she was wearing, cursing her wardrobe choices that morning already. 

“Uh… well, your introduction to my mother was less painful than it was when she stopped by to meet the others yesterday,” Y/N began thoughtfully, spinning around to face Namjoon, all imposing height and narrowed, probing eyes. Her stomach turned uncomfortably, reminding her she had yet to eat anything that morning. “Come on, Namjoon, I’ll buy you a pastry from the cafe here,” she motioned towards the small counter at the front of the library littered with small bistro tables, comfortably walled off by planter partitions.

With an arched brow, Namjoon sucked in his cheeks as he reluctantly followed Y/N to the counter, ears turned flat against his skull. The woman working by the oven was pulling out a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls, the saccharine scent of buttery confection making Y/N nearly swoon. Fishing around in her bag, she pulled out her wallet, promptly ordering a cinnamon roll and an espresso for herself. Catching Namjoon gazing at the cherry pie displayed in a glass cake stand, she thought about getting him a slice before thinking the better of it. He seemed like the type to want to order his own food. 

“Hiya, Namjoon! The usual?” The cheery woman from behind the counter gave Namjoon a kindly smile, placing a tiny cup under the espresso machine for Y/N. Brightening up a bit, Namjoon nodded, crowding behind Y/N as the woman added a hot black coffee and a slice of cherry pie to Y/N’s order. Forking over the cash, she waited silently at the end of the counter with Namjoon for his pie to be heated up in the oven. 

He hadn’t said anything to her directly since they were in the car. Namjoon must have had questions, simply because Y/N knew she had her own fair share, but he seemed to be in no hurry to voice them as he plucked a brown leaf off of the potted plant sitting at the end of the counter. Once Namjoon had his mug and pie balanced in his hands, Y/N found a little table for two vacant at the corner of the cafe. Seated across from Namjoon, taking what seemed to be a soul-satisfying sip of coffee with his eyes closed, Y/N found she had forgotten every question she was going to ask him. Shrugging, she dove into her cinnamon roll, still hot from the oven and practically melting in her mouth. 

“What’s that salt for?” Namjoon asked suddenly, using the side of his fork to collect a bite of pie on the utensil. He gave a pointed look to Y/N’s tote bag as he chewed his pie, ignoring the surprise on her face. 

“Hmm. If I said it's for witchcraft, what would be your response?” Y/N decided to answer truthfully, with the knowledge of him likely being able to sniff out a lie in the forefront of her mind. If he called her crazy, she could handle that, but a liar was something she no longer wished to be with any of the hybrids. In fact, she’d planned on coming clean with the others about the ghost sighting in the house later that afternoon when she got the chance. 

Namjoon, sipping his coffee thoughtfully as he scanned her face, seemed to consider her words carefully. Setting his mug down, he sat back in his chair with a sigh. 

“I already knew your mother was a witch, she told me– not that it was very difficult to piece together. So, it makes sense you practice too… but that doesn’t really answer my question. What, exactly, do you need black salt for? Protection from something?” Namjoon clarified, with particular emphasis on the last question. 

Opening and closing her mouth, Y/N abruptly drained her espresso cup for some kind of a lifeline, not expecting Namjoon to be so direct or even have knowledge about the uses of black salt. He nonchalantly went back to enjoying his pie, waiting patiently for her explanation. 

“Okay, sure. It’s for protection, I think the house is overdue for some cleansing and some boundaries to keep a few uninvited guests… out,” Y/N toed around the issue as honestly as possible without including the word ghosts, deciding it was a little strange to be discussing something like that in a library cafe. Returning to her cinnamon roll, she chased some icing at the edge of the plate with a crispy layer of pastry. Y/N had yet to plan out the exact ritual she was going to conduct, fleetingly wishing that she had her mother’s old spellbook at the house to consult. 

“I read a lot about modern witchcraft here. I didn’t know all too much about it before I met your mother at the book club,” Namjoon confessed, crumpling up his napkin on his empty pie plate. “If I hadn’t seen certain things myself, I’d write it all off as new-age garbage.”

Tilting her head, Y/N’s curiosity had climbed tenfold. For someone so burly and serious looking, Namjoon’s apparent interest in the occult came as a great surprise. Not to mention, she desperately wanted to ask about what “things” Namjoon had referenced seeing to make him a believer at all. It didn’t seem like the time nor place, however.

“Namjoon, not to change the subject, but how were you able to get into the book club?” Y/N blurted out the first thing that came to mind, distantly hoping he wasn’t withholding any embarrassing stories her mother had relayed to him about her daughter. 

“You mean, while I was unadopted,” Namjoon returned bluntly, holding his hand up in response to Y/N offering a piece of her cinnamon roll. “It was easy enough, I created a fake certificate on one of the computers in the lab here after seeing a flier for the book club nailed to a telephone pole.” 

“Oh,” was all Y/N could think to say, the explanation much simpler than she had anticipated, feeling silly that she had asked at all. Pushing her plate away, she again wondered how he had ended up in the shelter considering her mother knew him well enough to be so moved by his absence. Someone must have ratted him out, but who, and how did they even find out about his forged certificate? 

“Should we get going?” Namjoon interrupted her internal dialogue, his chair scraping against the floor as he collected their cups, plates, and his book. Scrambling to her feet, Y/N tried her best to keep up with Namjoon’s long strides, almost falling over upon seeing his beautiful smile directed at the woman behind the counter. 

On the way back to the car, she caught Namjoon casting a look at the desk where they had met her mother, but she wasn’t there, cueing the corners of his mouth to turn down in disappointment. Clearly, she had left a lasting impression on Namjoon. 

Outside, the weather was still cool and pleasant, tourists ambling down Boylston street with great shopping bags swinging from the crooks of their elbows. The black salt in her tote bag felt like it weighed one hundred pounds, placing it in the backseat of her car as she slid in. The tinny old tape resumed, crackling to life in the speaker, Mick Jagger sounding more like Kermit than anything. Namjoon, once settled in his seat, started reading Wuthering Heights straight away, leaving Y/N to focus on the route home and planning out some kind of cleansing and banishing ritual in her mind.

“Wow. Stick Style?” Namjoon let himself through the iron gate Y/N pulled open, taking him around the front upon remembering she had put the bar lock across the sliding kitchen door the night before out of paranoia. 

“That’s right,” Y/N confirmed, carefully navigating the brick walkway to the porch in order not to trip. One of her missions for the day was to watch her clumsiness, and a stray loose brick would put a kink in that plan for sure. “This one was built in 1886 for a judge and his family.”

Namjoon was busy admiring the trees crowding the yard when Y/N noticed the packages piled up on the doorstep, squinting as she tried to see what they were. Bending to collect them, one was a thick packet from the bank, and the other was a medium sized box from her phone carrier. The hybrid’s credit cards and phones arrived far quicker than she had expected, to her delight; they’d be able to buy what they wanted that afternoon at some of the shops and even call her if they wandered off and lost her. Tucking the packages under her arm, she managed to unlock the door while her tote bag slid down her arm, pushing the door open with a loud creak. 

The house was lively. The scent of bacon nearly knocked her off her feet, a lovely song coming from the piano upstairs, and there was chatter Y/N could hear coming from far off in the kitchen. Someone had lit the candles in the sconces on the wall, making the house feel cozy compared to the cool, overcast morning. Grinning, Y/N felt glee well up inside of her, the house feeling so lived-in already that it reminded her of the holidays with her grandparents as a child. Tossing a look over her shoulder, Namjoon hesitated at the threshold of the front door, appearing to size up the scale of the home, before entering the foyer behind her and shutting the door firmly. Upon further consideration, he locked the deadbolt behind him, Y/N raising her eyebrow but saying nothing. 

“Good morning Y/N–” Seokjin bounded out of the kitchen, a strip of bacon in his hand on its way to his parted lips, freezing as he registered Namjoon behind her. Slowly, he lowered his arm, recovering pretty well once he noticed Y/N trying to juggle the packages and her tote bag threatening to crash to the ground, the jaguar hybrid promptly catching the bag and setting it carefully on the staircase. “Hello, Namjoon,” he greeted evenly, waving with his piece of bacon. Y/N snickered, Namjoon offering a short nod in response. 

“Did Yoongi make you some breakfast?” Y/N asked Seokjin, his tail flicking back and forth languidly as he shook his head. Upon mentioning the leopard hybrid’s name, the music upstairs abruptly cut short. Y/N was reminded once more of the hybrid’s incredible hearing, sending a shiver down her spine. No more late-night trips to the kitchen for some shredded cheese out of the bag. 

“No, Jimin,” was his response, nodding his head towards the kitchen. “Yoongi’s tinkering around on the piano, and hasn’t even come down yet. Nor Taehyung.”

“Mind if I take a look around?” Namjoon interjected, arms crossed over his chest as he stared straight into Y/N’s face, expression neutral. Clearing her throat, Y/N tried to make a “go ahead” motion with her arms while holding the packages. 

“Be my guest,” she side-eyed the box of things she had collected for him at the foot of the stairs, which he had yet to notice. “Find a bedroom you like, while you’re at it, and come find us after.”

“Sure,” Namjoon agreed absently, slowly taking off down the hall towards Jimin’s room. Thoughtfully munching on his bacon, Seokjin shrugged, following Y/N to the kitchen in her pursuit of a letter opener. 

At the island was Hoseok stirring cream into Y/N’s old Darth Vader mug, face puffy with sleep, and she caught a glimpse of Jimin by the stove dressed in his new jeans and the beige linen button down. Upon further examination, he had a bit of batter on his nose as he flipped a pancake expertly on the skillet. Hoseok offered her a sleepy smile, patting the bar stool next to him for her to sit while Seokjin swiped more bacon from the plate by Jimin at the stove. 

“Morning, Miss Y/N, would you like some pancakes, or bacon before Seokjin eats it all?” Jimin turned around, flinching as Seokjin attempted to collect the batter off of the coyote hybrid’s nose with an index finger. Snorting, she shook her head, feeling the cinnamon roll from the library cafe sitting in her stomach like a boulder. 

“No thanks, sweetheart, I got something to eat on the way home with Namjoon,” she answered easily, using the letter opener to hack open the packet from the bank. Hoseok, while stiffening at the sound of the wolf hybrid’s name, couldn’t help himself by nearly hooking his chin over Y/N’s shoulder to peer at the letter she was scanning, offering simple instructions for the card activations. Pulling out her phone, she followed the steps, smirking at the sound of Hoseok noisily slurping his coffee in her ear. 

As she was peeling the cards off of the papers from the packet, the glass slider behind her slid open, making her frown as she realized her and Namjoon could have entered that way after all. Peeking over her shoulder, she knew who it was before she got a good look– Jeongguk.

Dressed in every black item that Y/N had purchased for him, his complexion was a tad on the paler side, Jeongguk looked quite bewildered as he stumbled into the kitchen. Clearing his throat, he absently tossed a cigarette butt– smoked down to the filter– into the ashtray outside before shutting the door hastily. Frowning, Y/N stacked the credit cards on the table, wondering why he seemed so freaked out, but held her tongue out of stubbornness due to the previous night’s spat. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Hoseok called out, a note of disgust coloring his tone as he watched Jeongguk distractedly melt onto the booth of the breakfast bar. Jeongguk waved his hand dismissively, scribbling something down in his notebook with the pen from behind his ear. Rolling his eyes, Hoseok returned to his coffee while Y/N began to open up the box with the phones. 

“Morning,” Yoongi entered the room, a serene look on his face as he accepted a mug of coffee from Seokjin. It was nice to see some of the hybrids get along so amicably so far, and Y/N was trying to squash the small voice in her head telling her they were just putting on a front for her benefit. 

Putting the box of phones on the barstool next to her, Y/N double-checked to make sure the proper amount of devices were in there before taking her hat off to run her fingers through her hair. Eyes were on her as soon as the hat left her head, Y/N self-consciously wondering if her hair smelled sweaty or something. Jimin began to harshly wash pans immediately after, his honeyed strands of hair falling into his face as he worked. 

“Anyone seen Taehyung yet today? It’s almost noon, and he was the one most eager to go out today,” Seokjin remarked, passing a hand over his stomach as he returned uncooked bacon to the fridge. Y/N was unsurprised Taehyung had locked himself away while she was gone, considering he had even excused himself from the parlor yesterday as soon as she was unconscious. He didn’t seem to have any interest in getting to know the others. 

“He’s up. I heard his shower going while I was working on the piano,” Yoongi replied, cracking his knuckles as he went to sit across from Jeongguk at the breakfast bar. Either he was trying to bury the hatchet, or was keeping an eye on the elk hybrid; either way the latter hardly looked up from his notebook. 

“Working?” Y/N repeated with confusion, wondering if he was writing a musical or something. 

“Yeah, tuning it. You had a kit in the compartment under the piano bench, and some of the keys were a little flat,” Yoongi explained patiently, tracing a dainty pinky finger around the lip of his coffee mug while he spoke. This sparked excitement within her, thinking once again about lessons to inquire about at the music store later that afternoon, especially now that the piano was getting looked after by someone like Yoongi. 

“That song you were playing when I came home was very pretty,” Y/N complimented, hoping she, too, could play half as well as Yoongi one day. His cheeks turned pink, murmuring a thank-you, studiously staring out the window. 

Y/N passed her fingers over the glossy credit cards, the ridges of Namjoon’s name on the top card making her wonder where he had ended up. With Hoseok next to her, definitely more quiet than usual, she made a mental note to keep an eye on the fox hybrid that afternoon now that Namjoon would be joining them on their outing, or so she hoped. She still didn’t know if sad-sack Jeongguk would come with them, but leaving him alone in the house made her feel melancholy, even if he was a brat. 

“Hoseok, are you going to shower before we leave? I can smell the sweat coming off of you all the way from here,” Seokjin suddenly complained, leaning forward on the island to sniff in Hoseok’s direction dramatically. Hoseok let the comment roll off his shoulders, patronizingly stroking Seokjin’s hand from across the island with a grin. Displeasure washed over Seokjin’s lovely face comically.

“I’ll make sure to wait for you in the shower, cupcake. Maybe you should join me for a morning workout next time,” Hoseok pushed himself off of his barstool with a great heave, chuckling at Seokjin’s angry barking insults as he vanished from the room. 

“You should know by now not to try and out-fox the fox with verbal shell games, Seokjin. It’s getting embarrassing for all of us, at this point,” Yoongi called out from the breakfast bar, making Y/N chortle loudly. Seokjin frowned, his tail flicking back and forth in an agitated manner. 

“Alright, come on,” Y/N sighed, brushing away a tear of amusement from the corner of her eye, “I’ve got something for you guys. Figured you’d need these in this great age of technology,” she stood, scooping up several phone boxes from the open package to deal out like cards, sliding one each across the island to Jimin and Seokjin before delivering two more to Yoongi and Jeongguk at the breakfast bar.

The room was so quiet, a pin could drop and it would sound like a gunshot as each hybrid stared at their phone boxes, Y/N biting her lip as Jeongguk took his phone from her like a live grenade. 

“Uh, remind me to give you my number when you set the phones up, just in case anything happens and you can’t find me physically, or something,” Y/N babbled, wondering if now was a bad time to pass out the credit cards, considering the astounded looks on everyone’s faces. “Hmm. I guess I should look for Taehyung… Namjoon too. We’ll leave in about a half hour?” She continued upon further silence from the hybrids, catching Seokjin examining the box of his new cell phone like it was an exotic insect. 

Yoongi nodded robotically, Jimin whispering something to Seokjin as they both read the back of their phone boxes. Tucking the credit cards in her skirt pocket and scooping up the remaining phones, she offered the stunned hybrids a warm smile before heading towards the hallway. Jimin looked like he wanted to follow Y/N, but Seokjin caught his wrist and started to point at something on the box. 

In the hallway, Y/N took a deep breath, nearly stumbling over Namjoon’s box of items by the stairs. Cursing, she regained her balance, almost toppling over again as she heard the door to the green room from behind her creak loudly. Dread flooded through her in an instant, praying the old hag ghost wasn’t two paces from breathing down her neck. Spinning around, she was relieved to see Namjoon peeking his head out from behind the door, an eyebrow raised. 

“Sorry, you startled me,” Y/N breathed, Namjoon stepping out into the hall with a grunt of acknowledgement. 

“I think the sooner you do that protection ritual, the better you’ll feel,” Namjoon remarked, hands on hips. He wasn’t wrong about that, Y/N thought. “This room taken?” He nodded towards the green room where Seokjin had stayed. 

“No, you can have it,” Y/N tried her best not to shy away from his close proximity, the sensation of him towering over her a bit overwhelming. “This box is for you, some clothes to get you through the next couple of weeks and toiletries. Oh, this too,” Y/N nudged the box on the floor before remembering the phones in her hand, hastily handing one over to him. Eyebrows furrowed, he pocketed the phone swiftly, more interested in the contents of the box of clothes he kneeled down to take a look at. 

“Hey, we’re all going to head out into town in a bit to get some fresh air, and you’re invited as well, of course,” Y/N said, suddenly feeling shy as he leafed through some of the shirts she had chosen for him. Namjoon hummed, the sound slightly gravelly, his ear flickering. 

“I’ll go with you,” Namjoon agreed, stretching back up to his full height, his face softer than she had seen it before, at least directed towards her. “Thanks, by the way,” he added gently, lifting the box off the ground, taking one last look at her before hauling it into his room.

Reeling, Y/N absently trudged up the stairs, unable to get the look he had on his face out of her head. A ghost of the fondness he had shown for her mother reflected in Namjoon’s expression, and even if it lasted for a moment, it felt precious to her. As she reached the second floor, she heard Hoseok’s whistling from the basement. Hastening to Taehyung’s room, Y/N paused to listen for any movement, but heard nothing. Before she could knock, the door flung open, Y/N’s jaw hanging open as she dropped her hand limply. 

“Are we leaving?” Taehyung leaned against the door jamb, dressed in his blue long-sleeve and dark jeans. His hair was still wet from the shower, ringlets surrounding his face like a cherub. Tapping his foot, Taehyung seemed eager to embark on their outing as he peered out into the hallway, scanning the surroundings. 

“Shortly, yes,” Y/N replied, the scent of sandalwood coming off of him powerfully. As they started down the hall together, Y/N chatting mindlessly about the events of the morning and giving him his phone, she couldn’t help but think that Taehyung had to be one of the easiest to talk to. 

Like Jimin, Taehyung listened intently, but wasn’t so intense in his gaze as she talked, having more of a calming– as opposed to dazzling– effect on her. Out of everyone, he seemed to be the most excited about the phone, opening it immediately and passing it to Y/N to plug in her phone number. She did so blindly as they reached the kitchen, Taehyung sticking to her side closely as she created a contact for herself. 

The kitchen was in a bit of commotion as they entered, Hoseok loudly complaining about Seokjin polishing off the bacon, and Jimin trying to keep up his carefully-constructed patience as he told Seokjin how to turn on his phone. Yoongi had migrated to the coffee bar, apparently making himself a to-go cup, and Jeongguk was already typing away on his new phone at the breakfast nook. 

Y/N made her rounds putting her number in the other’s phones, Jeongguk reluctantly parting with his when she reached him. She endured the awkwardness of their interaction, the words he spat the previous night hovering in the air starkly. She could tell, by the set of his jaw, that Jeongguk was likely recalling the events, avoiding her eyes expertly. Feeling Taehyung breathing down her neck as she punched the digits into Jeongguk’s phone, Y/N hurriedly handed it back to the elk hybrid, who was huffing impatiently. At least, she thought distantly, he had the decency to look a little sheepish when she smiled at him sweetly. 

When Namjoon entered the kitchen, every head turned to look at him. Y/N only registered the disturbance when she couldn’t hear Hoseok and Seokjin bickering anymore, looking up from Jimin’s phone with interest. Namjoon, standing stiffly at the threshold of the kitchen, scanned each hybrid briefly, spending a little more time watching Taehyung linger at Y/N’s side at the sink. Returning Jimin’s phone to him, Y/N cleared her throat, nervously shooting a glance at Hoseok, who had either subconsciously or accidentally pulled Seokjin in front of him like some kind of meat-shield. Even Yoongi, wiping down the counter, seemed perturbed by the wolf hybrid’s presence, his ears turned downwards. The tension in the room was nearly suffocating, all of the ease vanishing as soon as Namjoon walked in. 

“Well, now that everyone’s here, we can head out now,” Y/N clapped once in an attempt to dissolve some of the tension, only succeeding in making Jimin jump in surprise. Patting his back gingerly in apology, she inched towards Namjoon without Taehyung following her like a shadow, to her surprise, while desperately hoping to corral everyone out to the car in one piece. “Ready?”

Y/N walked in tandem with Namjoon out the front door, counting heads like a school teacher as each hybrid exited the house. They grouped together in cliques, Yoongi and Jimin, Seokjin and Hoseok– Jeongguk, of course, was by himself but stayed close to Yoongi curiously enough. The five lingering by the Land Cruiser kept considerable distance from both Taehyung and Namjoon, who also appeared to stay clear of one another. 

Without a question, the rest of the hybrids said nothing as Namjoon slid into the passenger seat promptly, Taehyung reluctantly climbing into the seat behind Y/N. Seokjin, mumbling about Hoseok pushing him too harshly, crammed himself in the third row of the car beside Jeongguk followed by the fox hybrid. Before Namjoon could put the horrid Rolling Stones tape on again, Y/N switched on the radio, a Britney Spears song filling the car with a bit of sunshine. Once again, Yoongi found himself in the center seat of the second row with a grimace on his face, making eye contact with Y/N in the rearview. Trying to appear apologetic, she gave him a half-smile as she pulled out into the street. Hoseok began to whistle along to the tune of Gimme More. 

After finding a decent parking spot at the cluster of shops in the middle of the town and passing out the hybrid’s new credit cards, everyone flooded out into the square in a mostly orderly manner. They parked closest to the music store, which was right across from Judy’s metaphysical shop where Y/N was planning to pick up hours to pay for all future expenses. Seokjin, kindly, held the door open for everyone to enter the dusty-smelling music store, smiling politely at an elderly woman ambling in behind Y/N. 

Upon entering the store, everyone peeled off in different directions. Shiny electric guitars, polished brass trumpets, and long coiled bunches of cables hung from the pegboard walls, large drum kits and cases of vinyls were strewn in every direction. The place was sensory overload, positively crammed with inventory and unique looking people working behind the counters, unfazed by the seven hybrids running all over the place. Namjoon, of course, was by the single small bin by the front door overflowing with two dollar tapes. Passing by Taehyung at the jazz vinyl shelf, Y/N made her way to the far corner of the shop where the piano sheet music was displayed in crates, Yoongi scanning a thin booklet in his delicate hands, his spotted tail curling around his leg placidly. 

Curiously, and not without the feeling that she had no idea what she was looking at, Y/N pawed through a crate of piano music from movies, trying her best to give Yoongi enough space to move around in the tight corner. She fumbled with a book filled with the score from Grease, suddenly aware of the gold-green eyes burning a hole into her cheek while she was trying to decipher the foreign symbols evidently depicting musical notes. Glancing at Yoongi out of the corner of her eye, she sighed, putting the book down upon seeing his wry grin.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Y/N groaned, too shy to venture up to the counter and ask the middle-aged man with a graying ponytail and scally cap about lessons. “I can’t even read sheet music– the guy giving me my lessons would probably laugh me out of the practice room. The window of learning this type of thing has probably closed for me anyways.”

Yoongi scoffed, leaning his hip against the crate he was previously leafing through, a stack of booklets tucked under his arm. With narrowed eyes, he scanned the pout shadowing Y/N face. 

“That’s all bullshit, anyone can learn to play an instrument at any age,” Yoongi started, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear, “You know, I could just teach you piano. We can do weekly lessons, and start small. Why bother paying someone here when you have a piano and a teacher already at home?” 

Mouth opening and closing, Y/N squeaked out something like what, realization crashing down on her embarrassingly. She hadn’t even thought to ask Yoongi, and he brought up an excellent point– for what reason should she drive down to the music shop weekly for lessons when she could play the old piano at home that sparked the interest in the first place. Expectantly, Yoongi searched her face, waiting for a coherent answer to his proposition. 

“You’d do that? I mean, that would be great– I’d really love that,” Y/N managed, Yoongi nodding purposefully. Showing her a booklet from the stack under his arm, Y/N read the title: Piano Classics for Beginners. Heat blooming in her cheeks, she realized Yoongi must have hatched this plan on the ride into town. 

“We can start with this. I think Fridays would be good for lessons, that way you’ll have all week to familiarize yourself with the piano until our first one,” he tapped the cover of the book as he spoke, thinly veiled excitement showing on his expression. Glowing, Y/N agreed fervently, absolutely enthralled to have both lessons and an opportunity to bond with Yoongi on her horizon. 

Yoongi went back to sorting through the piano books, eyeing each title carefully. Still riding the high of his offer, Y/N left the leopard hybrid in search of Seokjin or Hoseok. The two were arguing by the counter, Hoseok audibly more loud than the jaguar hybrid, one of the women working behind the counter awkwardly fiddling with a roll of quarters as she witnessed the dispute. Frowning, Y/N approached, trying not to panic that Hoseok was leaning his back against a wobbly and expensive looking French horn on a stand. 

“How could you just watch him stroll right by and out the door? You were right there next to the bulletin board, Hoseok,” Seokjin pointed to the front of the shop, eyes bulging out of his skull as his tail flicked back and forth in an urgent manner. Hoseok groaned, arms crossed over his chest as he noticed Y/N standing in front of them. 

“What happened? Hoseok, please, you’re going to knock that over,” Y/N pulled him closer to her by his upper arm, away from the French horn the woman behind the counter was anxiously staring at. 

“Jeongguk left, like five minutes ago. Hoseok just told me,” Seokjin pushed a worried hand through his blue-black waves, eyebrows pulled together in distress as if he was about to be scolded. Not ideal, Y/N thought.

“It’s okay, he has a phone now, remember? He probably went out for a smoke or to check out another store. I’ll give him a call if he doesn’t turn up in the next fifteen minutes,” Y/N tried her best to soothe Seokjin, although she was worried herself that Jeongguk was already hitchhiking halfway to Vermont. 

“That’s what I tried to explain to him, but he managed to blame me for Jeongguk’s departure,” Hoseok groaned, clearly exasperated by the whole conversation. Seokjin shot him a thanks a lot look. 

Scanning the shop, Y/N realized that Jeongguk wasn’t the only one missing. Jimin, too, had vanished, and Namjoon looked ready to leave by the door with a plastic bag full of tapes as well. Taehyung and Yoongi were in line around the opposite side of the counter ready to make their own purchases. Chewing her lip, she turned back to Hoseok, knowing he had likely seen Jimin leave as well. 

“Did you happen to see Jimin leave?” Y/N asked, catching Hoseok’s attention mid-glare directed at Seokjin. 

“Yeah, he went to go look for the elk,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, finally maintaining distance from the French horn as Y/N yanked him away from it once more. Breathing a small sigh of relief that she already had someone out there searching for Jeongguk, Y/N waited patiently for Taehyung and Yoongi to check out and make their way to Namjoon by the door. 

“Find anything good?” Y/N asked both Taehyung and Namjoon as they exited the shop, trying to ignore the bickering behind her coming from Seokjin and Hoseok, even Yoongi joining in on the pettiness. 

Taehyung clutched his flat paper bag filled with his goods close to his chest, a warm smile across his lips, slightly pulling one of the vinyls out to show her a Mad Season record. Y/N recalled she never asked him what he was going to say about that band. Namjoon, swinging the bag in his fist as they walked out into the bricked courtyard, looked down at Y/N in a detached way. 

“They had folk tapes, mostly. I saved the least… grating ones from the bin,” Namjoon replied slowly, eyes going from her face to Taehyung’s, an ounce of suspicion in his voice. 

Nodding, Y/N could palpably feel ice forming between the wolf and Kodiak hybrids as they stared at one another, wondering what possibly could have happened in the short span of time spent together to warrant the hostility in their eyes. Considering the amount of the hybrids that already disliked one another; Hoseok and Namjoon, Jeongguk and everyone else, and now Namjoon and Taehyung, Y/N felt that she might have bitten off more than she could chew. She held no regrets, of course, but she definitely had the feeling that she’d need some help from her friends to get the hybrids to loosen up a bit at the cookout on Friday to prevent a bloodbath. 

Shivering at a particularly brisk breeze rolling by, Y/N searched the courtyard for any sightings of Jimin or Jeongguk, spotting Jimin’s honeyed head of hair peering into the window of the bookstore. Ditching the two hybrids in their icy stare-off, she hurried over to the coyote hybrid, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets as he strolled further away from her to the next storefront. 

“Jimin!” Y/N called after him, his ears immediately perking up as he swiveled around to look at her. His expression changed from happy surprise to guilt almost instantly, halting his movements as she made her way to his side. “Any luck finding Jeongguk?” 

“No, I’m sorry, Miss Y/N,” Jimin wrung his hands together, eyebrows pinching together in likely annoyance towards the elk hybrid. Patting his forearm gently, Y/N sighed. 

“It’s alright, Jimin, I appreciate you coming out here to look for him, though,” Y/N fumbled for her phone in her tote bag, ready to find Jeongguk’s number and call him. In the car earlier, she had each of them send her a text so she’d have all their contacts as well. Hoseok sent her a fox emoji, Seokjin and Jimin a simple “hello”, but all Jeongguk had sent was a period. 

“Y/N, I think he’s in there,” Hoseok shouted from across the courtyard, pointing dramatically at the storefront towards the exit. Squinting, Y/N barked out a laugh in disbelief, because of course Jeongguk had wandered into the metaphysical shop that happened to be her future employer. 

“Thanks, Hoseok!” Y/N panted, jogging over with Jimin to where most of the hybrids had clumped around by the metaphysical shop. “You guys can go into whatever store you like now– I have to stop in here anyways, and it’ll probably be for about a half hour. We can meet up after by the fountain over there, and get some ice cream before heading back. Okay?” 

Hoseok took one look at the sign for the metaphysical shop, frowned, before giving her a thumbs-up and dragging Seokjin towards the chocolate shop two doors down. Taehyung, still glaring at Namjoon, followed Yoongi and Jimin to the bookstore, while the wolf hybrid remained by Y/N’s side. Watching the others go made a smile grow across her face, the tension dissolving from the air as Y/N could see closer bonds already being formed– Hoseok’s arm slung around Seokjin’s shoulders, Jimin laughing at something Yoongi had uttered in his ear. 

“You coming in with me?” Y/N nodded towards the tinted glass door of Judy’s metaphysical shop upon noticing Namjoon not budging from her side. 

“I’d prefer to keep an eye on that elk hybrid. Him slipping away again might cause another fiasco,” Namjoon replied calmly, Y/N raising her eyebrows. She wouldn’t have categorized the last fifteen minutes as a fiasco, actually congratulating herself for remaining calm, however perhaps he could sense the underlying dread that had been flooding through her. Shrugging, she mumbled a “thank you” bashfully as he opened the door for her, the jingling of the witch bells fastened to the door announcing their arrival. 

It was dark in the small shop, and absolutely reeking of myrrh incense. Enya played on a CD player by the door, dim fabric colored lamplight allowing some visibility for the crowded shelves of candles, books, statues, and other oddities. In the corner of the shop, by the table of amulets, was Jeongguk, turning over a silver object between his thumb and forefinger. Not even bothering to inform him that they had formed a search party after his unannounced departure from the music store, Y/N found her way to the case in the back of the shop, which served as the checkout counter and a jewelry display. No one was behind the case– Judy must have been in the back room where tarot readings were held. Namjoon shuffled his feet behind her, running his fingers over a beautiful chunk of amethyst on the crystal table. 

Leaning on the case, Y/N admired bejeweled athames within it laying on beds of velvet. The shop was filled with so much inventory, and judging by the humongous book by the ancient register, it seemed everything was cataloged by hand. Y/N would certainly have her work cut out for her learning all of the wares, not to mention trying to recall what everything was used for or even called. 

“Oh, the wolf. How nice,” Jeongguk suddenly commented, noisily setting red candles, a stack of incense, and the silver amulet he had been holding when they came in on the checkout case. The amulet was some kind of saint medallion, but because Y/N was unfamiliar with Christianity, she had no idea who it was. Namjoon said nothing, heading over to the bookcase and pulling out leather-bound grimoires at random. 

“Hmm. These are pretty,” Y/N remained civil, examining one of the beautiful hand-dipped candles Jeongguk picked out. He grunted in response, impatiently tapping on the glass of the case and staring at the beaded curtain to the tarot reading room. 

Sighing, Y/N set her gaze on Namjoon while he was turned away, the muscles of his back flexing and relaxing as he hefted a large book off the shelf to leaf through. As if sensing that she was staring, Namjoon’s face tilted to the side, the length of his eyelashes catching lamplight as he locked eyes with her. Reddening, Y/N broke eye contact, not being able to shake the feeling that there was a certain familiarity in the color of his eyes. She could hear Namjoon approaching the case once more, Jeongguk groaning as he pulled a tattooed hand through his hair in exasperation. 

The clattering sound of wooden beads knocking together made for a good excuse to ignore the fact that Namjoon had returned to his spot behind her, once again crowding her against the glass case like he had at the library cafe. Judy, the shop owner and close friend of her mother, abruptly barrelled into the room from the back, carrying a large, old wooden chest she heaved onto the workbench behind the case the three of them were standing in front of. Pushing her rectangular spectacles up her nose distractedly, Judy’s crystal bracelets made clanging noises as she held up a single sun-weathered finger up to the three patrons waiting for her attention. 

Jeongguk shifted next to Y/N, looking aggravated as the woman began to leaf through the contents of the wooden chest. From behind her, Namjoon slid a well-worn copy of some sort of supernatural encyclopedia onto the case, his fingers accidentally brushing her forearm leaning onto the glass before yanking his hand away like he was burned. Gritting her teeth, wishing that either Hoseok or Taehyung were there to bring her a sense of ease, Y/N coiled her arms around her midsection as she tried to get space sandwiched between the elk and wolf hybrids. 

“Y/N, wonderful to see you after so long. Gentlemen,” Judy began after several moments of muttering to herself looking through the wooden chest, finally facing and greeting them standing before her. “Sorry for the wait. My assistant– er, son– recently went off to college, so it’s been difficult for me to keep track of my papers and whatnot…” 

Judy rang up Jeongguk’s items as she spoke, punching numbers into the old cash register noisily and pulling out tissue paper to wrap the candles. Glancing at her watch, Y/N made sure they still had time to meet the others without having to scramble. 

“My mother came to see you, am I right?” Y/N smiled at Judy, who was carefully tucking Namjoon’s book into a paper bag. Nodding with a chuckle, Judy pushed a curly strand of sandy hair from her face. 

“Oh, yes. Making promises without you being here– can you start next week?” Judy pulled out a packet of paper she had retrieved from the chest earlier, handing it to Y/N promptly. Snorting, Y/N flipped through the packet of inventory she was to learn, nodding sagely. Hopefully, by next week, the hybrids would be fairly settled in enough for her to leave them for a few hours. 

“How many days a week would you need me?” Y/N absently handed her credit card over to pay for Jeongguk and Namjoon’s items, forgetting that they had their own. Jeongguk made a noise of surprise, stuffing his card back into the pocket of his black jeans. 

“Only three; Monday, Wednesday, Thursday. Business has been slow ever since the colleges are back in session, and my son can come back on the weekends to help out. Sounds good?” Judy returned Y/N’s credit card to her, sliding the bag of items across the case towards Jeongguk, who she eyed in a thoughtful way. 

“That works for me,” Y/N agreed, although partly concerned that a three day work week wouldn’t garner much for a paycheck. 

“Here, honey. I think this will help you. Wrapped it up for you this morning,” Judy added suddenly, reaching behind her desk in the corner for an item. Accepting it, Y/N turned the smoke cleansing stick of cedar and rosemary over in her hands, positively amazed. She had forgotten Judy was a psychic medium, likely picking up on her need to cleanse and protect her home, and chose the perfect botanicals to assist her in that endeavor unprompted. 

“Thank you, Judy,” Y/N said sincerely, carefully tucking the herb bundle into the bag Jeongguk had in his hand. Judy waved her off, thanking her for picking up the hours at the shop, before a young woman came through the shop door for a scheduled psychic reading. Taking it as their cue to leave, Y/N corralled Jeongguk out the door, Namjoon following close behind her. 

Taking a lungful of incense-free air outside, Y/N felt hopeful about her new job. While it was likely an in-between before her next career move, it was refreshing to work someplace so vastly different. Jeongguk asked where they were meeting the others, walking very quickly to the fountain that Y/N had pointed to and away from her and Namjoon in a seemingly disturbed manner. Craning her neck up and back to look at Namjoon, she caught his narrowed eyes following Jeongguk’s form, jaw set dangerously. Clearing her throat, she managed to snag his attention, a degree of hostility slipping from his expression as their eyes met. 

“You’re going to work there?” Namjoon asked questions in the form of fact confirmation, Y/N noticed. 

“Mm-hmm. Just until I figure out what to do next,” Y/N replied, Namjoon’s half-torn ear fluttering lightly as she spoke. She wondered what had happened to it, with a feeling of melancholy flooding through her. “Gotta pay the bills in the meantime.”

“Things would be better, if the rest of us could actually get jobs,” Namjoon bit, Y/N feeling a tad awkward in his reference to the law forbidding hybrid employment. Not that it stopped certain businesses from exploiting hybrid labor illegally, which is what happened to Yoongi and likely some of the others. 

“I won’t deny the truth in that, Namjoon,” Y/N muttered lamely, not really knowing what else to add. It’s not like change in the medieval laws about hybrids would happen overnight, as much as she wished it would. All she could do was take the best possible care of her hybrids, and hope that as time passed things would change for the better. 

Namjoon was quiet after that, walking slowly by her side as they made their way to the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Everyone was waiting for them already, each with a bag or two of things that they had bought from various stores, Yoongi lazily lying on his side on the ledge of the fountain and enjoying the afternoon sun. 

“Y/N!” Hoseok sang, startling her as he skipped from around the fountain once her and Namjoon approached the meeting spot. Aggressively, Hoseok grabbed her wrist, yanking her away from Namjoon without sparing him a glance and pulling her to the opposite side of the fountain. Heart slamming up into her throat at Hoseok’s firm grip, she barely registered him straightening her out by her shoulders as he pushed her in front of Seokjin. 

“Look, Jin got these for the cookout you’re having,” Hoseok nudged Seokjin, who was holding a startlingly large bucket of toffee from the chocolate shop. Seokjin looked embarrassed, his cheeks pink and rounded as he sheepishly held out the bucket for Y/N to see. Immediately, she turned to mush at the thought of Seokjin picking out something to contribute at the cookout, and he was clearly proud of his choice, particularly when he gauged the joyful reaction on her face. 

“Wow Seokjin, everyone will love those, they look delicious! That was so kind of you, honey,” Y/N gushed, the red in Seokjin’s cheeks deepening as he lifted the lid off of the toffee so she could take a look. The slabs of toffee wafted a buttery scent, making her mouth water. Seokjin plucked a small shard of the toffee out of the bucket, suddenly grinning slyly. 

“Here, try some,” Seokjin lifted the piece of toffee to poise inches from her lips, stunning Y/N as her mouth dropped open involuntarily in shock. Absently hearing Hoseok chuckle, Y/N stood stunned as Seokjin pushed the toffee between her lips, the confection immediately beginning to melt in her mouth as he pulled his hand away. 

“Good?” Seokjin mused, tilting his head playfully. Positively burning up, Y/N carefully chewed the toffee as Seokjin smirked at her, closing up the tub. Tearing her gaze from him, her eyes regretfully landed on Hoseok, who sent her a cheeky wink. 

“Delicious,” Y/N murmured, feeling scandalized in front of the two hybrids clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. Did she really just let Seokjin feed her?

“Shall we get ice cream now, darling?” Hoseok shoved his hands in his pockets, still grinning at her smugly. Rolling her shoulders back, she agreed, casting a look over her shoulder as she felt someone approach from behind. To her relief, it was Taehyung, shooting a wary look at the peanut gallery in front of Y/N. 

Hurrying to Taehyung’s side with her cheeks still aflame, Y/N did her best to round everyone else up and usher them into the old-fashioned ice cream parlor to wrap up their afternoon outing. The parlor was filled with the scents of rich fudge and waffle cones, and the space was quite limiting with the eight of them jammed against the glass display case of gallons of ice cream. 

Y/N was pushed by Namjoon’s frame behind her into Jimin’s side by the register, patiently relaying each ice cream order as Jimin calmly repeated them to her in her ear. The teenaged boy taking the orders seemed to be overwhelmed by the amount of hybrids in the parlor at one given time, staring at Jeongguk’s antlers with shock as the elk hybrid elbowed his way towards Y/N to request some mint chocolate chip ice cream, which made Namjoon make a sound akin to gagging from behind her. 

Since there was hardly any room for everyone to sit inside the shop to enjoy their ice cream, Y/N opted to bring everyone back to the fountain to eat. She sat in between Yoongi and Taehyung, managing to keep her distance from Seokjin and Hoseok for the moment. They appeared to still be yucking it up at her expense, sitting together on the grass a little ways from her feet. Jeongguk took his ice cream to the opposite side of the fountain, playing some kind video on his phone in a foreign language; one that sounded pretty close to Latin. 

Namjoon had found a spot to enjoy his coffee ice cream on a bench not too far from the fountain, Y/N able to keep an eye on him. She regretfully realized she did nothing but fill him up on sugar and coffee since he had come into her care, as she shoveled a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, watching the wolf hybrid admire the yellowing leaves of the tree he was under. 

“Hmm. I forgot to ask… Do you have a record player back at your house?” Taehyung spoke lowly, his voice hard to hear over the babbling of the fountain behind them. He had long finished the small cup of strawberry soft-serve he held balanced between his knees, his records placed neatly by his feet. 

“Yeah, there’s a set-up somewhere in the room with the piano. It’s likely in one of those big cabinets, my uncle was a vinyl collector when he grew up there in the 70’s. His collection of records is in the garage, too, if you wanna pick through that when you get bored,” Y/N recalled, licking some cream from her lips in thought. She prayed that the record player still worked, although a new system would make an excellent Christmas present for Taehyung. 

Taehyung leaned back on his palms, gazing at her through the thick of eyelashes. His hair was dry by now, curly and wild with the wind that mussed the strands, hiding his rounded ears in the volume of it. Y/N noticed that Jimin, who was sitting beside Taehyung, had very obviously placed his shopping bag of books between them to get some space. She could tell he was listening to their conversation, with the way Jimin’s ears were angled forward and alert, twitching to the sound of Taehyung’s deep tone. 

“How was the ice cream, Taehyung?” Y/N crumpled up her napkin into her own empty cup, sighing contentedly. 

“Very good,” Taehyung murmured, suddenly dropping the eye contact he’d been maintaining. Like all of the hybrids, Y/N swore that they held some sort of spellbinding power in their gazes. “Thank you,” he added, absently clicking his heels together while staring at his sneakers. 

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N waved her hand, feeling embarrassed. 

“Ah, maybe I should have gotten the matcha ice cream…” Yoongi suddenly lamented beside her, elbows leaning on his knees. Frowning, Y/N turned to him, forgetting he was so close as her thigh pressed into his. Immediately, Yoongi stiffened, peering at her intensely through the corner of his eye. 

“Oh no, was the lemon sorbet gross?” Y/N felt her lip jutting out in a pout, disappointed Yoongi was unsatisfied with his half-melted treat. Yoongi cleared his throat awkwardly as he tore his eyes from her face, choosing to glare at Hoseok on the ground instead. 

“No–” 

“You should have gotten the matcha. It’s amazing,” Hoseok insisted, a smugness worming its way into his tone as he both cut Yoongi off and took a loud bite of the waffle cone he was eating. “Want some?” 

Hoseok extended his mostly-devoured cone towards Yoongi, who screwed up his face in disgust. Snorting softly, Y/N shook her head at Hoseok, his cheekiness seeming to get under everyone’s skin– Y/N found it endearing. 

“Get that out of my face, Foxy,” Yoongi complained, leaning closer to Y/N and firmly pressing his thigh into hers as he extended his leg to push Hoseok over with his foot. It was Y/N’s turn to go stiff, the warmth of Yoongi’s leg against the flimsiness of her tights overwhelming. She barely registered Hoseok tumbling over into Seokjin’s lap with an evil cackle, Seokjin nearly choking on a bite of his chocolate ice cream cone as he tried to fling Hoseok’s head off of his leg.

Feeling a chill wash over her despite the warmth coming from the contact with Yoongi, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, rubbing her arms to rid herself of goosebumps. She had no idea why she was feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, the sensation close to how she felt moments before the incident with the ghost the night before. Trying to nonchalantly take in the surroundings, praying that there wasn’t some sort of apparition following her around now, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Namjoon from his spot on the bench. 

Oh, so that’s where the chill was coming from, she realized, the expression on Namjoon’s face icy and closed off as he glared at her. His body language was coiled and tense, jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed fractionally once they caught hers. Hair stood up on the back of her neck as she was unable to look away from him, absolutely at a loss for why he seemed so pissed off at her. She hadn’t even spoken to him in at least twenty minutes; perhaps he was feeling left out? Y/N cocked her head at him, mouthing are you okay? 

Namjoon simply sucked in his cheeks, getting up from his seat and tossing his ice cream cup in the trash by the bench. Concerned, Y/N watched him storm off in the direction of the car, torn between wanting to go after him and not wanting to rush the others who were still eating and enjoying their afternoon. After a few more moments of distractedly listening to Hoseok tease Yoongi, who had thankfully inched away from her, she got up with Jimin to gather up trash and dispose of it where Namjoon had minutes prior. Namjoon had left his bag of tapes on the bench accidentally, as Jimin pointed out keenly. 

“How are you doing, Jimin? Find some new books?” Y/N tried to stop worrying about what she had done to tick Namjoon off, scooping up his bag of tapes carefully. Jimin held his book bag behind his back in his clasped hands, grinning down at her kindly. 

“Sure did, Miss Y/N. I wanted to pick up some local interest literature, to get an idea of what this area is like,” Jimin explained as they headed to the car, quickly placing a gentle hand on her back to direct her away from a divot in the grass that would have caused her a rolled ankle. “Watch your step, there.”

“That’s right, you’re not from around here. How long have you been away from Montana?” Y/N wondered, breathing a sigh of relief that she could spot Namjoon leaning against the car from about twenty feet away. Jimin was quiet for a moment, a sort of sad look in his golden eyes while he processed her question. 

“A little over a month, now,” Jimin responded wistfully, the corner of his mouth turning upwards as he met her eyes. Y/N recalled that there was a possibility Jimin had a family back in Montana, one that had no idea where he had ended up. The thought pierced through her heart painfully. 

Jimin helped her load everyone's bags into the trunk, Y/N carefully avoiding Namjoon as she took Jeongguk’s bag from him gingerly, offering him a small smile. He was truly becoming an expert in abstaining from eye contact with her. Closing the trunk, she stretched her arms out as she waited for everyone to get into the car, Namjoon still leaning against the passenger door with a scowl. Steeling herself, she approached him. 

“I grabbed your tapes, you left them on the bench,” Y/N started, Namjoon’s eyes narrowing at the sound of her voice. He looked her up and down, seemingly analyzing the way she was nervously rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. He didn’t respond to her, increasing her anxiety while he simply stood there imposingly.

“Is everything alright, Namjoon?” Y/N managed to squeak after a beat, the impulse to squirm under his scrutinizing extremely overpowering. His ears were turned back, straightening up to his full height to grasp the handle of the car door.

“Sure,” he replied flatly, yanking the door open and heaving himself in, slamming it in her face as she flinched backwards. Even more confused than she was before trying to speak with him, Y/N numbly got into the driver’s seat, feeling the tension between her and the wolf hybrid beside her so intensely it nearly took her breath away. 

Shakily, Y/N turned the radio on as per Hoseok’s request from the back seat, somewhat relieved that the others didn’t seem to sense her discomfort from what she could tell. Before pulling away from the plaza, Y/N checked the rearview to make sure everybody was accounted for, locking eyes with Yoongi accidentally. He had a knowing look on his face, gaze flicking between her and the back of Namjoon’s head, tracing a finger over his lower lip. Grimacing, Y/N threw the car in reverse, promptly ignoring the wolf hybrid next to her for the short duration of the ride back to the house. 

After pulling into the driveway back at home, to Y/N’s surprise, everyone divided off in different directions. Yoongi had gone up to the piano with Taehyung in search of the record player, Hoseok to the basement with Seokjin, and Jeongguk had disappeared in the backyard with a cigarette and one of his new candles. Both Jimin and Namjoon had retreated to their respective bedrooms, leaving Y/N by herself standing awkwardly in the foyer. 

Kicking off her shoes, Y/N figured she could take a shower and cozy up in bed with a movie before one of them sought her out again. She tiptoed past Namjoon’s room on her way to her’s, hoping that she wouldn’t provoke him into further annoyance considering their rooms were so close together. Even with his door shut tight, Y/N felt like he could see through the wood as she went by. Shivering, she recalled the small, sweet smile he offered her just hours ago, trying to wrack her brain to come up with an explanation of his soured mood. 

Perhaps she should have articulated her thoughts better during their conversation surrounding the hybrids getting jobs, but there was not much she could do about that now that so much time had passed. Entering her room, she rubbed her eyes, feeling the chill from the drafty bathroom window enticing her to curl up in bed with sweats. To her shock, either Jeongguk or Namjoon had left the herb bundle from Judy on her nightstand, although she caught neither of them sneaking into her room when they arrived home. She was a bit distracted, however, telling Taehyung exactly where to look for the record player upstairs. Either way, her heart squeezed, fingers brushing over the herb bundle.

After a brief shower, Y/N hightailed it out of her bathroom to prevent another ghostly encounter, dressing in her softest sweatpants and crawling into bed with her laptop. Supposing that now was as good a time as any to figure out how to cleanse the house, Y/N put a Halloween movie on while she scribbled out her general plan for the ritual. Between the campy noise of the film she had on and the tinkering sound of the piano from upstairs, Y/N began to feel ease slip into her body. The fact that the house was so full of life now was hard for Y/N to believe, even if it came with some difficulties so far, it felt so right. 

Just as she had finished the steps for her ritual, which she had planned to do the following morning at dawn, her phone pinged. Thinking it was one of the hybrids, Y/N fumbled for her phone tangled somewhere in her quilt, pushing wet hair out of her face. Humming in excitement upon realizing the message was from Alice, Y/N shut her movie off, scooching down further in bed. 

Alice Santos: facetime now okay?

Without responding, Y/N clicked the icon to call her, both excited to catch up with one of her closest friends and nervous to announce her adoptions of all the hybrids. She had a feeling Alice would be a bit more dramatic than Ben had been. The phone rang twice before Alice’s face appeared on the screen, squealing upon seeing Y/N. 

“Hold on, hold on. Before you say anything, I’m adding Laura to the call,” Alice’s raspy voice filled Y/N with warmth, her nails clacking against the screen as she searched for her twin sister’s contact. Y/N could hear Alice’s cat, Heathcliff, mewing loudly at her from his spot on the couch beside her. 

Seconds later, Laura, lovely as ever, popped onto the screen as well, sitting in a rocking chair with her son Kai on her lap. Both Y/N and Alice cooed at the boy, just shy of two years old, his chubby little cheeks smeared with a bit of applesauce Laura was trying to feed him. 

“I miss you guys so much!” Y/N whined, recalling the last time she saw both of them– a little over a month ago at Alice’s poetry book release party. 

Alice worked as an editor for a local paper, which often took up most of her time, up until she published her book. Now, she was busier than ever doing pop-up readings and working on her newest book, on top of the work from the paper. Y/N was extremely proud of Alice’s accomplishments; her dreams of becoming a successful writer as a kid started to come true right before her eyes. 

Similarly, Laura had her hands full with not only her two year old son, but the vlog channel she created after Kai’s birth to document motherhood with her husband Tyler as the faithful cameraman. The channel took off, thanks to Laura’s infectious sunshine personality and creativity, her videos featuring recipes, craft tutorials, and Q&A’s. 

“I miss you more, Y/N, how did the job exit go? Are you free finally?” Alice produced a bowl of ice cream from behind the phone camera, curling into a ball on her tiny couch to tuck into it. Alice, the more forward of the two twins, never liked how much Y/N’s job at the vet clinic had drained her. 

“My last day was Friday,” Y/N confirmed, pouting slightly. She had to admit, she felt guilty that she didn’t even miss working at the clinic yet, quickly chalking it up to how busy she had been with the hybrids over the weekend. 

“Thank the Lord for that,” Laura chimed in, bouncing a babbling Kai on her knee while adjusting his tight brown curls. “That place was sucking the life out of you, honey.”

“Hey, you’re doing the cookout this Friday, right? Ben texted me… what should I bring? I was going to make a sangria or something,” Alice pondered, giving Heathcliff a scratch under his chin. 

Discussing the details of the cookout for a few moments, she and the twins decided on what they’d bring, the conversation turning towards Ben and Roy’s adoption of Daisy pretty quickly. Y/N brought up her idea for introducing Kai to Daisy, which Laura was already onboard for. 

“I’ve been meaning to introduce Kai to hybrids for some time now. Children really seem to love them, and there’s so many hybrids in Boston these days,” Laura explained, tugging on the end of one of her collarbone-length twisted braids. Y/N sucked in her cheeks, nodding. Would now be the time to tell them about her hybrids?

“Y/N, by the way, when Ben texted me… he said you had news,” Alice raised a manicured eyebrow, setting her bowl down with a mischievous smile. Heart plummeting to her ass, Y/N cursed in betrayal. 

“Ugh! He can never keep his mouth shut, I swear!” Y/N groaned, shoving her face into a pillow in dismay. Her heart began to race, knowing that if the twins began to shout at her through the phone, the hybrids would hear every word. Her headphones were missing from her nightstand, so unfortunately there was nothing she could do if that possibility came to fruition. 

“So, what is it? Are you dating again?” Laura urged gently, getting up to put a sleepy Kai in his crib. 

“God, no. I, uh…” Y/N began, sweating profusely, “I adopted hybrids. Friday.”

Silence rang out on the other ends of the lines, Y/N biting her lip hard enough to draw some blood. And then, deafening chaos. 

“You WHAT?” Alice roared, spooking Heathcliff off of the couch and out of view. Cringing, Y/N watched Laura scramble out of Kai’s room to bolt into her own, shutting the door so she could join in on the yelling. 

“I thought hybrids weirded you out?! Y/N, what happened? Are you going through a quarter-life crisis?” Laura enunciated in an intense tone, looking like a stern school teacher. 

“Guys, please! They can probably hear you,” Y/N begged desperately, pulling her quilt over her head in an attempt to muffle the sounds coming from her phone. 

“How many? Y/N, I can’t even begin to articulate how insane this is for you. I mean seriously, are they kids? Do you have men living in your house right now?” Alice began to panic, running a hand through her bouncy curls in distress. Cringing, Y/N turned the volume on her phone down to the lowest possible setting, trying to ignore her bloody lip in the reflection of the camera. 

“Y/N. How many? You know what, fuck it. I’m coming over and canceling my reading tonight,” Alice continued after Y/N’s tense silence, the window showing her frantically getting off her couch to yank her car keys from the hook by her apartment door. 

“Alice, no–” Y/N yelped, bolting upright in bed as Laura joined in on the chaos. 

“Alice, relax! You can’t cancel that reading, your publisher’s going to be there,” Laura reminded her twin, her pretty face pinched in concern as she continued to tug on her braids anxiously. With a groan, Alice dropped her keys on the phone, giving Y/N a scathing look. Taking a deep breath, Y/N decided to give all of the details to prevent any more rash ideas. 

“There’s seven of them, and yeah, they’re men…” Y/N began in a shaky voice, trying to ignore Laura’s gasps of horror. “They’re really sweet, all of them, and I think things are going very well so far.”

“Yeah, until one decides to enter your bedroom in the middle of the night!” Alice interjected, shaking her head constantly. Blanching, Y/N coughed, wondering how the hell she was going to face the hybrids later that evening, God forbid they heard the conversation. 

“No, that’s not going to happen. I… trust them. Listen, they were all going to be sold to a hybrid hunter, and I just couldn’t bear the thoughts of what would happen to them after I saw them at the shelter. No one should have to live like that, running for their lives, an object of sport,” Y/N defended the hybrids, thinking about shutting herself into her closet to lessen the chances of Namjoon hearing her just a few feet down the hall. 

“Well, that’s all very valiant of you, Y/N, but let’s be real, here. They’re still men that you just met, living in your home!” Alice spat in a more hushed tone, as all of their yelling had woken Kai up even through the phone. 

“I hate to be a bummer, too, Y/N, but Alice is right. I’m really worried for you. Hybrids are very strong, and they still have animalistic instincts. You’re not used to being around hybrids, you’ve practically avoided them your entire life, apart from Keaon when we were little,” Laura added, trying her best to soothe Kai wailing from his crib. 

“God, what’s with people bringing up Keaon lately, I swear…” Y/N huffed, so aggravated that she was thinking of asking Jeongguk for a cigarette after she hung up. “I’ll be fine! I was a vet, remember, that has to count for something. And my parents already met them. There's the cookout on Friday, too, so you guys can meet them and make an assessment then.”

“Oh, so you want us to wait four more days for the cookout to feel out whether they’re creeps or not?” Alice deadpanned, Y/N yanking her hair at her roots. 

“C-creeps,” Y/N squeaked, tearing a bigger hole into her bloodied lip. 

“They might be! For all you know,” Alice replied, though her tone began to soften when realizing how upset Y/N was becoming. “Just please be careful, Y/N. You’re known to be too trusting.”

“Yeah, honey. We just want you to be safe,” Laura grit out, hefting Kai out of his crib and trying to juggle the phone while she pat his back. Y/N sighed raggedly, grateful for her caring friends, but quite sad that she seemed to be one of the only people so far to actually believe that the hybrids were non-threatening. 

“I’m safe, I promise,” Y/N murmured, gathering up her quilt to combat the chill she felt washing over her. The drafty window in her bathroom had to be tackled this week. Alice audibly cringed at Kai’s sobs, increasing in volume steadily. 

“I gotta go, my loves. I think he needs to be changed. Be safe, Y/N, and good luck tonight, Al,” Laura shifted Kai to sit on her hip, his tear-stained cheeks wobbling as he cried. 

“Shit. I should start prepping for my reading, too,” Alice began ruffling some papers off-screen, though Y/N could tell she was still unconvinced by the whole hybrid thing. 

“Call you guys on Thursday?” Y/N asked in a small voice, guilty that she had upset her friends. 

“Of course. We need regular status updates or I will come over there,” Alice threatened, the edge in her tone gone, however. She offered Y/N a half-smile, the three women exchanging “I love you”s before hanging up. 

Groaning as her phone hit the pillow beside her, Y/N ran a palm over her face tiredly. She strained her ears for a moment, trying to locate where the hybrids were in the house, but she was met with complete silence. Frowning, she decided there was no way she was going out there so soon after the messy phone call, pulling her laptop onto her chest and fumbling blindly for the thick envelope of adoption certificates she had received at the shelter that morning resting on the nightstand. 

The papers were weighty, a gold seal stamped over each one and the thick script of both her name and the hybrid’s name printed in stark black ink. Squinting, she searched for the ID number on the certificate she was holding– Yoongi’s, spotting it with an ah-ha at the bottom left corner of the paper. Excitement surrounding learning some new things about the hybrids, taking over the discomfort she was feeling over the phone call with her friends, Y/N brought up the hybrid database on her laptop, plugging the 9-digit ID for Yoongi into the appropriate search bar. The screen took a few moments to load, before a spreadsheet flashed onto the page. 

The first thing she noticed was an outdated picture of Yoongi, from probably about three years ago. His cheeks were filled out, and he looked a lot healthier, it dawning on Y/N that he now had dark circles under his green-brown eyes. Pouting at the picture, she recognized the second as him in his leopard form, the background most definitely of the shelter she had adopted him at. The rest of the spreadsheet had information. 

Yoongi, Min; panthera pardus. DOB 03/09/93. Place of Origin: unknown. Was illegally claimed without formal adoption by Boston, MA “The Black Lodge” bar and nightclub owner **** ******, along with hybrid’s mother of same species. Performed illegal hybrid labor since childhood at the place of business. Mother now deceased. Was turned into Gerry’s Hybrids by nightclub owner’s son upon his father’s death. THREAT LEVEL: 6/10 - HYBRID PHYSICALLY RESISTED APPREHENSION ONCE REPORTED, TWO AGENTS INJURED. 

Hand over her mouth as she read, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like her heart was breaking. Even with the small amount of information on Yoongi, it was deeply personal; she didn’t even know Yoongi had a mother, as the majority of hybrids were lab created. Anger rose up in her when she thought of Yoongi being kicked out of a place he had known all his life, saving the form to her computer and reluctantly moving to the next certificate at random. 

Jimin, Park; canis latrans. DOB 10/13/95. Place of Origin: Yellowstone National Park Hybrid Lab. Worked as ranch hand in the Yellowstone National Park from birth, up until 07/22 of the current calendar year. Abandoned position, and illegally crossed-country by bus, was found wandering streets of Boston, MA in a frantic manner. THREAT LEVEL: 6/10 - HYBRID HAS BEEN TRAINED IN SEVERAL FORMS OF SELF DEFENSE AND IS EXPERT IN SELF PRESERVATION, AS PER HIS PREVIOUS EMPLOYMENT TRAINING. EXHIBITS ANXIETY IN CLOSED SPACES. 

Eyebrows pulling together, Y/N examined the lovely picture of Jimin on the form, his smile just as blinding through the screen. He had on the hat that she had returned to him upon taking the hybrid’s previous belongings back from Gerry. Jimin, nor Yoongi, for that matter, seemed to strike her as a 6/10 “threat level”. Shaking her head, she figured that whoever wrote the spreadsheets were likely biased against hybrids in general, how ironic. Eagerly, she moved on – Hoseok’s sweet face filling her screen with an extremely old picture of him, perhaps during his adolescence.

Hoseok, Jung; vulpes vulpes. DOB 02/18/94. Place of Origin: Paris Hybrid Lab. Raised in labs internationally since birth. Transferred 24 times. Remained unadopted throughout, despite several possible adoptions that ultimately fell through. Has aged out of lab adoption centers by the time he had reached Boston, MA. Upon unsuccessfully meeting requirements for shelters in MA due to temperament, hybrid was brought to Gerry’s Hybrids. THREAT LEVEL: 5/10 - HYBRID KNOWN FOR DECEIT, CUNNINGNESS AND ATTEMPTED ESCAPE OF SEVERAL SHELTERS. HYBRID EXCELS IN ATHLETICS AND CAN SUCCESSFULLY OUTRUN PURSUERS. FLIGHT RISK.

Eyes bugging out at the “24 times” Hoseok had been moved around the world, from shelter to shelter, Y/N muttered a colorful cuss. It was no wonder Hoseok had been so weird when Jimin asked where he was from, Hoseok was seemingly from both everywhere and nowhere. 

Next, Y/N plugged in Taehyung’s ID number, thrumming her fingers against her laptop while the page loaded. Taehyung’s picture was extremely blurry, almost akin to a mugshot. Taehyung’s eyes looked vacant in the photo, Y/N shivering, then gasping when she saw how little information the form had. 

Taehyung, Kim; ursus arctos middendorffi. DOB 12/30/95. Place of Origin: unknown. Report called in anonymously that an unadopted hybrid had been hiding at a 24-HR cafe for several weeks in Boston, MA before the hybrid was dropped off at Gerry’s Hybrids. THREAT LEVEL: 8/10 - HYBRID EXTREMELY UNWILLING TO BE APPREHENDED, COMBATIVE. DUE TO SIZE OF THE HYBRID WHEN SHIFTED, HYBRID IS TO BE REGARDED WITH CAUTION. MULTIPLE INJURIES TO AGENTS UPON APPREHENSION. 

Frowning, Y/N was disappointed she couldn’t glean more information about the already elusive and enigmatic Taehyung. He had told her he was from Alaska, which was missing from the form. Other than that, all Y/N gained from his form was his whereabouts just before his adoption. Again, she wrote off his ‘threat level’ as an over exaggeration; Taehyung was so gentle.

Grasping Jeongguk’s certificate while twisting her mouth, Y/N waited to see his smug face show up on her laptop screen. Like Taehyung’s, Jeongguk’s picture looked like a mugshot, his serious expression making her snort a little into her palm. Part of her wished it was an older picture– she loved seeing Hoseok’s from youth. 

Jeongguk, Jeon; cervus canadensis. DOB 09/01/97. Place of Origin: Los Angeles Hybrid Suppliers. Raised with others of his species in the supplier lab, hybrid was noted as uncharacteristically aggressive compared to kin. Hybrid is known to have escaped from Los Angeles Hybrid Suppliers at age of 20 and has been at large since. Was caught by hybrid patrol in abandoned Steinert Hall (Boston, MA) with several thousand dollars worth of recording equipment and other oddities. Hybrid was promptly brought to Gerry’s Hybrids due to extremely volatile behavior during apprehension. THREAT LEVEL: 9/10 - HYBRID CONSIDERED HIGHLY DANGEROUS. WAS ARMED WITH WEAPONS AT THE TIME OF APPREHENSION, SKILLED AT FIGHTING, ERUPTIVE PERSONALITY. FLIGHT RISK. 

Y/N was rigid in her spot on her bed, not quite expecting so many brand new details into who Jeongguk was. Perhaps in her let-down of Taehyung’s report, she had expected Jeongguk’s to be similar. Biting her nails, she scanned his information again, wondering if everything she had read so far was overstated. While Jeongguk was certainly rude, he had yet to demonstrate dangerous behavior. Additionally, she had no idea what a supplier lab was.

Besides, what piqued her curiosity the most was not only his journey from Los Angeles to Boston, but how he was caught. Steinert Hall was an old piano concert hall in the heart of Boston that had been abandoned for years– he must have broken in– but why? Further, she wondered about the items he was caught with, recording equipment and “other oddities”. Was he filming a movie? The thought made her even more confused, and it was not like she could ask him yet. She had a feeling she’d be met with anger. 

The room began to get a little darker, late afternoon creeping up on her as she hurried to get through the last two hybrids. Setting the others aside carefully, she picked up Namjoon’s certificate, sliding a finger over his ID number. To her shock, barely anything showed up for Namjoon, not even a picture. 

Namjoon, Kim; canis lupus occidentalis. DOB 09/12/94. Place of Origin: unknown. Report called in that an unadopted hybrid was participating in a club illegally. Hybrid was apprehended in shifted form around the outskirts of Boston, MA, outside of a mobile home. Brought to Gerry’s Hybrids promptly due to shifted state and volitility. THREAT LEVEL: 10/10 - HIGHLY DANGEROUS. INJURED 6 AGENTS SERIOUSLY. BEHAVIOR IS EXTREMELY AGGRESSIVE. SUSPECTED TO BE RAISED IN WILDERNESS DUE TO BEHAVIOR. 

Swallowing hard, Y/N cast a look over towards her bedroom door, convinced that Namjoon could hear her thoughts as she read through his information. She had only interacted with Namjoon for only a few hours, and he didn’t seem as though he had been raised in the wilderness; Y/N just assumed he was slow to hand his trust over. Though– he injured six agents? This came as quite the surprise to Y/N, as she had naively thought that agents that brought in stray hybrids were trained to be cautious; however, she had come to a strong conclusion that the agents were likely people who provoke stray hybrids into aggression. Thinking once again about Yoongi, who was one of the most gentle of the hybrids so far, she couldn’t imagine him injuring somebody unwarranted. 

Heaving a great sigh, she plugged in Seokjin’s number before tucking all of the certificates safely back inside the envelope on her nightstand. To her sudden delight, a very old picture of Seokjin was attached to the page, estimating him to be about twelve in the photo. His cheeks were cutely rounded, though his expression was quite stoic. 

Seokjin, Kim; panthera onca. DOB: 12/04/92. Place of Origin: Milwaukee Hybrid Lab. Raised in a group of over 300 exotic hybrids to be sold to circuses and zoos. Hybrid was exemplary subject at lab, was sold to Cirque ******* at age of 22. Traveled and performed with the circus up until 08/13 of the current calendar year following incident at a show in Boston, MA resulting in hybrid injury. Hybrid was left at Gerry’s Hybrids, consequently. THREAT LEVEL: 6/10 - HYBRID DOES NOT HAVE A PAST OF AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR PRIOR TO INJURY. SUFFERS FROM EXTREME PTSD, ANXIETY AND PHOBIAS - IF TRIGGERED, HYBRID BECOMES ALARMED AND POSSIBLY DANGEROUS. FLIGHT RISK. 

Y/N felt nauseous reading about Seokjin’s past, wanting to hurl her laptop clear across the room. Sweet Seokjin, the one who didn’t mind when she grabbed his wrist to pull him along, the one who polished off the bacon that morning, had suffered such an abrupt abandonment recently. To learn that was how hybrids were treated by a company that was entrusted with his care, with such little regard to what happens to them after they are no longer “of use”, made Y/N sick to her stomach. All she wanted was to dash into Seokjin’s room to gather him up in a hug, recalling how feverish and dismayed he was the day he had arrived in the house. He had recovered remarkably well, considering, but Y/N still felt he’d have a long way to go before he truly recovered from the experience. 

Laying back in bed, desperately trying to process everything she’d read, her brain was a jumbled mess. Echoes of her friend’s valid concerns on whether or not she could handle the seven hybrids bounced around in her skull; and guilt crept into her body as she doubted whether or not she could. Of course, she would never consider bringing them back, abandoning them again, but she wanted them to live happy lives. Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if all of them would truly ever be comfortable around her, considering their past treatments. She worried that she wouldn’t be able to hide her anxiety from them that night, Yoongi’s conversation with her the previous night coming back to her once more. They’d be able to sniff out her nervous sweat from a mile away. 

The more she thought about her conversation with Yoongi, minor details came back to her. Namely, before they were interrupted, Yoongi had begun to talk about something called scenting. She never got around to asking him about it earlier that day, as he had promptly dashed up to the piano after returning from the shopping center. Curiously, she reached for her laptop she had pushed off her legs in disgust, googling “hybrid scenting” and clicking on a wiki page at random. 

Again, Y/N’s nausea returned. According to the article, hybrids, in order to properly bond with the humans that adopt them, must “scent” the human to feel secure. Hybrids are known to be possessive over the humans in their lives, particularly their adoptive human, and will initiate their scenting ritual once comfortable enough around the human. Scenting can happen often or rarely depending on hybrid type, predators are likely to scent more frequently, but it wasn’t an exact data collection. The actual ritual included a bite, one that drew blood from the human and in a location close to arteries (where scents are apparently “concentrated” to hybrids), before saliva from the hybrid soothes and “cauterizes” the wound. Feeling her stomach flip at the thought of any of the hybrids not only biting her, but then soothing the wound with a swipe of a tongue, was so overwhelming she had to shut her laptop and bolt out of bed. 

Cursing Yoongi internally for not disclosing scenting first, Y/N fanned her face frantically while she paced about the room. Should she bring it up to them? The thought was humiliating, but the article stated the longer the hybrids wait to scent their adoptive human, the more uncomfortable it gets for them. Apart from Yoongi, none of them even mentioned it yet, which was concerning to her. She knew that the shame fell on her, for not knowing basically a thing about hybrids in general. However, she still didn’t feel ready to bring it up over dinner. 

Yelping at the sound of a large thump coming from above her, Y/N slapped her palms over her face a few times to return the color back to her cheeks, her appearance in the full-length mirror positively scandalized. The sound of Jeongguk’s heavy stomping from back and forth into his bathroom made her spring into action, wanting to bolt into the kitchen and work on dinner so Yoongi wouldn’t have to. Casting one last look at herself in the mirror, feeling like she looked calm enough to bump into one of them without raising suspicion, Y/N slowly pushed her bedroom door open and peeked her head out. The hallway was empty. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N marched out into the hall, skipping past Namjoon’s door; unsurprisingly it swung open once she reached the end of the hall. Pausing, she looked over her shoulder, offering Namjoon a tiny smile as he poked his head out of the door. His silvery hair was damp and in his face, likely from the shower. She hadn’t even heard it turn on. Y/N waited for Namjoon to catch up with her, his expression hard to read once he was inches away. Finding it hard to look him in the eyes, Y/N resumed her route to the kitchen without a word, Namjoon hot on her heels. 

“Who was on the phone?” Namjoon demanded, a slight edge to his voice but the volume of it was not enough to frighten Y/N. Blowing hair out of her face, she knew Namjoon could hear her, but she could still pray the others hadn’t. 

“My friends from childhood, they’re twin sisters, Laura and Alice,” Y/N answered simply, not wanting to over explain. The kitchen was dim, Y/N flicking on all the lights and gesturing for Namjoon to sit on one of the barstools. Lifting a brow at her, Namjoon hesitantly sat down, Y/N trying to keep the mood light. At least he seemed to have cooled down from whatever ticked him off after getting ice cream. 

“They don’t like us. They think you’re in danger,” Namjoon leaned back on the barstool, arms crossed over his chest. Sighing, Y/N retrieved two wine glasses from the cabinet, pouring a healthy amount of Cabernet for the two of them and sliding the glass for Namjoon across the island. Eyebrow shooting up further into his hairline, Namjoon watched her take a hearty swig. 

“What do you want me to say, Namjoon? I made an uncharacteristic decision, and to be fair, you are all men. They have a right to be worried about me, no matter how unfounded it seems to you. It’s not that they don’t like you, either. I think if anything, they’re questioning my sanity,” Y/N stated calmly, finally mustering up the courage to stare at him directly in the eyes, leaning over the island. Taking another sip of wine, she waited for the wheels to turn in his head. 

“Do you think you’re in danger?” Namjoon continued to interrogate after a few moments, long fingers running up and down the stem of his wine glass. Humming, Y/N felt the red wine warm her belly, close enough to Namjoon to feel his breath fan over her face. 

“No. Should I?” Y/N countered, pushing herself off of the counter in search of something to scrounge up for dinner. She heard the scrape of glass across the granite island, peeking over her shoulder to catch Namjoon, eyes cast upwards mid-eyeroll, glass to his lips. 

Silent for a few moments, Y/N started to hum a tune suspiciously close to Smells Like Teen Spirit, rummaging through one of the lower cabinets for a rice cooker. Wondering just how much rice she’d have to make for eight people, she hefted the appliance and a 15 lb bag of sushi rice onto the counter beside the stove. Biting her lip, then wincing at the pain from the hole she had bitten into it earlier, Y/N estimated around 3.5 cups of uncooked rice in the pot, before bringing it to the sink to rinse it a few times. Pulling up the sleeves of her thermal, washed the rice until the water ran mostly clear. 

“I think you’d be a fool if you didn’t,” Namjoon suddenly pointed out, Y/N looking at him with surprise. His wine glass was empty, his eyes narrowed at her. Scoffing, she placed the pot of rice into the appliance, drying her hands on her sweatpants and switching on the rice cooker. Taking a deep breath, she painted a lopsided smile on her face, pouring Namjoon and herself a second glass. 

“Well, call me a fool then, for being optimistic,” Y/N muttered over the rim of her wine glass, Namjoon’s shoulders stiffening a fraction, his ear flickering. “Besides, the twins will be here for a cookout on Friday. If you’re still upset by then, you can talk it out with them. I think they’re scarier than you, Namjoon.”

“Please,” Namjoon snorted humorlessly, turning his head to drink from his glass. Shrugging, Y/N returned to the dinner making process, pulling vegetables, sauces, and a package of flank steak and the egg carton at random. She decided to make a bunch of things to stick in a rice bowl, and the hybrids could choose what they wanted. 

While rinsing some green onions, thankfully without any more questioning from the wolf hybrid brooding on the barstool across from her, Y/N heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Perking up a little, perhaps hoping for someone to brighten up the mood, Y/N craned her neck towards the kitchen entrance. 

“Hey Seokjin! How are you doing?” Y/N grinned, pushing down the sadness that surfaced when she remembered the information she had just learned about him. Grinning back, Seokjin came up to her side, watching her chop the green onions, nodding once at Namjoon. “Wine?”

“Hmm, sure. I’m good, also. What are you making?” Seokjin cocked his head, putting his hand on her shoulder to reach a wine glass for himself when it was too high and far back for Y/N to get on her own. Shuddering at the sudden contact, Y/N hurriedly poured him a glass of the Cabernet, returning to the vegetable prep. 

“I’m making some vegetables, some beef, maybe a few fried eggs… figured we can just make our own rice bowls with ingredients you like,” Y/N explained, slicing through a bell pepper. Seokjin leaned his hip against the counter beside her, watching carefully. 

“What happened to your lip? Are you okay?” Seokjin asked, a strong current of concern in his voice. Absently brushing her fingers by her lip, but not touching the skin, Y/N tried to shoot him a comforting look. 

“Oh I’m fine, don’t worry about me! I just bit it too hard. Happens all the time,” Y/N waved her hand, sliding the sliced peppers into a bowl with the flat of her knife. Seokjin grunted softly, apparently unconvinced, eyeing Namjoon distrustfully. The jaguar hybrid moved to sit on a barstool as well, a few away from Namjoon, settling in to watch her cook. 

“Hoseok made me do “yoga” with him,” Seokjin informed her, his lips curling around the apparently unfamiliar word, making air quotes simultaneously. Using her elbow to wipe a stray tear from her eye chopping an onion, Y/N giggled picturing the two hybrids meditating side-by-side. 

“Really? I love yoga, though I haven’t done it in a while…” Y/N tried to subtly monitor the two hybrids sitting across from her in case of an incident, Namjoon leaning his body across the island to help himself to more wine. Finding the bottle empty, he heaved a sigh, getting to his feet. 

He was easily able to find the wine cooler, carefully reading each label before selecting the same brand the three of them had been drinking, Seokjin and Y/N exchanging surprised looks. Namjoon used a sharp thumbnail to slice open the foil covering the cork on the bottle, frowning once he realized the bottle wasn’t open completely. He began opening drawers at random, likely searching for the opener, Y/N eyeing him while she began stir-frying some of the vegetables. Each time he came up empty-handed, his ears drooped further, looking almost adorable. 

“Need some help?” Came Yoongi’s gruff voice suddenly, pretty much materializing from the entrance to the kitchen from the parlor. Already feeling the wine dizzying up her head, she was grateful for any help at all to finish dinner. Making a small noise of delight, Y/N nodded, and Yoongi immediately began to assess the marinades and flank steak she had brought out from the fridge, using a rubber band from his wrist to tie up his long locks. Y/N made a mental note to dig up her bag of scrunchies to offer him later that night. 

While Yoongi and Seokjin began to chit-chat about the jaguar hybrid’s yoga experience, Namjoon had successfully located the bottle opener in the drawer beside where Y/N was stir-frying, aggressively trying to jam the corkscrew into the cork with gritted teeth. He definitely didn’t know how to use it. Taking pity on him, and more or less wanting a fresh glass of wine for herself, Y/N set her wooden spoon down, holding her palm out for the corkscrew. 

“Here, let me, honey,” Y/N stepped to the side, taking the wine opener from the wolf hybrid’s slackened grip, his entire body locking up at the sound of the pet name. Internally, she scolded herself as heat crept up her neck, but it was hard to resist the term of endearment when he looked so cute when he was frustrated. Hopefully, he wasn’t insulted. “It’s tricky, I’ll show you how my dad taught me.”

She briefly explained the steps, pulling up the cork halfway, before stepping away once more and talking him through the last step. Y/N could have sworn his ears, the human set adorned with simple silver hoops, turned a faint shade of pink, but she also could have imagined it. Namjoon muttered a thanks, swiftly refilling her glass for her, before dashing away a bit clumsily back to his own seat. Chuckling, she took a sip of her wine and returned to the frying pan, her elbow brushing Yoongi’s as he began both cooking the steak and making what appeared to be tamagoyaki in a second rectangle pan she didn’t even know she owned. Damn, she thought, he works fast. 

“Can I try some of that?” Yoongi jutted his chin towards her wine glass while he reached for the salt pinch bowl, his tail brushing the back of her knee with the movement. Wordlessly, she passed her glass over, Yoongi grinning slyly as he took a delicate sip. A low hum of enjoyment came from the back of his throat, Y/N hurriedly cracking some pepper into her frying pan to cover up her fluster. 

“Want a glass?” Y/N cleared her throat, Yoongi taking another sip and raising his eyebrows at her. 

“No, we can just share this one,” Yoongi chuckled, setting the wine glass on his side of the counter with a clink. Eyes bugging out of her skull, Y/N squeaked out an “okay”, trying her best to focus on finishing up her part of the meal prepping. Yoongi seemed to enjoy her reaction to his words, snickering every few seconds as he rolled up the tamagoyaki with a pair of chopsticks. 

“You had an interesting phone call, huh?” Yoongi passed her the wine glass after several moments, Y/N reeling as she was snapped out of eavesdropping on Seokjin’s attempts to initiate conversation with Namjoon. 

“Shit. Did everyone hear it?” Y/N hissed, after almost choking on her mouthful of wine. “You were upstairs, for Christ’s sake, weren’t you?” 

“Yeah, we did. And yes, I was,” Yoongi answered playfully, covering his completed steak dish and moving to slice the tamagoyaki. “I mean, your friends weren’t exactly speaking softly.”

“No, they weren’t,” Y/N agreed mournfully, wondering if the remaining hybrids had their feelings hurt, due to their absences. Currently, it was the longest she had gone without seeing Taehyung, other than when she was sleeping, since she brought him home. “Next time I’ll wear headphones,” she added determinedly. 

“Mmm… that might help. Might not. Super hearing, remember?” Yoongi pointed to one of his spotted ears, a teasing lilt to his voice. Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, abandoning him by the stove to check on the rice. Muttering to herself, Y/N turned to the island with a rice paddle, wishing Yoongi hadn’t stolen her wine glass for the time being. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a third person sitting at the island beside Seokjin, swirling a whiskey glass in his hand.

“Oh! Didn’t hear you come in, Jimin!” Y/N exclaimed, catching the coyote hybrid’s attention at once. Flashing one of his beautiful smiles, Y/N relaxed a fraction. Jimin was so polite, even if he had heard Laura and Alice over the phone, Y/N hardly expected him to say anything about it. “You guys have a knack for sneaking up on me.”

“Darling Y/N, it’s not our fault you have plain old human ears,” Hoseok’s voice suddenly came from her left, making her flinch so hard she dropped the rice paddle on the floor. Gritting her teeth, she turned to scold him for being mean, his face apologetic as he bent to get the rice paddle for her. He was dressed in a set of pajamas, with his new slippers on, freshly showered; grinning at her as he extended the rice paddle out to her. “Whoops, sorry. Forgot you were clumsy, too.”

“Hoseok!” Seokjin barked from his seat at the island, corners of his lips turned downwards in disapproval. Hoseok made that strange whistle tone Y/N was becoming increasingly familiar with, his expression becoming uneasy once his chocolatey eyes landed on Namjoon sitting at the end of the island. “Knock it off,” Seokjin ordered. 

“Relax, Jinnie, I’m only teasing,” Hoseok replied, his voice a little strained as he patted Y/N on the back. Grimacing, she went back to fluffing up the rice in the cooker, Yoongi shooing Hoseok over to the breakfast nook by handing him the platter of sliced tamagoyaki. Starting to feel a bit sweaty, the red wine coursing through her with a vengeance, Y/N polished off her shared glass of wine much to Yoongi’s dismay. 

Y/N snuck a look at Namjoon, who had turned his head to stare at Hoseok with mild interest. Namjoon’s cheeks were pink with the alcohol, and a majority of his steeliness had softened. Absently, Y/N found herself pouring him a glass of water from the fridge door dispenser, sliding it across the island to the wolf hybrid while Seokjin continued to scold Hoseok from his seat. 

Her and Yoongi worked quickly to place everything on the breakfast nook, Y/N feeling quite tipsy suddenly as she found herself giggling at everything that came out of Yoongi and Seokjin’s mouths. Vaguely, she heard Yoongi ask her if she could call upstairs for Taehyung and Jeongguk, obediently following his direction and slightly swaying her way to the foyer. The loud voices of the hybrids from the kitchen had her practically squealing like an idiot, so pleased that she wasn’t alone in that big house anymore. Upon reaching the banister of the stairs, Y/N gripped one of the carved balusters with clammy hands. 

“Jeongguk, Taehyung! Dinner is ready,” Y/N shouted up the stairs, probably more loudly than necessary. Humming to herself, she caught an image of her reflection in the hallway mirror, her cheeks flushed and eyes a bit squinted. Two sets of footsteps bounded down the wooden staircase rapidly. Without wasting a second, Jeongguk flew right by her, head turned to look at her suspiciously as he passed. Pouting at his frame retreating into the kitchen, she turned back to Taehyung, who was leaning over the banister she was gripping, staring at her curiously. 

“Were you drinking wine?” Taehyung cocked his head, a ghost of a smile across his lips as he leaned in close to her. Both overwhelmed and overjoyed to see him, Y/N nodded enthusiastically. 

“Did you find the record player, Tae?” Y/N asked eagerly, wanting to push a stray curl out of his face to see his pretty garnet-colored eyes better. She didn’t even register the nickname for him that had easily fallen from her lips, but Taehyung certainly did. 

“Tae?” His deep voice rumbled with amusement, leaning even closer to her, Y/N widened her eyes, practically able to count his eyelashes. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. 

“Y-yeah, sorry, it just sort of fell out,” Y/N spoke nervously, barely above a whisper due to his proximity. Taehyung shook his head, chuckling, his curls brushing her forehead with the moment. 

“No, I like it,” Taehyung quickly assured her, pulling away from her personal space and descending the remaining stairs. “Let’s go, Jimin is wondering where you are.”

Trying to catch her breath, Y/N turned to gaze into the kitchen, noticing Jimin heading to the foyer with his whiskey glass in his hand, a quizzical expression on his face. Hurrying after Taehyung, who kept shooting her mirthful glances, Y/N swore under her breath. Those hybrids were definitely trying to mess with her, she concluded, stumbling over her own feet to catch up with Taehyung’s long strides. 

Thankfully, when she felt herself nearly toppling over by the coffee bar, Jimin caught her by her elbow, tutting in disapproval with a touch of merriment in his eyes. Sheepishly, she let him steady her, feeling like she was being herded as he walked behind her with both hands around her upper arms to steer her towards the breakfast nook. Waving Jimin off, embarrassed, Y/N slid into the booth next to Hoseok. Jimin, snickering, returned to his barstool beside Seokjin. 

“You should take it easy with that red,” Hoseok murmured into her ear, scooching his own glass further away from her when she surreptitiously tried to sneak a sip. “One of us is going to have to scrape you off the floor.”

“No you won’t. I can drink,” Y/N insisted, slightly offended. She stuck out her lower lip at the fox hybrid, who appeared to be trying not to laugh at her. Muttering something like “mean fox”, Y/N begrudgingly took a gulp from a glass of water that had somehow appeared in front of her as if by magic. 

“Sure,” Hoseok hummed, accepting two bowls of rice from Yoongi, ferrying them back and forth to everyone in the kitchen. Hoseok set a bowl gently in front of Y/N, his arm pressing into her’s with how close she had sat next to him. 

As she was piling on some vegetables into her bowl, a couple of the hybrids leaned across the breakfast nook to add an ingredient to their own dishes before returning to a barstool. Unfortunately, not all of them could fit in the breakfast nook, Taehyung across from her, Jeongguk squeezed in between the Kodiak hybrid and Hoseok. Munching on a piece of tamagoyaki, Y/N flinched when she felt the empty space beside her fill up clumsily by Namjoon, who had inelegantly toppled into the booth with his bowl. Surprised, Y/N pressed closer to Hoseok, trying to free up more space for Namjoon’s large frame. Namjoon must have been more tipsy than she thought, barely even noticing Taehyung scowling at him from across the table. In fact, Namjoon seemed completely relaxed for once, his cheeks full of rice and meat as he ate. 

“Ugh,” Hoseok groaned lowly, blood in his face draining as he pushed food around in his bowl with his chopsticks. Y/N patted his back soothingly, hoping he’d be able to push past his fear of Namjoon enough to eat. Especially considering Namjoon had rice stuck to his face, he wasn’t exactly threatening at the moment. 

“The tamagoyaki is delicious, Yoongi!” Y/N called over to the island, the leopard hybrid’s ears immediately perking up. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked at her, holding up a stir-fried pepper with his chopsticks. 

“Good job with the vegetables, yourself,” he returned, his sharp incisors flashing as he took a bite of the pepper. 

Luckily, the meal passed by amicably. Taehyung had worked up the courage to start a conversation with Hoseok, likely due to noticing the fox hybrid’s discomfort with Namjoon’s presence. As always, Jeongguk mostly kept to himself, but very visibly enjoyed the contents of his meal, even asking Yoongi for more rice. Y/N eased off of Hoseok a bit, his skin far too warm for her to comfortably lean against for a second longer, forcing her to be pressed closer to Namjoon. Thankfully, he seemed to be running a bit cooler than the fox hybrid, the fabric of his thermal soft against Y/N’s forearms. At the contact with her body heat, Namjoon jumped a little, his hand knocking over Y/N’s empty water glass. 

“Whoops! Good thing it’s empty,” Y/N giggled, righting the glass and peering at Namjoon’s startled face. He was staring at where their arms touched, tongue peaking out to catch some steak sauce on his lower lip. Making eye contact with her, Namjoon actually chuckled over his minor blunder, to Y/N’s delight. 

“Is this your first time drinking, or something, wolf?” Jeongguk suddenly accused, eyebrows lifted as he witnessed Y/N and Namjoon drunkenly giggling at nothing. Y/N frowned, hoping that he wasn’t about to sour another evening. Namjoon stopped laughing, setting his chopsticks down in a wobbly manner. 

“Yeah, actually,” Namjoon answered, Y/N’s eyes bugging out of her skull while Jeongguk pounded on his chest, a mouthful of rice going down the wrong way at the wolf hybrid’s response. 

“Wait, seriously?” Y/N gasped, a hand over her mouth in surprise. Namjoon nodded somberly, his lips pursed. Hoseok, quietly, tugged Y/N sweatpant leg, giving her a disbelieving look and mouthing what the fuck. 

“Yes, seriously. I didn’t really have many… opportunities to drink alcohol in my life,” Namjoon explained, eyes narrowing at Taehyung from across the table. Taehyung looked unimpressed with the conversation, sipping on his own glass of wine silently. 

“Jesus. I should have asked before liquoring you up earlier,” Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, swearing to herself to try and make more healthy choices as far as food and beverages go for the hybrids. Hoseok snorted next to her, draining his wine glass less shakily than he had before. At least he was loosening up, and she counted it as progress. 

“It’s alright. I knew what it was when you poured it, I could have refused,” Namjoon sighed, a small smile across his face as he pushed his empty rice bowl away. Glancing sideways at Jeongguk, Y/N watched him try to bite back laughter, crumpling up his napkin into his bowl.

Stirring ingredients into her bowl, Y/N tried her best to finish everything in it. Yoongi was truly an amazing chef, the seasonings on the steak were perfect and paired very well with the sweetness of the tamagoyaki. She could definitely get used to his cooking, thinking that he could even help her out with some of the food for the cookout on Friday. Additionally, she had the piano lesson with him on that day, the thought making her squirm in her seat with excitement.  

At the island, upon checking on the other three hybrids from her spot at the breakfast nook, it appeared that Yoongi and Seokjin were fighting over the last bit of steak. After a few moments of bickering, Seokjin reluctantly placed the piece of meat in Yoongi’s bowl, to Y/N’s relief. Jimin had finished his meal, and was by the fridge putting ingredients back in their places. 

After asking Namjoon to scooch out of the booth so she could help with clean-up, Y/N had to resist helping him get his footing, not wanting to push her luck with him that night. He caught himself on the frame of the door to the patio, Y/N truly amazed just how friendly he got with just a few glasses of wine. She wondered if in the morning, he would go back to being steely and interrogative. Hoseok, leaping out of his seat, immediately put distance between himself and the wolf hybrid, traipsing over to Jimin to chat. 

Moving to the island, she asked Seokjin if he ate enough while he bashfully nodded, not a speck of food left in his bowl. In fact, they had no leftovers, Y/N realized as she collected serving dishes, trying to be as balanced as possible so Hoseok wouldn’t accuse her of being a lightweight again. Squeezing past Yoongi at the sink, she deposited the dirty dishes beside him, searching for the granite cleaner. However, she didn’t get very far in her pursuit to clean up. 

“Hey! You two cooked, we can clean,” Jimin suddenly complained, pulling Yoongi away from the sink. “Miss Y/N, you should sit down, before you injure yourself,” he added calmly, snapping his fingers and pointing at her while shooting Seokjin a look. 

Opening her mouth to protest, she felt herself getting dragged away by the jaguar hybrid, who promptly lifted her off of her feet and planted her on a barstool. Squeaking when Seokjin wrapped his hands around her waist to lift her, Y/N felt torn that his hands were gone as quickly as they were there. Face on fire, she watched Jimin push Yoongi onto the seat next to her, the leopard hybrid rolling his eyes and instructing the coyote hybrid to not use steel wool on the ceramics. 

Forced to watch Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung tidy up the kitchen, Y/N drummed her fingers against the granite of the island, craning her neck to locate Jeongguk and Namjoon. The wolf hybrid, to her surprise, was viewing a video that Jeongguk was playing on his phone over the elk hybrid’s shoulder, his eyebrows pulled together in thought. Jeongguk, very quietly, was murmuring something urgently to Namjoon. Y/N wondered if hell froze over, or if she should go to the liquor store the following morning to pick up more cases of that particular Cabernet. 

Taehyung, returning an unused bag of edamame to the freezer, pulled out a popsicle for himself, leaning on the island beside her to enjoy it while Jimin and Hoseok finished the cleaning. Seokjin, who had excused himself to the bathroom five minutes prior, returned with the ends of his bangs wet, like he had splashed water on his face. 

“Taehyung, where did you get that? I want one too,” Hoseok whined, eyes zeroing on the frozen treat in his hands. Taehyung pointed to the freezer drawer with the treat, Hoseok scoffing. “Thanks, real specific,” He mumbled, rummaging through the freezer to locate one of the mango popsicles. 

Seokjin, wiping down the breakfast nook, began humming a tune, the timbre of his voice sweet, though the song was quite melancholy. Y/N gazed at him over her shoulder, catching the bittersweet smile on his face while he hummed. Sighing, Y/N settled into the barstool, enjoying the sounds of everyone’s voices as they bantered. Her eyelids felt heavy, her palm leaning on her cheek, her brain yelling at her to stay awake to enjoy more time with her companions. 

After a few moments, her eyes snapped open, an eerie silence filling the room. She registered Jimin, across from her at the sink, his eyes trained at the threshold of the kitchen and his ears perked up in alert. Blinking, she noticed Hoseok was locked up rigidly in the same manner, opening her mouth to ask what was wrong. Swiftly, she was cut off. 

From upstairs came a large thump, Y/N’s blood running cold. Yoongi, from beside her, wrapped a hand around her wrist, putting a finger to his lips when she looked at him in panic. Silent again, for a moment, she strained her ears the best she could, her heart racing. Was there an intruder in the house? Or worse, was the paranormal situation escalating before she could tell them about it? 

Breaking the silence came the sound of the record player in the piano room crackling to life, the sounds of an old jazz record floating down the stairs hauntingly. Feeling the room grow several degrees cooler, Y/N began to hyperventilate, totally unprepared for the night to take a horror-movie turn. Squeezing her wrist in an attempt to soothe, Yoongi gave her a pleading look. In addition to the record player going off on its own, several pitchy notes on the piano began to ring out periodically. Nausea welling up inside her, Y/N began to shake, praying to the sky an apparition wouldn’t appear in front of everyone. She had not the faintest idea of how to handle the situation, let alone correct it, in her current state. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Hoseok spoke first, baring his teeth and gazing towards the stairs. Jeongguk, who had moved away from Namjoon in the commotion, ran a hand through his hair in stress. He began to chuckle humorlessly, locking eyes with Y/N. 

“There’s a fucking spirit on the grounds, and now it’s inside,” Jeongguk pulled out the silver amulet from his pocket, turning it over between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve been trying to exorcize the house since I got here.”

“What?” Y/N breathed, feeling faint and overwhelmed. Yoongi moved to rub her back soothingly, but not much could be done to calm her down. She was already seeing spots of darkness in her vision. 

“It’s malevolent. It’s been following you around since you were a girl,” Jeongguk added distractedly, rolling up his sleeves, revealing tattoos that Y/N realized seemed to be made up of religious symbols from several cultures. With that, he squared his shoulders, exiting the kitchen and bounding up the stairs with determined confidence. 

“Jeongguk, don’t go up there!” Y/N cried, stumbling out of Yoongi’s embrace and fleeing after the elk hybrid. Between the shouts from the rest of the hybrids in the kitchen and the increased lack of oxygen she wasn’t getting, as soon as she reached the foyer, Y/N felt her body hit the marble before she felt nothing more. 

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

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

#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

[angelrari]

gossip girl · pt. iii

based on the tv series gossip girl

max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)

a/n: hi! i wanted to update earlier, but this week i've been super busy. once again thank you for commenting and supporting this. hope you enjoy this part!!! (i just realized i wanted to make this as a smau, but i just can't stop writting lmao)

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· · · · ·

gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.

joliedebelle posted a story

caption: it's padel time 🎾

10 am and the café was already packed. jolie sat in front of you, cappuccino in hand and eyeing the pain au chocolat she had ordered that was placed on the table.

"is this enough for you to forgive me for leaving your party early?". you asked starring at your sister.

"no, but it's a good start". she answered and she shrugged her shoulders. "i not going to let you win today".

"you never let me win when we play padel, jolie. i win because i am better". you replicated and she starred at you pretending to be offended. you chuckled. "come on, we're gonna be late and i can't wait to beat you".

"we will see".

· · · · ·

the padel courts were almost empty, you spotted a team of men on their 50s who jolie told you that they were always here. padel is theoretically played with two teams of two players each, but jolie and you usually bent the rules for singles play. jolie had booked the court number 3 and from afar you could spot two guys who were standing there.

"oh, there's somebody there". you said. "maybe they are finishing their practice".

"i actually invited them". jolie answered. "i guess it's my payback for you leaving early".

"you can't be serious". you said.

as soon as your sister said those words you rapidly connected the dots and stopped dead in your tracks. years ago, you would play with the youngest leclerc brothers whenever they had a free weekend, so it had to be them. jolie smiled at you while she grabbed your hand you make you continue walking.

"come on, y/n. charles asked about you yesterday like a hundred times, you two need to talk again".

you were very aware of the fact that charles and you needed to fix the awkward situation between the two of you. you had loved him to bits and nowadays this love still remained. whenever you thought of him, only good thoughts would come to your mind.

you kept moving, following your sister from behind. the leclerc brothers stood there watching you approach them. jolie rushed to hug arthur, who easily lifted her up while holding her tight in his arms. charles smiled at you and came closer to you. he opened his arms for you to hug him. and you did.

"i missed you". charles said as he moved his hands up and down your back.

"i did too". you admitted.

his masculine scent filled your lungs as you breathed in. it was the same as always. he look good, a bit more mature than the last time you had seen him and his body was bigger, stronger. after a few seconds, you broke the hug and starred at him with a smile of your face. one thing was clear: nothing couldn't break the friendship you'd built for twenty-six years.

"how have you been?". he asked, but before you could answer arthur hugged you from behind, resting his arms on your shoulders.

"hi sister". he said. he always had called you that way, even before charles and you started dating. he always said he felt like you were a part of his family. "you left early yesterday".

"not you too". you replied chuckling. "jolie keeps bringing it up every two minutes".

"you'll have to live with it". your sister said. "how are we gonna split into teams?".

"as always, right?". arhur suggested as he separated from you.

"are you okay with this?" charles asked looking at you.

"yeah, for the old times sake". you responded. "let's crush them again".

charles and you were one team while jolie and arthur were the other. your sister and your so-called brother walked towards the other side of the court, chatting with each other. charles, who had left your side a few seconds ago, walked to you and handed you the padel racket.

"thank you, charles".

"it's nothing". he said. "wanna do something afterwards? i was thinking we could go hiking for a bit".

"yeah, let's do it".

· · · · ·

the match had been so much fun. you had won, as always. jolie and arthur had left after it ended, leaving you and charles alone. outside the sports center, there was a hiking route charles and you had done a few times and you decided to take it.

charles knew he owed you an explanation. he hated seeing you with your guard up. last night, he had caught you a few times pretending to not see him and it hurt him. you had been (and still were) someone important in his life and he did not want this uncomfortable situation to last any longer. he had asked you about your studies abroad, about these two years you had barely spoken to each other and your future plans in monaco, but now the conversation had taken a turn and léa was the main topic of it.

"is it awkard for you? that i'm dating your best friend?". charles asked, looking at you. you could sense he was worried of your answer.

"it is". you confessed. "i just- i think being away from home and watching all of this happen from afar made things a bit more dramatic".

"what do you mean?".

"that if i had seen the process maybe i wouldn't have so many questions".

"well you can ask now and i'll gladly answer". charles said.

"when did it all start?". you asked. "the relationship with léa, i mean".

"it was earlier this year". he answered. "if i'm honest, we hadn't seen each other in months, but she was invited to the gp here and that's when things started to change".

"right".

"she came to the after party, you must already know that, i'm sure jolie had told you".

"she didn't actually, but i did get the gossip girl notification". you confessed. "you know you can't escape it even if you try".

"yeah". he agreed. "well, that night was when we started talking more. you know i don't have much time and i wasn't trying to meet anyone new, you know, to date. so, since i knew her from before, it kinda happened naturally. we kept seeing each other more and more and one night she told me she wanted us to try, to go on a date and see if it worked. obviously léa is pretty and she's fun".

"she is". you nodded. "she's charming".

"exactly, so i agreed and we realized we had good chemistry. and three months later, we are still together".

"i am happy for you". you said. "i mean it, i wish you both the best".

"thank you, y/n". he said, looking straight into your eyes. "many years have passed since we broke up, but i always think of you fondly".

"i feel the same way. i don't know how to put in words, but the memories are so beautiful i don't think i could ever dislike you".

"yeah". he said chuckling. "we were the greatest team".

· · · · ·

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taglist: @cha-hot @carlandonorri-s @raizelchrysanderoctavius @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @crlsummer @f1mockingjay @ssararuffoni @au-ghosttype @jointhehunt67 @amalialeclerc @lazybot @kimmchijjajang @roseseraj @ponkaniee

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 fandom #f1 smau #instagram au #social media au #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #formula one #lando norris #f1 one shot #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic

[itsbubbleteataro]

The Radio Host and The Reporter (pt 2)

Parings; Human!Alastor x Human!fem reader

Warnings; Alastor being Alastor. Murder, gore, stalking, cannibalism, drinking, sexism

Dw yall end up in hell......eventually

Pt one Pt three

As you stepped out of the club into the swampy night air, you take a deep breath. Stretching your hands up to the moon with a soft groan you go ahead and step off into the night, walking towards your home.

Unknown to you however that you were being followed by two people. One being the very same politician she had written her very first story on. The second being Alastor, wanting to ensure that a fine woman such as yourself made it home safely.

With the occasional stumble you make your way down the street, turning right at the corner of where your home was. Alastor sucked in a breath, noticing the crude way the politician spoke about you under his breath. He had decided on his next victim.

*****

A few days later his voice rang through the airways,

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, it's me, Alastor yes it's a pleasure to be speaking to you all once again. Now onto today's news! About a year ago a story was written by this fella named "Roger" about how one of our own political figures was quite the abuser, leading to him losing his job. Well last night he has been reported missing! My what I wouldn't give to meet this Roger fella, he's got quite the talent."

Alastor could not help the smile that crossed his lips as he remembered the joy he had in slaying the poor sap. Watching the life leave his eyes after his blade had plunged into him. His mouth watered at just the mere thought of how wonderful a stew he had created with that man's heart.

As Alastor's show continued you sat at your table, notebook open as your pen dropped to your table with a soft clang.

Your story, your writing, your journalism had been brought up by THE Alastor. Your face split in half at the grin that crossed your features. Joy built up in your chest at the thought. A giggle breaking the steady sound of Alastor talking at the amusing thought that he had no idea it was even you who had done it. 

You stand up, knocking your chair over as you jump for joy, laughing as you take in all the praise. You then fix your chair and go back to working on your next story, a smile still across your face, deciding that in the evening you would go visit your favorite speakeasy again.

1922

You and Alastor had been meeting at Mimzy's speakeasy nightly for quite a few months now, each time leaving Alastor with more questions than answers.

Some foreign feeling had wormed its way into his heart, making it beat faster and faster whenever he was around you. To his dismay the feeling hung around even after he had sobered up. So he figured that on a fine autumn evening, to run himself an experiment.

He sauntered over to the table the two of you shared. Taking your hand in his he placed a gentle kiss upon your knuckles, raising his eyes to speak his greeting,

"Why good evening my dear (y/n) how are you doing on this evening?"

His advices made your cheeks burn with a blush. Alastor could have sworn his heart did a tumble seeing such a sight. Retracting your hand so Alastor could have a seat you give him a response,

"Oh right as rain Alastor. Truly. Although I have been quite bored at home. My pa won't even let me work at the family's company"

You respond with a sigh, taking a drink from your glass. As soon as you set your drink down, Alastor grabs your hand.

"Then let me take your mind off of things, come join me for a dance?"

Without a second thought you let him drag you to the dance floor. The two of you spin and dance for what seems like hours on end, the entire time, a smile never leaving your face.

While on the dance floor, Alastor pulled you close for a moment,

"Say Cher, you say you've nothing to do, so how about I take you out tomorrow afternoon?"

Laughing you give your response,

"Oh Alastor, I'd love to!"

Giggling like gossiping school children, the two of you take your seats again, finishing your drinks before paying, and finally letting Alastor walk you home.

Walking arm and arm, chatting the night away as Alastor walks you home. Well not exactly chatting, more of Alastor talking about who knows what, and you listening in gaining information on his likes and dislikes.

In turn, you shared that you quite enjoy Barbershop quintets and swing music. Before long, Alastor and you had arrived at door. Letting go of your arm you take your key out of your small bag and fumble with the lock for a moment before pushing open the door. You turn around to face Alastor,

"Thank you for walking me home Alastor. Please take care tonight, I hear all kinds of men are disappearing into thin air!" 

With that you walk into your home, closing the door behind you. You take your shoes off before placing your hands on your cheeks feeling them heat up with blush at the thought of going on a date with Alastor.

"Oh hush up your emotions girl, you ain't in love. He ain't either. You were the one who told the fib about you being stuck in the house all day, now you gotta follow through"

You shook your head as you head to your room to get yourself ready for bed.

Meanwhile Alastor chuckled to himself as he walked away from your door. He found it amusing that you worried for his safety, not knowing he was the one behind all the missing persons.

Wearing his signature smile (your never fully dressed without one) he made his way to his cabin on the edge of the bayou. He thought about his impromptu proposal of a date and found a familiar feeling start to warm his heart.

Walking into his cabin and taking off his coat and shoes he glared at nothing in particular. He wasn't sure if he liked the feeling or not. The way he felt as if his heart was lighter when you smiled at him. The way your laugh sounded like bells in the wind to him.

In his mind only one woman mattered, his mother, so why did he find his thoughts starting to become consumed by you?

He sighed running a hand through his hair that had already started to return to its naturally curly state. He needed a hunt. Nothing like a good hunt to clear his mind of any and all distractions.

He gained a sinister smile at the thought of a hunt, so that evening he went ahead and did just that, crossing another person off his list and ridding New Orleans of someone he thought to be inferior.

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #x reader #(y/n) #human alastor

[nekassvariigs]

Shanks, mihawk with an s/o who is secretly very strong like y/n can be getting yelled at and she doesn't do anything and if y/n is in danger she was always saved.but this time Y/N kinda just snapped like she made a whole bloodbath

(its a bit harder to write some gore for mihawk since the man is known not to go looking for trouble so this was my best idea for him)

Shanks

he's seen you loose your shit once but he was still suspicious that it wasn't your full extent of emotions.

Shanks had a bone to pick with a certain crew for a long time however it wasnt until the bastards showed up trying to put holes in his ship that he began getting really upset with them.

"Duck!" he'd jesture for you to evade the oncoming attack knowing fully well you liked when he showed up in a blaze of glory to save your ass.

And so, you stood there waiting for the blade to strike you to feel the sting of ripping skin and yet nothing, a strong clash of metal echoed before you Shank's sword glistened in the sunlight his aura irreversably tense.

"I told you to duck, it's the last time i'm doing this." his usually soothing voice came off as an abrupt shout at you, his eyes never looking near you as he plunged the sword in the man before him.

Truth be told that ruined the picture perfect moment of saving the underdog and left you feeling bitter.

Without a warning the body he shielded with his own was long gone when he tried taking a step back to guard you from the fallen man. He looked around for you as if you had dissapeared in thin air, a loud trail of groans and painful whimpers clouded his ears as he looked forward to the sight before him.

They didn't aim to be killing anyone, however it seemed the battle had reached its peak, the floorboards creeked under your weight, the sound of bodies collapsing in loud thuds only reassured Shanks' earlier doubts about you.

You lay upon a pile of men their blood trickling down in an upsetting and horrid manner, Shanks' was stunned to say the least, he thought of you as a powerful fighter but even this beat what he had in mind.

You sat there a trail of steam forming from your breath in the cold air, nothing in your body moved, only the rise of your chest as you took deeps breaths.

There was a slight klinch behind Shanks a gust of wind going upwards as someone reached behind him their sword drawn with a coarse battlecry.

He looked at you confidently making a split second decision to see what kind of beast truly lays under this calm facade you've always put up.

In a seconds notice the strong gust of wind from your body making its way past him sent his red hair sweeping across his face. With a proud smirk he looked past his shoulders, your sword seethed in its place the man before you already out cold in his own blood.

Before he got a word in you were already gone onto the next leaving a wake of men shouting for their crew to leave before theyre all dead.

He chuckles with new found confidance in you albeit the dripping blood that neared his shoes made him realise he might need to interferre with you personally.

Your heart was in no way weak of will yet the moment he used his Haki on you left you with a stumble to your step. His gaze was certain without a mistake he was ordering for you to stop, the battle was over they had lost and you had won, so theres no more need for you to slash through even half awake bodies.

Your eyes met his in an instant the sour urge for blood had dissapated, you sighed, a long drag to seethe your sword for the last time you walked to gaze over at the sea. There were no birds in sight only a pair of sea kings leaping through the deep sea waters.

Shanks came to stand beside you his arms hovering over the end of the ship he spoke up.

"Didn't know we kept a beast locked up for so long." he laughed the pleasant roar of his chest made even you smirk under your composure.

Mihawk

He's a man who goes out at sea only when necessary therefore hes had his fair share of witnessing you fall helplessy many times.

He nearly pities you, your way of fighting was ineffective against most who've went through the basics of swordsmanship. His constant passive insults seemed to build up in your head, his judgemental stare each time you fell down, the coldness in his eyes as he retorts to how you should work on your balance as he steps over to shield you from an attack.

Well theres a time for everything.

He agreed to take you along on one of his voyages you were standing behind him the entire time watching how the water spilled over his makeshift raft.

"Try not to fall." He spoke up clutching his black sword over his shoulder eyes pointing over to the ship before him.

It was rare when he decided to dock the ships he passed however since you were with him he wanted to see if you improved atleast a bit.

Much to his surprise a clash of green swiped past his face, it wasn't an attack he insinuated and yet it it sliced the ship clean.

He watched at the sight before him, the massive ship splitting open as it held no common ground to steady its split parts.

You walked before him and without explanation started throwing long range attacks, he stepped back a foot, his plan to passivley scold you had been taken out of the books.

He was notcing your footwork, your stance and breathing. There had been no flaws in it which left him questioning if it all had been a fluke this entire time. He watched you swing your sword in everywhich direction which made it painfully obvious you were aiming at something to be hit and yet what caught his eye was your concentration and the blood thirsty aroua around you, you were allowing no mistakes to be made.

The way you changed the angle of your attack as if you sensed someones movement on the ship, landing throws wasn't random anymore it had a purpose even he didn't see.

He was beginning to wonder when did you have the time for training with how busy he liked keeping you.

You quickly ended your attacks throwing your sword over your shoulder. In a moment of silence and crashing waves a chorus of pained wails was heard.

It had to be one of the most eerie sounds he's ever heard on the open sea as his eyes windened to the sound his scowl growing a bit more dense he kept looking between you and the now collapsed ship.

He was heavily intrigued his eyes told that much.

When you turned around nothing prepared for the total calmness he felt over the eased look in your eyes, however the glint that shined within them spoke volumes of how much expetise you had.

"Fight me." He spoke calmly haven't witnessed a power like his in a while, the water before his raft floating with debris and unmistakenly blood from the men you had attacked. You smiled at his request the two of your shared little to no place for footwork and his sword was long enough to reach the other end of his raft.

He wasnt sure if it was an intimidation tactic but the way you dipped your sword in the blody water to let it drip on his raft left him a little on the edge.

After reaching a draw he sat back, his large black hat tipping over his eyes he told you "Why have you been fighting like a newborn chick?"

You caught your breath sitting down before him on the raft you spoke with your sword resting on your shoulder. "You've never asked to fight seriously." a chuckle from you made him feel like a bit of an idiot, perhaps he should have challenged you sooner or atleast once told you to fight like it meant your life.

He sighed noticing a mark on his boot, it had been cut, not enough to fully cut through but enough to leave a mean scuff on it, no doubt your doing.

He stared long at the mark until you reached your destination, his eyes boring into the back of your skull as you offered him your presance. He had lost the duel without noticing, you left the scuff there to show him he needed not to underestimate you.

The following ride back he continued to slash his sword at you in moments where you werent paying attention, watching how effortlesly you doged his attacks you warned him "If you're attacking me, aim to kill me." You smiled with a twisted twinkle in your eyes, and he did as you said slashing true his blade left a soft incision over your cheek, payback for his scuffed boot.

#onepiece #one piece fanfiction #onepiece x reader #one piece #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks request #onepiece dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece reader insert

[1-800-iluvhockey]

it's never over - l.hughes

----

2:22 seconds remained on the clock, the third period is headed to the end. heart is racing, nerves and stakes are too high. every michigan fan is on the edge of their seat; they know that their team can do this, y/n knows that luke can do it. holding onto her hand tightly, ellen watches with y/n as luke skates down the ice trying everything he can to block shots.

"cmon, I know you got it in you. michigan magic." y/n whispers, ellen's hand grips tighter when she sees the shot go in, the shot that luke barely missed. now it's 4-2, and only about 1:45 left. a commercial break pauses the game but doesn't break the tension on the ice.

"ellen---" y/n says in almost a whisper as they see luke skate back to the bench, trashcan in hand, head covered. "it's okay, he is doing it because he is nervous, probably didn't drink enough water -- that boy." ellen reassures y/n as she watches her boyfriend struggle through this third period.

"yeah, it is just hard watching it. nothing that I can do but sit here and ---" y/n's voice wavers and ellen brings her closer.

"it's okay honey, you're here and this is what matters. family matters, every hockey player wants their family in the stands to make them proud. luke needs you, he needs us here for him. you sitting here is doing more than enough for him. look." ellen calmed y/n as she got her attention back to the ice.

her boyfriend skates to the faceoff, looking up in the crowd for a split moment to try and find her. she waves, and he nods -- a short and sweet moment, just enough to know that she is there for him and that he knows she is right there when she needs him.

the music signals that the break is ending and the puck is to be in play, and all the emotions are back again.

----

luke knows how this goes, as he has been here before in this exact game spot, the year before. he knows the heartbreak, the struggle, the grief he is going to endure in the next few minutes when he hears that buzzer.

but two things were different this year; it was the end but it was truly the beginning --- because it is never over. y/n's sweet voice plays in his head as he gets ready to face off, he thinks of her singing this song in his car, praising (screaming obnoxiously to the classic rock) of her favorite jeff buckley song --- lover, you should've come over. he imagines her voice saying "it's never over" in his head, as he has done the whole game to keep him going.

in reality, after that buzzer hits -- his time at umich is over; but his hockey career is truly beginning. so yes, the grief and sadness he is probably going to endure after this whistle blows will be one of the hardest things of his life --- but it is different; he has his y/n to lean on. 

----

the whistle blows and the remaining seconds of the period play out; ports is out of the goal, and michigan does everything they can to stop quinnipiac from scoring an empty netter. a player steals the puck back which causes luke to go after him, eddy gets in net ready to play makeshift goalie. y/n's breath hitches as she knows that the quinnipiac player will score as luke hooks him and eddy has an opening.

boom.

5-2 quinnipiac, nail in the metaphorical hockey coffin. a sigh comes from jim as he sees luke talking with the ref, defeated. luke got a penalty for hooking, meaning quinnipiac was on a powerplay for the rest of the game. he looked defeated while entering the penalty box, which caused jim, ellen & y/n to look at each other, knowing how their boy was going to really feel.

"I made a bet with jack that he wouldn't break his stick this year -- let's hope I win." y/n kindheartedly joked as jim laughed. "that penalty might have set him off so I wouldn't be surprised if jack won the bet, y/n."

"I have faith that he won't beat himself up too badly this year, he has a pretty amazing girl to lean on and now a new career start. y/n?" ellen questions at the end, causing y/n to get confused. "yes?"

"you're ready for jersey right?" ellen asked as y/n looks at her like she has grown 3 heads.

"ellen, I am not going with him --- no way." she says questionably. her and luke talked about it but it was never a plan.

"y/n, you two have known each other for years, I know that you guys finally started dating last year -- but I know luke wants you in jersey." ellen tells her as jim agrees.

----

the buzzer goes off which causes the conversation to be dropped as everyone rises out of their seats. half of the arena is full of cheerful quinnipiac and minnesota fans -- while the others are in denial about their seasons ending.

making their way to the locker room, y/n gets a glimpse of dylan, mackie and luke on the ice. defeat, just a look of sadness and shock on their faces. dylan looks and sees y/n in the tunnel, and just shakes his head. y/n reciprocates it but in a more "you did your best" type of head nod.

y/n and some of the families watched from the tunnel as the boys shook hands with each other. the boys led themselves back to the locker room, feeling the pain of the national title slip from their fingers once again. one of the last players off of michigan's side of the ice was indeed, a deflated luke hughes.

----

walking with his head down, helmet in hand --- luke couldn't even see who was waiting for him as he headed to the locker room. he just went to her, he could smell her perfume from a mile away. she opened her arms to her as he buried his neck into her shoulder. he didn't care who saw, he never did. he just cried, letting out the defeat into y/n's shoulder.

"it's never over baby, you still got a whole career left. I am so proud of you." y/n whispered into his neck as he nodded. his arms held her tighter as the shock factor went away. he was done with college hockey.

college hockey brought him some of his best friends/teammates and gave him the courage to finally ask y/n out on a date. without college hockey, he wouldn't be who he was today, and that's why his emotions are even higher than he would have thought.

after a few minutes, he pulled away and got a good look at his girl. his beautiful girlfriend was wearing his favorite maize jersey, looking like a total angel in this moment. she looked like she cried a few minutes ago, giving her the extra glowy effect. he was too lucky to have the best family, girlfriend, and career he could have.

grabbing her hands, he put them on his shoulders. "y/n, will you come with me? to new jersey?" he asked her softly as he watched as her eyes pooled with tears. she turns to look behind her, to find his parents looking at her, ellen nods and then she turns to him.

"always, wherever you go --- I want to come with you. I love you." she says, kissing him softly.

"good, I was hoping you didn't say no." luke says as they walk over to his parents, hand in hand.

he wasn't okay, but he knew that the grief was temporary.

michigan would always be there for him. it is home, well, a home. home was really where y/n was. all he wanted was to be with her and play hockey, but those michigan memories will be with him; those were the forever type of memories. as the university of michigan, yost arena, hockey house, and all of those friends, teammates, and memories were going to last forever. he also couldn't forget about those michigan summers, those summers on the lake with his friends and family are going to be something he can't wait for in the off-season.

forever type of memories.

they would never go away; even if it was over.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #umich imagines #frozen four #1-800-iluvhockey fic #1-800-iluvhockey

[topguncortez]

Day 19: Enough is Enough ➢prompt: repeatedly passing out ➢character: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x shy!wife ➢warnings: morning sickness, vomiting, passing out, Alex has some PTSD cause I'm mean and it builds character ➢word count: 2k

||masterlist||whumptober||whumptober masterlist||library page ||

Jake was no stranger to how pregnancy worked. He had three older sisters, and had lived through their pregnancies. He also was a father of two himself, and was by Y/N’s side through both of them. He had seen the beautiful sides of it, the growing bellies, the glowing skin, the moment when the doctor placed their newborn on his wife’s chest. Jake had also seen the not so beautiful sides, the tears, the moodswings, the swelling ankles, and the morning sickness. 

Jake had only been around to catch the end of Y/N’s morning sickness with Alex because of his deployment, and she had hardly gotten sick with Ella (which was how they knew they were having a girl). When they found out Y/N was expecting again, Jake did all the research he could on how to be prepared for it. Y/N felt great the first six weeks of her pregnancy, and they thought that maybe she was in the clear. But then, just like it had happened with Alex, it hit her all at once. 

His knees were starting to cramp as he kneeled behind Y/N, rubbing her back and pressing a cool washcloth to her neck. It seemed as though this was going on for hours, and in fact it had. Her body was beginning to shake as she dry heaved over the toilet bowl. She felt like she had nothing in her body to throw up, yet, her body was trying to find something. Y/N let out a shuddering breath and leaned back, Jake helping her sit back against him. 

“You’re okay,” Jake whispered and dabbed the wash cloth at her forehead, “You want water?” Y/N groaned in response, “How about gatorade? You need some electrolytes.” 

“And you need to go to work,” She said softly, “You’re going to get written up for being late.” 

“I took a vow to be with you through sickness and in health,” Jake said and kissed her temple,

“You also took an oath to the Navy to be there and ready to defend.” 

Jake chuckled and Y/N cracked a smile, which only lasted for a split second before she felt the familiar sickly raise of bile. Jake could see it in her body language and helped her lean forward over the toilet again. The longer this went on, the more concern he had about it. He knew from what he read that morning sickness could be rough. Women had reported being sick for hours on end, for feeling nauseated for weeks. But he was worried about the fact that every single thing his wife tried to intake, came right back up. This cycle has been going on for nearly a week now. 

“Sweetheart, I’m seriously worried,” Jake continued to rub her back as she vomited, “I think you need to go to the doctor.” 

“No,” She groaned, “No doctors. I’m fine.” She pushed herself up, and flushed the toilet. She leaned against her husband, and he wrapped his arms around her. Y/N closed her eyes, feeling like she was on a boat in the middle of the ocean, and the only thing anchoring her was the strong arms of her husband. Jake pressed his lips to the crown of her head 

“Do you think it's too quiet?” Y/N asked and opened her eyes. Jake waited a beat to answer her, his ears straining to hear for the six and three year olds that run their house. 

“I think it is too,” Jake said, “I’m worried.” 

“I am too,” Y/N giggled. Jake moved out from behind her gently, before helping his wife stand up. Y/N swayed on her feet, and Jake stabilized her, “I’m fine. Let’s find the rugrats before they burn our house down.” 

“Or worse. . . dye the dog's hair pink.” Jake joked, and Y/N shot him a look of concern, “Okay, I’m going.” Jake rushed out of the bathroom and yelled for his daughter, son and their dog, Bucky. Y/N sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. She frowned seeing the sickly look on her face. Her eyes were sullen and bloodshot, her cheekbones stuck out more as well, probably from the weight loss. Her hair didn’t have its usual shine to it. Y/N tried to freshen up the best she could, trying to trick herself into thinking she was feeling better by looking better. 

Y/N heard the sound of laughter and the smell of french toast as she walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Ella was sitting on the kitchen island in her fairy princess costume, and Alex was running around the kitchen with a toy F-18 in his hand. Their dog that Jake insisted on adopting after Ella’s birth, a golden doodle named Bucky, laid on the floor waiting for a scrap of food. It was usually Ella who gave Bucky food no matter how many times Jake and Y/N scolded her. 

“You feeling better, Momma?” Alex asked, stopping in his tracks on the other side of the kitchen. Alex had been by her side like Jake was when she had gotten sick with Ella and now this baby. He was the perfect big brother, and made sure that his mom and soon to be sibling was okay. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Y/N answered and sat down at the kitchen table, “What’s dad doing?”

“Skipping work,” Ella said and Jake turned around to look at her. 

“That was supposed to be a secret,” Jake pointed at her. Y/N gave her husband a look and he shrugged, “I was making them breakfast, taking some weight off your shoulders. You’re gonna have both of them here today. Thought you could use some help before I go to base.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N said. Jake shot her a wink before going back to making breakfast.  

The Seresins ate breakfast and listened to some fabricated story that Ella came up with, while slipping scraps of food to Bucky. Y/N tried taking small bites of food and sips of water, hoping that the baby would allow some sort of nutrients to stay in her body. Y/N packed Jake’s lunch as he cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast and got dressed in his flight suit. 

“Alright you two, be nice to your mommy today. No fighting, no biting, and no breaking things,” Jake said to his kids. He kissed their foreheads before turning to his wife, “Bye sweetheart, call me if you need anything. Please, don’t hesitate.” 

“I’ll be fine. I got through breakfast alright,” Y/N smiled. She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed her husband, “You’re going to be late.” 

“I’ll see you later,” Jake said, and kissed her again before leaving. 

Y/N tried to keep up with her kids the best she could, but she was utterly exhausted. She tried to keep the nausea at bay, from sipping ginger ale and eating saltines, to going outside to breathe in some fresh air. Currently, Y/N stood in the bathroom, she put the kids down for a nap (well, Ella at least, Alex was in his room reading), and tried to keep herself from throwing up. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt the overwhelming feeling in her body. She gagged, and moved quickly to the toilet. Her face turned hot as she emptied her stomach, tears running down her face. When she was done, she pushed herself up on shaky legs, walking to the sink. Y/N looked up at herself in the mirror and watched as her vision faded in and out before her legs gave out. 

Alex looked up from his book as he heard the thud. He waited a moment, waiting to hear the crying of his little sister. Ella liked to roll out of her bed, it wasn’t uncommon for Alex to hear the thud of her sleeping body at night followed by crying and their dad running down the hall to comfort her. It was one of the reasons why Alex hated sharing a bed with Ella, she moved too much. But the crying never came, so Alex put his book down and stood up from his beanbag chair. He crept down the hallway quietly, pushing the door open to Ella’s room and found her sleeping soundly with Bucky laying next to her. 

“Bucky, come here,” Alex said to the dog, who obeyed and gently left Ella’s side. Jake had spent weeks training the young pup on commands, even teaching Alex some of the basics. 

His green eyes looked around the hallway, and zoned in on the sound of running water. He walked down to his parents bedroom, finding it empty. 

“Mommy?” He called out but heard nothing. Alex looked around the room, eyes landing on the bathroom door. A rush of fear filled his little body, and his legs started to shake. His hands felt sweaty, and he wanted to run back to his room. But he could remember what his dad told him when he left on his last deployment. 

“When I’m not home, I need you to be brave for me, okay?” 

Alex took in a deep breath, “Be brave. I can be brave.” Alex’s hand went to the door knob and pushed the door open. He felt his heart stop as he looked and saw his mom on the bathroom floor. He ran into the bathroom and knelt down beside her, “Mommy?” He shook her gently, knowing to be careful because of the baby. He thought back to what he learned in kindergarten, and looked for her phone. When he found it he quickly opened it and dialed for help. 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator said. 

“My mommy needs help,” Alex said, “She won’t wake up.” 

“Okay sweetheart, help is on the way, stay on the phone with me, alright?” The operator said. 

Jake could hardly breathe as he ran through the doors of the hospital. Rooster and Phoenix were hot on his heels as they followed him to the hospital. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on his daughter who ran to him with tears in her eyes. He sighed in relief as he picked her up and held her tightly. Ella cried into his neck and he rubbed her back, soothing her. 

“It’s okay, babygirl, it’s okay,” Jake said, “Where’s Alex?” 

“O-over there,” Ella lifted up her head and pointed to where Alex was sitting in a chair next to a nurse, reading a book about dinosaurs. 

“Here, go with Uncle Rooster,” Jake handed Ella to his wingman. Ella reached for her uncle and easily went into his arms. Jake went to the front desk to ask for information on his wife. 

“I’ll have a doctor come speak to you shortly, Mister Seresin,” The nurse at the desk said, “You have a very brave little boy on your hands. The 9-1-1 operator said that he called and stayed calm the whole time, did everything they said to do.” 

“Thank you,” Jake said and the nurse nodded. He took a deep breath as he walked over to his son, “Hey buddy.” Alex looked up at his dad and his chin wobbled as tears started falling down his little cheeks. 

“I was brave,” He hiccupped, “Like you said to be. A-And I remember what Miss Katey taught us in school. I-I called 9-1-1 for help-p.” Jake pulled his son into a bone crushing hug. 

“I know you were, you were so brave, buddy. You saved mommy and the baby’s life,” Jake kissed his son’s temple, “You did everything right. I am so proud of you.” 

Alex pulled away from his father and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, “Can I see m-mommy now?” 

Jake nodded, “Yeah, sweetheart, we can.”

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman x reader #Jake seresin #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin x reader #Jake hangman seresin #opposites attract #Jake seresin x shy!wife #whumptober #no. 19 #repeatedly passing out

[moonlightazriel]

Son of the Darkness VI /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: Mentions of funeral and death.

Word Count: 1,4K

Notes: This was hard to write cuz i had a massive writers block, my writing is making me really insecure and this sucks.

Son of the darkness masterlist

Main Masterlist

Y/N stared at the golden crown atop Azriel's head, her eyes shining with tears, it was like the world had stopped spinning, her breath was caught in her throat as she stared at him, she could see her shaking hands, as she tried to gather the necessary strength to do what she had to. Her mind clouded with all of her childhood memories, the happy times she shared with him, how he guided her in the dark times, she was scared, what would she do without him? 

She breathed deeply, getting ready to stand, her feet carrying her body until she stopped in front of Loralen's door, her heart was beating fast, her head was spinning and her whole body was shaking, she feared opening that door and seeing his dead body.  Her hand slowly pushed the door open, he was laying in his bed, like he was sleeping, a happy expression covered his features, and his chest didn't move anymore.

She walked to his side, her shaking finger pressed to his neck, trying to find a steady pulse, anything, but she found nothing, her knees failed and she fell, burying her head in his cold chest, the thick tears running down her cheeks as she clung to him. He was her father and yet again, she had lost one of the few people she loved, she could feel her heart splitting in two, being torn apart in her chest, the pain suffocating.

Evanore was the first to move, her tiny body rushing through the corridors as she ran after her friend, the door was slightly open, and she poked her head inside, finding Y/N crying over the High Lord's dead body, she felt sad for her friend, Eva was now the only family she had left, she slowly walked inside, crouching on her side and running a hand over her back, Y/N's head snapped up, her red puffy eyes landing on Eva and turning to the door, where Azriel stand.

“Don’t.” She warned him, and he looked down, the whole room was covered in a thick blanket of shadows, his own afraid to touch it. He looked up again, noticing that they were coming from Y/N’s hands, he wondered what would happen if he stepped inside since Evanore seemed just fine between them. As if she had read his mind, the blond rose her arm and she saw the pendant glowing protection. “Your powers.” She whispered and Y/N looked up again.

Azriel watched as the shadows retrieved back to her palm, the room clean like they weren’t there mere seconds ago, that was impressive, her red eyes laying on him once again and she got up, like she remembered something, running past him, leaving him standing there confused. 

“She’s going to work on the funeral.” Eva said getting up again.

“She should rest, he was important to her.” He followed the blond to the corridor. 

“Good luck telling her that.” She turned to Azriel, grabbing his wrist all of sudden. “I’ll make you a protection pendant as well, so you won’t die around her.”

“What do you mean?” He asked curiously, he didn’t knew she had powers, specially deathly ones.

“She’s able to take people’s senses away with that power, but when she wants, she can take everything, until you cannot breathe anymore, when she goes through traumatic things, they get out of control and it takes only one step into her shadows for you to die.” Azriel shivered, she was full of surprises, wasn’t she?

The next few days were a blur in everyone’s mind, Azriel barely saw Y/N as she got the council ready to crown him and the funeral. The ceremony was beautiful, and he couldn’t help to think that this was what his mother deserved, everyone reunited to say their goodbyes to the High Lords, feasts were held in the whole court to celebrate him, and in the end, his body was burned in a huge funeral pyre. 

Azriel looked at himself in the mirror once again, Rhysand and Cassian helped him get dressed, all of them wearing official Court of Shadows fashion, helped a lot that the colors matched the Night Court’s outfits, so they were somehow comfortable in them. He never dressed so fancily in his life, not even in the times he had come to Hewn City, it felt weird but he didn’t hate it. He was wearing a black suit with some golden details, his cobalt siphons adorning his chest and arms.

“Let’s crown you then.” Rhysand said and smiled at his brother, the onyx crown atop his head shining in the sunlight. The bat trio walked to the designated area in the Manor where the meeting with other powerful faes, responsible for helping around the Court awaited. Feyre was talking with Evanore and Y/N, Azriel’s eyes quickly landed on the female, she was wearing a simple black dress with a deep v neckline, the pendant in her neck glowing slightly in blue, and she had some more jewelry, her hair was down, completely straight and she was wearing a silver headpiece, the cobalt stone in the middle making his heart beat faster. 

“High Lords!” She greeted them, bowing to him and Rhys. “Lord Cassian.” Cassian rolled his eyes at her and she smiled at him. “It’s going to be just fine, I’ll pretty much handle everything, there’s nothing to worry about. Are you ready?” Azriel nodded and she opened the doors.

The room was filled with so many different people, men, women, old, and new, Evanore rushed to sit with Rune, and Y/N led them to the spare table that was facing the others. Azriel sat in the middle and she sat on his right, all the eyes watching him curiously. 

“The council of the Court of Shadows welcomes Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.” They bowed to him. “Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court.” They repeated the gesture in a sign of respect. “ Cassian, General of the Night Court and Lord of Bloodshed.” They bowed to him and Cassian smiled proudly. “And Azriel Malthalion, son of Eletha Malthalion, grandson of Loralen Malthalion, heir and High Lord of the Court of Shadows.” Y/N finished, Azriel looked around the room, most looked satisfied with him, but some looked angry. 

“Yet to be.” Someone said from the crowd, Az spotted the old male sitting in the back, he was wearing all black, expensive jewelry, and had long black hair. He got up, the picture of arrogance as he started to walk around the table. “Can we trust a foreign male to care for our people when he doesn’t even know us?” He questioned. 

Azriel knew his doubts were valid, they didn’t know him, and they didn’t have any motives to trust him but he was ready to try, to meet his people, and to make this work, he wanted to be a good High Lord for them, and he would be. He noticed how many people had brushed that man’s question off, and that made him curious, he was about to say something when Y/N opened her mouth.

“The same way you were trusted to take care of the people in your zone Lord Ilipetor?” Some people laughed under their breaths, including Evanore and the witch besides her. “I think it’s correct to say that every member of this council remembers what happened when you asked Loralen to be independent and to take care of your zone. Poverty, hunger, war, and death, we all remember this stain in our past, so I don’t think you’re fit to say what’s best for our people when Loralen himself wanted his grandson as the High Lord.” 

The man looked like he was about to combust, but he didn’t argue when he got back to his seat. Rune got up, all the attention on the older witch as she bowed to Azriel. “Loralen talked to me, he wanted my help to locate Lord Azriel so he would take his place as the High Lord, it was his last wish and no one should argue with that.” She looked at Ilipetor. “He should just be crowned so we can focus on what matters, the upcoming war.” 

Rushed whispers started to travel along the table, all of them agreeing with Rune, the court needed its High Lord, and all of them knew, deep down, that Azriel would be good for them. Y/N got up, and walked to the back of the room, the golden crown in her hands as she handed it to the first male on the table, the held the crown with one hand while the other he used to drop some kind of powder in the piece, whispering something the crown glowed brightly, then he handed the crown to the person on his side, the procedure was repeated until everyone had done, Y/N was the last one to do, then she walked to Azriel, placing the crown on his head, in the place that it belonged. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @allison-rosewood-maximoff @fieldofdaisiies @devilsfoodcake22

#shadowsinger #son of the darkness #acotar #angst #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #sarahjmaas #a court of thorns and roses

[daisy7beauty]

The bridge — Yunjin x reader (Part 2)

summary: Yunjin promises y/n she will never let him hurt her again.

pairings: Huh Yunjin x fem!reader

tags: hospital, running away, starts to get better :), non!idol au

word count: 2,4k

warnings: mention of abuse (both physical and sexual), panic attack, not as much as part 1

——————————

The steady beeping of a machine was the first thing y/n heard when she woke up, followed by a quiet voice mumbling along with the lyrics of some generic pop song she remembered hearing on the radio a few days ago. The ceiling was hurting her eyes, colored with an uncomfortably bright white, just like everything else in the room. The only significant pop of color was the young girl sitting across from her.

The steady beeping of a machine was the first thing y/n heard when she woke up, followed by a quiet voice mumbling along with the lyrics of some generic pop song she remembered hearing on the radio a few days ago. The ceiling was hurting her eyes, colored with an uncomfortably bright white, just like everything else in the room. The only significant pop of color was the young girl sitting across from her.

Yunjin still had her school uniform on just like she did, but instead of the white undershirt that everyone was required to have, Yunjin sported a Louis Vuitton shirt. It was her signature look, as she was known to wear expensive brands anytime she could. Y/n remembers seeing her get sent to the principal's office for breaching the uniform dress code almost every day, but nothing ever came of it.

It was strange, seeing the other girl outside of school, that is. She looked different. Y/n didn't know what it was, but something about Yunjin seemed off. She had the same clothes on. The same make-up. The same headphones that their teachers would constantly confiscate from her. Only for her to steal them right back when they weren't paying attention.

Y/n decided that it was her demeanor that was so different. She seemed small, curled up in the uncomfortable hospital chair as if y/n could tower over her, despite being several centimeters shorter. Her legs pressed against her body, knees up towards the chin, head resting on them and occasionally bopping to what y/n presumed was the beat of some song she was listening to.

When Yunjin finally noticed y/n staring at her, their eyes connected, and for a split second, y/n could see something other than the usual arrogant smirk that seemed to be permanently stuck on the older girl's face.

“Oh! You're awake…”

Yunjin's words trailed off, both girls unsure what to do, sitting silently for a few very long moments. The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a butter knife.

“Yeah, I just woke up.”

Y/n answered as if it wasn't obvious, mentally berating herself for being so goddamn awkward. Yunjin just nodded, staring out of the window. It stayed this way for some time before Yunjin seemed to remember something as she snapped her head back to y/n.

“Oh, right! You were asleep for only around 30 minutes, so you should be fine. The nurse told me to give them a buzz once you woke up. Something about checking that you don't have a concussion so that you can go home safely. From what she said, it shouldn't take too long, plus they already called your dad, so you don't have to worry about spending the night here.”

Yunjin smiled at her, placing her headphones into her bag and standing up to alert the nurses about y/n waking up. Before she could even take one step, though…

“No!”

Y/n yelled at her, almost jumping off the bed. Her heart was racing so fast she thought she was having a stroke. As soon as Yunjin let the last sentence out of her mouth, y/n felt her breath stop.

They called her father, oh god, they called her father. Her vision was beginning to blur. What the fuck was she going to do? Once her father shows up, it's game over for her. They will see what she did to him, and she will be sent straight to jail. No. Knowing that bastard, he would make up some excuse or just hide it so he could take her home, and.…she didn't want to even think about it. Her chest felt like it was being constricted with a corset, tightening every second she thought about him.

“Hey…hey, y/n, what's going on? You good?”

She could hear Yunjin asking her concern on her face. It was as if she was underwater, her voice muffled and quiet, not reaching her ears properly.

“No, not dad…he- he will-”

Y/n managed to squeeze out, hyperventilating so quickly that she felt like she was about to pass out. Her father was about to be here at any moment, and she was having a fucking panic attack…great.

She could feel Yunjin rubbing her back, trying to calm her down, which surprisingly worked as she felt the world get clearer. The girl's warm hands let go of her. Usually, y/n would be glad as she hated physical contact, but for some odd reason, she missed the feeling.

“Y/n, I need you to be honest with me, okay? Does your dad…hurt you? Is he the reason why you ended up like- like this?”

Yunjin's voice quivered at the end, looking at the other girl softly. It felt strange, having someone look at her that way. Her whole life, y/n had tried to be as invisible as she could, not liking the feeling of someone staring at her. Maybe it was because of him. He always looked at her after he finished, admiring the damage he had done, just standing in front of her bed, watching.

Not finding the strength to speak, y/n just nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes with a sleeve of her school uniform. She could hear Yunjin curse under her breath. It was in English, a testament to her parent's job and overall status.

Y/n remembered hearing the word on some rap song one of her classmates was obsessed with, playing it over and over during breaks. He always tried to sing along, but his pronunciation sucked, making y/n cringe every time. She wondered what Yujin would sound like. Her limited English skills told her that Yujin seemed quite good, if not fluent. It would definitely be better than Hyunsik, which she knew for sure.

“Okay, I don't really know what I should do in this situation, but I won't let him hurt you again. I have never done something like this. I think we just have to run away before he comes. Do you have any friends or close relatives that could take care of you?”

Yunjin asked her, pacing around the small hospital room, one hand buried in her hair. Y/n was silent. To the older girl's credit, she could understand what that silence meant, trying to change the topic.

“I guess you can stay with me. Is there anything that you want to take with you?”

Y/n suddenly remembered about her bag. It was probably still next to the door, knowing her father's aversion to cleaning anything.

“Yeah, I have a bag with some clothes and money. It's still at my house. I was supposed to run away to Busan today, with it being my 18th birthday and all, so I had everything prepared already. You can see it didn't really work out…”

Y/n tried to joke, forcing a small smile on her face. It was a pathetic attempt at humor, but she felt the situation needed a little light, uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere.

“Okay…We could sneak out to the parking lot, hide and wait until your dad shows up, and then make a break to your home. We can quickly take everything you need and book it to mine!”

Yunjin smiled at y/n, who could only nod as she grabbed her right hand and walked out of the cramped room.

The girls tried to walk as fast as possible without looking suspicious to the staff roaming the hallways. It was exciting. It felt like they were spies on a secret mission in an American movie about saving the capital or something.

Just as they made it to the parking lot, y/n recognized a white sedan pulling up. She quickly tugged Yunjin towards a blue van and signaled for her to be quiet, carefully peeking out from behind it.

She could see her father struggling to get out of his car, a dark blue sweatshirt on. She had been right. He wanted to act as if nothing had happened so he could take her home and deal with her in his own way. For a moment, y/n wished she had killed him in that kitchen, but she quickly snapped out of it.

“Why is he walking so weird?”

Yunjin asked from beside her. Y/n almost got a heart attack, forgetting that the other girl was with her. She squatted next to her, squinting at the awkwardly hunched-over man shuffling toward the revolving doors.

“I…I kind of…stabbed him.”

…

“What?!”

Yunjin yelled out, making y/n slap her hand on her mouth, pulling her back behind the van with panicked eyes.

“Shhhhh!”

The younger whisper yelled, making Yunjin realize just how loud she was. Both of them stayed crouched there for a few moments, afraid to look from behind it in case her father could see them.

After a minute or two, they decided it was safe again and peeked out. To the girl's relief, y/n's father had already gone inside as they couldn't see him anywhere.

“The coast is clear! Follow me, okay?”

The younger girl said and quickly ran towards the gate of the hospital. Luckily for them, y/n had been to the hospital before, when one of her dad's outbursts got a bit out of hand, and he broke her arm. She had to go to the hospital alone since he refused to drive her. At that time, it was hell, as it coincidentally started raining just as she got out of the door, but now it helped them, as she could remember the way home.

Y/n kept looking back at Yunjin, who was a few meters behind her, with a pained expression. She could hear her panting from the front, loudly cursing at herself and everything else. Y/n remembered how she used to skip gym class, yelling at their teacher, declaring it 'bullshit that wasn't useful for anyone'. Well, Yunjin skips pretty much every class unless the threat of immediate expulsion isn't hanging over her head, so it wasn't all that unusual. The shared gym class was the only place y/n could see her up close, as they were in different grades.

It seemed that Yunjin's skipping had finally caught up to her, though, and y/n couldn't help but laugh as she heard her complaining, begging her to slow down a bit. Both of them knew that they couldn't. It was only a matter of time before the nurses realized she was gone. Y/n counted on her father's selfishness, hoping that he wouldn't call the police on them out of fear that they would take her away from him.

“How long until we get to your house? I feel like I'm going to die, y/n!”

Yunjin yelled from behind just as they made it onto her street. It was tiny, so they had to slow down, dodging the trashcans and an occasional bike. Y/n lived right on the edge of the street in a corner building that didn't get all that much sunlight, even when it was noon, so unlocking the door was a lot harder, especially since the lamp in front of the building broke two weeks ago and nobody had bothered to fix it.

“Come on, come on.”

Y/n mumbled to herself as she finally managed to open the heavy door, sprinting up the flight of stairs to get to her apartment.

Just as she predicted, her bag was still at the entrance, some loose money laying around it. She quickly tried to shove everything back inside, zipping it up.

Since she was already home, y/n decided to grab some other stuff she didn't have the chance before as it would be too noticeable and could get her father to suspect her. Well, he wasn't here now, and hopefully won't see her ever again.

Taking her jacket from the hook next to the door, she ran to her room, grabbing her only stuffed toy, a small teddy bear she nicknamed Pup. It was the only thing left of her mom, as her father had thrown everything reminding him of her out a long time ago.

Y/n turned around, facing Yunjin, still standing in the doorway, trying to catch her breath.

“Let's take my bike. That way, we'll be a lot faster. I have it locked to a post outside.”

Yunjin nodded, and both ran back downstairs, skipping the last few steps and choosing to jump instead. Y/n almost fell on her face but quickly regained balance. She yelled the password to the bike chain to Yunjin, who was ahead of her.

Just as Yunjin got the bike, the shine of headlights entered their vision. Y/n could recognize that car anywhere. Her father was back home.

“Fuck! Yunjin, hurry!”

She yelled out desperately, still running toward the other girl, whose hands she could see trembling, fumbling around with the lock. It was a miracle she managed to get it open just as y/n stood next to her.

Y/n ushered Yunjin to sit on it as she hopped onto the back, making a seat out of the flimsy bag holder. Her hands clamped around the older girl's waist.

As they rode away, y/n turned around to see her father getting out of his car, yelling something before Yunjin turned a corner, making him disappear out of her field of vision. She couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Curled up on a bag holder, desperately holding on to Yunjin as she frantically paddled away.

Y/n let out a breath, letting her head fall onto Yunjin's back, and watched as the world passed by.

The sun had set, the only source of light being the harsh lamps along the road, making her squint her eyes.

Contrary to everything that has happened today, it was a beautiful day, well, night, the kind you see in dramas and films. The ones that talk about the meaning of life and make everyone feel a bit strange after watching them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Yunjin announcing that they were almost there, tapping the clasped hands on her stomach and pointing across the river.

Y/n felt strange. It was as if they'd known each other their whole lives, even though they had only interacted a few times before today.

“Well, this is it.”

The bike stopped, making her let go of Yunjin.

She missed the subtle warmth under her fingertips and almost reached to touch her again, stopping herself before she could. Instead, she follows Yunjin inside.

-to be continued-

——————————

tags: @milfmomorene , @hueneve

#yunjin #huh yunjin #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x reader #angst #it’s getting better #non idol au #fem reader #gxg #x reader

[ytsunodabrainrotbaybee]

Find a Place Where We Belong

-> Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

While investigating and hoping to bust a group of street racing gamblers, Y/N has to pose as Guanyu’s girlfriend in her first undercover assignment with the Jump Street Program.

Part Four: Final Countdown

After a month’s worth of undercover work, the home stretch puts the Jump Street team under some stress to wrap up their investigation before the big bust. Everyone seems to neglect more personal matters in these times.

QuickView

Previous | Next

Week six. Next Saturday is the end of what Yuki claims is the biggest bust yet.

You watch as Guanyu turns a recorder over in his hands. And over. And over again. He looks up at you, but it’s a split second. He catches your eyes and his head is back down to the chunk of plastic and wiring in his hands.

Some damning evidence he says.

Sophia sits next to you. A young girl, one of the drivers, that you had taken to. She never knew about the deeper crimes her friends commit every week.

She’s all but picked the skin around her nails before you nudge her in the side. She smiles a tight lipped smile before looking back down at her hands. You can only imagine what is in her head. Thoughts about everything she’s spilled over the last couple weeks. The betrayal you convinced her to put over her friends.

Yuki paces at the front of the room. His eyes burn holes in the floor as he chews on a pen.

Oscar and Logan whisper back and forth in the corner of the room. Getting their part of the presentation straight. Ordering their notes.

This is crunch time. As Yuki affectionately called it at the beginning of the week. As the investigation began to wrap up. Right after Guanyu got Fernando to admit to those murders.

Hamilton is a few minutes late. Yuki’s glare burns into the side of his head as he averts his gaze.

“Two minutes, Captain”

“Could’ve been twenty”

Yuki takes his seat, followed by Oscar and Logan pulling up to the end of the table. Hamilton pauses for a beat.

“Nine days,” Hamilton says, “you all know that.”

He looks over the small group, with his eyes stopping at your plus one.

“And thank you, Sophia, for joining us.”

He moves on to details about the plan. His voice drifts in and out as your attention shifts to Guanyu. Sitting in his place next to Yuki, he avoids your gaze. His stare at the recorder in his hands never breaks.

Lewis continues on with his outlines. He describes, in great detail, each of your places. Your roles in the operation compliment each others well.

From yours and Guanyu’s hiding in the shadows, to Oscar, Sophia, and Yuki herding the drivers straight to a police barricade.

A sheriff’s department would be joining, with a task force of their own led by Deputy Russell and a few of his guys trained on high speed chases. They would all take check points along the way.

Said deputy Russell is introduced. He takes his turn going over the members of his team. Namely Deputies Albon, Sainz, Perez, and Gasly. Each with their own unmarked sports car, paired with a partner in a very well marked cruiser. Which are plenty fast in their own rights.

The team is regularly called as backup in high speed chases across the county. This wouldn’t be the first time they get called in by city police.

Oscar and Logan are next. They go over details they’ve learned in the past month. Yuki chimes in when they start talking about which drivers would be faster. They explain the structure of the team. Which Sophia interjects her own information.

As the citizen informant, she has the more crucial information. Some of the key details in the case have come from her. Wether that’s her own testimony or by wearing a wire during meets that your team couldn’t make.

Guanyu’s eyes catch yours for a moment as he stands in front of the table. His fingers fumble with the recorder he’d been holding.

He says nothing. Fernando’s voice comes from the recorder.

“Ah, the last guy that tried something.” His voice is smooth. Hardly the kind of voice that would be admitting to heinous crimes. He still just sounded like your home room teacher. “Sebastian… I liked him, really. He was fast.”

The words come, “he was too clean. We did what it took. Daniel and Max took care of the body.”

“He always had a good heart. A lot of potential.”

With some coaxing, Guanyu’s recorded voice pulled more and more information from him.

“This Sebastian Vettel couldn’t have been the only victim,” Guanyu starts. He cuts the recording short, “there have been multiple deaths connected to Fernando and his people.”

Guanyu explains on. His main focus has been missing person cases surrounding Fernando going back to the past decade. Sebastian is the first confirmed victim.

“This week is crucial,” Hamilton gestures for Guanyu to take his seat once again, “these people are dangerous, we need them off the streets.”

You had parked beside Guanyu this morning. And you wait out beside your car as he walks out, head down and hands shoved deep in his pockets.

When he sees you, his course is altered and he stops just in front of you.

It’s been a hot minute since the last time you had met up like this. In a parking lot after getting reprimanded ever so lightly by Yuki.

To Guanyu’s credit, he hardly looks like someone who hasn’t slept in weeks. Going to school, after school hanging out with Fernando into the early morning hours, getting a couple hours of sleep and doing it again.

All while pretending to be in that still solid relationship with you at school. Not really talking much outside of that.

He leans against his car. The two of you just stare. The air around you is tired. Spread thin as the countdown has started. It’s only the beginning of the week. And you have a math test that Wednesday. It doesn’t really matter, but your grades so far have been miserable.

“Does it happen like this every time?”

Guanyu shakes his head, “it usually isn’t so intense,” he says. His voice comes out a gravelly whisper, “usually we aren’t dealing with such a big case.”

You nod. Around the two of you, the last round of cars drive off the lot. They leave the two of you behind. All that are left at the station are some patrol men who couldn’t care less about the two of you.

His hands take yours. His head is on your shoulder. It’s comfortable. Maybe the fake relationship route wasn’t smart after all. That doesn’t matter now. Not with his arms making their way around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“Usually we aren’t dealing with murderers,” he says.

“He didn’t try to hurt you, did he?”

You don’t bother to try looking at him. You just trace soft circles into his lower back. He shakes his head.

“He threatened me, but I was a prison guard for a while,” he pulls back. Still, he holds you close, “that doesn’t really bother me.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Let’s go out” he taps a finger against your nose, “we haven’t been able to hang since last time.”

“Didn’t do a whole lot of hanging then.”

He shrugs, “come on, My mom taped Creepozoids last week, dropped the VHS off yesterday”

“You don’t even like horror.”

He’s getting into his car before you can really respond. It’s his turn to leave you scrambling into your car to follow him home. Where odds are that you won’t be watching Creepozoids.

You couldn’t anyways. Turns out his dad taped over the movie, not fifteen minutes in, it’s cut off and replaced by the recent Formula 1 race. Not that either of you notice.

You’re fully involved with each other. Might as well not even be breathing on your own. Clothes are messed up, he’s barely even dressed anymore when Alain Prost is announced as the Portugal Grand Prix winner.

He pulls away for a moment after the announcement comes from the TV. Through heavy breathing he gives a half hearted “whoo”

“Next season is Ayrton’s” he mumbles against your lips. His hands are already gripping at your shirt, pulling you closer and not giving you a chance to respond.

The night rolls on. You’ve abandoned the couch. The two of you fall asleep together. You could say you’re just getting everything out of your systems for the coming week. But with how addicting just waking up next to Guanyu already feels, maybe that’s not so true.

He’s already so comfortable with you as well. One hand tucked under your shirt against your back, the other holding onto your thigh. 

On to the next week. There’s not much talking. Not much being around each other. Next to no alone time.

Guanyu catches you in those brief moments, passing each other in the halls. Those quiet study hall days when the teachers aren’t paying attention. He can move his desk or his chair right up to yours and pull you in close. 

His free time is taken up solely by following Fernando around. You aren’t invited to tag along like you were before. You ask, sure. Every time Guanyu tells you no. It’s all you can do to get some sort of reasoning from him. You never get any more than some variation of “I have him where I want him,” and “don’t worry.”

You work harder with Sophia. You’re her point of contact. Movie dates give the two of you the privacy to share information. She gives you details about the upcoming meet that the others aren’t looking for. You report back to Hamilton with that information.

Thanks to the two of you, they know every transaction. Every bet placed and every drug present. They know who is driving, who’s keeping score. Everything down to the timing on each route.

The longest of which will run through the back roads outside of Miami. That’s the route that the bust will happen on.

The week goes by fast. When no one gets a moment to sit and think, the time slips past. Knocking on Friday.

The Friday morning that you wake up next to Guanyu again. You can’t place a reason why he’d turn up on your porch at eleven that previous night, but you won’t complain. You leave him to catch up on his sleep.

You’re dressed and fixing a quick breakfast before he’s pulling himself out of bed and into your kitchen. From behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Ready for this weekend?” You ask as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

#f1 x reader #zg24 #zhou guanyu #zhou guanyu x reader #guanyu x you #zhou guanyu x you #guanyu x reader #80s au #21 jump street au #fake relationship

[nelapanela94]

Hi Nela , i wanted to request a fic, an angsty one at that, where  it is set in cannonverse.  So, a colleegue of levi dies on a mission and she harbored strong feelings for him for a long time in secret, but she cant pass and her spirit keeps looming over him watching  until fate makes him   realize that she was deeply in love with him , and who knows maybe they'll be together in another lifetime. You're welcome to make changes or add anything . Get well soon 😊 🙏

😊Hi Anon! Thank you!!!! I'm feeling way better now, and than you so much for the request!!!

tw: Angsty, depiction of physical injuries and death.

wc: ~13k

Summary: Doomed to spend eternity in a wedge between heaven and hell, mourning a love that could not be, Y/N has only one way to escape her desolate fate. Will she find a way to make Levi aware of the feelings she has secretly harbored for him?

You were noise and silence muting my soul.

Fury and lull.

tears and laughter.

The promise and a perhaps

confusing my skin.

You were all and nothing.

You are what never was and will never be.

The storm and oblivion.

An hourglass upside down.

3

Gravel crunch under your feet. You’re running towards the light, but the line that divides brightness and darkness recedes with every step you take. No matter how fast you run, your feet never skim the glowing gold. The gleam warms your skin like a mother caress lulling you to sleep. Barren soil becomes grass, tall grass that gobbles up and pricks your ankles. Dew wicks your white, flowing skirts. You clutch the twill in your fists and lift so as not to trip and fall. Despite the voluminous dress, you feel light, weaving through with such litheness. Like a feather swirling in an airstream.

You enter the woods, sticks of light pour through the boughs and sprigs, hundreds-year-old trees stand there and proud like sentinels, flanking the way to the great beyond. Their entwined branches claw at the sky like pleading arms. The air holds the balmy aromas of honey and oak, mingled with the smell of petrichor. Your hair whips around your face, and the whisper of the gentle breeze soothes you, trimming away the suffering. The pain has waned. No more blood is gushing out. The wounds on your flesh sewn back as if seconds or minutes has spooled backwards. As if the reels were collected. But time is moving forward. The earth continues whirling around the sun. Your lips curve up into a smile of relief when you spot the last wall of trees.

You just have to follow the light to the world where souls wallow in ambrosial fragrance and revel in the divine twang of harps.

A frosty gale whirs with the intensity of a hurricane, prickling your arms and face with a thousand needles, and the lustre shrinks. The elation fades from your gaze, giving way to a grimace of dismay. Confusion, fear, chagrin sting your face. The darkness that enfolds you is so dense you can’t see your fingers wiggling before you. The sheer quietness is jarring, and you’re left alone with your unsettling thoughts. A throe of anguish whacks you right in the chest and bolts through your limbs. Blotches of your last moments snag your senses: the pungent stench of iron, wires buzzing, dismembered bodies, spatters of crimson, the ear-splitting shouts and pleas, the twinging pain surging through your leg and side and neck, the bark of a tree chaffing your back.

The little hairs behind your neck bristle in awareness. Chills bite you. Despair crawls under your skin like rolling-out barbed wire. A razor-sharp beat springs in your chest, and your heart leaps into your throat. Your mouth unhinges to scream, but nothing comes out.

You run, the fear of being trapped in that prison of murk is more harrowing than the fear of stumbling and smashing your face on the floor. What's the worst that could happen if you're already dead?Though, no matter where you go, there’s no sign or a sliver of light that gives you hope.

A dire laughter rises, and you stop in your tracks, turning your head in different directions with frenzy. Your breath comes out in a rush of panic, and your chest tightens into a knot. Something or someone rejoices in your plight. The laugh is like a throaty rasp scraping your ears with the most abrasive sandpaper.

You close your eyes shut, clamping them so tight you see stars sparkling behind your eyeballs, threatening to explode. You hunch. Your hands cover your ears, yet the dreadful sound seeps through. Your face is dampened and warm with tears. Chin wobbling. Your sobs and weeps tangle with the sardonic guffaw composing a brash tune that prickles your eardrums.

Is this how eternity will be? How bad have been your sins? Is this a fair sentence for stealing an eraser in first grade? Now you have no chance to apologize to Toby. Maybe for cheating in math? For the white little lies? For…

Whops bang with furor where your heart is supposed to be. You raise your head defiantly, and crack your eyes to the nothingness, mustering courage from who knows where, and open your mouth to shout ‘Whose there?’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘What are you?’ ‘Where am I?’ But your queries clog in your throat like a fireball. You try to stroke a syllable and coat it in your voice, but all you feel is lava trickling down to your chest. You give another try, stubborn as you are– that’s why you ended up here in first place. But this time shards of glass are forced down your throat.

You gag, your fingers curling around your neck as you tumble on your knees. A hiss dashes out through gritted teeth, tears piquing your eyes at the brazen pain of nails stabbing your calves.

Right when you’re about to give up and yield to your fate, looming in the infinite darkness, the gloom begins recoiling into a smoky shade of wispy edges. Black branches gnarl on white, slipping on the indefinite floor and walls, giving form to a soaring shape before you. It grows a bald head with ears, a torso with arms and legs and fingers and toes. No nose, no eyes, no mouth. Yet.

The cold dwindles. Your face rucks up, eyes shut tight, and you turn away from the blinding beam.  It expands to the infinite, to your right, left, front, and back. You take a peek through a slivered open eye and there’s no elongated shadow cast on the floor, as if the light is coming from nowhere, a beam without source.

“Make up your mind.” A sour scorn jabs your ears. “Darkness makes you weep, and light vexes you.”

You lurch back, wide eyes full of fright trembling at the figure standing in front of you. Its arms are folded over its chest, foot tapping on the floor, sketching rippling waves on the surface as if you were standing on a shallow lagoon. A wide toothy grin sprains up to where its eyes are supposed to be.

Your quivering lips part to speak, but this time, what’s holding you back is pure panic, seizing every inch of your body. Spreading from flesh to bones.

“Has the cat got your tongue?”

Your stomach churns, and words heap in your throat. Terror glides beneath your skin.

It sighs and shrugs, its palms facing up. “You must be wondering where are you? And why?”

You gulp, guzzling down the knot, and it takes it like a yes.

It conjures a scroll, unfurls it, and your eyes follow the paring roll until it brushes your feet. The shadow figure reads for itself the intricately engraved markings, whispering in an unrecognizable language, and you wonder how it can read without eyes. It rewinds the manuscript and slides it back into a pouch that slits in its belly. It brings a fist to its mouth, and harrumphs, tilting its head up.

You tip your head to the side, one eyebrow shot upward.

"After inventorying your sins and good deeds, we ruled out the underworld for you. Stealing an eraser from a six-year-old is not frowned upon by the higher ups, nor is lying to your parents.” It shakes its head accusatorily, then bursts into a flaming, whirling form, tittering, and swirling around you. Its voice leaves a somber echo. “Saying you'd stay over with your girlfriends to wantonly cede to the fangs of debauchery.” It reverts to its demi human form and brings its hands to under its chin, steepling its fingers, tips tapping. “What would your parents think if they found out you were sneaking out with the baker's son?” It scratches its head. “Anyway, according to the guidelines, that's not considered a felony. Squashing a cockroach doesn't count as murder. But as you may have noticed,”–it lifts a finger and whirls it in the air. Your eyes dart around, and it continues, “this isn't heaven either. Your application to paradise was rejected." It yawns. "So, you got caught in the middle. No agony, no bliss. Nothing. Just you and me."

You blink twice.

You lower your head, gazing up at it, lashes flitting. “Is there anything I can do to get out of here?” you ask coyly, swinging your head from side to side.

“I thought you were a mute.”

Your frown, folding your arms over your chest. “That doesn’t answer my question.” Irritation enfolds your voice. Your fingers drum over your upper arms as your eyes go blank.

“Try another one.”

“What are you?”

Its smile is sprightly this time.

"I am only a messenger and the one who takes you to your destination, but because of you, we are both trapped in here. We messengers are bound to the souls until we deliver this to gatekeepers of heaven or hell." He fumbles in its back pocket, draws a green gem and holds it in front of you between his thumb and forefinger. "If I don't hand it over, I won't untie myself from you. As simple as that."

"And what did I do? Why can't I get into paradise?" you scowl, jutting out your lower lip. Hands resting on your hips.

"To let shame and the fear of rejection consume you, to let the chances you had to tell him slip away." It raps its tapered fingers on your temple for every word as if he’s drilling a hole.

“Ouch!” Your face contorts as you rub the side of your head.

“You wasted all your chances, crumpled them and threw them in the bin.”

You know exactly that it means. You were brooding over that matter, but you were going to do it, you were determined to spill it out right after the expedition.

But fate dissented.

At least you would have someone to talk to. For ages.

Like a blown-up flame, it snaps away, and panic surges through you again. Lousy company was better than being alone in nothingness. At least it would keep you diverted from your thoughts.

Then, something brushes your nape from behind, grating you like a rough jute blanket, making shivers run down your spine.

It’s light and sturdy, the sensation on your shoulders. The hands squeeze you, and you freeze in the spot. Your body feels so heavy you can’t move, you can’t fight. Its teeth nip your neck, and you loll your head back. You swear you feel its breathing fanning over the thrumming spot beneath your jaw. But it doesn’t even have a nose.

Your muscles tense, and your breath comes out in muffled pants, your legs squirm at the tempting groping. Your eyes close, and you make a huge mistake.

Its palms march down, its mouth nibbles on your neck, and you hate it feels so good. A feeble moan leaps out of your lips.

You can feel the gibing smirk curving against your cheeks.

Your face slathers with deep red.

“Y/N, I love you, I love you.” It’s arms slither around you, holding you tight. That’s not its croaky voice; it’s husky, and soft, and deep, like a rasp of silk, laced with lust. A voice you know too well, a voice that make your knees wobble and your heart gallop.

But a tinge of mockery lingers at the end of each syllable. And you know it’s just teasing with you.

“Leave me alone!!!” you creak. Your hands anchor to its arms and hurl them off. Its obnoxious laughter gurgles out in a hoarse scour.

It lets go, and you spin around.

But it’s not a black human-shaped shadow with the acerbic grin and warped edges. No.

Dizzy with repulsion, you heave, air lodges in your throat, and even if you don’t need oxygen anymore, you feel you’re running out of breath. Your guts wrench.

Levi stands in front of you. Those are his features, those lips you dreamed to kiss, his nose, his expressive thin brows, because, what his heart tucks in, and his words can’t give form, his brows give away.

That silky hair you always wanted to smooth down, to entwined those locks between your fingers and let them slip through.

But there is something off.

The eyes. Not steel gray with a hue of blue, but green, bright green like the stone it showed you twiddling in its fingers. Pale smoke swirls through its gaze.

Scowling, you snarl, “I hate you!”

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he inches closer, pointing forward his puckered lips into a kiss. “I love you Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Marry me. We’ll live in the outskirts of the city and bless our home with kids.” He holds his hands together, fingers intertwined, sighing dreamily. A cheap lampoon.

Your brows twitch, your cheeks flushed red. Hands fisting your white skirts. “SHUT UP!”

Your voice echoes, stretching to the endlessness.

“He’ll never say that!” You spit.

“Of course he won’t. You’re dead.” He rolls his eyes.

“Thanks for being so empathetic.” You huff. “I mean, he would’ve never said it that way.”

“Enlighten me then. So I can give you a perfect personification. I’d make your stay more… pleasant.”

No. You don’t want this shoddy illusion. It might look like him, but it’s not him.

“Is there anything I can do?”

The fake Levi pokes a finger in his nose. “For what?”

“To get out of here.”

“You had your chance, you missed it.” He sniffs the booger and flicks it away with his thumb.

“But–“

“It hurts my feelings you don’t want to stay with me.” He splays a hand on his chest and feigns cry. “I promise I’ll be a good partner to roam with in the eternity.”

“I don’t give a shit about your feelings!” You holler back. "I need to get out of here."

“You’re so mean Y/N.” His chin trembles. You loath the way he says your name. Stench coating every letter. “There’s something you can do”

Your eyes fill with hope.

“But I won’t tell.” He turns his face away gruffly.

“Fuck you!”

“That’s not ladylike, Y/N. I’ll lather your mouth with water and soap.”

You blow off a lock of hair from your eyes.

“Tell me.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll give you anything.”

The fake Levi smirks. “Anything?”

“I mean–” you quaver.

“There’s nothing you can give me, there’s nothing I want from you.” He grips your jaw, impelling you to look at him. You try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re a pretty one, but I don’t feel–what’s what you call it? Desire? That’s not something I was created for. And your soul? I’m already tethered to you.”

He releases you. A burn of ice scorches where his fingers had pressed.

“Please tell me.”

“I’m not a god, or a devil, or a genie in a bottle.” His lizard green eyes stain with mischief as an idea hatches in his head. What you don’t know is that he only wants to play. “Just so you can see that I’m not as hateful as you think I am, I’ll tell you. There’s only one way, Y/N. You have to shear the thread, the pending issue that keeps you stuck here. You have to tell him what you feel.”

Your eyes furrow. “And how do I do that?”

“I can’t solve everything in your life. Death.” He corrects himself. “Your soul will roam among the living, and you must find a way to deliver the message.”

“How long do I have?”

“Until he dies. If he dies and you can’t tell him, I’ll drag you back here.” He gives you a coy smile. “You have a lifetime, his lifetime.”

You clear your throat to speak, but his voice slices into peals of laughter.

Cracks splinter down its head, neck, and shoulders; black leaks through the crevices, like twisting loose black curls seeping out like water, pooling and spreading boundlessly. It fragmentizes. The shards of the Levi shell it wore disintegrate, melting as in acid. They hiss, and roiling threads of lawn-green smoke swirl above them, wisp edges blur in the nothingness. Your  fumbling legs don’t move, they don’t respond to your commands. You look down and spot the half dozen of snaky limbs trussing your limbs, seizing them, pulling you down. Your face is frozen in a snarl of panic. Your chest tightens, and your throat clogs, and you can’t make a sound.

There are no prankish smirk or green eyes. A menacing void daubs in your stomach, smearing to your chest and throat. A maw full of fangs cracks open beneath your feet.

Here you stand frozen, blackness consuming you; inch by inch, you drown in quicksand. The more you struggle the faster you sink. Pain lances up through your feet, sudden and sharp. You gaze down in search of a wound, but your ankles are already submerged under the blackness. Its laughter becomes a strident noise as pain climbs and infects your calves and shins and soon it’s twisting your knees, your thighs, your hips and on.

Your raucous weep encroaches the piercing chortle. Your throat flares up as you tug at the collar of your dress, trying to tear it apart, but it clings into your skin, cinching tighter. Tears wedge out through the line of your lashes, pampering your face, stinging your lips. The saltiness swabs your mouth.

“Those who risk nothing don’t deserve to go to hell or to the altars.” Its hoarse voice echoes, each syllable thrums in your ears.

A tinkling, and it all shatters.

Legs flutter, arms flounder.

You’re falling, falling, swallowed by the abyss.

I

Supple snores brush past his lightly parted lips. You watch his back rise and fall steadily. One arm stretched out. His cheek is sprawled on the last document he was reviewing last night before dozing off with the quill trapped in his fingers. The blotch of black expanded in a circle with warped edges until it ran out of ink.

He looks cute, you think. In your eyes he always looks adorable. Even with the creases sullying between his eyebrows, and his arms crossed over his chest.

Serenity envelops him, granting him a few hours of well-deserved peace.

Three hours.

He did well last night.

You poke him, try to, but the tip of your finger doesn’t dent his pillowy cheek. Instead, it goes through him. A reminder that you’re here, but not. Between cero and one there’s an infinity, just like between you and him. You strew your hand and bring it over his cheek, flimsily caressing, but you feel nothing under your phantom touch. There’s no warmth, nor the tenderness of his skin. You wonder whether he feels something when you’re looming around, a sudden cold or warmth, the air lighter or denser. You take every chance you get to tangle yourself in his hair, to breath down on his neck, supplicating that he can feel you.

But you had your time to gamble, and you missed your shot.

Feel me.

He’s slobbering, a cord of saliva dribbles out, spattering the letters in charcoal black. His khaki jacket is perched on the backrest. His cravat hooked loosen around his neck.  The firsts two buttons of his shirt undone.

Two years ago, heat would have grazed your core by a tiny bit of exposed skin. A simple glimpse of ripping collarbones, or broad shoulders, rippling muscles or a glance of his perfectly sculpted chest, or veiny arms, or…

You shake off the naughty thoughts.

Even two years after, a single peek of any inch of his flesh has the same effect on you.

You can’t help it. It’s always been like that, even a simple exchange of Hi’s had your legs shaking, and your cheeks broiling red as if his gaze and his voice have caught you in a spell. You are the sun that runs helplessly behind the moon.

But it’s not just the straightforward gravity of lust that had you spinning around his orbit. Yes, Levi got the looks–though others might demur–but it’s much more than carnal desire. You could always see through his façade, wondering how much energy and self-restrain it takes to keep it on all the time. But if you look heedfully, if you don’t succumb to the intensity of his gaze and the chastisement of his frown, you can see it. The Levi who feels to much, at a jarring intensity it lacerates his heart, and he doesn’t have enough time to patch it up when another stab wounds him. The dial of his heart is broken, most likely a manufacturing defect or a childhood trauma that left the volume all the way up.

There were so many blows that life threw at him, mercilessly, and the pain stretched long and unbearably sharp; thus, he learned to numb them off and protect himself. An insensitive lunatic, they say. And he couldn’t care less of what they think. It’s just a survival tactic.

That’s the Levi you fell in love with. The Levi who cares too much, who puts everyone else before him, who’ll never accept he’s good with kids and animals.

The tea lover and the clean freak.

The scared boy who used his strength to survive in a world that doesn’t  set limits to cruelty.

You love the Levi who is too sensitive to the sunlight.

The Levi who cocoons under his covers and quilt in winter, and files complaints to the sweltering summer for coating him in a nasty clammy layer.

The Levi he hides under the hull.

The Levi who doesn’t carry the boulder of being Humanity’s strongest soldier.

I love you. You hover over behind him, humming a lullaby he’ll never hear. Your ghostly fingers linger along the line of his chin and nose, draw his eyebrows, the line of his lashes. You try to flick a lock of hair, but it doesn’t flinch. Shove your hand between the disheveled strands, but you go through his skull.

Creepy.

A sigh whizzes out.

But you’re a persistent one, and just like every morning, you drag your lips to his in hope that this time it will be different.

The prince waking up the princess from the enchantment. But he’s not a princes and you’re not a prince, and this is not a kids tale.

You watch his reaction closely. Your mouth remains a millimeter away from his; you close the gap and steel gray eyes snap open wide. You don’t move, you don’t retreat. You wait; he’s staring aghast, and for a second you believe today is the day the planets align, but thin black eyebrows sink into a scowl and a ‘tch’ traipse out of his mouth.

The legs of his chair screech on the wooden floor, and he hauls up on his feet, wiping off his drool with the back of his hand, still unaware of the shapeless black blot on his cheek.

You step back, shooting a brow upward, tilting your head to the side, and swiftly spin around. You watch him stomp to the shelf jammed with hefty tomes of leather-bound encyclopedias and biographies, their spines adorned with curving gold letters and neat patterns. He stands before it, stretches up, putting his weight on his toes, and rubs off a speck of dust with a cloth he drew out from his pocket.

“Levi” You groan his name, pulling off your hair, fighting the urge to kick his desk.

You can walk past through people and animals, but not through objects. Though, you can’t really touch them. You can push them, but never grab them, they’d slip from your fingers. Once, desperate to get his attention from the engrossing paperwork, you drop a ceramic mug from his desk. The quill fell from his hand, and stunned, he stared at the shards scattered on the floor, swarmed in his precious tea. The flickering light of the candle danced coarsely on his dilated pupils; he slammed down the mesh in his throat, and shook his head in disbelief, smacking the heel of his hand on his forehead.

It must’ve been the lack of sleep, he convinced himself.

Besides, your task is to confess your feelings, not to scare the shit out of him or render him believe he’s gone mad.

Another tch spills out of him when he spots the black smudge of ink stretching from the heel of his hand to his pinkie finger. He struts back to the table and his eyes flicker to the print he left on the paper.

“Fuck.”

He’ll need a copy of the report.

Why not to write a message or a letter? The quill slithers. However, about a month after this all started, when the headquarters still perched close to Shiganshina, you tried to trap the pen clamped between your hands. That day, Levi attended a meeting with Shadis, Erwin, Hange and the other squad leaders to discuss arrangements for the following mission. Levi was still a low rank soldier, yet a promising one who had already become a key piece in the game. The rest of the cadets were hectic with muscle wrenching training.  You stayed in the boys' dorms, battling with defiance as the shadow twitted and scoffed on your back. With the quill teetering in your hands, you dipped it in the inkwell, but as soon as the nip scratched the paper, the ink was swallowed by the fiber. No matter how many times you tried, you could not write more than one stroke.

You couldn’t leave a message whittled on a tree bark or carved in soil; you couldn’t leave a print. Nothing.

Because you didn’t belong here.

You follow Levi to the adjacent room. A light blend of bergamot and lavender lingers in the air. The warm summer breeze caresses his face as the window swings open, particles of dust sway freely in the first morning glow. His bed is untouched, perfectly taut, no wrinkles etched in the sheets.

What a waste.

You rush to the bathroom door, and rest against the frame on your shoulder, arms folded over your chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

Your eyes are hooked to each of his movements. Opening his wardrobe door, he flicks his eyes along the row of light blue shirts and white pants. He takes his time as if he had a fan of options unfurled before him like a girl choosing a gown to a ball. He slides the hangers across the metal railing, one finger curled against his chin.

It’s not science, Levi. You roll the eyes.

And he emerges from the closet with a shirt and a pair of pants hooked on his arm, looking exactly at the clothes he fell asleep with. He hangs them on the backrest of his wing chair and sits on the edge of the bed, next to the nightstand. He pulls out the bottom drawer, delving into, and draws a pair of white briefs.

He thuds the drawer close with his leather-clad foot and heads to the bathroom, leaving the clean underwear perched too on the chair.

You stand there under the door frame, feet shoulder width apart, the back of your hands set on your hips. You slant forward, determination smeared across your eyes.

I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU, you shout, I LOVE YOU, LEVI.

Nothing.

Grumbling, you press the heels of your hands over your eyes and screak with hopelessness. You clout your temples, tears flooding in your eyes. Stupid, stupid, Y/N, why didn’t you knock on the door?

You look up and mumble, I love you, Levi. I love, you. Your voice breaks, and your chin trembles.

But nothing.

He ducks into the bathroom, walking past through you. The skirts of your dress billow as you turn around. You wipe your tears away, and you know what’s coming next. You are a bystander every morning, and his routine is almost unflappable.

You've seen him undress in front of you hundreds of times, and the desire never dissipates. A tingle crawls in your belly every time you look at him unseemly. The only perk of being invisible. An indecent show exclusive for you.

However, seeing and not touching is a curse.

His clothes pool at his feet and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip, relishing in the enthralling image. You close one eye and trace a svelte finger along the rebel locks of hair, pointing in every direction, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cupid bow, his chin, and jaw and Adam’s apple, his taut chest. You draw a circle around his tiny nipple. You continue downwards. The sun that pours through the small casement window catches the angles and planes of his perfectly chiseled torso, the V-cut abs, the ripped obliques, making him look like a statue carved by a master of the art. Your eyes meander along the line of hair marching down that disappears under his boxers. A dented line trails along his thick and flexed outer thighs.

His underwear is still in place, and you sulk. His booty is perky and round and bitable.

Distress surges through you, twisting your stomach. Like a gust of cool wind, it steps behind you. You and your sinful thoughts. Its voice is a ragged whisper that blisters your nape. Your knees go rubbery. He could’ve been yours.

The air is denser and torrid behind you.

You clear your throat and say without looking back, Rejection was a possibility too.

Levi spits out the toothpaste, and takes a sip of water from the cup, swishes, and spits again, and wipes his mouth on a washcloth. 

Dumb and dumber, perfect for each other. Its last words waft away. You nibble on your lower lip and look over your shoulder, but it’s already gone. Momentary alleviation swaddles you again, your hands, little by little, stop trembling. You never know when it’s going to show up again. It may show up the next minute, or you may not hear from it for a month.

You watch Levi lean over the sink, closer to the mirror, furrowing his brows at the stain on his cheek. He lifts his chin, one hand stroking his jawline, tilting his face to the sides.

Levi, you shaved two days ago.

Yet you know he can’t stand stubbles. He first wipes off the black smudge. Then slathers shaving oil on the target area and picks up the dark wood. From the handle, he unfolds it. The stainless-steel blade catches the sunlight in a bright gleam that flashes on the mirror. He holds the razor to his jaw, and the blade smoothly glides in short strokes. Water trickles from the faucet and he rinses the blade. Again, the sharp edge scrapes. He cleanses it, lifts his chin, pulls it back, and it slides again.

Once done, he cleans the blade and folds the razor, and places the mahogany handle on the countertop. You slip behind him, but there’s only one person looking back from the mirror. He washes his face and swabs a towel gently, pats his clean-shaven cheeks and lolls his head, flicking his hair to the side, running his fingers over his undercut. It’s soft and he briefly notes it’s gotten long.

Not today.

Soon Hange will be banging on his door.

His fingers anchor to the hem of his briefs, pull them down, and he kicks them off. Your eyes beam with tinge of lust, your cheeks scorching red. How bad you want to smack that booty. You shake your head, ‘sinful thoughts, sinful thoughts, don’t forget you can still go to hell.’

Levi gets into the shower and sweeps the curtain. Water whooshes down, and you strut back to his room. Groaning, you fall back on his bed, running down your palms over your face.

Day seven hundred and fifty two, and you’ve made no progress. This is not going anywhere. Why don’t you help me? You ask the shadow, you know he is listening, but you don’t get an answer.

If you help me, both of us will benefit, you know?

Screw you.

It doesn’t have a name, he said, and you don’t want to give it one. It’d strengthen your bond, and that’s the last you wish.

Water stops running, and a minute later, Levi steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, lucky drops of water trickle down the ridges of his abs. You’re jealous of them because they can caress his skin. You roll onto your side, head prop on your elbow, your hair spilling down over the sheets.

Several times has the wind accidentally knocked the towel off.

He wipes his hair dry with another towel and tosses it away as he makes his way to the chair where his clothes are piled on.

He briskly dons his clothes, slip into his boots, and straps on. He fixes his cravat, and smooths down his hair. Picks up his towels and hangs them on the hooks in the bathroom.

Levi sighs and toddles to his office, closing the door to his room with a soft thud.

Seven bells break through the window, and while the last chime still resounds, three bangs drag him to the door.

Levi slips aside, and Hange steps inside, but they don’t show up alone. A night-black ball of hair is cradled in their arms, puffing up and down soundly.

“Good mor—”

“Get that thing out of here,” he scoffs as a sour grimace creeps across his face.

“Bu—”

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes, “I don’t want cat hair in my office.”

You witness the scene, and one green eye peeks open, drifting to you, filled with haughtiness.

Kick that cat out of here, Hange.

 It casts a grim glance at you.

That’s not even a cat.

 It purrs against their chest.

“Isn’t it cute?”

“No.”

No.

You reply in unison, but of course they can’t hear you.

A scowl tugs your brows together, your fists are clenched by your sides, your jaw set forward, teeth gritting so tight they might crack. That’s not possible, though, but the pressure mars you.

Meow. It yawns and leaps off Hange, making them lurch back.  

Its tail curls inward as it prances with indifference, swaying with arrogance. It stretches its back and curls at your feet. Levi’s eyes go blank, and heads to the bookshelf. Hange sinks into the couch and turns sideways to watch Levi standing on his toes, reaching out for a mug, their knee hitched up onto the sofa. They let out a chuckle, coaxing a death-sentence glower from the ravenette.

They lift their hands in the air, palms out as a sign of peace. “So, you also heard about the new tea supplies.”

“Yeah,” one corner of his lips quirks up.

Murmurs from the hallway percolate into his bureau. He left the door open, and more and more soldiers plod by down the corridor, heading for the training camp.

Levi owns a fine 13-piece tea set in white china that rests symmetrically on the top shelf. Six flare-shape cups graced with golden rims and handle rest on their saucers. The guava shaped teapot, adorned with a pattern of graciously painted spring flowers is settled in the middle. A little further to the right lies a mug that does not fit the set. And that’s the one Levi goes for.

Your eyes light up as you let out a sigh that coalesces hope and melancholy. A feeble, meek smile curves in your lips as Levi runs his thumb over the hand-painted dahlias. It was delicately crafted by nimble hands, something Levi deeply appreciates. His shoulders sag lightly, and he closes his eyes, sucking in a deep, cleansing breath.

“That’s a pretty one, Levi.”

Thanks Hange. It took me months, and tears of frustration to finish it before his birthday.

“It was a present,” he muses wistfully, raking his fingers through his hair, and pads toward Hange.

“From who?” Hange hauls onto their feet and slings an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “Don’t tell me it was from Y/N?” They wink and reel closer, waggling their eyebrows as Levi inches away, blushing and averting his eyes.

A pang of faith jabs within your chest, and you swallow the skein of despondency and misery, a drop of optimism fans out over your gaze. The cat’s ears twitch, and it gazes up, those penetrating green eyes meet yours and you can feel the dashes of scorn stabbing you, yet you won’t let him win this time. You cast a smug smile, then your eyes scoot to Levi and Hange as they strut together to the door.

“How do you know?” Levi stammers, and you raise a brow. His tapered fingers curl tight around the ceramic mug.

“Levi…” Hange sighs patting his back, their shoulders sag. “Sometimes it amazes me how thick you can be on certain issues.”

You rest against the desk, entwining your fingers and you bring your clasped hands to your chin, legs crossing and uncrossing. A deep red shade crawls across your cheeks. Today might be the day, the day you’ll break the curse. Come on, Hange, you whisper.

Levi halts in his tracks and flings Hange’s arm off him. His eyebrows plummet into a frown. “Explain yourself.”

Yes, Hange, explain yourself.

You watch with the suspense as when your team is about to score. You feel your hear thrumming recklessly, shivers dashing down your spine.

“Don't tell me you never noticed it.” The titan freak pinches the bridge of their nose, shaking their head, and drags out a long breath.

“Noticed what?” Levi bellows, creased lines marring his forehead and between his brows.

“The way she looked at you.” Hange exhales, a forlorn smile blooming in their lips. They squeezed Levi’s shoulder and mutters, “I’m sorry.”

One baby step.

Dumbfounded, Levi stares at them with wide open eyes that quail under the weight of their pensive gaze. His lips tremble too. He gulps, and lets his brows sink into a scowl. His heart kicks against his chest, and his face is mottled with redness, though Hange can’t tell whether it’s anger of embarrassment.

“Don’t talk trash.” He barks and storms out; Hange shrugs and follows him, closing the door behind them.

Your arms fall by your sides, your shoulders flump, and your head hangs forward as if it’s too heavy for your neck to support; your hair, jarred loose from the usual moorings, fling over your head. Your hands grip the wooden rim so hard color begins to drain from your fingers. Tears slide down your cheeks and fall, but they never touch the floor, they dissolve right before crashing on the polished wood, a chasm so thin and infinite that separates you from their world.

It’s not a cat anymore. A black shade stands next to you. A haughty smile spread across its somber face; its contemptuous laughter flays your skin. An arm swings around you, and you tip your head, your eyes crashing with the fake Levi’s. Smoke swishes in those disquieting pupils. Tears had stained your cheeks, minced your throat to a scalding soreness. You stare at him without rasping a word, trying to numb the pain away. It hurts too much.

Hopelessness infects you like a meat-eating bacterium. Time ticks, his time is ticking, and the fear of never seeing him again erodes every inch of your flesh.

This woe cut a hole right through you with a rusty knife.

Even dead, you’re not immune to pain.

You hurl him off.

“Oi! Y/N!”

You turn your head to him, swollen and glassy eyes wide open, mouth slightly parted, lips quavering. “Could you stop saying my name in his voice?” You plead in a wavering voice.

But he only snorts, a devilish smirk grazing those beautiful features. “It wouldn’t be fun, Y/N.” He grips your chin harshly, and you have no strength to fight him. “Love is your curse, sweetheart. Come with me. We´ll have each other for eternity.”

2

You drown a roaring yawn in the palm of your hand and wipe away the tear peeking at the corner of your eye. Disdain and disappointment suffuse the crowds’ faces. A cloud of pessimism and distrust hover over the streets of Shiganshina. The great bell chimes, and the chains rattle as the door to the outer world rises. Holding the reins in the curve between your thumbs and forefingers, you pat your face to wake you up. You suck in a long breath to steady the drumming beats of your heart. Even though it’s not your first expedition, apprehension fizzes through your veins, increasing the adrenaline in your system.

Shadis orders advance. Amid whistles and jeers, and the clopping of the hooves, you pass through the main gate, and the formation soon deploys.

No one had forecasted the ashy gray clouds rolling from the east.

Shouts ensnare with cries, and you can’t remember at what moment you fell from the horse. It must have slipped in the mud. Pain exploded in your face as you smacked against the ground. Splattered blood dappled your uniform, though you didn’t know if it belonged to your comrades or if it was your own. Your fingers burned, yet you managed to drag battered body to under a tree.

You slump against the trunk and a thick fog blurs your vision, and through the daze you glimpse bodies being tossed away by a savage giant. Wires buzz and click and snap. Wails of agony seem so distant. A short film in sepia flicker before your eyes, the story of your life. The door unfolds in front of you, and you try to lift your hand and rap your knuckles against the oak wood, like that day. That time, what got on your way was fear, the fear of rejection, the fear of not being good enough; now, what’s stopping you from knocking is life slipping away through your fingers like a river slithering through the rocks.

You can’t coax the earth to spin in reverse, you can’t go back in time. And now rue dashes through you like a vine of thistles scraping your chest. The sinners by omission are also reprimanded, and you learn that in the harshest way as Charon approaches, but panic surges through you because you don’t have a coin for the ferryman. Perhaps another divinity that doesn’t charge for its services will take pity on your soul.

Numbness starts to spread though your limbs. Crimson sprouts from your left thigh and your right side, and there’s a splinter too following the line of your collarbone. Little by little, the tingle from your hands and feet recedes as if they’re detaching from you.

Your breath shallows, and you shudder in pain, hissing. The affliction branches across your leg and torso and shoulder like lightning, red smears over your uniform. Your fumbling hands are not strong enough to clutch the wounds and deter the bleeding. The stains feel warm, and you fight to not close your eyes. But your eyelids feel leaden with weariness.

Through the haze, covered in soil and blood, your fingernails look a faint blue. Your body feels heavy, and it’s anchored to the ground as if made of solid rock, as if your eyes had mingled with Medusa’s.

You’re perspiring in delirium. Scrunching up your face, you bite your bottom lip until the taste of iron stings your mouth. Pain eases pain, you tell yourself. Your arms fall by your sides, the bark feels rough against your back, and a meek smile tugs at your lips. At least you’re feeling something, that means, you’re still tied up to this world. Maybe, maybe, he’ll come back on time.

You cry tears you hadn’t realized you had left. You’re ladling them out from the reserve, from the last wave of devastation. Tears that endorse the truth you’re still reluctant to accept.

You’re tired as though you’re swimming in a lake of molasses, desperately fluttering, but it keeps pulling you down.

An invisible wire of fear seizes your chest, and you cling to your last breath, waiting for him.

The chirp of the grasshoppers and the rustling of the leaves and branches fade away. The world slowly shuts down, and you gaze up, close your eyes and pray for any deity to have mercy on you.

So, this is the end?

Alone, sweaty, muddy.

Frightened, beaten, impotent.

And then, you see Levi.

The cause of your bliss and frustration. Of your songs and reticence.

Levi, Levi, Levi.

With your last breath you repeat his name, his name that slips from your lips like honey.

Y/N who was always late for any important event in her life but arrives early to her own death.

It’s alright.

You’re at peace.

You’re not afraid.

You’re ready.

And those frames, those moments that could’ve been, but will never be project like a motion picture before your eyes.

You and Levi, napping under the sun, belly’s brimming with cheese and wine and fruits.

You stroking Levi’s hair as he reads aloud for the two a verse that binds you together.

Levi, pressing you down into the bed, fingers intertwined, hearts beating wild, and breaths coming out in muffled pants, your name dribbling out of his mouth, echoing in your hair.

You and Levi in the kitchen, your face covered in wheat flour as you knead the bread dough, and Levi next to you whipping the heavy cream until it turns to butter

You, chasing him to cup his face in your hands, while the place suffuses with the rich smell of freshly baking bread.

You and Levi, and two kids with black hair and deep gray eyes running around in a cottage at the outskirts of the city, making a mess and driving you crazy.

You, aging by his side.

A tear slides down your face. Your eyes are burdensome with drowsiness.

It’s not alright.

And you’re not at peace. Why couldn’t you open the door?

And you’re scared. You’re frightened to die out here alone. It should be in his arms, and not in mud.

You’re not ready. You have to tell him, he needs to know.

Please, please, please, if anyone is listening, please, give me another chance.

But the heartbeats you have left are not enough.

II

“So, I did this to myself, didn’t I?”

“it was just a coincidence.” Its fingers drum on its sternum. “Pleading or not, you wouldn’t fend off this.”

The earth has revolved around the sun three times already. The colossus titan, the armored titan and the female titan had mingled with the cadets of the 104th. Annie Leonhart is encased in her indestructible crystal, kept somewhere underground by the military police.

Now the survey corps are set to retake wall Maria and scavenge the truth from Eren’s basement. Eren, the boy who can transform into a titan and fights along humanity.

You and it are laying on the meadow in the shade of an oak tree. It is facing the sky as you toy with a curl of hair, your eyes hooked on the lock laced around your finger.

“Why? Why did you choose him?” For the first time, you sense a hue of qualm lacing its abrading voice.

“You talk as though we get to choose love.” You close your eyes, yielding to the lulling murmur of the breeze. You can hear it, yet you can’t feel it caressing your skin. “Love is a lightning bolt that breaks your bones and leaves you staked in the middle of the yard.”

“It sounds painful.” He notes in that husky voice that stirs your senses. “Why humans insist on finding love, if it hurts them?”

“You’re not human; thus, you’ll never understand.” You slip an arm beneath your head. “Maybe we’re are masochists that jump blindly into the abysm of this pleasant torture. It makes your heart beat wildly, thrashing within your ribs, threatening to breach your chest and jump out every time you see that person. Your cheeks get warm and red, and your mouth disconnects from your brain, and you end up spilling nonsense and embarrassing yourself.” Your lips curved into a meek smile. “And their voice makes your knees weak, and a single glance unleashes a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and their image live in your head, and you can’t kick them out. Love makes you simper like and idiot. And I don’t think there’s a more beautiful feeling.”

The cheap copy of Levi hoists onto his elbows and his eyes glide along your frame, frowning. “Humans are weird species. I would never stoop to be like a mere mortal.” He sticks out its tongue in disgust. “Why do you insist so much in a love that won’t be?”

You chuckle. “It must be lonely to be you. You’ve met many people in the way, yet you can’t cultivate bonds. So many names and faces and no one will ever know yours, no one will never remember you.”

His nostrils flare with rage. “You know it’s not fun anymore, you’d failed a thousand times and you’ll keep failing. You should surrender now.”

“No. I won’t give up. If he knows the feelings I hoarded for him, I’ll go to paradise and I’ll meet him there eventually.”

“How can you be so certain he won’t go straight to the underworld?” he nudges.

“I don’t think there’s a most caring soul in this world.” You nibble on your lip, and your eyes flit open. “He's done things he's not proud of, but in this world, you have to choose between eat and get eaten.”

You scratch and itch on your nose and close your eyes again.

He rolls over and curls against you, draping an arm around you, and pulls you closer. Straight black hair like silk, thin black eyebrows, fair skin; his lips, like the rest of him feel like ice against your skin. His kisses trail along your jawline, sneaking down to your neck, and his caresses blister your skin as though he was clasping a collar of hot stones around you.

“You know you can come with me.” He mutters in that sultry voice that cajoles your brain cells to go on strike.

“I’ve followed him close all these years. I can be the perfect Levi if you want me to.” His hands fondle your upper arms. Your teeth sink into your lips. Your hands clamp at your skirts.

“Let it out, say the name.” You feel his lips forming a grin against your cheek.

It’s playing with you, it’s tempting you, but you’re not falling in the trap.

No.

One leg swings over you, and now he’s on top. “Look at me.” He tilts your chin up with a finger, but your eyes are clamped shut, so tight you see color spirals behind your lids.

You won’t succumb to its trickery.

But you squirm when you feel something hard straining on your lower belly, and a dreadful sardonic chortle spews from him.

Damn, you didn’t know it could do that.

“I can give you what you want.”

You shake your head. “You told me once you couldn’t feel pleasure. Why are you doing this?” You sniff.

His knuckles skim over your cheek. “I take pleasure in watching you struggle with yourself. You’re a masterpiece.” His fingers dig in your cheeks, and he shakes your head boorishly.

Fuck, the pressure feels good, but no. You won’t lose in this game.

“If his heart still beats, I have time. And there is only one Levi.” You push him off and it takes his original shady form, crow-black with tarnished edges. It’s tittering wryly, and groaning, you stand, smoothing down your dress. You start striding away, without looking back.  

“Where are you going?”

You don’t need to reply, it knows exactly where you’re heading, and it follows your steps.

The sun slants from the west. Synchronized chains clatter and shrill, spooling and unreeling in the sheaves on both sides of the walls; the elevators crammed with soldiers and horses and supplies. You spot Levi, and your stomach churns and flips and twist as if someone or something was grappling your guts. ‘That’s right. The operation might fail…’ His words rumble in your head, again and again, and your eyes jump over the faces you can’t put a name on. Too many unexperienced soldiers stand atop the wall. A bleak drop of sweat dribbles down your spine, and your legs begin to tremble. A lump made of shards of glass lacerates your throat as you gulp.

Well, well. A chaotic squall erupts behind you, the air thickens around you. Citizens have gathered up to cheer and buoy the Survey Corps before departing. The send-off they always deserved. After all, The S.C saved the city.

“Hange!!!!”

Your head cranes toward the voice source. Flegel Reeves, the chubby man with freckle-dappled face shouts from a tower encouraging the throng. Soon more people join him.

Your heart jerks and clogs your throat.

You can’t die, Levi. Not, yet, no.

You wish you could follow him, but you’re shackled to the messenger, and you can't walk away from it. You’ve tried, but as soon as you cross the threshold, you’re brought back to it.

Look at you, you look like a soldier's girlfriend watching the train pull away.  It mocks, yet you don’t know what a train is. And you don’t ask.

I still have so many lives to steal from your lips. Please come, back.

1

Always lurking, always watching from the distance. Like a ghost. You know his schedules by heart, you know his favorite brand of tea, you know where he buys his brooms and bleach, and who fashions his shirts and pants tailored to his needs. You know he trains alone in the grounds at dusk and takes a shower after. You know he doesn’t like visiting Hange’s lab because it doesn’t meet his hygiene standards; there are always papers and books scattered around, and sometimes he’s spotted dust monsters in the corners of the ceiling. Land that strays from his domains.

You know how mold can ruin his day, as well as a too-long steeped tea. Three minutes is all you need.

And lavender lingers from his clothes encroaching his luring scent of bergamot and musk.

The sun yawns sluggishly from west, putting his nightcap on, tucking under the covers to give way to the full moon.

The moon and the sun are lovers who, despite the distance, know they have each other, and despite their differences, when they come together they form a perfect eclipse.

A shy smile grazes your flustered face.

Blades swish in the air, wires drone, gas fizzes; Levi moves with great dexterity and speed it’s hard to keep your eyes on him. Chips of bark fall from where the hooks grapple and retract.

He lands and wipes off the beads of sweat from his forehead. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself and praying that your heartbeat doesn't echo through the forest. Today you’ll tell him. You’ve practiced a hundred of times before the mirror and you’re ready. You command your legs to move forward, but they don’t respond. They’d become jelly.

Like every time, the unreasonable fear stings your hands and feet, as if they were pricking you under your nails with needles. Fear of rejection, fear that your feelings will not be reciprocated. Fear that he'll think you're a fool.

“Boo!”

You scramble back, clinging to a tree as not to fall on your bumps. You survive the heart attack and take a deep breath, running your fingers through your hair.

“Hange!” You blurt their name as they slither to your side, resting their elbow on your shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid.” They encourage you, gripping your wrist with one hand to quell your nerves.

“I’m just leaving.” Your voice falters.

They sigh, throwing their head forward, then turns their face to you. “You’re helpless.”

“But…” You slump, running a hand down your face. “Do you think I’m good enough?”

“What I or others think shouldn’t matter to you. But, in my humble opinion, I think you can give Levi the fairy tales he needs in his life.”

You glance to the ground, following the leaf-laden ants back to their burrows. Your face burns in lava red. “Whenever I’m standing in front of him, my brain stops working. I can’t drag a word out of my mouth. I’m afraid he thinks I’m stupid.”

“I don’t think he thinks you’re stupid.” They shake their head, a feeble smile creeping across their lips.

You purse your lips into a thin line.

They pat your shoulder. “I hope you’ll soon find the courage to tell him.”

*

And the chasm between summer and winter narrows in the blink of an eye. The naked tree branches rake the stony walls with an eerie screech. The whistling wind bangs at the doors and windows, and a white mantle stretches over the training grounds and the orchard. The 25th is circled in red on your calendar. You sign the card and put the quill on the holder. You’ve spent all fall working on Levi’s present. Working the clay and shaping it on the wheel was the easiest part of the process, it was therapeutic, to feel the moist, heavy soil slipping in your hands and fingers. Painting the dahlias, on the other hand, brought you to tears, challenging your resilience. At the end, all the hard work paid off, and you couldn’t be more content and confident with the result.

You wrap it up in burgundy tissue paper and tie a golden ribbon at the top, curling the edges with a blade. Then slip the card in the envelope. The chair squeaks and you stand up, wrapping the scarf around your neck. Happy birthday, Levi. You repeat in your head as you pad toward the library. One of the places where Levi spends his sleepless nights and mornings alone. The boys’ quarters are obnoxiously loud for him. And filthy.

Happy birthday, Levi. It’s that simple Y/N, you can’t fuck it up.

The door is ajar, and you push it open.

He lies along the couch, ankles crossed over the armrest, book flapped open on his chest. He puts the bookmark and sets the hefty book on the coffee table. “Hi.” He spews, sliding up into a sitting position, and takes a glimpse of the wrapped up object in your arms. You don’t see his blush taking over his pallor because you’re struggling to steady the whops of your heart.

“Good morning, Levi.” You avert the eyes, suck on your bottom lip before continuing. Levi heaps on his feet and pads to you, and him so close to you is causing your brain cells to snap. “I…uh… I’m just…” you shake your head, then gaze up, and your eyes crash with his. “Happy birthday.” You smile, dimple at full display. Feeling giddy and faint, you hand him the present, and he stares at it, squinting, head tilted to the side. “It’s not a time bomb, I swear.” You giggle and a flush of embarrassment dashes to his ears. He grabs it and a stammered thanks flees from him.

You both blame the cold for painting your cheeks pink, both oblivious to each other’s feelings.

“Well, uh…” Your eyes scoot around as your finger scratches your temple, your cheeks scalding red. “I hope you like it.”

“May I unwrap it?” His words stumble, and he holds captive his lower lip between his teeth, fighting the urge to slap himself.

“Sure, I mean, it’s yours, you can do whatever you want.”

He plops on the couch, the present sprawled on his lap, and his deft fingers move with such patience and daintiness as not to rip off the paper. So carefully as if he was actually deactivating a bomb.

“Take a seat.” He mutters without taking his eyes off his task.

You nod and comply, sitting at the other end of the sofa, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. Levi wears a cozy dark-green wool sweater, and a knitted white cap.

The delicate paper opens like a sunflower under the grace of the sunlight. He lifts the mug at his eye level, his fingers running over the hand-painted flowers, so detailed it seems like the work of an expert. He’s been at every ceramics shop and ateliers in town, and he’s never seen this design. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs for himself. Then drifts his eyes to you. “You didn’t have to.”

A chuckle snaps from you. “Why not? It’s a special day, you deserve something special.” You simper timidly, a foot shuffling against the floor.

“It must’ve been a special edition.”

“Kinda. It’s a Y/N’s edition.”

Levi lolls his head lightly to the side.

“I crafted it myself.”

He looks back to the mug now resting on the table next to the book. “You’re talented,” he utters and turns his face to you, and your mouth falls open in bewilderment.

“What?” he raises a brow, his features still gilded with a smile.

Your soft giggles fondle him as the corners of your lips curve up into a dazzling smile. “You should smile more often.”

“Do you think so?” One eyebrow draws an arc.

“Yeah.”

You scramble up, yanking off the sofa, and begin to stalk to the door.

“Wait.”

You spin around on your heels, tipping your head to the side. Expecting. Your heart thudding loud and clear.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. And the thrill falters.

A drop of disillusionment spreads across your chest. You shove your hand in your pocket, crumpling the letter.

“You’re a mystery.” You trail.

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment.” You turn around, your boots thumping on the creaking wood. You look over your shoulder. “It’s a threat.”

*

Your clothes stick to your skin in sweat, and the breeze that seeps through the corridor windows doesn’t bring respite, it strikes you like a heat wave, as if you were standing before a blazing hearth.

Your heartbeats muffle the thudding of your boots, rumbling in your ears like the drums of a marching band.

Your eyes skim the door to the boys’ room. Your knuckles rap and Damian, a cadet that graduated with you in the training Corps, pokes his head through the wedge. “What’s up, Y/N?” he doesn’t bother to stifle his yawn.

“Where’s Levi?”

He shrugs, “Haven’t seen him today. Did you check in the Library?”

“That was my last stop.”

“What about the kitchen? Must be enrolled in his tea ritual right now.”

Why didn’t it cross your mind before? You were that engrossed practicing in front of the mirror.

You shoot him a smile and thank him before swiftly swiveling back on your feet. You trot to the kitchen, wiping off the beads of sweat streaming down your temple. you go down the stairs two steps at a time and once you veer around the corner, you slow down, threading a hand in your hair. The clattering of cutlery and ceramic reaches you in the hallway. The whistle of the kettle breaches in the air.

And again, your heart gallops in your chest when you hear a ‘tch’. You raise your hand, and the pads of your fingers brush over the door veins. Your breath comes out in a staggered gust of air as you muster the courage you need to knock.

But you can’t. That shrilly voice breaks into your head, reminding you that you’re not good enough. That Levi would never fixate his eyes in a silly girl like you. The voice that hampers your plans and dreams, the voice that makes you feel small and vulnerable. The voice that anchors you to your comfort zone.

You’re not good enough.

And you believe it.

Your hands and forehead rest on the door as tears swell in your eyes, staining your face and stinging your mouth with salt.

Maybe, after the expedition.

III

“I’m just wondering, why does it take a life ending to learn how to cherish every opportunity? Why must we wait until we run out of time to muster the courage to do the things we never did when we had plenty of time?” You slouch on the bench.

“Fear. Fear of what others might think or say, fear of letting them down, fear of being laughed at, fear to risk and lose. Fear is a survival mechanism, but poorly managed can hale you away from the joy and bliss.” It flumps on the bench next to you and hunches forward, resting its arms on the knees. “when people looks at Death straight in the eye, they don’t regret what they did, they mourn over the things they didn’t do. I’ve seen the despair and disappointment in thousands of pleading eyes.”

“What’s in heaven? What’s paradise like?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never crossed the gates. Maybe awaits what you cherish the most.” It turns its face to you. “What’s that you yearn for?”

It knows the answer, but it wants to hear it from you, it wants your voice to stab his chest.

“I want a life with him.”

“I see.”

The not real Levi stands and offers you a hand. “Let’s take a walk. I know you like the market.”

You take it. You meander around, hand in hand. After all, he is the only one you can feel in your skin. And you crave touch. You loath yourself for yielding, but it’s been a long time since you felt the warmth of another flesh.

He is pricking cold, but it’s something palpable.

Nine bells burst through, entangling with the bustle of people. Trost main square stirs with the motions of the Sunday Farmer’s market. Rows of white, flitting awnings stretch from road to road. The stalls at the front are colored I’m hues of yellows, orange, purple and red with season fruits and vegetables, pumpkins, grapes, apples, figs, squash and carrots. Then comes the rows of dairy and meat, piled with cheese and milk and butter and eggs, and others with cured ham trussed with herbs.

A jumble of piquant smells wafts in the air as Levi weaves through the throng near the booths of herbs and spices, and his gaze lights up when he spots Mrs. Warner’s stall.

“Captain Levi, hey.”

“Hey.” He waits for her to pack his weekly order. She knows it already by heart.

Passersby smile and wave at Levi, older men approach and pat his back. They thank him for having fought bravely, for retaking wall Maria and the lands they’d lost to the titans.

Mrs. Warner notices his uneasiness and let’s out a faint chuckle. “We’re all proud of you.”

“Good morning, Granny.” A ten-year-old boy chimes, stopping in front of the old woman’s stand. Wrinkles of years creep at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey, Robbie.”

Robbie? Stunned, you look at them with popped open eyes. My Robbie? Your glassy eyes prick with unshed tears. My little Robbie is not so little anymore. You sniffle. You wish you could run and hug him. He was five the last time I kissed his cheeks.

Levi’s double strokes your upper arm and you loll your head on his shoulder.

“Who are you?” the boy blatantly asks the ravenette.

“Hey, Robbie, show some respect.” Mrs. Warner scoffs. “This is captain Levi from the Scouting Legion.”

Chocolate brown eyes sink into a frown, flickering around as if he’s trying to pull an old memory out of his head.

“The Levi, just Levi, from the Scouting Legion?” He croaks.

You face palm.

Back then Levi wasn’t Captain.

Levi snorts and ruffles the boys chestnut brown curls.

The woman rolls her eyes as she finishes packing both orders. Robbie is there for his monthly supply of cinnamon. His sister used to bake cookies for him when he was little, but she took the recipe with her, and he spends his Sundays trying to hit the bulls-eye.

“I think I’m close. I’ll try with less butter and more sugar this time.” He cranes his head toward the lady.

Nope Robbie, more butter than sugar.

“My sister was a huge fangirl of you.” The brash boy addresses to Levi again, and your face ignites. He fumbles in his jute bag for an apple, rubs it in his shirt and munches on it. He swallows. “She never stopped talking about you. You were her topic of conversation every time she got home. It was sickening.”

He takes another bite, apple juice drips over his arm and, he licks it.

Mrs. Warner bites the inside of her cheek to muffle her laugh.

Can I strangle him? You nudge your companion on the side.

Isn’t he doing what you were supposed to do? You should’ve learned something from him.

I guess you’re right. But it doesn’t make it less embarrassing.

“She wrote you a cheesy letter, too. I found it in the bin.”

“Is that so?” Levi draws his handkerchief and curls two fingers, asking Robbie to stretch out his arm, and rubs away the fruity stains.

“Uh-huh. She named her teddy bear Levi and couldn’t sleep without it.”

Levi snorts, jabbing his kerchief back into his pocket.

Your cheeks are flaring.

You were so pathetic.

Shut up!

A thin black brow arches, amusement slathers Levi’s face.

“Cinnamon for Robbie L/N and black tea leaves for Captain Levi.” The old woman sets the paper bags on the countertop. Robbie shoves his in the bag slung on his shoulder.

“L/N?” Levi’s eyes widen, shaking in realization.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, sucking out the juice from the apple core.

“Y/N L/N was your sister?”

“mmm-hmmm.” He tosses the core into the trash bin. “See you around Levi, just Levi. Bye old Granny.”

“I’m not that old, Robbie.” She pats his head, and he stalks away.

Levi grabs his bag, coins clank as he jams his change in his pocket, thanks Mrs. Warner, and goes after the boy.

You trudge behind.

“Oi, brat.”

The brunette boy stops and swirls around, narrowing his eyes, tilting his head down without breaking eye contact. “The name’s Robbie.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and takes in a sharp breath.

“Robbie.” Levi sighs. “Could you show me the letter?”

"Why?" Robbie ponders. “Only if you promise to give it back.” He blushes. “I don’t have too many things with my sister’s handwriting.”

Levi’s eyes soften. “I’ll read it at your porch.”

*

The front door to your house swings open and Robbie and Levi step in, with you sneaking behind before the door shuts.

“Do your parents let you bring strangers when you’re home alone?”

“You’re not stranger within the walls.” Robbie toes of his shoes off. “They’ll be back soon, they’re visiting an aunt.”

The hearth is stoking, and Robbie rushes to the kitchen, leaving the bag perched on the countertop, two apples rolling out.

He saunters back to the entryway and grabs Levi’s hands and leads him upstairs. The creaking of the steps echo in the house.

Nothing has changed.

It still smells like oak and caramel. The door to your room is closed at the end of the corridor, and you decide to let it go, a wistful simper kisses your lips.

Send me a smoke signal when you’re done. He kisses your temple and vanishes in the air.

It seems as a hurricane struck in Robbie’s room. The covers of his bed are wrapped up at the edge, Levi makes his way through the rumpled clothes and balled up socks scattered on the floor. Pens and crayons and notebooks spilled on his desk.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He says, ignoring Levi’s scrunched up face. The raven haired drags the chair from the desk, dusts it off and takes a seat.

Robbie fetches something from the corkboard.

“Here.” Levi pries the letter from Robbie’s hand.

You flump on Robbie’s bed.

 “I’ll be downstairs, don’t touch anything.” The boy squints and wanes away.

Levi rakes his hair and sighs, hunching forward. He slips the letter from the envelope and unfolds it.

You have a pretty handwriting.

You gaze down as his eyes linger over every word.

Heat creeps from your cheeks to the tip of your ears.

… I love watching you and I make you mine by looking at you from afar. I love the tiny moles in your neck, forming your own Orion’s belt, and the dimple in your cheek when you smile. I wish you could show it more often…

…If they ask me what I see in you, I’d smile and lower my head, and wouldn’t reply, because I wouldn’t want them to fall in love with you too…

Meeting you was the most beautiful coincidence.

…I love you, I love you, I love you. You wove a nest in my heart to make sure I’ll never kick you out.

I’ll burn this letter before it reaches your hands, but if by a little chance it survives the flames, I just want you to know I’ll love you forever.

Y/N.

Tears pamper his face as he holds the letter against his chest. His chin trembles, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle his sobs and whimpers.

You yield to the weeping too, wishing you could curl against him, you could hug him, hold his hand, and douse him in kisses.

He opens the trunk of old memories that pull him back to that day, in the library.

A nothing that wrote a different end to your story. Of only you knew what has masked behind that word.

So many things were jumbled in his head, as he delved through for the right words, but they clogged his throat, and a ‘nothing’ was everything he could pull out.

“I wanted you to stay that morning.” He mewls amid sobs and sniffs. He feels a pang in his chest, a dagger cutting though, tearing out his heart to grind it with shards of broken glass. “When I found you, it was too late.” He breaths.

Your teary eyes soften, filled with an inner glow. Levi. You muse his name once again. Your heart flutters and it feels full, complete.

He went back for you.

“You’re a mystery, Levi.” You said his name laced with sugar. You always did.

He snorted, steel gray eyes tangling with yours. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment.” You turned around, his gaze hooked on your back as you walk away. You stop before crossing the threshold and looked back over your shoulder. “It’s a threat.”

“How so?”

“You’re a mystery I want to solve. I’ll find out what you hide.”

“You might be disappointed to see what’s inside.”

“We may both be surprised.” You smirked and strutted out.

You lay on the bed, and tugged by an impulse, he curls in too. You’re facing each other, yet he can’t see you, he can’t hear you, and you can’t feel him.

Your lips search for his.

Nothing.

You can’t feel his breath, nor his lips brushing yours, nor the warm of his cheek in your palm.

I’d like to sweep away those tears my love. You whisper. Where will you be? Where will we be from now on? Two dots in the unfathomable universe, so far or so close, two dots that draw asymptotes, that yank closer to each other, but never meet. Separated by an infinitesimal distance.

I love you. Now and always.

You close your eyes, and when you open them again, the golden gates that stretch and skim beyond the clouds unfasten. It’s bright, but not blinding. The heaviness in your chest falters, and you finally feel at peace. All the anguish, anger and frustration had drained away.

Before you take a step forward, you crane back and wave a hand to the messenger, who doffs off its hat. A feeble smile peeks on its lips.

It’s time to go back to the solitary life, hoping that you’ll never forget it.

♾️

It’s pelting and the sturdy drops batter on your shoulders and head. You should’ve listened to your roommate and shoved the umbrella in your tote bag.

The battery of your phone had died out leaving you stranded in a city you hardly know. It’s terrifying how dependent we are on technology. You can’t get a Uber ride to go home, nor plan your trip on Moovit. It’s rush hour, and people are weaving through the throng desperate to get home. Crashing umbrellas, puddles splashing, frantic car horns, the hustle and bustle and the blinding lights. The big city is a hellish nightmare, a thrilling one, and even though you miss your life in your small town, this is where you belong now.

You were accepted in the School of Art and Design.  

You hunch, holding your bag pressed against your chest to protect your iPad from the pouring rain.

As you turn around the corner, you duck into the first establishment with the open sign flashing in green neon, not sure what to expect when you walk into Herby Twist.

There are a handful of tea enthusiasts and others in your situation, sheltering from the deluge. You stand in line admiring the place. It’s bedecked in a modern manly garage style. Corrugated, stained metal on the walls, shiny red shelves and simple concrete floor.

The aromas of matcha and chai mingles with the citrus smells of lime and orange. The place stirs up with the weaves of conversations and the pattering raindrops scraping the roof.

When there’s only one person before you, you glance at the blackboard menu hanging above the counter.

You squint as your eyes flicker over the capitalized chalked letters. In the city, they insist on giving strange names to common things.

“Welcome to Herby Twist. What can I get you?” You jerk at the luscious raspy voice and look down, entwining your gaze with his dull, steel-gray eyes. Suddenly, your pulse begins to rise wildly. Your legs wobble, afraid your knees might buckle. You look like you were lick by a horse, your hair wet and stuck to your shoulders as well as your shirt. And he’s impossibly hot, and no, your not exaggerating. His smooth black hair is slick back, a couple of rebel strands fall over his forehead, flicking with each of his movements.

Lean, broad shoulders, narrow waist; his black t-shirt gives you a hint of what’s under, ridged muscles, ripping collarbones, you can get a glimpse of the tattoo on his left shoulder, shrouded by the sleeve.

“So…” His voice yanks you out from your reverie.

 “I’ll have…uh…” you look up to the menu, unable to decipher the names as your fingers fiddle with your bracelet. Your gaze crashes with his. “I’ll have your favorite.”

“I hope you like plain black tea.” He places your order in the screen. “Will there be anything else?” His gaze flicks to you.

You shake your head.

“What’s your name?”

You swallow the lump and say, “Y/N.”

Without moving his head, his eyes dart to you, and he smirks. He sleeves on the cup, uncaps the sharpie and scrawls your name on the side.

Your credit card beeps in the terminal and your bill is printed out. He tears it off and hands it to you along with the National Bank Card. “You can wait over there for your order.” He nudges his chin to the side. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” You meekly nod, tucking a lock of clammy hair behind your ear, and slip to the pick-up-your-order-here counter.

Your fingers tap rhythmically as you wait, your eyes tracing and retracing over his back and shoulders as you bite your bottom lip. Your heart is a loud bass in your chest. You can’t decipher what it is, like a force of attraction you can’t fight back, driving you to keep your eyes on him. He turns around and you look away, your cheeks sizzling with a blush. He caps your drink and puts the cup on the concrete countertop. Your fingers stop drumming.

“Y/N.”

You search his gaze and find it.

You like the way your name dribbles from his lips. Sensuous, velvety and scrappy in the hot way. The flicker of a smile ghosts over his lips.

“Thanks.”

You grab the cup and slide onto a booth in the furthest corner. You twist the thick carboard sleeve, snort and shake your head, simpering. His name and number jotted down in his scrawling. You look in his direction, and as he takes the order from the next in line, gray eyes lock with yours, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #nela writes #levi ackerman oc #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you

[queenvidal]

Last Light

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Infected were seen in one of the outposts and you decided to aid Joel and Tommy on their scouting trip. Little did you know you'd face worse than Infected - a demon from your past.

Wordcount: 3417

Warnings: Lethal Injuries, Violence, Blood, Fighting, Character Death

Notes: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language.

- takes place during the beginning of The Last Of Us 2 -

Masterlist

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The cold wind lashes in your face, making you squint your eyes as you march through the snow. You knew a storm was about to come but if you'd have known just how bad it would be, you wouldn't have moved out today.

To top off the freezing temperatures and awulf weather conditions are Infected ravaging this place. Maria wanted Tommy and Joel to take a look at just how bad the situation at the outpost is and you decided to tag along to lend the two men a hand. But nothing could have prepared for the numbers of Infected. No matter how many of them you kill, the snow covered ground seems to spit out more and more as the day goes on.

The blade in your hand is sticky with blood and almost slipping through your hand as you try to retrieve it from the skull of your last victim. You’re low on ammo, the never ending wave of Infected soon forced you to go for pure muscle work.

Tommy finishes the last standing runner and you let your eyes wander, searching for Joel. You turn around, whipping your head left and right but you just can’t find him and the adrenaline from the fight quickly sets you into panic. “Tommy!”

The man looks up, immediately alerted by the urgency in your voice.

“Where is Joel?!” You ask while making your way towards him.

Tommy looks around frantically as well before cursing under his breath. “Shit!”

You quickly run towards him, your knife still in your hands. “Wasn’t he behind you?!”

“He was just a minute ago!” He defends. “Fuck, where did he-”

A gunshot quickly puts a halt on your conversation and the both of you freeze for a split second before you jump into a sprint. Your heart is beating like crazy in your chest, its drumming reaching your ears, muffling the wind.

Tommy is right behind you as you two run towards the place the sound of the shot came from. The closer you get, the more groaning and gnashing you hear. Hordes of runners are fighting their way in on the chain link fences, which seem to give in any moment. 

Fuck, where is he ?! Your mind is spinning like crazy. 

“Y/N! Over there!” Tommy yells, pulling your arm towards the direction of two figures fighting off Infected. You recognize the tall figure instantly as the man you’ve been searching for. Relieve calms your heart rate slightly, but you put even more speed into your steps until you almost fly over the snow, desperate to finally reach him.

When you finally reach his side, you pull his arm to make him look at you. “You okay?” 

“Peachy.” Joel huffs, before returning his attention on the runners around you. Asshole , you think to yourself. This man has no idea how much you worried about him. But there is no time for banter as more runners close in on you.

The now four of you keep on fighting the horde. You stab one after another with your knife, occasionally catching a glimpse of the unknown woman, who is using an old pipe to defend herself. She seems capable from what you can catch and for whatever reason, it’s leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

What's a stranger doing in one of your outposts, alone even? If she is alone at all. 

But before you can dwell on your distrust of the women, Tommy calls for your attention. “Over here, quick!” You look over to find him waving you guys over to him. “We gotta go inside, it’s too many of them.”

You quickly retreat, killing a few Infected on the way. Joel hurries to his brother, covering you with gunfire. Once you’re inside, he and Tommy move an old vending machine in front of the door, buying you guys time. 

You rush through several rooms, always barricading the door you came through. After the fourth, the groaning outside seems to suptide, at least for the moment. You and Tommy move an old cupboard in front of the door before you dare to catch your breath.

You lean with your arms against the old and wooden surface, taking a deep breath. “Shit,” you sigh, still breathing heavily. “That was way too close.”

“It’s not over just yet,” Joel reminds you. He takes a few steps towards you, cupping your cheek. “You alright?”

Warmth spreads through your chest at the small gesture and you nod into his hand.

“Thanks for saving me.” The woman behind you speeks, making you turn your head towards her.

Your eyes go wide in shock. “Abby?”

The other woman turns to you at the sound of her name. She looks surprised herself with her eyebrows raised and mouth wide open. “Wha- Y/N?”

Without a second thought you grab your pistol and aim for her head but just right before you’re about to pull the trigger, Joel quickly interviens, grabbing your wrist. 

Tommy steps between you and Abby. “Whoa, hey! The fuck’s going on?”

Your eyes are not leaving hers when you hiss through gritted teeth. “She’s a fucking firefly.” 

Joel and Tommy look at Abby who has her shaking hands in the air, surrendering. 

“If you don’t let me kill her she will kill me.” You tell Joel, who’s still holding your wrist.

“NO!” Abby yelps, profusely shaking her head no. “Please, Y/N. You know me. Please…”

“Who is she?” Joel asks, his shoulder tensed due to your reaction.

You look at Joel before saying, “Bob, would you please let go of me?” His eyes find yours immediately at the wrong name you’re addressing him with. “I promise I won’t shoot.”

His whole posture tenses even more. Something must be horribly wrong. Joel and his brother share a quick glance before slowly releasing you from his hold.

As promised, you leave your arm hanging at your side, though you keep your gun in your hand. After a deep breath, you explain the situation. “Abby and I worked in the same facility. Her father was the doctor who was to perform the surgery on Elli.” 

Abby's head sinks towards the ground at the mention of her father, still visibly troubled about what happened.

“He died when Joel and I took Elli.” 

“Should… should we leave her here?” Tommy asks carefully, catching up on your suspicions towards her.

You consider his question, looking from Abby towards Joel, hoping he has an answer for you. But he’s just looking at you with his usual frown, leaving the choice up to only you. Eventually you lock eyes with Abby again and the young woman looks scared like hell. 

Shit, she’s still just a kid. But before you can even make your mind up, hammering against the barricaded door makes all of you jump into action. Joel pulls you away from the door immediately, shoving you behind him.

“Shit, they’re coming though!” Tommy yells, staring at the slowly bending door.

“Then let's go,” Joel grunts, aiming his revolver at the door.

“We’ve got to go through the back,” you tell them. “Back to the lodge.”

Tommy looks at Abby “You got a gun?” Abby only nods at the man, who readies his own. “Okay, you better be a good shot, try to keep up with us.” 

You don’t like this one bit, your guts still telling you to put a bullet in her brain and you give Abby a sinister side eye to let her know how deeply suspicious you are of her. You push past the younger woman to follow Tommy through the corridors. Abby is following you with Joel on her heels, observing her every movement in case she dares to try something.

Together you run through the station, avoiding all the Infected on the way. Occasionally you’re locking eyes with Joel, who looks more worried than usual. Through your wordless conversation with your eyes, you can tell how much he hates this situation and how little he trusts the other firefly. 

That at least gives you some relief, knowing you’re not paranoid. You both knew they would come after you at some point. 

Your little group makes it to the main room of the gondola lift at last. Through the open wall with the still hanging gondolas you get a glimpse of the storm. It got even worse with the wind lashing so hard, it’s shaking the gondolas. The falling snow got so dense, you can’t see the trees you know surround the whole area. 

“The window!” Tommy calls, pointing at the wall opposite of you, tearing your eyes away from the storm. “That's our way out.”

“Do we look like we’ve got wings?” You ask sarcastically. There is no way you can reach it, not even with a leg-up.

“I could use a hand!” Joel yells from the other side of the room. He’s pulling a broken gondola onto a cart and you quickly rush to his side to help him. Tommy and Abby move to the other side and push. 

Within a minute and a lot of cursing you guys made it. Just in time with Infected swarming in from the upper level. One takes you by surprise, but Jole is quick to tear it away from you and kicks it towards the ledge into the snowy abyss. 

From behind the cart, Tommy yells, “I’ll get the gondola to the window, just keep this fucks off of me!” 

“Fuckfuckfuck'' You curse under your breath as you keep as many of them at bay as you can. While Joel and Abby fight off the ones that are falling down from the upper level, you concentrate on those who manage to run past them, slicing up every runner or clicker that gets too close. Tommy moves the cart around the room to set it under the high up window for you to climb out. 

“Y/N! Come on!” Joel all but bellts your name, finally getting you to look at him. Tommy is already on top of the gondola with Joel standing by the cart reaching out his hand for you. You make it up onto it with their help and Joel quickly climbs up as well. Tommy continues to go through the window, completely disappearing in the reaging snowstorm outside. Joel stands right beside you, ready to help you up when you catch Abby, who is hurling herself up the gondola, being pulled back to the ground by a runner. 

“Leave her!” Joel insists and for a split second you consinder following his demand, until you hear her scream in terror.

“For fuck sake!” You curse before jumping down again. Joel yells your name but you barely hear him over the groaning and screaming. With one of your last bullets you shoot the clicker on top of Abby and quickly pull her to her feet. “Don’t make me regret this”, you growl before shoving her towards the cart and helping her up before yourself gets pulled onto it by Joel.

He helps Abby first to get through the window before turning back to you. “Don’t do shit like that again.” His voice is harsh but doesn’t carry any bite. He is worried and you can’t hold it against him. 

“We can kill her later.” You tell him, "There's no way she made it here alone, I want more informations from her." Joel nods in understanding before quickly shoving you through the window. 

You land on all fours in the snow with a grunt. Joel follows you after shortly, groaning himself at the impact. Once standing, you extend your hand to help him up, giving him a quick once-over to make sure he's not injured while he does the same to you. 

Tommy and Abby are looking around with their weapons still up, scanning the surroundings for any danger. But the storm makes it impossible to see further than a few feet, let alone hear anything due to the harsh wind.

“Come on, let's go.” Tommy urges, already starting to walk towards the lodge down the path. The biting wind makes it hard to move forward, forcing you all to walk slowly and shield your faces. This gives you a moment to breathe, you decide. If you can’t see, neither can the Infected and you won't waste the chance, before bringing a possible threat to safety. Determined, you make your way towards Abby. 

“Where are the others?” You demand, fighting with every step to get forward.

“I… I…,” Abby stutters. “I’m on my own-”

“Don’t fuck with me.” You yell over the wind. “I didn't survive this long to fall for this shit, Abby!”

“No, it’s the truth. I left shortly after… Y/N I don’t have anyone left.” 

That stings. The last time you saw her she was still a teenager. You know what it was like to grow up with the fireflies, to become one and to lose everyone you hold dear to the cause. But the difference is that you choose to leave and with that you forced it onto her. And now it’s making you feel somewhat guilty.

But it's been a little over four years since you turned your back to those who raised and trained you, spilled their blood and sabotaged everything you worked and fought your whole life for. Four years of time in which Abby could have moved on, just like you did.

And now she is standing right beside you, only a few miles from the place you’ve come to call home? You’ve always had a hard time to believe in coincidences and you wont start falling for them now,

“You wanna make me believe - Aaaarg!” A runner grabs you out of nowhere, taking you by surprise. It tackles you to the ground. You push and kick at it, resulting in the two of you sliding down the hill. Bumps and rocks shake you up on your way down and you try to protect your head with your arms. Joel and Tommy call after you, but their voices fade out quickly compared to the loud howling of the storm.

A dead tree trunk puts a hold on your journey as you crash against it, with your back hitting it just right to knock the air out of your lungs. The adrenalin flash dulls any pain, but there is no doubt you will feel that for the days to come.

“Shit, goddammit!” You clean your face quickly before moving to stand up. Your whole body aches from your fall but you force yourself to ignore it. After a quick look around you realize you have absolutely no idea where you are. “Oh, shit.” After a few more steps you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost your oriantention completely. All you can see around you are just snow and trees.

“Tommy!” You yell but the wind swallows up any sound. “Tommy!” Panic starts to rise. If the runners won’t kill you, the harsh wind and the biting cold will. You are about to try again to call for your friend, when something grabs your ankle and you fall into the snow face first with a loud shriek.

It’s the runner. It broke its leg on the way down but is still strong to hold its grip on you. Quickly it pushes itself on top of you, clicking its jaw dangerously close to your skin. While simultaneously fighting it off, you try desperately to unsheathe your knife. 

The runner's face is getting closer to yours and you feel your strength failing you when the realization settles in. That this is gonna be it. When you’re about to lose the fight, however, you feel the weight getting pulled off you. 

“Fuck off!” Abby’s voice catches you off guard as you watch her beat the runner into oblivion. Punch after punch until it's snarling stops. When it’s lying unmoving on the ground, Ally finally turns towards you. 

She’s heaving for breath, resting one hand on her knees, but reaching her other out for you to take. You look at her hand for a moment before your eyes lock again, hesitant to take it. After she realizes, she waves with her hand, inviting you yet again and this time you swallow your uneasy feeling towards her. 

She just saved you after all. 

You take her hand in yours and let her slowly help you up, back on your feet. “Thank y-”

The exhaustion left Abby's face so fast, you didn’t even catched when it split into a wide toothy smile. Shocked, you look from her face down towards your hands. She is still holding yours, while the other is pressed against your abdomen. It takes you a moment to grasp that she pulled you up into her blade.

As if to help you figure out what's going on, she withdraws the knife quickly to ram it back into you again. This time, your body registers the pain and you hunch over in response with a groan. 

Abby huffs a sadistic laugh into your ear before saying, “Finally. Only one more to go.” She's driving the knife even deeper, while forcing you down until your back hits the icy ground. 

Tears prick in your eyes, blurring your vision. Abby looks down at you one final time before removing her blade and after low chuckle she disappears out of your peripheral. 

With your frozen hands, you try to apply pressure to your wounds in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Very well knowing it's all in vain. You're losing too much too fast and you can already feel your body weaken.

Still you keep fighting, trying to ignore the feeling of nausea due to the metallic smell of your blood that's leaking out between your fingers. 

The warmth of your blood is a stark contrast to the piercing cold of the snow underneath you. Hopelessness and despair are fogging your mind as you watch the red liquid in terror.

With your hands still desperately pressing down, you look up at the gray, cloudy sky. Warm tears run down your skin, your vision is already failing you. Darkness is slowly fading in from the corner of your eyes. The storm is only a noise in the distance and the cold isn’t bothering anymore. 

It's getting harder to keep your eyes open and when you are about to close them, Shadows suddenly dance before you, shapes you need a moment to recognize. You feel the sensation of a warm hand against your cheek and that you are getting slightly lifted. 

"No!" Joel cradles you against his chest. "No, please Y/N.” Desperation is clear in his voice and it's breaking your heart. "Y/N, please, look at me."

Your eyes try to focus on Joel's face but it’s taking a lot of strength. "She'll come back for you." You rasp. Fear’s flooding your system, fear of him falling victim to Abby. Fear of her killing the man you love with all your heart. "You've gotta find her." 

"We will!" He assures you, "We will, but we have to bring you home first!" 

"It's too late for me, Joel." You know that and so does he. Tommy stands silently next to Joel. Wetness gathering in his eyes at the sight of you slowly dying in his brother's arms. 

"You'll make it, Y/N, you hear me?" Joel's voice is faltering, "You'll make it, like you always do."

You want to tell him to get to safety. To tell Elli that you love her, that you love him more than he'll ever know, but you can't. You can't find the strength to talk anymore. Tears stream down your face, there is so much you want to tell him but all your thoughts remain unvoiced. 

Joel lifts you up into his arms completely and with Tommy behind him, he starts running into the direction of the lodge. "I'll bring you home, just keep on fighting. Darling, you hear me?" 

You do but you know you wont make it. Your eyelids grow unbearably heavy, making you close your eyes. Joel is almost crushing you against his chest as he runs through the snow. "Y/N, please! Look at me!" You want to but you’re just too weak. Unable to fight any longer, you let a shaky breath, before allowing the void to pull you away from him.

"Y/N, please." Joel cries quietly in your ear. "Don't leave me. Don’t go.”

#the last of us #Tlou #joel miller x reader #Joel #Joel Miller #tommy miller #Abby #fanfic #fanfiction #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #joel tlou #Joel Miller / Reader

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

Proud - Jeff Hardy x Emery

Part of my Dark Angel of the Bullet Club series.

Let me know if ya'll get teary-eyed reading this because I started crying just WRITING it.

I needed to do a fluffy/happy one though, because the other one I'm posting is gonna elude to a darker side of Emery 😦

Word Count: 1698

Tag List: @blxxckheart @summertimefun1982

Warnings: Mentions of previous mental disorders/eating disorder and depression

(border by)

Emery stood backstage, standing near a monitor with the biggest smile on her face, as she watched Jeff Hardy return to AEW to help his brother out. It was no secret to anyone that knew her that Jeff Hardy was her all-time favorite.

She could remember her dad and uncle watching WWE when she was younger before it even was WWE. Though she didn’t really start paying attention to the shows until 2002 at the age of 9. Emery had seen Jeff go out for one of his matches, in his neon paint and colorful hair, to this music that made her want to dance. It was as if he had hypnotized her because, for the entirety of his match that night, she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.

It was very safe to say that she was officially crushing on him at that moment.

Just as she had been hypnotized then, Emery found herself unable to pull her eyes away now, but not in a ‘crush’ kind of way—at least that’s what she told herself, breaking her eyes off the screen and looking towards the go-position as Jeff, Matt, Isiah, and Hook walked down the steps to the back.

People seemed to swarm near them, welcoming back Jeff. She wanted to talk to him herself, but that familiar shyness took hold and Emery found herself unable to move. The closer they got to where she was standing, she felt the butterflies in her gut and her arm hairs began to stand on end.

Last year, when Jeff had made his debut in All Elite, Emery had unfortunately been out with an injury. By the time she came back, he was already gone. Now, though, it seemed as though fate were pushing her towards him.

“Like a twist of fate,” Emery thought to herself, ducking her head as she chuckled at her own joke.

“What’s so funny?” Matt questioned, stopping near her. With wide brown eyes, her head snapped up to look at him.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emery stammered out,” N-nothing.”

“C’mon, leave her be man,” Jeff smirked at his older brother, turning his green eyes to Emery and giving her a smile. Her eyes darted past Matt and landed on Jeff and it was as though the wind got knocked out of her. Quickly, she averted her gaze, looking off to the side; Emery could feel her cheeks warm up as she blushed at her childish behavior.

“Ahhh,” Matt nodded as he remembered a conversation that he had with the Bucks a while back; with a smile, he briefly looked to Jeff before looking back to Emery,” That’s right. You crushed on my brother before.”

“He didn’t just---!” Emery thought, panic and embarrassment racing through her veins. Tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes, and her heart felt as though it was going to beat right out of her chest.

He meant no ill harm by it, hoping that it would help Emery come out of her shell. Jeff gave Matt a smile before looking over at the younger girl. When she looked up, though, for the split second they saw her face, both felt terrible.

For not even one second, Emery looked at them with tears rolling down her face before she took off at a run down the hall. She wanted—no, needed—to put distance between herself and them, especially Jeff.

The Hardy brothers looked at one another, crestfallen that they had unintentionally hurt her feelings somehow.

“I’ll go…” Matt frowned, looking in the direction she had disappeared, but Jeff gently put an arm on his older brother’s arm.

“Nah, man. I’ll do it.”

Matt placed an arm on Jeff’s shoulder, giving him a nod, before watching his brother disappear down the hall, following the direction Emery had disappeared in.

Emery ran down the halls until she reached a door to the outside and pushed it open. Only then did she feel safe enough to stop and try to get control of herself. Bending down and resting her palms on her knees, Emery took deep breaths, and slowly the tears stopped. Straightening up, she looked around and found herself on one of the back docks. The cool night air billowed around her and she was thankful that there were not a lot of talent or stagehands in the area to see her behavior.

She knew she would eventually have to go back inside, potentially face Jeff and Matt—but she couldn’t. Not just yet. She wasn’t ready to—

The door slowly pushed open and instantly Emery tensed up; she hoped it was someone else, anybody else, but kept her back to them just in case.

“Matt didn’t mean to hurt your feelin’s, Darlin’,” Jeff told her, sliding his hands into his front pockets as he watched her.

Her heart ached for a brief moment, but not for herself; instead, it was the tone in Jeff’s voice. It was laced with sincere regret at what had just happened moments ago. Shaking her head gently, she crossed her arms in front of her in an attempt to comfort herself. The version of herself that was that little nine-year-old girl standing in front of the TV and watching this man put his body through hell. Licking her lips, Emery glanced over her shoulder just barely, seeing if Jeff was still standing there. Seeing that he was, she slowly turned around to face him, gnawing on her upper lip momentarily.

“It’s not…” she started, trailing off as her eyes darted to the ground, before meeting his gaze, “Didn’t hurt mine, no. Hell, if anything I’m on cloud nine right now.”

Her eyes began to tear up once again, but she kept them at bay for now. Jeff’s eyes briefly narrowed in confusion, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

“My memory… that little girl inside. She’s absolutely losing her mind,” Emery smiled softly, seeing Jeff’s lips curl up as well, “He’s right though. I—I was very much so in love with you. Part of me still is, but not in the usual way.”

A tear fell down her face, but she used the back of her hand to wipe it away.

“I was nine when I started watching you, back in 02. I never paid much attention to wrestling when my dad would watch it—but something about you. Seeing you on that TV screen, the persona you had back then, I—I was hooked. You… you got me into wrestling and I—” another tear fell only to be quickly wiped away, “—Every match, every promo. The music you’d release. Youtube videos. Books. Merch. Everything I could get my hands on, I did. Over the years… I don’t even know when things changed… but it went from a childhood crush to ugh, I don’t know. A respect, an admiration? News about drugs, alcohol, rehab—your house burning down, your dog---” Emery took a deep breath, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling anymore, “—Beth. Marrying her, having your kids. Everything. I respected the hell out of you, because, sure you kept falling back into darkness, but you kept getting back up and maybe I guess I needed to see that because of the shit I was going through with my own demons and seeing you working so hard to get through yours made me think that I could do it too and—”

The tears began to fall freely as she remembered how her early-mid teen years went, and the eating disorder and depression she had at the time. Jeff’s own eyes seemed to glisten a bit as he listened to her pour her heart out. Wordlessly, he held out his arms towards her, inviting her for a hug. Biting the inside of her cheeks, Emery closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Jeff, and closed her eyes. She felt his arms close around her, and as she stood there, Emery took a deep breath. She felt one of Jeff’s hands go up and embrace the back of her head, holding her tighter to him.

“I am so proud of you, darlin’,” he whispered to her.

That simple statement started the sobs, her full body shuddering against him as she cried. It felt as though she was letting a part of her past go, like she was finally able to put it behind her and move on. Jeff said nothing more as he held her and let her cry against his chest. He began to gently sway them both, hoping the rocking would help her; it was a trick he had learned from his kids.

Eventually, Emery’s body calmed down and the tears subsided. Taking a step back, she reached up with both hands and dried the tears, before looking up into Jeff’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you got nothin’ to be sorry about,” Jeff told her, a smile on his face, “You got past your demons, right?”

“Mostly… I- I still have moments… where the depression hits hard…”

“But you fight it—and don’t let it win.”

Emery nodded, sniffling, “I got a good support system. They’re there for me… when I need them.”

“Then you’re doing better than did, darlin’. I had all the support I could have ever asked for and still kept screwin’ it up. You stood tall, and you should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

“I-I am. It’s taken years… but me now? Compared to me from fifteen years ago? Night and day, and I am so happy…”

“Good,” Jeff smiled at her, “If you ever need to talk ‘bout anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. Maybe one day I can arrange you a visit to the compound.”

Emery’s eyes lit up, causing a chuckle from Jeff, “That would be… awesome. You’ve no idea—”

“I’m sure I got an inklin’. Let’s head back inside, and keep an eye on the rest of the show.”

“Sounds good. Thank you—Jeff. For everything,” Emery smiled, giving him a side hug; he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer.

“No, thank you.”

#aew #all elite wrestling #imagine #fanfiction #OC #original female character #OC Emery #Jeff Hardy #fluff #dark angel of the bullet club #kitkat0723

[anyaispunk]

Her Hazel Eyes

Pt. 2 of Morning and Coffee

Word Count: 981

Part 1 Part 3

He froze.

His feet suddenly felt so heavy, like it’s glued to the vehicle.

Unsure of what to do, what to say, or what to feel, he just sat there. The shortage of movements made him comparable to a sculpture. Eyes haven’t been blinked.

He can’t take his eyes off…

her.

She was there.

She just… sat there.

Eyes never leaving the pages she held in her hands. Oh, those beautiful hands.

Uncertainty clouded his subconscious. With a hitched breath, he decided to step inside the too familiar structure.

The smell of coffee and pastries started to fill his nostrils. They were only 4 feet apart.

He can see her more clearly now. With the small amount of people existence inside the coffee shop, it was effortless to spot her gorgeous figure. Hell, even when the room was packed he’ll find her in a split second.

He walked so slow, turtles could beat him.

It was 2 feet left.

She was wearing a sweater with her favorite jeans. An obvious oversized t-shirt can be seen under the sweater due to her small form. It was his t-shirt.

Their every morning scenarios in this place played in his head. They spend so many hours here.

Standing in front of her, no words could escape his mouth. Tears are threatening to fall. His legs feel jittery, all he wants to do is leap into her arms and make sure that she’ll never leave him again.

Minutes go by and nothing happens. He just stood there, while the world looked like it didn't exist anymore to her because she was reading her book. Her annoying yet amazing habit on how focused she could be.

The urge to pee after drinking too much green tea, finally took her away from the written pages. She was surprised by the very tall man who was standing so still in his tracks.

“Tom…?” she called him.

To Tom, this moment felt like hundreds pairs of hands just squeezed his heart.

He heard her voice again. Calling his name.

He missed this.

He missed her voice. He missed his name being vocalized by her soft voice.

Standing up, she hurried herself and cupped his cheeks, “Thomas, are you okay? Does something happen? What’s going on?”

He thought he’ll never see her worried state anymore. Throughout his entire life, he has never seen anyone who’s constantly worried over him more than his wife. As little as a paper cut can drive her mad. Not that he ever complained about it, he rather finds it adorable. It showed how much she cared and loved him.

“You’re here,” was the first and only two words that he could think of.

“You look pale. What the hell happened?? Please talk to me, you’re giving me a heart attack.” she said, never leaving his eyes. Her soft hands slowly made their way to Tom’s hands. Caressing it.

He feels her.

He can feel her touch.

Again.

Tom couldn’t restrain himself much longer. He cried his heart out.

He felt so broken, so vulnerable, so weak, so damaged.

He never knew she held so much power over him.

Not getting any explanation from Tom, she embraced him as tight as she could, so he could feel her warmth. It never failed to calm anyone.

With a dash, he broke her grasp and took her hand. Holding it so strong as if she’ll float away if he lets go.

“I love you,” he tried to assure her, but his voice was shaking.

Horror can be seen on her face. Not because she never heard him say it before. Truthfully, he said it so often, it started to sound like his mantra.

Not wanting to waste another second, he immediately added before she could respond.

“Forasmuch as the day you’re mine, I’m fully aware that it doesn’t matter where you are, what you do, what you’ve done, when it happened, nor who you’re with.

I will always,

utterly,

completely,

absolutely,

love you.”

Her sweater was full of tears. Her hazel eyes are red by now.

How he hated making her cry.

Carefully, he brought his lips to her temple. So gently, as if she was the most fragile thing the world has to offer.

Comforted by his action, she wrapped her arms around him, not wanting for this to stop. Neither did he. He’ll never let her go again. Never.

Their height difference caused her to tiptoe in order to reach his ear,

“I hate being the party pooper, but I really need to urinate,”

Soft laughs can be heard from both of them.

Although she already unwrapped her arms, his hold on her waist was still tight.

“Hot news, if you wanna go to the bathroom, you can’t have someone’s arms clinging around you,” she said jokingly.

“Fine, I’ll let you go. Only for a minute.”

“Two pleaseee, I’m a woman you know?”

He put on his grumpy face. She cannot hold his cuteness, smiling wholeheartedly as he continued his fake angry face.

She wondered how it’s going to be like when they had their own version of mini Tom.

“I’ll accept your request after I look at you for a full 5 minutes.” he ordered. No was not an option.

Annoyed by his childish act, she argued,

“By that time, I already peed on you.”

He realized that she really needed to go.

“Okay, okay. Just one last time.” he begged.

He looked at her fondly.

Trying to remember every bit of her face.

Every line, every curve.

Her little nose, her plump lips, her dimple on her red cheek, her beautiful eyelashes and her sparkling hazel eyes.

This was his last time.

Unwillingness creeped around his arms. It was so hard to let her go. He doesn’t want to let her go.

“Stay here.” she said.

She walked away.

and she never came back.

#tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic

[winteringdream]

006. how to survive?

staying longer at school with your science club didn't cause any problems; until you find yourself stuck in your high school after your city has become ground zero for a deadly virus

warning: blood, injury, death

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"what if we just sneak past it? it can't be that smart." beomgyu assumes, trying to calm himself.

"can you stop talking and start running?" you hiss at the boy. the three of you had been standing there, unable to move because of beomgyu.

closed in between two zombies and beomgyu still couldn't help but make a decision on whether to run or fight.

you had told him countless times that fighting wouldn't work if it didn't attack.

eventually, the three of you run. you and yeseo would pass it on its left side and beomgyu would go right.

it seemed like a good plan, until beomgyu got noticed.

the only consistent thing of your plan was that yeseo would be the one to run and get help. she was the fastest after all.

"get help yeseo!" you shout at the girl before jabbing your rake in the leg of the zombie.

beomgyu, who was way better at fighting aimed for the head. his continuous beating gave you time to look around for a split second.

there were more zombies coming from behind you and you could only hope yeseo was inside by now.

"beomgyu, let's run!"

after giving the zombie a final hit on his head, beomgyu ran along with you.

but, the sight that met you made you wish this was all a big nightmare.

you stumble back in shock and beomgyu was quiet for the first time.

how were you going to explain this to the group?

"yeseo! what happened?!"

yeseo, who was supposed to get help, was injured. not a little injured, she had big bite marks on her arm. it was rather as if something had taken a bite out of her.

the marks were dark red and you couldn't even see where the teeth marks were. it was a big patch of blood. the blood coming out of it dripped slowly down to her hand.

"yeseo, stand up. we're going to help you." you tell her, and hold out your hand.

"what if she's infected." beomgyu warns as he slaps your arm away.

"we don't know anything, it's not a zombie apocalypse movie, beomgyu. she could be fine."

"as you said, we don't know anything. so how do we know she is not turning into one?"

"y/n, beomgyu." yeseo croaks. "leave me here."

"we're not leaving you here! you're coming with us!"

"y/n, we should go." beomgyu, who has just spotted at least five other zombies, is anxious and scared.

"help me lift up yeseo."

"y/n, even if you do save me, i won't live for very long." yeseo's voice is nothing more than a whisper.

"wha-" yeseo lifts up a small part of her skirt to reveal another bite right at her thigh. this wasn't a normal one, it was a big one. it bled even more, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent yourself from puking.

you realised yeseo was right, she would need blood if we were going to save her.

"was this a zombie who did this?"

yeseo nods, "it was that one."

your turn around to see a big and tall zombie that was way faster than the others.

"y/n! we have to go!" beomgyu's voice is desperate.

yeseo is crying and you feel the tears streaming down your face.

"it's not your fault. you were the one who was so eager to keep me safe. it just didn't work out, but it's fine. it really is. please don't blame yourself." she let go of your hand, and you held back a sob.

if you could, you'd kill her on the spot, so she wouldn't get targeted by the zombies. there was nothing around you to guarantee her a quick death.

"i'm so sorry." you whisper, before turning around the corner and opening the door to enter the building.

you were still crying, your shoulders heaved up and down. beomgyu was crying as well, but not as hard as you were.

you hugged him, even though he was covered in thick red-purple zombie blood.

"they're going to be so mad." you whisper to him.

"don't worry, they'll understand."

all eyes are on you and beomgyu. both covered in blood, crying and with yeseo missing they were bound to stare.

"where is she?" kazuha asks. her voice was shaky.

"she got bitten." you answer truthfully.

"you were supposed to keep her safe! wasn't that the most important part? to return safely?" heeseung exclaims in anger.

"you think i didn't try?! i told her to run if we were in any danger, so she could at least save herself."

"then how did she get bitten?!"

"there was this fast zombie, bigger and taller than any other zombie. it bit her in the leg, she wouldn't have made it even if we brought her back." beomgyu explains for you.

"guys, come on. you think y/n let her get bitten on purpose?" jake defends. "who would've known there was this fast zombie?"

"jake is right, we can't blame y/n or beomgyu. we all let them go knowing they'd face the risk of dying." sunghoon joins in.

the room turns silent. it's a sad kind of silence, no one can say anything, in shock of the situation.

it is only now that the situation hits everyone. people could die.

you were still crying quietly when you walked to the toilet. you walked to the sink and looked in the mirror. it was the first time you had seen yourself after the outbreak.

your eyes were bloodshot, blood was on your face, hands and on your clothes. your hands were dirty and your jacket was dusty.

you turn on the faucet and splash water on your face. you rub your hands thoroughly and wash your face as well.

someone is standing at the doorway, not entering, just looking at you.

it's jake, who is wearing a worried look on his face. he slightly leans against the frame without saying anything.

"what do you want?" you didn't mean to sound so angry, but you couldn't help it.

"nothing, nothing much."

"if you're here to blame me for yeseo you can leave," you say. you grit your teeth out of anger. you and beomgyu tried your best to save her, tried your best to save everyone. this is what you got in return.

"for yeseo? i'm here to check up on you." he says. he stops leaning against the door frame and makes his way to the wall next to sink you are standing at.

he leans against the wall, and takes a closer look at you.

"are you done checking?"

"look i know you don't want to talk, i'm just here to say that no one is blaming you. heeseung is over there in the classroom stressing about how he's going to apologize to you."

you chuckle, at least the blood was off of your face and hands.

"no seriously, he's pacing around the room typing his apology in his notes app. even niki is helping him with it."

he smiles at you and you smile back. you feel light and you have this warm feeling in your body.

"let's get you some food when you're done washing up, i will teach you how to refrain yourself from laughing when heeseung apologises."

TAGLIST: @kazuhugs @msxflower @iloveoceaneyes

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