#she’s very comfortable in the back yard

[henpeckedho]

Companion post to my post this morning. I knew she had been going grey lately but didn't realize how much she's sugared up. First picture was one of the first times I met her. Second picture is from last week.

She's still the most beautiful dog to me, and she has enough energy people think she's a puppy. Just mourning the passage of time today, I guess.

#looking back at the very first pictures i can SEE the stress #she hid it pretty well but dang she's got the thousand yard stare going on #now she really needs to be startled to hell and back and already be having a bad day to get that stare #and even then she usually just shrugs it off #she's come so far #i really don't think i was the best choice for her but i do think i was the best of what was available at the time #and now we're so comfortable with each other i can't imagine her going elsewhere #people have been commenting on us walking that we're weirdly in sync #i don't know i just love her so much and i don't think I'm a good steward but i try my best #and she tries her best #just neither of our best are very good tbh

[luveline]

You are so talented I can’t even fathom it Jade! I seriously don’t know how you do it.

Idk if you’re taking requests rn for Spencer still bc I know you write him a lot but I love shy reader and post prison Spencer it’s so cute. I would love to see their relationship growing, maybe her realizing the feelings aren’t one sided by little things he says or does for her or how he reacts if she gets hurt.

No worries if not! Anything you write is a gift honestly. Happy New Year!

thank you sm angel, you're too kind<3 hny! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

cw violence and injury

You'll be fine, Spencer had said, patting you on the shoulder. Just trust me. 

This is decidedly not fine. 

You crouch low behind a raspberry chaise turned blood red in the poor lighting. When you entered the building moments ago, it was light. But now the lights are out and you can't tell your friend from foe; footsteps to your left could be Spencer where he'd followed you in, or they could be the UnSub. 

I'm right behind you, he'd said with a borderline rogue smile. You think I'd let you get hurt? 

Breath warms your ear. “Boo.” 

The air gets stuck in your lungs as brutish arms grab you. Your gun points toward your own jaw and your pulse hammers so hard you freeze, a split second, the amygdala overwhelmed. Then the UnSub tries to grab your weapon, and everything you've been taught kicks in. You twist in his arms, throwing your head back out of the line of fire as multiple agents call to you to sound off, and kicking hard at the UnSub's legs, the subsequent soft spot between them. 

You fall hard onto the floor, screaming as a weight lands on top of you.

Spencer shouts your name. “Where are you?!”

A hard palm hits you in the throat. Light bounces off of the UnSub's face as a teammate aims their torch in your direction, but you're wheezing and aching, your throat on fire and too overwhelmed to think. The hand that hurt you leaps for your gun. You hold onto it for dear life, even as he forces it once, twice into the soft of your face, leaving rings of flame behind your eye. You pull it hard from his hands and fling it across the floor out of reach, squirming under his weight, needing to be away, away— 

You pull your knee up and kick wildly, a well timed blow hitting the UnSub in the face with a damp-sounding crunch. 

“I don't have eyes on her!” Emily shouts. 

“I do,” Spencer says. His torchlight floods your area as he shouts, “Stand down!” 

You don't squeal, but it's not a very professional sound as you crawl backwards out of the way. The ring of fire behind your eyes feels ever so slightly above it now. The room is half gone. You wipe your eye and look down at your hand, dark staining your palm in a heavy smear.

“Oh,” you mumble queasily. 

The power never comes back on, but you don't notice until after, when Spencer's dragged you outside to the front yard and lowered you to a soft patch of grass, an EMT beside him dressing your wound. “Did they get him?” you ask. 

Spencer's brow wrinkles with his frown. 

“Remember what we said?” The EMT asks. 

“No?” You wince and hiss as he pulls the wings of a butterfly stitch closed over your eyebrow. 

“You have a concussion. I'm trying to work out how bad it is.” 

You honestly still feel like you're in the dark room. You reach out for Spencer's hand instinctively, needing comfort, a tether to the ground, and he clasps your fingers tightly. “You're okay,” he says steadily. 

“You're smiling at me weird.” You glance over your shoulder at the cop cars and the flashing red-blue lights. “Did you get him?” 

“Emily got him. Just after he got you.” Spencer looks like he might stand from his crouch, but he brings your hand to his chin instead, leaning on it showfully. “It's my fault, I'm sorry. I told you I'd have your back and I didn't.” 

Your chest stirs with the memory of your panic. One moment you'd been underneath him, and aching, and now you're on the grass as the forensics bring in the floodlights, so bright it's like mini suns have come out on either side of the yard. You hang your head to hide from the light. The EMT tells you off. 

“Does your throat still hurt?” Spencer asks you, pulling on your hand gently. “Answer me.” 

“My head is swimming.” 

Your memories fuzz over. When you look up again the EMT is gone. Spencer sits on the grass now beside you unhurried, your hand still clamped between both of his. His thumb rubs at your knuckles and the smooth stretch of skin beside them, apparently content to wait with you. 

“She's okay?” Tara asks, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. 

“Not enough medical. They're gonna look at Agent Walker and circle back. She might have to be admitted.” 

Tara bends at the waist to look you in the eye. “You okay?” 

“I'm fine. Are you okay?” you ask. 

“I'm doing better than you. That's gonna be a terrific bruise.” She smiles at Spencer reassuringly. “Emily wants you. I can sit with her, she'll be in good hands.” 

“She'd be in great hands,” Spencer says simply, “but I don't care. I'm staying here. Please tell Emily she can come here if she needs to talk to me. I'm not going anywhere until they've finished looking at Y/N.” 

Tara grins. “Your funeral.” 

You're slowly starting to feel like yourself again, or more aware of yourself at the very least. Spencer's touch is melding from comforting to heart-rending, his nearness a heat. He looks stupidly good-looking considering what you've just been through, the FBI vest tight on his chest, his sweet brown curls falling into his eyes as he plays with your fingers. 

“I must look awful,” you realise suddenly, a stone's throw from tearful. 

Spencer doesn't glance up at first. “You look beautiful, but the bruise is…” He looks at you through dark lashes. “It's a tragedy.” 

“What?” 

His small smile fades. “How are you feeling? Are things clear, or would you say that I'm out of focus? You're having moderate to severe concussive symptoms.” He shakes his head. “And the bruise is mottling already.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

Spencer laughs softly. After a pensive moment, he brings your hand to his mouth. Maybe he kisses it, maybe he doesn't, but the touch brings a sacredness to his promise, “I won't let that happen again. You trusted me to keep you safe.” 

“I trusted you to tell me if I was ready, and I was. I remembered how to get out of it. I'm still here.” You fluster after you've spoken, feeling brash. 

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face. “You are. You did amazing.” He removes one hand from yours. A featherlight touch coasts down your cheek, brief and encouraging nonetheless. “It's going to be a really bad bruise.” 

“Oh, well,” you say tiredly. 

Spencer's turn to go quiet. He holds your hand on his thigh. “I could kiss it better?” he offers in a murmur. 

You laugh and steal your hand back, unable to take all his attention at once. “Funny, Spencer.” 

He gives you a warm smile. You can't tell if he's kidding or not about the kiss, but his devotion to you while you're hurting is real. You're not sure where that leaves you.

#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 #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[ceilidho]

landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

-

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours. 

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet. 

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you. 

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you. 

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing. 

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock. 

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console. 

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff. 

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him. 

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning. 

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away. 

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?” 

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under. 

The first week of December hits town like a truck. 

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance. 

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue. 

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first. 

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you. 

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that. 

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark. 

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake. 

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress. 

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water. 

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there. 

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out. 

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance. 

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed. 

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering. 

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur. 

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again. 

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan. 

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up. 

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch. 

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip. 

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back. 

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you. 

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside. 

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized. 

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured. 

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble. 

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly. 

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache. 

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle. 

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor. 

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you. 

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky. 

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs. 

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body. 

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you. 

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

[erikatsu]

DON'T LET ME GO ⋆.ೃ࿔* ═ FUSHIGURO TOJI

˗ˏˋ PAIRING ˎˊ˗ fushiguro toji x fem!reader

˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ˎˊ˗ your ex’s dad comforts you after your break up.

˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ˎˊ˗ kinda angsty and soft. age gap, body worship (?), unprotected sex, pet names (baby, sweetheart), multiple orgasms, cervix fucking, baby trapping, creampie, aftercare, unedited

˗ˏˋ NOTE ˎˊ˗ repost from old acc !

The soft tapping of the beginning rain hitting your windshield calmed you as you shut off the car. You couldn't help but think it was funny that the sky matched your mood. Dark, cloudy, and crying for you since you refused to do so yourself. Not anymore. Not over him, the boy who broke your heart after being together for over two years. 

You sighed, shutting off your vehicle as you talked yourself up. You’ll be fine, you assured yourself. Just get your things and go. 

Easier said than done. 

You blindly reached for the door handle, slowly pulling it open. Your heart raced as you yanked your hood over your head, dashing out into the soft rain. The petrichor hit your nose as it began to pick up, and you pulled your jacket tighter around you as you quickly walked up to the large house. You'd been here countless times, but the traditional Japanese style of the home always left you in awe. The dark zegiel tiles that lined the roof and met the kawara with the family crest in the center on top of the white clay walls accented by black wood fed your aesthetic for juxtaposition. 

You could remember the first time you came here. You were left breathless as you stared into the koi pond in the backyard, watching the fish swimming and the reds of the palmate maples and whites of the plum blossoms dance across the water’s reflection. You made a comment to your ex’s father that a Wisteria would suit the garden nicely between the black and white pines, as it lacked blues and purples, upon meeting him before you could think about what you had said. Fortunately for you, he agreed. Seeing it planted exactly where you pictured made you smile to this very day. 

Fushiguro Toji had always given you what your heart desired. When questioned about it by his son, the answer was always a simple, “You two remind me of your mother and I.” But, that wasn't it. Not really. In truth, Fushiguro Toji had always been taken with you. It was wrong, as you were his son’s age and (at the time) his son’s girlfriend. However, it wasn't like Toji would truly act on these feelings. 

No, Fushiguro Toji was a gentleman. All class with a smart mouth and dashing good looks to top it off, not only would he not come between you and his son, he wouldn't risk his career. Pulling away from the Zen’in clan and getting married at a young age had been the wildest thing he’s done in his life. After losing his wife and working full time to support Megumi, he had to do and be better than his family. Risking everything he'd worked towards for a woman half his age would be a waste. Instead, he showed his interest through material things under the guise of “one day she’ll be part of the family, she gets the Fushiguro treatment.”

Because a thing like money was no issue to Toji, he didn't mind spending it on you if it meant seeing you smile. Being the King of Kabutochō meant as long as he had investors, there would always be money. 

Even in the dreary weather, the landscaping of the property was still breathtaking. You didn't realize you'd been standing, staring into the yard instead of walking up the wooden steps to take cover underneath the extension of the roof, supported by tall wooden beams. With one last look, you made your way to the door, raising a hesitant hand to knock. You were so used to just walking in, a backpack slung over your shoulder and full of clothes to stay the weekend instead of staying on campus. Having to knock was another reminder that this would be your last visit here. 

You let your hand fall against the door, causing the dogs inside to bark. A voice barked back at them, telling them to be quiet and go lay down. You recognized it, wondering why Toji was answering the door instead of Megumi. He knew you'd be by today. Was he avoiding you? Or was he with the girl who had stolen his heart from you?

The door swung open, revealing Toji and all his morning glory. His hair disheveled, still in his silk pajamas. His eyes widened when he saw you, not knowing you were coming over. Before he could ask why you were knocking, he saw the red of your eyelids and your bloodshot eyes. His brow furrowed, bottom lip pushing outwards in confusion. 

“You've been crying. What's wrong?” He questioned, causing the familiar sting of tears to torment you as you tried to keep yourself composed. 

You wanted to tell him you'd been crying for three days now, and that you swore you wouldn't anymore before leaving the house. But, when you opened your mouth to tell him the truth, your voice caught in your throat. Just like that, your resolve crumbled. You allowed the tears to form, unable to stop them from flowing as Toji pulled you into the house. 

You refrained from answering as you took off your shoes and faced them towards the door. As soon as you turned back to face him, he pulled you into his chest, causing you to break down in his arms.

“He– He broke up with me,” You managed to choke out, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would stop the tears that fell from them. A harsh sob wracked your body as you felt yourself latch onto him, clinging to him for comfort that you desperately needed. His large hands rubbed your back, trying his best to console you as you gasped for air and dampened his shirt. “There's– There's someone else.”

The twinge of anger he felt flare up was nothing compared to his heart breaking at the sight of you like this. Crying over his son, who damn well had been raised better than to play with something as fragile and delicate as someone’s heart. 

“I’ll kill him,” Toji muttered before placing a gentle kiss atop your head.

You sniffled, trying to quickly compose yourself. You were already embarrassed that you had gotten snot and slobber on his expensive silk. But bringing it back up had all your insecurities floating toward the surface. Your lower lip trembled as you found yourself questioning, “I-is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough? O-or–”

Toji pulled away slightly, softly hooking a finger under your chin. He gently lifted your head up so you'd look at him, his eyebrows furrowed with bewilderment. He shook his head at you. “Stop right there. You're the most stunning person in the entire world. You're kind, you're funny, and anyone would be lucky to have you. Only an idiot would let you go.”

The sincerity in his tone had your heart racing as you stared at him, wide eyed at his revelation. Before you could realize what you were doing, you were leaning into him. Your lips met his, reminding him of honey with how soft and sweet you were. He was too stunned to move, never expecting you to kiss him. But, just as quickly as you leaned in, you were pulling away with apologies falling from your mouth. 

“Mr. Fushiguro, I'm sorry!” You stepped back, shaking your head as you internally scolded yourself for being an idiot. “That was wrong, I don't know what came over me. I just need to get my things from Megumi and I'll be gone.”

“He's not here,” Toji cleared his throat, letting his hand drop from your chin. “You can go to his room, I'm sure he's got it all there.”

You nodded, promptly heading upstairs so you could grab your things and scatter. You were absolutely abashed, kicking yourself for kissing him like that. He was a grown man, old enough to be your own father. You didn't know what came over you, just chalked it up to being lost in a moment of weakness. What person wouldn't swoon at his words? Or read too much into what he said and how he said it?

Shaking the fleeting thought away from your mind, you entered Megumi's room to see a box of your things sitting on the edge of his nicely made bed. You frowned, knowing your relationship was truly over. Your heart clenched tightly as you picked the box up and took one last longing look around his room. 

Another sigh left your lips as you left, going back downstairs to see Toji staring out the window in the living room, watching the steady rain turn into a harsh downpour. No matter how much he squinted, he couldn't fully make out the purple blooms of the Wisteria he'd planted for you in the thick of the gray rainfall. 

He turned, looking over his shoulder as you approached him. Your eyes were locked on the outside, wondering if it was even safe to drive home when the rain could turn into a monsoon at any given moment. Toji apparently had the same thought, taking the box from you and setting it off to the side. 

“I'd be more comfortable if you stayed until it calms down out there,” He admitted to you, just now noticing you were still soaked from the rain earlier. “I'll have a bath drawn for you and get you a fresh change of clothes.”

He insisted, even though you assured him you'd be fine. He wouldn't take no for an answer, leading you to the private ofuro at the back of the house. He slid the shoji out of the way, revealing the large wooden tub full of already steaming water. The warmth hit you as you stepped inside the sunroom, watching the rain heavily hitting the windows that allowed in the natural light. 

You'd never been in this room before, knowing this was part of Toji’s bathroom. You were taken away with the dark hinoki wood that not only made the tub, but filled the room with its natural lemony scent. You weren't listening as Toji told you where you could find everything, walking towards the tub and lightly feeling the water. It was hot, but not scalding as you pushed through the surface tension, swirling your hand for a brief second before pulling away. 

When you turned to ask for a towel, he was already behind you, smiling at you in amusement. You jumped, not expecting him to be right there. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest again, more due to his close proximity than anything else. The thought of kissing him crossed your mind again, a thin veil of heat covering your cheeks as you looked away. He cupped your cheek, slowly bringing your gaze back to him. His free hand grabbed your hip, pulling you closer before delicately catching your lips with his own.

You don't know what drove you to move your mouth against his, but you didn't stop yourself as you wound your arms around his neck. Your head was spinning as he gently tugged at your bottom lip, unable to believe you were kissing your ex-boyfriend's father. Toji’s fingers dug into your side, gently rubbing his thumb over your hip. You opened your mouth, allowing him in as your mind went blank. Your hands trailed from his neck down to his chest, and just as he thought you'd push him away, you were undoing the buttons of his shirt. 

His breath hitched as you broke the kiss, looking up at him almost innocently, “Stay with me.”

All his morals had gone out the window the second he decided to kiss you. His hands were pushing your jacket off your shoulders and he was lifting your shirt over your head in response, knowing full and well this was crossing one hell of a line. But, it's not like Megumi would know. He'd already texted, saying he'd be at Yuuji’s until the weather slowed so he wouldn't be coming home anytime soon. 

Clothes were haphazardly thrown across the room before you slipped into the ofuro with Toji, back pressed tightly to his chest as he peppered light kisses against the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. The heat of the water mixed with the feathery soft touches caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You tilted your head back, resting against him as hands traveled over your body, like tracing lines on a map. He'd sear every inch of you into his twisted mind, memorizing the soft gasps that fell off your lips as he gently cupped your breast and ran his down your belly. Once his fingers brushed your clit, you let out a sharp noise. 

He tenderly rubbed at your sensitive bud, kissing at your neck. You allowed your eyes to close as he toyed with you under the water, a whimper escaping you from the stimulation. Wrapped up with him had you forgetting why you had even come over, had you overlooking the fact this was Megumi’s father and he was over twenty years older than you. No, brushed all of that aside as you twisted your body, sitting in his lap as your mouth found his and you rolled your hips against his hard on. 

You were going to drive him wild. 

Your perfect body pushing flush against his as you squeezed him in all the right places, your soft lips against his tasting like strawberries and mint. His mind was reeling, already intoxicated by how you felt and leaving him wanting more as you rocked your hips. 

You shouldn't have been surprised when he lifted you out of the water, carefully stepping out of the tub, but you scrambled to lock your legs around his toned waist as he carried you towards his room. Water dripped onto the floor, leaving a trail from the sunroom to the bedroom. He never broke contact until he placed you on the bed, kissing his way down your body until his head was between your legs as his tongue ran up and down your slick. 

“God, you're so fucking beautiful,” He mumurmed against your skin before gently pressing his lips to your clit. You whimpered as buried his head between your thighs again, lapping at your wet core as if his tongue was trying to memorize your sweet, gummy walls. Because he was lost in you and your moans, adding fingers and not stopping even as you came in his mouth. Overtaken with the need to have you, he ended up drowning in your heat, pussy drunk off the idea of making you cum until you couldn't anymore. 

You tangled your fingers into his hair, pushing him even further as you whined at the feeling of his fingers curling in and out of you, along with his mouth gently sucking at your clit. 

“Toji–” You panted, breath catching in your throat as your head spun from the overstimulation he was putting you through. “Nngh, s’too much.”

But he wasn't listening, working his two digits and mouth even faster. You keened, back arching as you rolled your hips up. Your entire body tingling and about to go through another wave of euphoria when he finally pulled away. 

He towered over you, cupping your cheek as he leaned in. Instead of kissing you, he rested his forehead against yours. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, breathing heavily, “Do you want this?”

You were nodding before he even finished his question, staring into his dark blue eyes, “Yes. I want you.”

God, did you want him. Your mind was so overclouded with the thought of him, you had completely pushed Megumi far from your mind. You'd forgotten you'd spent days crying, sobbing over a boy as you were under Toji.

He groaned, reaching down to grab his cock, rubbing it over your entrance a few times before pushing inside. Your eyes fluttered, closing completely as he slowly fucked into you. He kissed you as he evocatively rocked his hips, high pitched gasps leaving your body at the feeling of his raw shaft working deeper inside you and stretching you out. You whimpered against his mouth when he bottomed out, brushing up against the entrance of your womb.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” He moaned into your mouth, finding a steady rhythm to roll his hips to. 

He was savoring the way you felt as you squeezed him, the way you tasted, how soft your lips were. He couldn't believe he finally had you, underneath him and taking his length like a champ. He never would've acted on his attraction for you if you hadn't done so first. As his cock dragged along your walls and his tongue danced with yours, the thought of filling your pretty little cunt full of his seed briefly crossed his mind. 

Toji pulled away from you, sliding out before rolling you over and pulling your hips up. He sunk back into your slick with heavy curses flying from his mouth. You mewled as he pressed his chest to your back, his lips brushing where your shoulder met your neck. He reached even further than before, his cock kissing your cervix with each stroke, eliciting soft yelps from you every time.

“Toji, please,” You whined out, gripping the sheets tightly in your hands. “Faster.”

His slow thrusts only picked up slightly, teasing you as he smirked against your skin. You let out a noise of complaint as he chuckled, moving his head to whisper in your ear, “You gotta be more specific, sweetheart.”

You groaned as he pushed deep inside, rutting into your tight hole as he turned your head to once again kiss you. As he locked lips with you, he kept his strokes short and deep, but faster as you had asked. Your moans filled his mouth, spurring him on as he bullied you from behind. The sound of his balls smacking against your wet cunt was all he could hear besides you, pushing you closer to the edge with each thrust. 

Your knuckles were turning white as your pussy clenched around his cock and you gripped the sheets even tighter. He groaned, pulling away from you as he murmured, “That's right baby, cum for me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, crying out as you felt a tight knot building inside you. Toji pushed himself up, grabbing your hips and forcing them back each time he rocked into you. A choked noise left you as he fucked you into your high, cumming around with his cock with a sharp whine. He rode you out, slowing down as your grip on him loosened and you were left breathless. 

He gradually pulled out, flipping you back over. Pushing one of your thighs back, he lined himself up before slipping back into you with ease. Your back arched as he worked his rhythm back up, long thrusts instead of short as he began to chase his own orgasm. Grunts fell from his lips as he rammed into you, yelps emitted from you in turn. You cried out his name, sending his mind into a frenzy. 

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue instead of “Mr. Fushiguro”. You had always addressed him as that, even though he had told you several times that Toji was fine. He’s glad you waited though, making the experience that much better. 

As you squirmed under him, pleasured noises leaving your mouth, he found himself close to his own high, warning you he was going to cum. He had every intention of pulling out, but something in you snapped and you locked your legs around his waist, jerking him in as far as he could go.

“Nngh, you're playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” He groaned, losing all control of his hips as your actions threw him into his high. He drilled into you, his balls slapping your skin so hard you were sure they'd leave marks. With one last thrust, he pushed as deep as he could go, spilling his hot seed into your tight cunt. 

You both panted, catching your breath as he finally pulled out of you. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips before standing. Toji dipped back into the bathroom before coming back with a towel and silk robes. As he cleaned you up, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. 

Toji had always been intimidating, but you got to see that he wasn't. He was sweet and more gentle than he seemed. You couldn't help but wonder what would come from what just happened. Whether it continued, became serious, or was forgotten didn't much matter to you.

You slipped on the robe, lying back down on the side of the super wide king bed that wasn't soaked from the bath water or your juices. Toji flopped down beside you, running a large hand up your leg and stopping as he decided to rest it on your ass.

“If you wanted me to breed you, baby, you should’a just said so,” He teased, causing heat to rush to your cheeks.

The two of you had been so invested in each other, you didn't realize the rain had stopped shortly after it started. But, you were still wrapped up in the older man and how he made you feel so good that you'd completely forgotten the reason for your visit. 

You walked your fingers up his chest, about to give a coy response when a voice from the doorway had you immediately halfing in your tracks. 

“Dad!?”

˗ˏˋ TAGS ˎˊ˗ @sanzucide @dxlucs @mxnjiros @albedxs @suyacho

#toji x reader #toji smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[meangirls-imagines]

Hey this is a little different I guess but can you do a regina x fem reader where reader is so genuine and thoughtful about loving regina that Miss queen bee sometimes gets overwhelmed because when has anyone treated her like that when they didn't want something or her want something from them?

Used To It

Description: Regina is used to putting all of the effort in her relationships. She starts dating Reader and gets overwhelmed by the amount of love and effort she's shown. Reader helps her realize what she deserves.

WARNINGS: none, fluffy as fuck

Regina George was not used to love.

I mean, sure, her parents loved her. But, they loved her because they were her parents. It's kind of a requirement to love your kids.

She thought Aaron loved her, but he just loved what dating Regina gave him. Popularity, status, friends. Same thing with Shane, he loved her because she was good at sex.

She never really felt love.

She had always heard about it, seen it in movies, read about it, but she had never experienced it.

She thought dying for 15 seconds would finally get her the love she had been chasing her whole life. Turns out, it doesn't. It just makes everyone feel pity for you.

After completely healing from the spinal injury, and neck brace free, Regina came out to the whole school. Most people were surprised but some people kinda already knew.

A couple of months after coming out, Regina started talking to a girl in her Physics class.

Y/N Y/L/N.

She was very sweet and charming and always knew how to make Regina feel better. After a few dates, Y/N asked Regina to be her girlfriend, to which the blonde said yes.

Now, a couple of months into their relationship, Regina felt overwhelmed. In a confusing way.

It's not like it was Y/N's fault. It wasn't.

The girl had been nothing short of perfect to Regina. Taking her on spontaneous dates, buying her gifts, pda, the whole nine yards.

She wasn't used to it.

She was used to taking control in her relationships but this, this was different from any relationship she had been in. This was....healthy.

The blonde didn't know how to bring up how she felt to Y/N. She had talked to Karen and Gretchen and even though they weren't much help, they were right.

"Be honest with her, Regina. She'll understand."

The blonde had texted Y/N to come over so they could talk. She had to let her know that it wasn't anything bad, so she wouldn't freak out. Fifteen minutes after she sent the text, Y/N showed up.

She had stopped and gotten Regina her usual from Starbucks. Regina's heart melted at the gesture and thanked the girl with a kiss. She led Y/N into her room, for more privacy as the girl made herself comfortable.

"So, what's up, baby?" Regina took a deep breath and sat at her vanity, facing Y/N. "Umm. I don't know how to say this." The blonde began to fidget as Y/N looked at the girl with a comforting smile.

"Take your time baby." Regina took another deep breath. "I've never been in a relationship that's so...healthy. And it's overwhelming." Y/N nodded, allowing Regina to go on.

"I've never been around a relationship that showed me what love was supposed to be. My parents, Aaron, Shane. I've never been exposed to stuff like that and you have shown me more love in these few months than anyone and it's very overwhelming. I don't wanna mess anything up because I'm happy for the first time in my life, but I also don't wanna hold back."

Y/N nodded and stood, walking to where Regina was sitting. "Regina, first off, thank you for being honest with me baby. Listen, I just wanna give you the best. I know your past relationships haven't been the best, but I'm going to make up for the sucky parts by treating you like the princess you are."

Regina's eyes filled with tears at the girls words. "I don't want to overwhelm you but I also don't want you to feel like I'm going to treat you like your other relationships did. This is a team, Regina. Not an individual thing. I'm going to be there for you, just like you're going to be there for me."

Regina nodded, tears running down her face. Y/N wiped her tears and kissed her gently. "I'm so proud of you for telling me, Gina. I know it wasn't easy. But please, for the future, know that you can come to me for anything, baby. I won't judge."

The blonde nodded, burying her head in Y/N's neck. Y/N kissed her head and guided her back to her bed. Y/N laid back and pulled Regina into her arms. "I really care about you, Regina. All I want is for you to be happy."

And as Regina fully relaxed in Y/N's arms, she felt true happiness for the first time in her life.

Yeah, she could get used to this.

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024

[inherdaze]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

9k

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

 “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 

He doesn't. 

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.” 

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 

You peer down into the pot. 

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 

Your fingers twitch. 

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face. 

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn. 

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 

It’s a little loose. 

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 

Finally, he fesses up. 

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 

You see Kiyoomi make a face. 

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 

The both of you choke. 

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response. 

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 

“Miya.” 

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 

“Miya told me to confess to you.” 

Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 

“I wish you could come with me.” 

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 

Your mouth drops open. 

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 

You stay rooted still. 

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 

(He wants to). 

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 

He gives an approving cluck. 

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa fluff

[theostrophywife]

Hiii!!! Can I ask for a fluffy and a little bit suggestive imagine with az where his mate neglects his kisses for a whole day or however long you want and just make him grovel for a bit ???

crave.

pairing: azriel x reader.

song inspiration: kisses by will joseph cook.

author’s note: baby boy azriel is back. please have some soft fluff to make up for the shadowsinger’s absence 💋

The first time it happened, Azriel chalked it up to coincidence.

You were so frazzled that morning, frantically running around shoving your salves and potions into your bag while simultaneously pulling your healer robes on that you’d rushed past your mate in a dark blur. The door creaked open as you muttered something about an early delivery of triplets.

“Forgetting something, love?”

Realization flooded your features as you whirled around to face your mate. “Of course!”

Azriel grinned as you marched back into the kitchen. He tilted his head up, fully prepared for his goodbye kiss until you reached over and grabbed his coffee mug instead. The shadowsinger watched in confusion as you downed the entire thing within seconds.

“Thanks, babe!”

As swift as the wind, you were out the door once more, leaving your very confused mate staring at his now empty drink.

The second time it happened, Azriel started to fret.

After a brief meeting with Rhys, he headed into the city to drop by your clinic. With the delivery of triplets, Azriel figured that you’d probably had a rough morning. A problem easily fixed with your favorite comfort food: chocolate chip cookies.

You smiled when the bell chimed to announce your mate’s arrival. The grin on your face grew even wider when you caught a whiff of the sweet, sugary aroma of your favorite cookies from the bakery down the street.

The shadowsinger smiled, setting the brown paper bag down on the counter. “How did the delivery go, my love?”

“I’m glad to report that all three babies are happy and healthy,” you replied, digging through the bag and getting your greedy hands on the soft, gooey cookie. “As happy as I am about the successful delivery, I’m absolutely drained. Not to mention starving. Thank you for bringing the cookies, Az.”

“Anything for my mate.”

You beamed, splitting the chocolate chip cookie in half. “Wanna share?”

Azriel nodded, chuckling as you fed him a chunk. He did the same, staring at you with a lovestruck expression as he wiped the crumbs off of your face. The shadowsinger brushed your bottom lip, leaning in to give you a proper kiss.

The two of you broke apart as a loud clang sounded from the back of the clinic. Madja hustled to the front, barely acknowledging Azriel with a nod before tugging at your elbow.

“They’re hanging upside down and crying from the ceiling,” the older healer said. “This is the last time I deliver a set of batlings. Triplets, nonetheless. Mother save us all.”

“Sorry, Az. Duty calls. I’ll see you at home, my love.”

You smiled apologetically, inching closer towards the shadowsinger before an ear splitting wail nearly punctured your ear drums. Even Azriel’s shadows shied behind his shoulders.

“Wish us luck.”

With that, you were gone. Leaving Azriel pouting as he departed the clinic as kissless as this morning.

The shadowsinger brooded as he counted down the hours until you were home. Lack of affection was seriously impairing his ability to work. It had been a few hours since he’d sat down in his office to sort through reports and yet he couldn’t remember a damned thing that he’d read.

Azriel perked up when his shadows alerted him of movement in the front yard. He immediately raced down the stairs, past the kitchen and living room, feeling as giddy as a school girl as he opened the door. Instead of finding his mate, Azriel found his friends standing at his doorstep. He sighed, recalling that tonight was game night.

Cassian chuckled. “Don’t you look ecstatic to see us, brother.”

Nesta peered behind her husband, determination woven into her sharp features as she lugged a chess set under one arm. “Where’s Y/N? Your mate owes me a rematch.”

Azriel sighed. “She’s not home yet. Her and Madja delivered triplets and they’ve had their hands full all day.”

Rhys raised a brow, resting an arm around Feyre’s shoulder. “So that’s why you’ve been wearing that kicked puppy look all day. What’s the matter, Az? Missing your mate?”

Feyre elbowed Rhys. “Don’t mind him. I think it’s sweet that you and Y/N never really left the honeymoon phase.”

"I doubt their neighbors would call their honeymoon phase sweet," Mor added with a chuckle. "Our lovely friends are heathens, but also sickeningly adorable."

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t walked in on them breeding like bunnies in the bathroom at Rita’s,” Amren said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Speak for yourself, Tiny Ancient One. You and Varian aren’t any better.”

Amren merely rolled her eyes at Cassian before marching into the living room. The rest followed suit, making themselves comfortable in Azriel’s home. Normally the shadowsinger loved hosting his friends, but all he really wanted tonight was to be alone with his mate.

Unfortunately for Azriel, it didn't look like his wish would be granted any time soon. The shadowsinger watched helplessly as his brothers ransacked the kitchen for wine. Cassian somehow managed to wrangle a tray full of cheese, meat, and crackers. Rhysand munched on the leftover cookies, frowning when crumbs spilled over the front of his doublet.

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief when his shadows alerted him of your presence. He shouldered past his friends, making a beeline for the door. The tension left his body the second he saw you climbing up the steps. Despite your busy day, you couldn't help but smile when you spotted your mate.

The shadowsinger looked a bit disheveled, his dark hair sweeping over those familiar hazel eyes. He had changed out of his leathers and into a baby blue sweater that you gifted to him last Winter Solstice paired with comfortable looking grey sweats that hung dangerously low, giving you a peek of the hard muscles and happy trail hidden underneath.

Gods, Azriel was beautiful.

"Hi, baby. How was your day?"

"Not as eventful as yours, love." Azriel cringed as the sounds of Casssian and Rhysand's hoots filtered though your home. "Our friends are here."

You chuckled. "You don't seem that excited about it."

"I was hoping to get you all to myself tonight."

"You get that every night, Az."

Azriel pouted. "Yes, but I missed you today."

You stood on your tiptoes, pulling him down by the front of his sweater. "Is that so?"

"Mhm," he hummed, placing a large hand on your hip. "You haven't kissed me all day. You owe me at least a hundred by now."

"A hundred?" you teased, smiling up at him. "Seems a little excessive, Az."

"I think it's only fair. I couldn't focus all day. I blame lack of kisses."

"Is that your professional diagnosis, shadowsinger?" Azriel nodded seriously, making you chuckle. "Well, in that case. C'mere, pretty boy."

Azriel's breath hitched as you brought him down to you, your noses brushing, lips firmly pressed against his cheek. You took his face into your hands and peppered kisses all over his face. Kissing his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, practically covering him in your signature red lipstick. Your mate beamed, relishing in your affection.

"For the grand finale," you teased, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip.

Your heart raced as you pressed your lips against his, giggling as Azriel brought you closer, circling his arms around your waist and lifting you up to his chest. He deepened the kiss, not caring that your friends were inside, not caring that your neighbors were milling about. All he knew what that there was nothing in this world that felt as good as your lips against his.

You smiled into the kiss, pecking his lips over and over again. Azriel grinned, his mood instantly brightening. "Only ninety nine more to go," he declared.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you kissed the tip of his nose, leaving a bright red mark in your wake. "I'll give you infinite kisses, my love. Until you grow tired of me."

"I could never," Azriel replied, leaning in for a not so innocent kiss. "I crave you too much."

"I crave you too, Azriel. I always crave you." You sighed in satisfaction. "Do you think it would be awfully rude of me to ask our friends to leave?"

"Not at all," Azriel said, squeezing your bum. "Everyone! Out!"

You laughed as your friends filtered through the door. Nesta waved her chess set around, grumbling about your rematch. Cassian and Rhysand wore matching smirks while Feyre winked behind her shoulder. Mor shook her head, claiming a bottle of expensive wine as her payment. Amren took the bottle from the blonde and took a swig, completely unbothered.

You giggled, turning over to your mate. He was covered in red lipstick. As you tried to brush your marks away, Azriel caught your wrist.

"Don't. I like when you leave your mark on me. Shows everyone that I'm yours and yours alone."

"Oh?" You asked in a seductive voice, kissing right underneath his jawline. "Let me leave some more then, pretty boy."

"I won't say no to that, my love."

#i missed az so much please accept my offering #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic

[whoslai]

seventy two hours - l. heeseung 📓🧑🏻‍🎓

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

↣ lee heeseung x fem!reader (both are 18)

↣ it’s the summer after high school; heeseung has been in love with his childhood friend, y/n. despite his efforts to make her see how he feels, she remains oblivious. with only three days left before they both go off to college, he must find a way to win her heart before it's too late. will he succeed, or will he have to let go of his love and move on?

↣ warnings: MDNI! making out, cunnilingus, fingering, jerking off, voyeurism, unprotected sex, overstimulation, love confessions, creampie, explicit sex, teasing, dirty talk, body marking, & more.

↣ genre: fluff, angst, smut, slice of life au

↣ wc: 4.1k

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“lee heeseung,” you called, poking your head out of your window to look down at the sweaty boy who just so happened to live next door to you. he’d been bouncing a basketball in his driveway all night and it was driving you nuts!

to your incredulity, heeseung cocked his head to look up at you, smiling from ear to ear as he saw you. “y/n.” he sighed, holding his basketball to his chest. “have you been standing there the whole time?”

“no! unlike you, i’m trying to get some sleep. it’s 2 in the morning and you’ve been bouncing that ball since 7.” you whined, leaning against the window seal as you rubbed your sleepy eyes.

“oh? so you’re keeping track of how long i’ve been out here..?” he smugly remarked, dropping the ball into his yard as he wiped sweat from his forehead. “do i interest you that much, y/n?”

“heeseung.” you glared at him, “please let me sleep.”

he smiled, “you should come out here with me. i can show you how to shoot a 3 pointer.”

shaking your head, you closed your window. you huffed as you laid back in your bed, tiredly sighing as you heard him pick his ball up and bounce it against the pavement again. another day, another night spent trying to drown out heeseung.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

your next few days were spent dorm shopping with your mother; you’d been accepted into northwestern university to study journalism on a full scholarship. you truly were excited to start a new chapter of your life and explore yourself and the environment around you.

you’d be even happier if you didn’t have a little baby whining in your ear every day about the fact that you were moving across the country. of course, living next to heeseung meant you two were very close, almost too close. it got to the point of him being immensely comfortable with complaining about how it was “odd” if you to look forward to moving away from everyone you’ve ever known.

while yes, moving from a small town in virginia to a larger city in illinois would take some time getting used to, but that didn’t mean it would justify you being fearful. what was there to be afraid of? people move all the time, it wasn’t as though you’d be the first person to leave family for college. heeseung was just being dramatic, per usual.

“you really should just stay here, i don’t see why you can’t just go to school online.” heeseung shrugged, holding his knees to his chest as he sat on your bed, watching you take down the polaroids of you and friends from your walk to pack away for your dorm.

you smiled, shaking your head at him. “heeseung, you’re acting like i’m not going to come back on breaks. it’s not my fault you chose to stay here for college.”

“you’re right, i DID choose to stay here. wanna know why?” he asked.

you propped your hand on your hip and raised your eyebrow at him. “i know you want to tell me, so just go ahead and say it.”

“because…” he trailed off, anxiously biting his lip as he began again. “because everything i’ll ever need is here, virginia is my home; our home. why would you leave all this behind when everything you need is right here?”

you shrugged, “i don’t see what’s here in virginia that i can’t find in illinois. my parents plan to travel while i’m gone so there’s not much keeping me here.”

heeseung pouted. “ouch.”

“aw.” you laughed, “you know im going to miss you when i leave. how could i forget you and that stupid basketball you keep me awake with…”

heeseung smiled a bit, but you could tell there was some sadness behind it. “maybe we could play together?”

“hmmm…” you hummed. “we could, but i’d rather do something else. why don’t we do like a sleepover and binge on a bunch of movies? pull an all nighter or something.”

“a sleepover?” heeseung asked, sitting up and licking his lips. “as in…like me sleeping over here or…you sleeping at my house?”

“either. it doesn’t matter to me.” you smiled, grabbing some tape to close the box of pictures and placed it to the side. “but, you and i both know how strict my mom is about you being over. she would make you sleep on the couch downstairs.”

he slowly nodded, “true…”

“so we should probably just go to your place, yeah?” you asked him, glancing back at him. “i’m assuming you want me in the same bed as you, so we’re better off just doing it over at yours.”

he scoffed, “what?! who says i want you to sleep in my bed?”

“me.” you smiled, tossing the box off to the side. “like helloooo, look at me. who wouldn’t want me to sleep in their bed?”

heeseung married his eyes at you. “you are so…”

“i’m kidding~” you laughed, taking a seat at your desk. “i’d only get in your bed anyway.”

“wait really?” heeseung asked you, his ears perking up. “why only mine?”

“because you’re my bestie. now, go clean your room. i’ll be over in a few hours.” you told him, spinning around to organize the papers on your desk.

he laughed a bit before kicking the back of your seat as he made his way out.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

a few hours after heeseung had left, you’d found yourself drying your hair after taking a quick shower. you slipped on some shorts and a tee whilst grabbing your bag full of sleepover essentials.

making your way over to his house, you caught sight of his bedroom light being on and reflecting a shadow; a figure all too similar to his own. squinting your eyes up at him, you began to make sense of what you were seeing.

he stood near the window, head lowered while his arm appeared to repeatedly move in a swift motion….was he jerking off?

your heart skipped a beat when his head fell back and you looked down at the ground, contemplating whether or not you could simply walk in and face him after watching his shadow through his bedroom window.

biting your lip, you slowly turned to walk back to your house, his front door opened.

“y/n!!” his mothers voice rang in your ears from behind. you quickly turned back, being met by his mother waving for you to come. “i saw you standing out here! come on in, heeseung told me you were sleeping over…?”

you nodded, walking over to her. “um yeah! that’s um…that’s the plan.”

she closed the door behind you as you stepped in and slipped your shoes off. “well, that’s cute. i’m happy to see you two spend more and more time together, especially with you leaving in a few days.” she sighed, clasping her hands together. “i’ve always adored your friendship.”

“ahhh..” you smiled, nodding your head. “yeah, just a few more days.”

she frowned, “we’re all going to miss you very much!”

“i’ll come back and visit!” you exclaimed. she smiled, patting your shoulder as she signaled for the stairs.

“heeseung is up in his room. i’m not quite sure what he’s doing but he’s expecting you so just feel free to knock. i’ve got food in the kitchen and his father is down in the basement. if you guys need anything, just let me know. okay?”

“yes ma’am, and thank you!” you nodded at her, hurrying up the stairs.

as you stood in front of his closed bedroom door, you inhaled a deep breath, nervous to step in.

after standing there for a while, you brought your hand up to the door and knocked. “hey, heeseung. it’s me.”

you waited a while, hearing him reply, “kay, one sec…”

you rested your back against the wall opposite of his door, placing your hand over your chest as your heart rate began to increase. you wondered if you truly saw what you thought you saw outside or if you were just reading the situation wrong. you wondered if he was done shooting his hot load onto the nearest surface. you wondered if his cock was still twitching in his hand as he helped himself ride out his high by teasing his tip or even continuing to stroke his shaft.

“hey,” he said as he greeted you. his hair was damp and his shirt hung low off his collar bone, exposing some of his chest.

“took you long enough.” you scoffed, brushing past him as you attempted to play it cool, not wanting him to suspect anything.

he closed the door behind you and you sat on his bed, tossing your bag on the ground as you laid back and took your phone out.

“i didn’t prepare anything.” he said, “i’ve been laying in bed since i left your house.”

you looked at him as he sat beside you, awkwardly bringing his knees to his chest. “are you sure about that?”

“sure about what? laying in bed…?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

you nodded, “surely you haven’t been in bed for the past 5 hours.”

“i mean, for the most part.” he shrugged. “what does it matter?”

“it doesn’t…i was just being nosey.” you said, looking away from him and sighing. “it’s hot in here.”

“it’s like 70 degrees…” he trailed off.

you sat up quickly, facing him. “we should play a game, you down?”

“yeah.” he said, “go for it.”

you smiled, “truth or dare?”

he rolled his eyes and leaned back against his wall. “truth.”

“is it true that you’re going to be a big cry baby and have a tantrum on my last day here?” you teased, pushing him.

“bold of you to assume i’m even going to your send off.” he scoffed.

your smile fell, “wait, you aren’t coming?”

“if i go, i’ll miss you too much while you’re gone.” he pouted.

you smiled again, “awwww…stop flirting with me.”

he shrugged, “truth or dare?”

“dare, of course.” you said. “give me the best you’ve got.”

his eyes glanced to the side, then back at you. “mmm, i dare you to tell me one of your biggest fears.”

you flared your nose. “that’s the lamest dare. that’s all you could come up with? make it fun!”

“i don’t know…um…do a handstand or something.” he shrugged once again.

you titled your head to the side, shifting your hips on his bed. “are you okay?”

“uh..why?” he asked you. it was obvious that something was off with him, anybody who knew heeseung could tell that his body language was different than his normal; he was being awkward and he wasn’t talking as much as he usually did. the fact that he wasn’t even making an effort to flirt with you in the grossest ways possible was throwing you off.

not to say you LIKED being flirted with but…come on, you kind of missed it.

“you’re being so weird.” you told him, glancing down at his shirt again.

he sighed. “i’m a bit tired, that’s all.”

you were quiet for a bit. was he tired from cumming a few minutes before? could his orgasm have been so intense that it made him groggy? reserved?

“truth or dare?” you asked him, your eyes fixated on your own. you wanted to know why he picked right before you came over to touch himself. why he’d do it right in front of his window, and most of all, why he was trying to pretend like he wasn’t just making a mess in his room before you came?

“truth.” he said.

“what are you tired from?” you asked him, intensely gazing into his eyes.

he smiled a little, “basketball practice this morning. just the usual.”

“that’s all?” you asked him once again, feeling a bit antsy from the smile that was plastered on his face.

“is there something else you’re thinking i did?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

your tongue slid over your lower lip, feeling a wave of heat fall over your head. “i…”

his eyebrow raised. “you..?”

“i saw you.” you admitted, feeling your once assertive demeanor fade into a timid one.

he bit his lip, attempting to hold back his smile from growing wider. as his eyes trailed down, he leaned his head back against the wall. “saw me doing what?” you looked away from him, reaching back to grab your phone but his hand grabbed your arm. “no, say it. don’t start something if you can’t finish it…”

“dude, i didn’t see anything. i don’t know what i’m talking about.” you told him, pulling your arm away from him and crossing your legs, hoping that he didn’t the arousal that was seeping through your gray shorts.

he stood up, walking over to his window and opening the curtains. “saw me standing here earlier, right?”

you ignored him, staring down at your phone and scrolled through your instagram. before you realized it, heeseung was standing in front of you. he slid his index finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “saw me hand fucking myself, yeah?”

you slowly nodded, entranced at his intense eye contact.

“ah ah ah,” he tsked in a disapproving manner. “use your words, you’re a big girl.”

“yes..” you whispered, feeling small underneath his gaze.

“there you go,” he cooed. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“no. i just…why did you do that…right in front of your window? right before i came over?” you asked him.

“why do you think?” he asked, sighing. “isn’t it obvious?”

“no?” you replied, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he dropped his hand to his side. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you since you moved next door to me.” he admitted, breaking eye contact to look down at your phone that still rested in your hand. “i couldn’t go a whole night stuck in my room with you with a straight face. it would’ve been harder than you think.”

“you like me?” you asked him, shocked.

“you’re so oblivious, i swear..” he scoffed, walking away from you and closed his curtains. “anyway, it’s not like it matters now anyway. you’re leaving in a few days.”

you scooted forwards a bit, “w-why would you just now tell me? i had no idea, heeseung. you couldn’t have told me like…freaking years ago?!”

“i told you because i wouldn’t have to face you when you rejected me. duh.” he weakly laughed, turning away from you and shuffling through some of his clothing.

you held onto the sheets underneath you, feeling completely at a loss at his words.

“i wouldn’t reject you, heeseung.” you told him.

“yeah you would, no need to lie about it.” he shrugged. “i’ve already coke to terms with it, it’s over with.”

tears began to pool in your eyes. you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that your best friend, neighbor, childhood crush was admitting his feelings to you 72 hours before you moved across the country. “heeseung, i…”

“you don’t have to let me down lightly, y/n. it’s cool, don’t worry.” he sighed, sitting down back beside you as he rubbed his arms. “are you hungry? there’s some f-“

you cut him off with a kiss, holding his face against your own. he was stiff at first, shocked. but soon, he kissed you back and pulled you onto his lap. his hands roamed over your curves, from your waist down to your ass.

but then, he pulled away and held your wrists. “y/n, why…why are you doing this?

tears fell from your eyes as you looked ahead at him, feeling your heart sadden at him; heeseung was so perfect. he had the cutest pair of large brown eyes along with a beautiful smile and a soothing voice. how could you have been so blind before? he was all you could ask for in a guy. he never made you feel uncomfortable, he was sweet, and he went above and beyond when doing things for you. how could you leave him in 3 days?

“because i like you too, heeseung.” you told him. “please don’t push me away. please.”

he looked at you, his eyes reflecting the same sadness you’d felt. he pressed his lips back to your own, holding your chest against his as he gently mended his lips with yours.

he let go of your wrists, using his hand to lay you flat on your back and lay atop of you. your hands caressed his cheeks, melting into the feeling of him. as the kiss deepened, you felt his hands moving up from your waist to your breasts, massaging your erect areola through your shirt. you moaned into his mouth, feeling a wave of arousal wash over you. heeseung pulled away, looking into your eyes.

“do you want this?” he asked, his eyes searching for any doubt or hesitation in your expression.

you nodded, “so bad.”

with that, he leaned back down to kiss you again, this time with more passion and intensity. you felt his hands moving down to your shorts, slipping them off along with your panties. he broke the kiss to look at you, taking in your naked form beneath him.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered, before leaning down to kiss your neck. “so beautiful, so pretty.”

you whined his name, feeling his lips and tongue working their way down your body. heeseung spent a long time exploring every inch of your skin, eliciting moans and gasps from you with every touch.

he left wet kisses down your stomach down to your thighs, laying between your legs and propping them onto his shoulders. “y/n,” he whispered, “has anyone ever…done this to you before?”

you shook your head, “no, heeseung. no one has.”

he licked his lips, sucking on your dripping outer labia, sticking his tongue inside to flick his wet muscle against your achining clit.

“oh!” you squealed, arching your back at the surge of pleasure that rolled through your pelvis. “heeseung, oh my..”

he continued to pleasure you with his mouth, soon slipping in a finger to add to your pleasure. you gripped onto the sheets underneath you as you felt his rough fingertips rubbing against your convulsing walls, feeling a knot build up in your stomach.

“oh shit, heeseung….” you cried, throwing your head back as he held onto your thighs, forcing you down harder against his mouth. “i think i’m gonna…i think i’m gonna..”

he lifted his head up, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he kissed your thighs. “cum for me, baby.”

you squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm ripped through your body, making your hips sputter. essense dripped out of your tender pussy as you moaned, closing your thighs over his hand.

he kept rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit, “heeseung, stop. please, please, i can’t. it hurts…please…”

he crawled back up to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair. “we can stop now, if you want.”

you held his face, caressing his cheek. “no, i..i want to go all the way.”

“have you had sex before?” he asked.

you shook your head, “i’ve only…done other stuff. never went all the way.”

he kissed you once before sitting up. “before we do this, i just want you to know that i’ve liked you for…a very, very long time. even on the days where we wouldn’t talk, all i thought about was you. i couldn’t bring myself to date anyone else throughout highschool when i would go home and see you through your window, looking as pretty as ever. my heart has always belonged to you, and i hope that even when you go off work college, you always remember that i’ll always hold tight onto the thought of you, keeping you close to my heart. forever and always.”

you felt tears welling up in your eyes at his words, knowing how much courage it must have taken for him to say them. you took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“i will always remember, heeseung,” you said, your voice filled with emotion. “and i will always hold onto the memories we’ve made together.”

he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips conveying all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. you felt his hands moving down to pull his pants down and he tightly held your hand within his, signaling that he was going to begin.

you felt the his cock poke against your pussy, making you gasp when you felt how hot and wet his tip was.

“squeeze my hand if it hurts and i’ll stop right away. sound good, pretty girl?” he asked, looking into your eyes.

“okay, i’m ready…” you told him, glancing down at his length prodding against your entrance. slowly but surely, you felt him slowly begin to push himself into your tight hole, stirring when you subconsciously clenched at the stretch. “y/n,” he huffed half laughed, “don’t squeeze like that. you’re gonna make me cum.”

you smiled a bit, “sorry..”

he kissed you again, glancing down and applying pressure to your tummy. “just relax, let me do the work.”

you complied, biting your lip as he bottomed out inside of you, not moving. you felt stuffed, one wrong move and he would impale your cervix. but something about the whole ordeal was turning you on so much, you could cum again without him even moving.

“feel okay?” he asked.

you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him down to kiss you. you rolled your hips against his own, itching for some type of stimulation.

he thrusted his hips into your own, starting at a slow pace as he reached down to being your leg over his back.

you moaned with pleasure, feeling a sense of euphoria wash over you as he brought you closer to another orgasm. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as you met his thrusts with your own.

heeseung picked up the pace, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. you moaned into his mouth, your fingers scratching at his back as you held on for dear life.

heeseung pulled back, breaking the kiss to look down. "shit, your pussy is squeezing me," he moaned. “i’m gonna cum…”

you could feel his cock twitching inside you, signaling his impending release. the mere thought of him coming inside you sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

you cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm. heeseung finally slowed down, his movements becoming more gentle as he rode out his own release.

with a final thrust, you felt his hot load shoot deep inside of your walls, panting the pink walls a tinge of white.

heeseung propped himself up, pulling his sensitive cock out of you and taking a deep breath.

he slipped his boxers back on and you claimed your breathing as you heard him walk away, coming back with a damp towel. you felt him wipe down your most sensitive areas and finish off with your face.

he tossed the towel to the side and helped you slip your panties back on along with your top. without a second thought, you held onto him, cuddling into the warmth of his exposed chest.

heeseung cuddled you back, laying beside you as he pulled his covers over the both of you.

“you did so well, y/n.” he whispered, planting a soft kiss against your nose. “was it okay?”

“more than okay…” you told him, closing your eyes and yawning. “thank you..for everything. for confessing to me and for making me cum twice in one night.”

he awkwardly laughed, shifting against you. “yeah…sure. are you sleepy?”

you order, “super sleepy.”

“sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”

and with that, you fell asleep. you weren’t sure what the future held for you and heeseungs relationship. all you knew was that you loved him for him. he was your friend, your first time, and now your first love. only time would tell for your relationship.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

authors note: here’s another lil fic! got bored and wanted to do a cute lil heeseung story, hope u liked it! 😊

#enhypen smut #enhypen ff #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

[wileys-russo]

i thought of a PERFECT lessi fic. so r is a teacher and one of her students have a cute crush on her. lessi notices the little gifts she’s getting and gets jealous

school yard crush II a.russo

"-alright that's the bell and i will see you all tomorrow. make sure to be sensible and smart when walking home or by the road please year three!" you called out after your students as they filed out one by one, chattering happily that the day was finally over.

"miss?" you looked down to see one of your boys was requesting your attention, hiding something behind his back. "yes ben?" you gave it to him as he shuffled from foot to foot. "this is for you bye!" he handed you a folded piece of paper and raced off out of the room causing you to laugh.

watching to make sure all of them made it out safely you returned to your desk, having some homework to mark before you could head home hopefully before five.

taking a seat you opened the letter, a smile growing on your face as the boy had scrawled a poem using the letters of your name to compliment you. "so cute." you chuckled, taking a photo of it and tucking it away in your desk.

"lessi? you home?" you called out a few hours later as you let yourself in, not having seen her car in the driveway. dumping your bag on the counter you noticed a heart shaped note stuck to the fridge indicating your fiancé had headed to the market to grab a few things.

unsure when she'd left or when she'd return you headed off to shower, ready to wash off the day and get comfortable to continue the marking you'd not yet finished.

stepping out of the bathroom and into your bedroom you could hear music and smell the inevitable scent of the blondes cooking signaling she was home. changing into her arsenal travel top and a pair of shorts you made your way toward the source of the alluring scent.

"hello you." she saw you before you reached her, stirring something in a pan as she sent you a beaming smile. "hi baby." you kissed her gently in greeting before clinging to her tightly, feeling an immediate sense of calm settle over you as the two of you shared an embrace.

"you smell lovely." the striker mumbled as she rubbed your back and kissed your cheek, the two of you stepping away from one another. "it's this new body wash, it's caramel scented." you yawned, rounding the bench and settling yourself on a stool.

"when did you get that?" alessia asked curiously, moving to chop some carrots as she kept a watchful eye over what was already on the stove. "one of the kids at school gave it to me, i tried to give it back but he started to cry and i felt too guilty." you admitted with a sheepish smile.

"mm teachers pet? every class needs one." alessia laughed, sweeping the carrot off the board and into the pan. "no i think he has a crush, it's quite sweet really." you chuckled, alessia's smile disappearing at that. "should you be encouraging that?" she questioned with a small frown.

"i'm not encouraging it!" you chuckled as your fiancé simply hummed. "alessia russo are you jealous of an eight year old?" you teased with a grin, the blonde sending you a glare over her shoulder. "no." she grumbled with a frown.

"my love i mention that my name's gonna change once i get married like every five minutes. i'm not leaving you for him less." you laughed at the question.

"i'd also be marrying you in prison if you did." alessia retorted as you clicked your tongue in agreement. "look its harmless babe. i'm sure his parents got the body wash anyway, you know very well they have no issues trying to bribe me to pay their kids a little extra attention. and you have no issues eating the chocolates that follow!" you smiled standing up and moving to hug her from behind, poking her very ticklish sides as she squealed and grabbed your hands in hers.

"he did write me a little poem today though. you know you could take some tips from this kid i don't see any love letters from you!" you teased, placing a few gentle kisses to her neck. "i leave you notes in your lunch all the time!" alessia protested with a huff.

"yeah that say things like 'property of future mrs russo' or 'reminder that you have the best fiance in the world'." you laughed with a roll of your eyes. "they make you smile do they not?" alessia raised an eyebrow as you had to agree.

"then you're welcome."

"mm so romantic." you smiled, the blonde pecking your lips before you removed yourself, grabbing your phone and waving her over to read the poem from today.

"i guess that's a little bit sweet." alessia admitted with a sigh, stealing another kiss and returning back to the stove.

"what's cookin good lookin?" you questioned as you slid your laptop out of your bag, placing it down in front of you and moving your bag to the floor.

"beef ragu." you could have moaned at the answer, instead sighing happily as alessia chuckled at your obvious excitement.

"if food is the way to the heart you could have asked me to marry you the first night you cooked for me and i'd have said yes." you grinned, flashing your wedding ring at her as she sent you a wink.

~

"come on come on come on, i want butts in chairs within thirty seconds or we'll do extra math all afternoon instead!" you warned playfully as your class took their time dawdling in from their morning break. though at that threat they sprinted in and hurried to sit down making you laugh.

"it's quiet reading time to calm down a bit, everyone go and grab a book please!" you encouraged, gesturing toward the bookshelf on the back wall.

"why did you get us to sit down if we had to get up again to get a book miss?" one of the girls called out with a groan. "because i can! now off you go." you waved, taking a seat at your desk. focused on the paper in front of you you jumped slightly as you glanced up and found a pair of eyes much closer than you thought.

"these are for you miss." ben thrust out a handful of flowers and weeds, messily tied together with a hair tie as dirt showered down on your desk making you wince. "did you pick these out of the garden buddy?" you asked to which he nodded with an eager grin.

"okay. i think we need to have a little chat." you smiled, standing to your feet and gesturing for him to follow you outside. "3C my listening ears are on, so keep reading and no silly business or its times tables for all!" you warned seriously before stepping out of the classroom and partially closing the door.

"how come you brought me those flowers ben?" you started gently as the two of you sat down on the bench outside your classroom. "because my dad gets my mum flowers." he answered matter of factly as you bit back a smile.

"okay. so you got them for me because..." you encouraged for him to finish your sentence. "you're really pretty, like my mum." he again answered confidently. "now ben that is very sweet, but you know you and me aren't like your mum and dad." you started softly.

"i'm your teacher, so we have a special relationship but not like the one your mum and dad have. i am always here if you're feeling sad or upset or confused or angry or if you just need to chat, and i'll always do my best to help you. but i already have a fiancé, and i love her like your dad loves your mum." you continued, the boys face falling slightly but nodding along.

"and she gave me this ring which means that we promise to only love each other like your dad loves your mum. one day when you're ready and a lot older, you'll find someone like that too! but you have to stop getting me things okay? its very thoughtful but i want you to only think of me like a teacher or a friend, okay?" you finished as ben nodded.

"now you and olivia are pretty good friends right?" you diverted as he confirmed. "so why don't you go and give her the flowers? because you can give best friends things like that too to make them smile! just not teachers." you clarified as the boy let out a small oh and nodded quickly.

"alright. thank you for listening! back inside you go." the smile returning to his face as he raced inside you let out a sigh, taking a moment to collect yourself and return, clapping a pattern and grinning as all your students clapped back.

~

"only me!" you perked up as your fiancés voice rang through your shared home, a thump as she tripped over on the way in making you grin as she hurried to the kitchen.

"welcome home clumsy." you greeted her as the blonde returned and wasted no time flopping her taller form down on top of you. "how was dinner?" you asked, running your hands through her hair, alessia having gone out with a few of her team mates after training.

"it was lovely. missed you though!" she pouted as you kissed it away, having declined her invitation in favor of lesson planning. "brought you some leftovers. have you eaten?" she pushed herself up to hover over you as you shook your head with a guilty smile.

"baby it's nearly nine thirty! no more work, i'm banning it." your fiancé scowled, closing your laptop expertly with her foot and hauling you up to your feet. "those are for you too." she kissed your cheek and nodded to a bunch of flowers on the counter as she moved to heat you up some food.

"oh lessi, they're gorgeous. thank you!" you smiled softly in appreciation as she placed a bowl into the microwave. "are these just because i told you about ben today?" you teased, having called the striker during your lunch break to fill her in on your conversation.

"no! they're just because i love you." alessia defended, moving to press her body into yours and bury her face in your neck as you hummed with a chuckle, the taller girls lips beginning to mark a trail down the column of your throat as she pushed you a little harder into the counter.

"maybe it had a tiny bit to do with it...but just a tiny bit!"

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo #woso #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Ten

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 21.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Happy autumn, everyone! I hope you enjoy this latest update. There's a little spookiness ('tis the season!) fluff, and maybe a tiny bit of angst. As per usual, I love to hear from my lovely readers, and I hope you enjoy this update!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N froze, letting the ghostly voice wash over long enough for the strike of terror to rock through her, before gritting her teeth and straightening up. Spinning on her heel, she wanted to get a good look at the thing that refused to leave her alone, but as her eyes scanned the secluded corner of the yard, she saw nothing but a small sparrow swooping from branch to branch. 

“If I dare to what?” Y/N ground out, fed up. There was no answer to her retort, and she knew it wasn’t a very good idea to antagonize a spirit, but she couldn’t help herself. 

Huffing, she knelt back down and promptly buried the spell jar, packing the earth on top of it tightly. She was not going to be intimidated by a spirit that wouldn’t even show its face, threatening her in her own backyard. Part of her wondered if she should call for Namjoon; just in case the spirit kept trying to interfere with the ritual. She gripped the bundle of rosemary harshly at the thought of the spirit moving on from threatening her to the wolf hybrid or Jeongguk at the front of the property. 

Spurred on by the thought, Y/N continued to the other corner of the backyard, surprisingly staying calm and centered as she carried out her part of the ritual. Repeating the prayer continuously, she kept her mind on her hybrids, and how important it was to her to protect and keep them safe. Finally reaching the second corner she was responsible for, surrounded by wild shrubs and what appeared to be a fox’s den, Y/N swiftly buried her final spell jar without interruption from the spirit she was attempting to kick out of her life. 

The air felt electrified, but not in the menacing way Y/N was expecting. To her distant delight, she could sense the wards going up successfully, and the familiar sensation of being surrounded by magic embraced her like a hug from a long-lost friend. Namjoon and Jeongguk must have been holding their own, as well, because there were two faint energies mingling with her own in the borders of the wards. As Namjoon predicted, the three of them ended up being stronger together.

Y/N trailed along the final side of the area she was protecting, before cutting through the center of the yard to the rock where she’d set up the pillar candle. Predictably, Namjoon and Jeongguk were already lingering there. Namjoon had pulled off his cardigan; the sleeves of it tied around his hips, and a thin sheen of sweat covering the golden skin of his arms on display as he crossed them over his chest. Gnawing on her lip, Y/N approached more closely, raising an eyebrow at Jeongguk’s smug expression as he pulled up his baggy black cargo pants. 

“How’d it go?” Y/N began, stubbing out the rosemary bundle on the flat rock beside the candle, brushing ash off of her palms onto the material of her leggings. 

“Fine. The thing was pissed though, I heard it cursing in my ear the entire time,” Jeongguk replied offhand, surprising Y/N by pulling out his new journal and scribbling some notes into it while he spoke. 

“You could hear it?” Namjoon raised his eyebrows, hands coming up to rub his bare shoulders like they were sore. 

“Yeah, I could hear it. I could hear it when this one first brought me to this house,” Jeongguk jutted his pen in Y/N’s direction when he said this one, sucking his lip ring into his mouth as he resumed writing. “I think this’ll do it for now. It might be worth doing the banishment at the end of the month, though, for extra insurance– since it’s so pissed at the three of us.” 

“I heard it once, too,” Y/N sighed, thinking that Jeongguk was likely right– a banishment would ensure that the spirit would be removed from the property for good. “Before I buried my first jar, it threatened me.”

“What?” Namjoon seethed, reaching out to grab one of Y/N’s wrists. “Why didn’t you call for me? It threatened you?”

Surprised by the wolf hybrid’s reaction, his ears turned backwards against his skull and his teeth slightly bared, Y/N’s mouth dropped open, staring at the way Namjoon’s large hand encircled her wrist, his fingers overlapping on themselves bruisingly.

“Ouch, Joon,” Y/N chuckled, placing her free hand over his and patting the back of it for mercy from his tightened grip. He loosened up, his eyes flashing apologetically. “I thought about calling you, but I worried that it might start harassing you, too. I think we all handled it pretty well though, can’t you tell? The wards went up more quickly than I expected them to.” 

Clearing his throat, Jeongguk stuck his pen behind his ear, casting a brief glance at Namjoon’s hand clasped around her wrist before nodding, a piece of his chestnut hair falling into his eyes. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t so sure about the ritual when we started it. I thought that maybe it would be too simple, but it appeared to do the trick. Still, we should plan on the banishment later on. It won’t hurt,” Jeongguk crouched down, licking his thumb and forefinger before snuffing out the flame of the pillar candle. 

Though Y/N hadn’t instructed him to do that, he did it properly; without blowing it out and therefore “blowing away the spirits” that helped them with the ward construction. Feeling Namjoon release her wrist slowly, Y/N watched his steely guard go back up again, the picture of calculated and collected. 

“Thanks, you two, for helping me out. You did a really amazing job, I don’t think the wards would be as strong without your help,” Y/N began to pack away leftover ritual items back into her basket, taking a lungful of air and rejoicing in the lightness of its quality. 

Her back was turned to the two hybrids, but she was met with no reply from either of them. Further back in the yard, Y/N could hear Hoseok loudly complaining about the increasing humidity. Grinning to herself, she began to contemplate what to do for the rest of the day– perhaps hang out with Taehyung for a bit, or maybe offer her help with the chicken coop restoration. 

“I’m gonna head in now,” Y/N slung the basket of ritual items into the crook of her elbow, leveling a smile at Namjoon and Jeongguk, who were watching her carefully. “We can talk about the banishment in the future. The new moon is still a little ways away.”

Feeling a little sticky from the humidity and her romp around the yard, Y/N decided to take a nice, cool shower when she got back into the house, and maybe see what Yoongi was up to. Namjoon followed her inside, but Jeongguk remained outside, continuing to write in his journal on the picnic table with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

“I still wish you would have called for me after what happened,” Namjoon suddenly announced, stopping Y/N in the kitchen with his arms crossed. He looked ticked, his lips pursed and cheeks sucked in, and Y/N felt her mouth dry up at the sight of him. 

“Honestly, Namjoon, I was too aggravated that the thing was threatening me to call out for you,” Y/N scratched the back of her head, wishing that Yoongi was still in the kitchen to break up the tension. 

The wolf hybrid gave her an achingly slow once-over, scanning her face all the way down to her toes, Y/N’s cheeks heating up with the attention. She felt like she had to apologize to him, or beg for forgiveness, with the authority dripping off of him. Swallowing thickly, Y/N gave him a pat on his strong forearm, his eyes finding hers after studying her hand on his arm. 

“Next time, I’ll call for you. I promise,” Y/N said seriously, not wanting Namjoon to be upset with her. Still appearing a touch disappointed, Namjoon’s shoulders relaxed a degree, and Y/N didn’t know whether or not he believed her. 

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” the wolf hybrid pointed out, helping himself to a glass of iced tea from the fridge and turning his back on her. 

Y/N tried her best not to gawk at his bare shoulders. Namjoon was pretty built; and though Hoseok was the one with a keen interest in exercise, Y/N wondered if the wolf hybrid had also made use of the gym in the basement. Clearing her throat, she tore her eyes from Namjoon’s broad back, feeling like a bit of a creep. 

“Yeah, hopefully,” Y/N echoed distractedly, heat still pooling in her cheeks as Namjoon looked over his shoulder to stare at her quizzically. “I’m going to take a shower, so I’ll see you in a bit? Remember, we’re going to the brewery tonight!”

Namjoon hummed, the deep timbre of his voice sending goosebumps over Y/N’s skin, and she made a beeline to her bedroom to escape the wolf hybrid’s attention. Pressing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, she cursed herself for telling Namjoon to wear black– that tank top was lethal. 

She searched through her closet for something to wear later that night, settling on a flowy pastel blue miniskirt and a lacy white cropped tank, placing it on her bed and tossing her denim jacket beside the outfit. Y/N knew if Alice came along to the brewery with them that night, she’d be dressed to the nines, and there was nothing she loved more than dressing up to go out with her friends. As the water in her shower heated up, she gave Alice a call, sorting through her scant collection of lipgloss for a selection that would go well with her outfit. 

“Hey babe, how’s it going over there?” Alice picked up on the second ring, her raspy voice filling Y/N with warmth. 

“It’s been great, I think they’re all really starting to adjust,” Y/N replied, peering out into the backyard for a glimpse of any of the hybrids. All she could see was Jeongguk, who was still at the picnic table and writing in his journal. “I’ve signed a few of them up for some clubs at the rec center in town, so that’ll be good now that I’m working at Judy’s.”

“Yeah? How’s my little fox hybrid? I miss him already,” Alice asked coyly, Y/N imagining her biting her lip and batting her lashes. 

“Hoseok’s well. He wanted to join the rec center’s track team, so that’s what he’ll be up to soon,” Y/N responded, that tiny itch of jealousy from the cookout returning. “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Depends,” Alice drew out the syllables to the words, a teasing tone coloring her speech. “You know I’m always free for you, peanut.”

“Aww, Al,” Y/N giggled. “Miss Alice Santos, Boston’s prettiest and most successful poet, clearing her schedule for little old me?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Alice groaned, the sound of her pouring dry cat food into Heathcliff’s bowl coming through the receiver. “Get to the point, what do you want to do? Want me to come over, we can make those boys watch Pride and Prejudice and drink White Claws?”

“Honestly, that sounds like a pretty solid Saturday night,” Y/N admitted, shedding her clothes and tossing them in the hamper as she balanced her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. “But no. You know that brewery we’ve been meaning to check out? Salem’s? Want to meet there tonight and grab some dinner and a beer flight?”

“Yeah, you had me at ‘brewery’, babe,” Alice answered, bringing a smile to Y/N’s face. “I’m assuming you’re bringing the boys? Want to meet at seven?” 

“That works! Yeah, they’ll be tagging along. We don’t have much food in the house, Yoongi and I have to hit the grocery store tomorrow.”

“Oh, the sexy one with the long hair? The grill master at the cookout?” Alice teased, making Y/N squeak and flush. Hopefully Yoongi was napping in his room and couldn’t hear the first half of Alice’s statement. 

“Al! Keep it together,” Y/N managed amidst a cocktail of mortification and amusement. “See you tonight, okay?”

“You bet. Gotta pick out something cute to wear, if I’m going to see you and my little fox hybrid,” Alice sang, Y/N rolling her eyes at herself in her bathroom mirror. That was, before she realized she had done the exact same thing with her own outfit. 

Hanging up, Y/N hurried into the shower, rinsing the rosemary smoke off of her skin and wondering how the hell she’d find a taxi to transport eight people to and from the house. A problem for later, she supposed. 

“So Tae, are you excited about the photography club on Wednesday? I heard they just re-did the darkroom,” Y/N was in the middle of rolling chocolate chip cookie dough in sesame seeds, plopping them on a baking sheet. She had time to kill until they met Alice and a pound of butter sitting in the fridge, so why the hell not. 

Taehyung was sitting on a barstool across from where she worked on the island, and to her delight, was discussing some of the records he was listening to that morning with her freely. It was the most conversation she had with the Kodiak hybrid in days, and she was able to keep all of her attention on him considering the rest of the hybrids were either still outside or in their own rooms. 

“Yeah, I am. I don’t know, I wanted to try something new– I’ve never taken photos before with a real camera,” Taehyung answered truthfully, his voice a low drawl as he rested his chin on his forearms, hunched over the island. 

“Oh, your camera should be here by Monday! You can take a few test shots before the club on Wednesday,” Y/N sprinkled a little sea salt on top of the cookies before placing the trays in the oven, dusting stray sesame seeds on the counter into the sink. “Photography is really cool. An underrated art form. I think you’ll enjoy yourself, Tae.”

Taehyung gave her a closed mouth smile, his dark curls wild and a bit matted down from where he was wearing headphones earlier. She was relieved that Taehyung seemed to be opening himself back up to her since The Incident, hoping that perhaps he could make a friend or two once he joined the photography club. 

“I think there might be a box with a vintage camera or two under the basement stairs. My grandfather used to be pretty fond of taking a million pictures of the entire family,” Y/N theorized while wiping down the counters, praying she didn’t get flour or butter on her skirt or top. “You could definitely use those for a project in the future! Experiment with different lenses and whatnot.”

“Really? Do you think they’d let me use an old camera if I wanted?” Taehyung perked up, his small ears fluttering with excitement at the thought. A light blush covered his cheeks, and Y/N couldn’t recall a time where Taehyung seemed so enthused. 

“Yeah, why not? The club is for learning, fun, and expressing yourself creatively… I’m sure they’d let you try out different cameras and methods for developing photos.”

Taehyung squirmed in his seat, pushing up the sleeves of his multi-colored sweater and grinning at Y/N, with his teeth this time. It was a struggle for Y/N to not fall over seeing his toothy smile for the first time in so many days, and it was even more difficult to not race around the island and pull him in for a hug. 

“What smells so good?” Came Yoongi’s gravelly voice as he strolled into the kitchen from the foyer. 

“I’m making those chocolate chip cookies from Pinterest I showed you a couple days ago,” Y/N began washing the mixing bowl she had used, cautious of getting any water on her outfit. She heard Yoongi purring, and kept one eye on Taehyung, who remained on his barstool and was watching Yoongi peer into the oven.

“The brown butter sesame ones?” Yoongi’s voice was now closer to her, Y/N glancing over her shoulder to locate him. 

He looked really nice– in an emerald colored sweater that picked up the green in his eyes, and a pair of black jeans. The leopard hybrid had the audacity to smirk at her, definitely able to tell that she was giving him a once-over. 

“Mm-hm,” Y/N hummed, determined to not let Yoongi tease her. “I have time to kill before we go out later, and Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin wouldn’t let me help with repairing the coop.”

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi leaned his hip against the counter, the weight of his gaze heavy as Y/N clocked him giving her a similar once-over. To be fair, she did look pretty great, but the scrutiny made butterflies bat around in her stomach. “Why’s that?”

“They’re cutting chicken wire and taking down old splintering wood, and they didn’t want me to ‘get a splinter or get a cut’,” Y/N informed the leopard hybrid, using her fingers to make air quotes. 

She thought the three hybrids outside were babying her, even with her clumsy track record, she had restored half of the old Victorian house by herself. That had to count for something– she hadn’t even injured herself once, even when she had to use a sledgehammer to knock down old cabinets in the kitchen last spring.

Shaking her head, Y/N heard Yoongi chuckling; the sound gritty and slightly rumbled. Alongside that, Taehyung was humming along to the pop song playing from her portable speaker sitting on the coffee bar, apparently not minding that Yoongi had joined them. A slight step forward, in Y/N’s book. 

“Hey, Y/N…” Yoongi recovered from his amusement, surprisingly sliding onto a barstool next to Taehyung. She had to grind her teeth together to prevent her jaw from falling open. “I noticed when we were putting extra food into the garage freezer that there’s an old basketball hoop and stand in there. Can I drag it out to the driveway for practice?”

“Absolutely! You might need some help because it’s really heavy with the sand still in the stand’s base, maybe ask Jeongguk? He’s been outside all afternoon, and he’s in a good mood today,” Y/N finished wiping down the counters, the timer on her phone going off simultaneously telling her to pull the cookies from the oven. 

Yoongi grimaced at the mention of the elk hybrid’s name, interlacing his elegant fingers together and leaning forward on the granite island, shooting Y/N a somewhat incredulous look. She raised her eyebrows back at him, as if to challenge him to vocalize whatever smartass retort he most definitely had swirling around in his head, before turning away and taking the cookie sheets out of the oven, the chocolate chunks still molten and bubbling. 

“Nah, I think I can handle it myself,” Yoongi settled on, ears perking up as footsteps padded into the kitchen from the foyer, heavy tread and slight clumsiness– Y/N pretty much knew exactly who it was without even having to look up. 

“If you say so, angel,” Y/N replied, glancing upwards and eyeing Namjoon, who entered the kitchen freshly showered and dressed in his normal earth tones, mercifully. “Hey, Joon!”

Namjoon grunted, staring at the trays of cookies Y/N had just set on the stovetop, his tail wagging behind him so quickly Y/N could feel it occasionally bat the backs of her legs. Y/N watched in horror as the wolf hybrid reached for a scalding-hot cookie, and out of reflex, she lightly swatted the back of his hand away, squeaking. 

“I just took these out, you’ll burn yourself! Go sit next to Yoongi and let them cool for a few minutes,” Y/N scolded, pointing across the kitchen and registering Namjoon’s shocked expression. 

There was a brief moment of an intense stare-down between them, Namjoon’s teeth slightly bared, before he heeded her directions and trudged over to the empty barstool beside the leopard hybrid. Expelling the breath she was holding, Y/N began transferring the cookies onto a wire rack, muttering to herself. 

“What time are we leaving tonight?” Taehyung asked, Y/N surprised that he had remained in the room with Namjoon’s arrival. 

“Uh, I think around 6:45? The brewery isn’t too far from here, and Alice is meeting us there at 7,” Y/N licked a little melted chocolate off of her thumb as she spoke, humming at the sweetness. “I think we’re going to have to take two cabs. We can’t all pile into one…”

She grabbed a few plates from the cupboard, gnawing on her lip. The idea of splitting up into two groups to get to the brewery didn’t thrill her, and by the silence that filled the kitchen at her words, it didn’t seem to thrill the hybrids either. 

Y/N had an idea of who would be okay with getting in a cab without her, and who would definitely not be. Honestly, she was just hoping the outing would go well, and they wouldn’t have to deal with judgmental people– much like the asshole from Best Buy. Mulling over fantasies of punching the Best Buy man’s teeth in, Y/N placed a couple of the still-warm cookies each on the plates she set out, before absently placing the plates in front of the three hybrids seated at the island. 

“What are you thinking about? You smell pissed,” Yoongi sat back in his seat, ignoring the cookie she put in front of him. 

Taehyung bit his lip, nodding along with Yoongi’s accusation, Y/N forgetting that they could catch the scent of her subtle shifts in mood. Namjoon simply stared at her, chewing on his cookie with a bit of chocolate smudged over his bottom lip. 

“Oh, nothing. Just recalling some jerks I’ve dealt with in the past week out in public, and praying that I won’t encounter any more tonight,” Y/N answered as truthfully as she could, knowing that if she told a bold-faced lie, they’d all be able to tell. Her response was as vague as it was honest, and Yoongi seemed to relax a bit, so she considered it a win. 

“I told you, just ignore them. Not worth your time or consideration,” Yoongi tucked hair behind his ear, taking a delicate bite of his cookie. “These are really good…”

“I’ll make some more after we do our weekly grocery run. I ran out of chocolate chunks,” Y/N smiled, watching Taehyung tear off pieces of the dessert to toss into his mouth. “I gotta go out back and let everyone else know when we’re leaving later, okay? Try to save some of those for the others, Joon,” Y/N chuckled out her last statement, clocking the wolf hybrid stacking another cookie onto his plate by the stove. 

Tail between his legs, the tips of Namjoon’s ears were reddened, a rumbling sound coming from the back of his throat. Taehyung actually snickered, which had Y/N doing a double-take at his shaking shoulders, her and Yoongi exchanging looks of confusion. Apparently ignoring the Kodiak hybrid’s amusement, Namjoon sat back down on his barstool beside Yoongi, diving into his second cookie silently. Y/N was quite proud of both Taehyung and Namjoon; the former was opening back up and spending more time around the other hybrids, and the latter was managing to keep his cool and ignore happenings that would typically provoke him. Once again trusting that Yoongi could keep the peace, Y/N exited the kitchen through the slider into the backyard to seek out her other four hybrids. 

“That’s a lot of hybrids,” one of the cabbies, a short, middle-aged man, remarked, his eyebrows raised as he watched Jimin and Hoseok file out of the front door. “Now I get why youse called for two of us.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, choosing to bite her tongue as she realized the tone of judgment was missing from the cabbie’s voice. The other cabbie was on his phone, and from the sounds of it, was in the middle of a fight with his wife. 

“I can only fit three of youse,” the cabbie not currently yelling into his cell phone jabbed his thumb towards his Toyota Prius, Y/N grimacing at his thick Boston accent. 

Y/N turned on her heel to face the hybrids, all of which had finally made their ways out into the front yard. Namjoon was busy locking up the front door with the key he must have grabbed off the hook on his way out. 

“Alright, who’s okay riding without me?” Y/N decided to just cut to the chase, keeping in mind the time. They were already running a bit late; Jeongguk and Hoseok took more time than she’d planned on to get ready. Granted, they both looked fantastic, but she didn’t want to keep Alice waiting too long. 

Crickets. 

“Um…” Y/N started to grow uncomfortable with seven pairs of eyes on her at once, each with varying amounts of skepticism painted across their faces. “On the way back, we’ll rotate? I’ll ride with whoever I didn’t on the way there?”

“I think I can manage fifteen minutes without you,” Jeongguk drawled sarcastically, immediately strolling past her and getting into the passenger’s seat of the Prius. He had to duck quite a bit to prevent knocking his antlers against the door frame, which made her snort. 

“Come on, Jiminie. Let’s ride together, I want to fuck with the elk a little bit after that comment,” Hoseok grabbed Jimin by the arm, pulling him into the backseat while the poor coyote hybrid barked out complaints. 

“Okay, that’s sorted out. Let’s get going,” Y/N blew hair out of her face, once again grateful that Hoseok was so clever and definitely caught onto the fact that she was getting antsy to leave. 

Seokjin and Taehyung took the third row of seats in the minivan, while Yoongi and Namjoon made up the second– the wolf hybrid directly behind Y/N, where she was occupying the passenger’s seat. Y/N cringed at the cabbie’s loud cursing into his phone, feeling badly for the hybrids and their sensitive ears being subjected to all the noise pollution. 

“Ey! Hey– Jan. Will you stop piercing my ears for five fucking seconds?” The cabbie hollered, lowering his phone to his shoulder as he glanced at Y/N. “Salem’s? Is that where you’re all going?” 

“Yes, sir,” Y/N crossed her legs, praying for his wife on the other line. He was certainly a treat. 

After fifteen excruciating minutes of listening to the cabbie argue about his sports betting “hobby” with his wife, Y/N anxiously making sure the Prius with her other three hybrids in it was in front of them the entire time, all eight of them arrived at Salem’s Brewery without too much difficulty. Y/N noticed Seokjin massaging one of his silky black ears as he exited the minivan, a pout on his lips– all that yelling must have irritated the jaguar hybrid, who Y/N could hardly remember a time would speak at an even slightly raised volume. 

“See? I made it here alive,” Jeongguk greeted Y/N by the door to the brewery, which looked like an old tavern in a medieval town. The elk hybrid smirked around his cigarette, tucking his white tee shirt into his baggy black jeans. The waning, orange sunlight glittered off of the necklace her mother had given him. 

“Smartass,” Y/N teased, counting heads to make sure everyone was accounted for. To their luck, Alice didn’t appear to be there yet herself, as she had told Y/N to meet her at the front of the building so they could go in together. “Take it easy with those, Jeongguk. Cigarette smoke taints your palate.”

“We’re at a brewery, Y/N, not a Michelin restaurant,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, but heeding her warning by ashing out the cigarette in the outdoor tray. 

“Stop being such a dick,” Yoongi interrupted, his nose wrinkled up in disgust as Jeongguk blew his last drag of smoke directly into the leopard hybrid’s face. Unfortunately, Y/N was also on the receiving end of the blast, too. “Disgusting. Get yourself some menthols next time, or one of those vapes teenagers use.”

“A vape? What am I, a clown?” Jeongguk crossed his arms over his chest, Y/N’s eyes dropping to his tattooed forearms. Two tattoos on the backs of them appeared to be half of an image, like if he put his forearms together, they’d make a complete symbol. 

“You said it,” Yoongi retorted, his ears perking up when a car alarm began going off in the parking lot. 

“Stop bickering, I don’t want Alice to join in when she gets here. Her comebacks can be brutal,” Y/N scanned the parking lot for Alice’s beat-up Mini Cooper, spotting it barreling in from the street, her best friend pulling into a spot towards the front with screeching tires. 

“Damn, thought she was gonna drive into the side of the building,” Hoseok exclaimed from his spot on a bench several feet from where her, Jeongguk, and Yoongi were standing. 

The fox hybrid’s tail was swishing back and forth rapidly, a wide smile on his face when Alice emerged from her car, slinging her purse over her trim shoulder and spotting him with an enthusiastic wave. Y/N felt her eye twitch, and desperately pushed aside her jealousy before any of the hybrids could smell it on her, heavens forbid they could actually identify that particular emotion. 

Y/N broke apart from her hybrids to meet Alice halfway, pulling her in for a tight hug. As expected, she looked gorgeous– a cranberry colored slip dress, matching lip gloss, and an oversized leather jacket made her look like she stepped out of a magazine. Her perfume, the one she had worn since high school, filled Y/N’s senses and brought her immediate comfort.

“Look at you! I haven’t seen you in a skirt since grad school,” Alice breathed, hands on Y/N’s biceps as she stepped back to check out her outfit. “You look amazing!”

“So do you, as always,” Y/N blushed, adjusting the askew collar of Alice’s jacket. “I wore a sundress to the cookout, remember?”

“Vaguely. I was hammered towards the end of that night,” Alice smirked, tucking hair behind Y/N’s ear before craning her neck over Y/N’s shoulder to glance at the hybrids hanging back by the brewery’s entrance. “Boys! Shall we?”

Alice marched straight to Hoseok, who had gotten up from the bench to open the brewery’s door for her, a grin stretched across her face. Y/N followed behind, watching the two of them closely. 

“Hey you,” Alice addressed Hoseok as she strolled into the building, the fox hybrid joining her as soon as Y/N cleared the threshold of the door, Hoseok not bothering to hold the door for the other hybrids. “How’ve you been?”

Y/N was temporarily distracted from the interaction between her best friend and her fox hybrid, taking in the interior of the brewery. Much like the outside of the building, the decor and vibe was very much medieval tavern; the thick scent of greasy french fries and hoppy beer filled the air, the space was dimly lit up by wall sconces and iron chandeliers, and full of lively people enjoying their beer flights on a Saturday evening. It was a decidedly witchy establishment, with a slight nautical twist– it made her think about Moby Dick, and oddly enough, Hocus Pocus. Sort of an odd combination as far as themes, but somehow, it worked for the town it was in. 

“Table for…” the hostess, a teenage girl with green hair, disinterestedly surveying the group of people and hybrids in front of her, drawled. “Nine? I think we have one long table left in the back. Follow me.”

Y/N tried not to notice all of the eyes and rubbernecking going on as they followed the young girl towards the back windows of the brewery, overlooking the distant sea and sleepy town, but even she had to admit it was a sight to behold: seven male hybrids with two human women. Not something one saw every day, even in the age they lived in. The hybrids didn’t seem to mind, most of them were pretty preoccupied pointing out the occasional other hybrid in the room– there was a golden retriever hybrid at the bar with her family, and a calico cat hybrid sitting in a booth with his. 

Taking their seats was another ordeal. Taehyung sat on the end of the table, beside her, and Seokjin took up her other side, but she could tell Yoongi was a bit perturbed that the jaguar hybrid had beaten him to her remaining free side. Alice took up the chair across from Y/N so they could chat more easily, with Hoseok on her left and Jimin on her right. The remaining three hybrids who got to the table last found their spots begrudgingly, and menus were handed out promptly before the hostess slouched away. 

“We’re all getting flights, right? God, I might have to leave my car here overnight and Uber back,” Alice scanned the menu with her lower lip sucked into her mouth, eyes widening at the extensive beer list. “I want to try all of these. ‘Mermaid’s Lager’ and ‘Half-Moon Ale’... Y/N, these names have you written all over it!”

“Mmm… you’re right,” Y/N chuckled, though she was much more preoccupied with checking out the appetizer section of the menu.

“Alice, you should pick out eight if you want to try a wider selection. You can share my flight, I don’t know too much about beer, anyways. That way I don’t have to choose blindly,” Hoseok encouraged, leaning back in his seat and sending a lovely, pointed-tooth smile to Alice. 

“Ugh, you’re perfect, seriously?” Alice’s eyebrows shot into her hairline, nudging Hoseok with her shoulder. “Okay, okay, I have to make my choices…”

Y/N hid her grin behind her menu. While she was a little jealous of Hoseok’s attention on Alice, it was sweet to see Hoseok being so kind to her best friend. Next to her, Seokjin was practically bouncing in his seat, flipping the menu over frantically, his eyes rapidly roaming over each menu item with rapt interest. 

“Y/N, what’s a quahog? What are you getting to eat? Should we share the soft pretzels and beer cheese?” Seokjin rapid-fired in her ear, his fiery eyes round with excitement. From across the table, Alice paused, focusing on Seokjin as he continued asking questions. 

“A quahog is a type of clam. I’m not sure what I’m getting yet as my entree, but I’ll share the pretzels with you! Get anything you like, honey, I heard the food is really good,” Y/N replied, reaching up to ruffle the wavy hair on the back of his head. 

“I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you at the cookout! You’re Seokjin, right? I’ll get the quahog appetizer if you want to try it,” Alice smiled at Seokjin, who blushed at her offer. “Wow. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you’re really handsome.”

Hoseok began hooting with laughter, while Seokjin was spluttering, his face beet red. Y/N could feel his tail winding around the small of her back with the attention he was receiving from everyone, but Y/N had no business in scolding Alice for embarrassing him. She was, after all, completely correct. 

“Aw, Jinnie! Don’t be shy,” Hoseok cooed through laughter, Seokjin hiding behind his menu and curling his tail more tightly around Y/N’s waist. “It’s true!”

“Good evening, folks, I’m Joshua and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” the waiter arrived at the head of the table, beside where Namjoon was seated. Swiftly, Alice and Y/N exchanged a meaningful split-second glance at each other– Joshua was hot. “Can I start you off with drinks? Are we doing flights tonight? They’re half off on Saturdays.”

Alice, of course, was quick to order both her and Hoseok’s flights, and Joshua made a slow circle around the table to jot down everyone’s drink order. By the time Joshua got to Y/N, she was fidgeting in her seat, struggling to maintain eye contact with the handsome waiter as she rattled off her flight choices. He had really pretty blue eyes, and looked quite a bit like a young Lindsey Buckingham. 

“Alright, I’ll get those in for you,” Joshua finished taking Taehyung’s order, which was just a pint of lager rather than a flight, and gave them all a pleasant, sparkly smile. “Also, I really recommend the soft pretzels. They’re my favorite and go well with some of the Sour IPAs.”

“Yeah, we are definitely getting those pretzels now,” Alice said dreamily as Joshua headed off towards the bar, Y/N reflexively kicking her in the shin under the table. Unfortunately for Y/N, her aim was off, and she ended up kicking Jimin– who hissed in surprise, eyes widening with alarm. 

“Sorry, sweetheart! I was trying to cross my legs,” Y/N yelped, furious with herself. Jimin relaxed at once, waving his hand at her as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’. 

“So! Y/N’s told me that some of you guys are signing up for stuff at the rec center. What are you signing up for?” Alice hung her jacket on the back of her chair, the straps of her dress slightly falling down her shoulders with the movement. 

“I’m trying out for the track team,” Hoseok leaned forward on his forearms, head tilted as he replied. 

“Oh, you like to run? My sister Laura used to be on the track team in high school,” Alice recalled, though slight displeasure washed over her face. She wasn’t particularly a fan of exercise. 

“Yeah, I like running, it clears my head,” Hoseok’s ears perked up when someone dropped their fork a table over, Seokjin flinching slightly beside Y/N and into her shoulder. 

“Yoongi’s trying out for the basketball team, and Tae’s going to join the photography club,” Y/N added, snagging both Alice and Yoongi’s attention, the leopard hybrid smirking at the sound of his name being called. “My mom still runs the book club at the library, so Seokjin and Namjoon have been going to those meetings.”

“What’s this week’s book?” Alice asked a still-flustered Seokjin, who couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“The Stranger, Albert Camus,” Namjoon responded for Seokjin, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down. 

“Hmm. Haven’t read that one. Philosophical novels aren’t usually my jam,” Alice tapped on her lower lip thoughtfully. “Photography and basketball… sounds really fun! What about you, Jimin? Jeongguk too, are you signing up for something?” 

“No, Miss, I’m repairing the stable in the backyard for the time being. Perhaps I’ll join a club in the spring, though,” Jimin answered politely, Alice blinking rapidly when he addressed her as ‘Miss”. 

“I’m all set with that shit, personally,” Jeongguk piped up from his end of the table, sounding bored. Alice opened her mouth to say something in response, but was interrupted by Joshua and three other waiters dropping by to hand out the drinks. 

The beer came in rounded, smaller glasses than Y/N was used to, but she supposed it was for the best– four whole pints of beer would have her seeing double. Joshua took their food orders, which was a lengthy ordeal, and Y/N felt her cheeks heat up when Joshua gave her a sweet smile when she relayed her order. 

“Y/N, how’s that shandy one? I almost ordered it, but I knew that you would,” Alice nodded at the glass Y/N was holding, which she immediately handed over to her best friend to try. “Oooh. Really nice. Here, try this Sour IPA…”

Y/N spent several lovely minutes trying at least seven different beers; Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok and Alice, of course, offered her sips of their selections. The hybrids chatted amongst themselves about their upcoming activities the next week, while Alice and Y/N got the opportunity to catch up. Alice informed her about her rough outline for her new poetry book, which had Y/N clinking her glass with her. Alice was glowing, and Y/N could tell how excited she was about working on a new project. 

While Hoseok began to ask Alice questions about her writing, Y/N took a look around the restaurant while sipping on her beer, her eyes landing on Joshua, who was leaning on the bar from across the room– and staring directly at her. Swallowing thickly, Y/N tore her eyes away from him, turning to talk to Taehyung, who was characteristically quiet. 

However, Taehyung wasn’t paying attention to her; he, too, was scanning the room, and his eyes were narrowed as he caught sight of Joshua. Taehyung must have realized Joshua was staring at her, and he bared his teeth slightly as he watched the waiter move behind the bar to make a cocktail. Without looking at her, Taehyung set down his beer and confidently slung his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, still glaring across the room. Squeaking at the contact, Y/N felt Taehyung rest his elbow on the back of her chair, his fingertips toying with the ends of her hair mindlessly. Gawking at the Kodiak hybrid, she wondered if he was doing all of that because of protective, territorial instinct, or if he was jealous. The thought had her heart pounding in her chest loudly. 

The scent of sandalwood filled her senses as Taehyung wrapped his arm around her, Y/N forgetting about everyone else around her. She hardly noticed Alice and Hoseok giggling at each other, waiters approaching to drop off the appetizers, and Seokjin placing a soft pretzel on the plate in front of her. The spell was broken when Taehyung withdrew his touch to grab a nacho from the plate in front of Hoseok, still glaring at Joshua’s retreating figure. Y/N didn’t even notice how the waiter was now actively avoiding the side of the table her and Taehyung were occupying, too busy reeling from the display of possession. 

“Okay, guys, what do you think about seeing a new movie in theaters in the near future? This cool horror film is coming out soon– Pearl, what do you say?” Alice proposed, passing the plate of stuffed quahogs to Seokjin with an encouraging smile. The jaguar hybrid was still too bashful to make eye contact with her. 

Digging into their appetizers, Y/N, the hybrids, and Alice made plans to see the movie on the night of its release, and Y/N was delightfully buzzed by the time she finished the chocolate lava cake she shared with Seokjin for dessert. When they bade Alice– who ended up taking an Uber, after all– a goodbye after the check was paid, Hoseok actually gave Y/N’s best friend a hug. True to her word, Y/N rotated seats in the taxi– she sat in between Hoseok and Jeongguk in the back seat of a Honda Civic, Jimin taking up the front passenger seat. Tipsy and full of way too much food that she had split with Seokjin, Y/N sleepily rested her cheek on Hoseok’s shoulder, falling in and out of comfortable slumber for the fifteen minute ride back home. 

The next week and following weekend were a whirlwind of events. She had dropped off Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung at the rec center on Wednesday for their clubs, and again on Friday, while her mother offered to begin ferrying Namjoon and Seokjin to and from the library on Mondays for the book club, saving Y/N from having to leave at the crack of dawn before work to get them there. During the weekend, she helped Jimin out with the restoration work; they had finished the freshly-painted purple chicken coop, and moved onto putting a new fence around the exercise pen. At work, which was slower than ever, she spent most of her time between reading hybrid guide books and writing notes about the Tarot reading Judy gave her. 

The day of Namjoon’s birthday, which fell on a Monday, had her running around like crazy. She had asked for the day off, in order to coordinate how her dad would get Namjoon’s trailer to his house. The wolf hybrid was at the library with Seokjin for that week’s book club meeting, so Y/N had her dad drop off the trailer while he was gone. 

“Whoa, that thing is ancient,” Yoongi remarked, his arms crossed over his chest and spotted tail curling languidly behind him as he stared at the trailer– which turned out to be more of a camper van than anything. “Needs a hose-down.”

“Ah, I don’t want to do that just in case he wants to keep it this way,” Y/N dragged a fingertip along the yellow siding of the vehicle, the digit coming away dusty with dried mud. “You know how he is. Particular.”

“How much did you have to pay to get this thing here?” Yoongi watched as Y/N tied a little green bow onto the keyring to the van, an amused expression on his face. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N gave Yoongi a little head pat, his ears fluttering as she did so. 

Namjoon made it back home around 4 PM, him and Seokjin clutching copies of The Scarlet Letter, and thankfully her mom heeded her request to drop them off at the front of the house so Namjoon wouldn’t see his trailer parked in the back by the garage. When Y/N asked what the wolf hybrid wanted for dinner the previous day, he vaguely told her “noodles”, so she and Yoongi made japchae, some side dishes, and meat, of course. She had absolutely raided the bakery in town, getting an assortment of cookies, cupcakes, and pastries, which she had to hide in the garage fridge overnight so Namjoon wouldn’t get his hands on them prior to his party. When she greeted the two hybrids her mother dropped off by the front door, Y/N noticed Namjoon was also holding a gift bag with daisies on it. 

“Whatcha got there?” Y/N asked the wolf hybrid curiously, while Seokjin was giving her a goofy side hug. The jaguar hybrid often clung to her when he’d return home from the book club; he said the week prior that he missed her a lot when he was away. 

“Oh, um. Your mom got me something for my birthday,” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck, following Y/N as she waddled to the kitchen with Seokjin hanging off of her. 

“Did you open it?” 

“No, not yet,” Namjoon admitted, sniffing the air, which was filled with a grilled meat smell. He entered the kitchen behind her and Seokjin cautiously, like he thought a ghoul was going to pop out from behind the refrigerator. “I didn’t want to open it while the group was there.”

“Fair enough. I’m curious though, why don’t you see what it is now?” Y/N managed to get Seokjin off of her once she squeezed her arms around his slim waist in a hug, the jaguar hybrid purring and taking a seat on one of the barstools. 

Namjoon stiffened as Y/N got close to him where he was standing by the coffee bar, peering around his shoulder at the gift bag. It was interesting– while Seokjin seemed to never get enough physical affection, Namjoon tended to avoid it most of the time. Every hybrid was different, so she supposed and had learned from the guidebooks she’d been reading. Last week, she found out from the wolf hybrid guide book; they take a long time to warm up to adoptive guardians and are slow to initiate physical contact. Since she had learned this, Y/N didn’t take his aloofness personally. 

Namjoon dove his elegant fingers into the sunshine yellow tissue paper, his ears turned backwards as if something in the bag would nip his hand. Pursing his lips, he used both hands to pull a box out of the gift bag, Y/N recognizing what it was immediately. Her mother had splurged on a gorgeous chess set for Namjoon, and once again Namjoon’s human ears had turned a shade of pink as he passed a palm over the glossy box. 

“Do you know how to play chess, Joon?” Y/N inquired, scooching a bit closer to him to admire the front of the box. The board itself looked like the squares were made of mother-of-pearl and ebony wood, and the chess pieces were intricately carved. “My grandfather taught me a long time ago, but I’m probably pretty rusty…”

“I never actually played, but I’ve read books about the game and strategies,” Namjoon replied softly, turning the box over in his hands and peeling the plastic film off of it. “I mentioned to your mother once that I’ve wanted to learn for a while.”

Damn. Y/N - 0, her mother - 1. Her mother had known Namjoon for longer than her, but the fact that she knew little intimate details about the wolf hybrid that she herself was unaware of stung a little bit. 

“Well, I’d be happy to play with you anytime. Because it’s been so long since I’ve played, it’ll be good for you to learn while being my opponent. I won’t kick your ass right away,” Y/N joked, hearing voices from outside draw nearer to the cracked slider into the backyard. 

“Hey, Y/N, what’s that th–” Hoseok came inside with Jimin and Yoongi, the latter of which smacked his hand aggressively over the fox hybrid’s mouth, cutting him off right before he spoiled the surprise. Thank the gods for Yoongi. 

“Foxy, go bathe. You fell in that pit of mud earlier, you’re going to get shit everywhere,” Yoongi shoved Hoseok towards the foyer, his palm still clamped over the fox hybrid’s mouth. Hoseok’s usually shiny mahogany waves were indeed, caked with mud, and the back of his tee shirt was soaked through as well. 

“Oh shit, I have to order the gravel to fill that mud pit in before it starts to get really cold. It’ll freeze and I’m nervous one of us will break a limb,” Y/N muttered, watching Yoongi pull a broom out of the closet in the foyer to sweep up the dirt Hoseok had tracked into the house. 

“I’ll add it to our list,” Jimin volunteered, pulling out his phone and tapping away. Jimin had been especially focused on restoration work over the past week. 

While she was at work and the other hybrids were at their clubs, the coyote hybrid spent most of his time outdoors. The only one home with him when everyone else was away was Jeongguk, who didn’t necessarily offer his help, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind. Y/N was shocked by how much Jimin had already accomplished; he had finished the exercise pen over the weekend with Y/N and was ready to work on the actual stable itself, which really only needed some roof patching. Y/N had made an Excel spreadsheet she shared with Jimin so he could keep tasks organized and jot down any items they’d need to buy. 

“Jimin, the restorations look amazing so far! I think at this rate we’ll have horses around here by November. I’ve asked around my grandparent’s pool of friends, and there are at least four of them interested in boarding their horses here over the winter,” Y/N approached Jimin, who was much tanner than he was when she first adopted him from all his time spent in the sun. Even his honey blonde hair had lightened a few shades, as well as the fur on his ears and tail. 

With her words, Jimin’s tail swished back and forth rapidly, excitement clear as day on his face. He had a small smear of mud on his nose, which Y/N reached up to remove with her shirt sleeve gently. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink as she grinned at him and pushed back the strand of hair falling into his face to join the rest of his combed-back style, Y/N resisting the urge to cup his face in her hands and smooch him all over. There weren’t many things she had seen before that was more precious than Jimin’s pure, radiant joy– it positively lit him up and made her giddy like a fool. 

“I should wash up before dinner,” Jimin’s voice was faint, like his thoughts were distant and too large for him to sort out, giving Y/N’s shoulder a weak pat before shuffling towards the foyer. “I’ll be back soon! Oh, and happy birthday Namjoon.”

Namjoon, who was still reading the back of the box his chess board came in, grunted in surprise, giving Jimin a short nod as the coyote hybrid left the kitchen in a daze. Y/N tried not to feel too satisfied that she seemed to have flustered Jimin a little bit, but it was quite the ego boost to make such a pretty man blush. 

Seokjin had migrated from the island to the breakfast nook, where he curled up with his knees to his chest, reading The Scarlet Letter. Y/N noticed Seokjin was taking notes, too, with the legal pad she kept in the kitchen junk drawer and one of her stolen pens from the animal hospital. The jaguar hybrid was totally engrossed, biting down on his plush lower lip as he read, his sock-clad feet tapping out a rhythm on the booth seat he was perched on, and his tail curled around his waist. She turned her attention back to Namjoon, who still appeared to be reeling from Jimin addressing him. Returning to his side, Y/N let his honey-and-musk scent wash over her pleasantly, his chest rumbling as she approached. 

“I got a few things for you too, can I give them to you now?” Y/N asked, knowing that Namjoon was more of a private person.

 In comparison to Jeongguk, who had more of a confident, devil-may-care attitude, she couldn’t really picture Namjoon being super comfortable getting showered in gifts while the other hybrids gawked at him. Now, with just Seokjin in the room, someone Namjoon had gotten more comfortable with thanks to the book club, she figured it would be the best time to give him his gifts. 

“Okay,” Namjoon answered after a moment, gingerly placing his chess set down on the coffee bar. 

Y/N told him to take a seat at the island while she whisked away to the dining room where she stashed the wrapped gifts, returning quickly with a smile on her face when she saw Namjoon followed her directions. Curiosity, along with a fair bit of skepticism, was painted all over his handsome face. It was a tall order to top her mother’s gift, but she thought the trailer might just give her a leg up. 

“Alright, Joon! This one first,” Y/N placed a wrapped parcel on the wolf hybrid’s lap, leaning her elbows on the granite countertops so she could watch him open the gift. 

Namjoon huffed out a little sigh as he began tearing the sage green wrapping paper, his eyebrows furrowing as he revealed the two items Y/N had wrapped together. She knew the sigh he released was to cover up the fact that he was slightly embarrassed, rather than annoyed, and it made her smirk into her palm. The gift was the set of Tarot cards that reminded Y/N of him, and the book she had picked up for him the day she took the hybrids for haircuts. Suddenly feeling nervous, Y/N stole a glance at Namjoon’s face, and was rewarded with an expression of surprise, his eyebrows lifted as he immediately pulled the cards out of its gilded box. 

“The colors reminded me of you, and you seemed to know all of the card meanings, so I thought you’d be interested in having your own set,” Y/N babbled, Namjoon ducking his head slightly so he could look at the artwork of a few cards off of the top of the deck. “As for the book, there’s a strong possibility you’ve already read it, but I’m crossing my fingers that you haven’t.”

Namjoon paused his loose overhand shuffling to peer at the book cover, wetting his lips and his ears fluttering as Y/N spoke. 

“I haven’t read this one. Looks like it came out recently… Maybe something in there will tell me what that entity is,” Namjoon leaned closer to Y/N, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep the moment between just the two of them. 

“Maybe it will,” Y/N mused quietly, feeling the air electrify as Namjoon drew closer into her personal space. “Here, this one next.”

Namjoon cocked his head, scanning her face with those calculating orange honey eyes, before tearing open the second wrapped box. A soft, muted noise of exclamation came from the back of his throat as he lifted the lid off of the box, before he actually began chuckling. 

“Oh, you remembered when I suggested a Walkman! Where did you even find this?” Namjoon lifted the device from the box, accidentally dropping the old wired headphones back into the tissue paper with a sheepish grunt. 

“Believe it or not, a pawn shop,” Y/N replied proudly, psyched that Namjoon liked his gifts so far. She could hardly wait to drag him outside. “Now you can listen to those folk tapes whenever you want, or order blank tapes online and record your own voice. Like an audio diary?”

Namjoon snorted, his dimples appearing in his cheeks, and used one of his free hands to drape over the back of Y/N’s. Shocked by the contact, and the fact that he had been slowly doling out more of it these days, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. 

“I have one m-more surprise for you, but it's outside,” Y/N stumbled over her words due to a slew of things; his hand over her’s, the way he was looking at her intensely, and the excitement of reuniting him with some of his belongings in the camper van. “Come with me!”

Y/N wrapped her hand fully around Namjoon’s, tugging him off of the barstool and excitedly blowing past Seokjin, still wrapped up in his book, and towing a spluttering Namjoon out to the backyard through the slider. 

“What else could you possibly get me? H-hold on, I’m going to trip,” Namjoon panted, stumbling a bit as Y/N pulled him to the gate leading to the garage and driveway. He squeezed her palm tightly, tugging her to a stop with one eyebrow raised– he didn’t release her hand, even when they stopped running.

Using her free hand, Y/N gave the wolf hybrid a mischievous look and reached into her  pocket for the keys to his van, which was obstructed by the garage and out of view, and brought their joined hands up to her face. Turning his palm over in her hand, she dropped the keys into it, the green ribbon fluttering in the wind. There was complete silence as Namjoon stared at the item that was placed in his hand, nothing but the breeze in the willow trees making a sound. 

“No fucking way,” Namjoon blurted loudly, startling a few mourning doves sitting on the gate to the garage and driveway into flying away with a series of coos. “Are you serious?”

Biting down on her lip, Y/N jerked her head sideways, Namjoon eagerly following her past the gate and towards the garage and driveway, the old camper van coming into view beside the basketball hoop Yoongi had set up. The siding of the vehicle was buttery yellow and white-turned-gray with mud and ancient looking moss, and there was something dangling from the rearview mirror– maybe an air freshener?

Namjoon tightly gripped the keys in his fist, pure astonishment on his face as he took it all in, his hand slightly shaking as he approached the side door to unlock it. Y/N didn’t check out the interior of the van herself; she figured far too many people had already invaded his space– between agents who apprehended Namjoon in the first place, the people at the impound lot, and her father who brought the van from the lot to their neighborhood. She wanted more than anything to check out what kinds of things Namjoon collected over the years, but since she had read more about wolf hybrids, she wanted to wait until he actually invited her into his space. 

The side door to the van creaked open with a rusty sound, a gust of parchment-scented air rushing out as Namjoon hurriedly hauled himself into the back of the vehicle, leaving Y/N standing in her driveway with a swish of his tail as he disappeared into the back of the camper. Shifting from foot to foot, she heard Namjoon mumbling to himself and banging into things from her spot outside the camper, when his head popped into view with fluttering ears, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“What are you doing? Come in,” Namjoon used two fingers to beckon Y/N up the steps, before disappearing into the back of the camper again. Giddy, she hopped up and into the van. 

It was a vintage camper, and surprisingly more roomy than it looked. It smelled like Namjoon, mingling with old books and the smell of pine trees, and it was pretty crammed with more books than she could count– stacked on the shelves, piled on the floors, strewn about the table by the seating area in the back, and by the looks of it, even shoved into the oven. There were tapes scattered about as well, and indeed, there was a poster of Bigfoot on the wall, next to the iconic “I want to believe” The X-files print that looked like it had seen better days. 

Above the driver’s cab, there was a loft with what appeared to be a bed where he’d sleep. There was a mini kitchenette that looked hardly used, an ancient looking TV nestled on the counter intended for cooking prep, and a little door by the seating area that Y/N presumed to be a bathroom. It had pretty much everything one person needed to live in there, and Y/N wondered where the hell he had even gotten it. It wasn’t like hybrids were technically permitted to drive (legally, that is), let alone waltz into a used car lot to purchase a camper van. It was another mystery that cloaked Namjoon. 

“I hope everything’s still here,” Y/N began, eyes roaming on some of the book titles that were lying around. Namjoon had everything from fiction novels, classics, esoteric non-fiction books, and even poetry anthologies. “Let me know if something is missing… I’ll call the impound lot.”

Namjoon was digging through a drawer that was built into the booth of the sitting area, his back to her. With no reply from the wolf hybrid, Y/N continued to take a look around, noticing that the lack of organization mirrored how he kept his bedroom within the house. Meanwhile, Namjoon found what he was looking for, straightening out and watching Y/N read some of the spines of the books he had lining a shelf beside the kitchenette. He could hardly believe she actually found the van, let alone had gotten it back to the house and surprised him with it. Namjoon was particularly good at sniffing out surprises before they happened, but nothing could have prepared him for this. 

“Wow, you have so many books about extraterrestrials. I didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff,” Y/N commented, enjoying her little peek into Namjoon’s interests. “Have you read all of these? You must have a hundred books–”

“Y/N,” Namjoon interrupted her, his tone serious, grave, even. Tearing her eyes from his book collection so she could nervously make eye contact with the wolf hybrid, she wondered if she said something out of turn, or was somehow too familiar. 

“Mmm? Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop,” Y/N admitted sheepishly, clasping her hands together in front of her body to indicate that she wasn’t going to touch any of his belongings. 

Namjoon took a large step towards her, a soft expression on his face that was usually reserved for her mother. Feeling her cheeks flush, she stayed put, dropping the intense eye contact between them and instead focusing her gaze on the cream wool sweater covering his chest, the v-neckline exposing a small sliver of golden skin. 

“This is for you,” Namjoon murmured, gently grasping her clasped hands and turning over one of her palms, placing a smooth, cool object into it. Shocked, Y/N gaped at the wolf hybrid, before examining what exactly he had gifted her. 

In her hand was a crystal, smooth and rounded, roughly the size of a ping-pong ball. She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath, turning the crystal over in her palm, the milky color of the stone flashing blue and purple in the light coming from the window over the kitchenette. Y/N could immediately identify the crystal as soon as she saw that flash– it was a gorgeous moonstone, one that had the most striking flash of brilliant color she had ever seen. And for once, Y/N was completely at a loss for words.

“I found it by a creek a few years ago, at Yellowstone. I remembered I had it, and thought that you’d like it… considering your collection on display on the bookshelves in my room,” Namjoon filled the silence as she felt all sorts of emotions begin to well up inside of her. 

Not only was the first thing Namjoon did when entering his van after such a long time was give her something of his, but the fact that he noticed her old crystal collection in his room, and most of all, the way he was looking at her. It was entirely overwhelming. 

“Oh Namjoon, are you sure? It’s so beautiful, I can’t believe you found this!” Y/N finally managed to breathe, heart racing in her chest. 

Namjoon hummed in confirmation, a content smile on his lips as he gazed around the van, his ears flickering with the sound of the breeze outside. To heighten her surprise even further, the air was knocked from her lungs as Namjoon tugged her forward, gingerly wrapping an arm around her waist so tightly his hand ended up resting on her hip. His other arm moved to drape around her shoulders, tucking his face into the crook of her neck resolutely. Choking on an intake of breath, Y/N hardly had time for her brain to catch up with her motor skills, pressed up so tightly against Namjoon’s muscled chest. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon whispered into her neck, squeezing her slightly as she, with trembling limbs, wound her arms around his waist. 

It was as if he was thanking her for many things, with the seriousness in which he uttered the two words. Completely stunned into silence, Y/N could only imperceptibly nod in response, pressing her cheek over Namjoon’s steadily beating heart. Warm all over, she let Namjoon hold her for what seemed like minutes, before he pulled away and Y/N was able to regain some mental facilities. That was the first time Namjoon had ever hugged her. 

Regarding her with newfound fondness, Namjoon turned with a swish of his tail, resuming sorting through his drawers and making sure all of his belongings were there. Y/N had yet to move an inch since the out-of-character hug. All she could think about was how safe she felt in his arms, protected, even. As if someone had pressed play on a paused action movie, Y/N was able to reanimate herself now that Namjoon’s penetrating gaze was no longer lingering on her. 

“I’m going to set out everything for dinner now, okay? I’ll send you a text when everything is heated up… I got a bunch of sweets for dessert, too,” Y/N announced after lightly clearing her throat, Namjoon’s ears fluttering with the sound of her voice. 

Sliding the beautiful moonstone he had given her into the pocket of her linen pants, Y/N felt her wooden limbs begin to robotically take her down the steps into the van. Before she could stray too far, Namjoon spoke up again. 

“Y/N, really,” the wolf hybrid paused his sorting through some well-worn sweaters from the drawer he was organizing. “Thank you.”

Pausing, Y/N shot him a wide smile, warmth blooming in her chest. 

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Joonie.”

Namjoon’s birthday was a wonderful success, and ended up endearing Y/N to the wolf hybrid by many strides. The rest of the hybrids treated his birthday like it was a normal dinner, except they got to indulge in champagne and all kinds of desserts after, as well. Taehyung had even begrudgingly wished him a happy birthday after a couple of flutes of champagne, and the wolf hybrid was too busy talking to Jeongguk about his paranormal book collection to growl at Taehyung. Tension between Namjoon and Taehyung seemed to be slowly dissolving over time, and after the former’s birthday had come to pass, mid-September began to fly by. 

One Thursday afternoon at the metaphysical shop, while Y/N was munching on a caesar salad wrap Yoongi had packed for her lunch, Y/N received a call while she was on her break. Fumbling for her phone, thinking it was an SOS call from one of the hybrids at home or the rec center, she didn’t even check the caller ID before picking up. 

“Y/N? Do you have a pulse?” Ben, who she had neglected to contact frequently over the past few weeks in the midst of mayhem, sarcastically drawled. 

“Still breathing,” Y/N confirmed, setting her wrap down so she could better focus on the call. “Sorry I’ve been missing… Two birthdays this month, clubs at the rec center have started, and the new job. How are things? Daisy, you and Roy?”

“I figured you were busy, no worries, Y/N,” Ben chuckled. “We’ve been super busy too. I took some time off so I could be at home with Daisy, Roy’s still working on his dissertation. We’ve stalled our wedding planning. It's been so crazy. Oh, and we signed Daisy up at an activity center, like a daycare? We get to stay, of course. She’s made so many friends already, another bunny hybrid!”

“Who would have thought we’d all be so domestic right now,” Y/N grinned into the receiver, doodling flowers in her notebook. She had just about wrapped up her analysis of her reading she got from Judy all those weeks ago. “Maybe tomorrow at some point I can swing by, bring some lunch for you guys? This weekend’s nuts. Hoseok has a track meet tomorrow night, Yoongi has a basketball game on Saturday morning, and I told Jimin I’d take him to the hardware store after. Sunday, too, Taehyung’s got his first expo, and I’m doing something with Namjoon and Jeongguk later that evening.”

“Christ. I thought I was busy. I forgot you got seven of them, and they’re adults,” Ben sounded astonished, Y/N giggling into her palm as she skimmed her notes. “Wait, you only mentioned six of them. What’s the remaining one up to? Not interested in clubs?”

“Oh, Seokjin? He’s in the book club my mom runs out of the library. He’ll probably tag along with me to all of the events. He’s quite against parting with me for too long,” Y/N felt a fondness flow through her as she mentally pictured Seokjin’s lovely face, and the way he shadowed her constantly. 

“Yeah, hybrids are clingy, Y/N. Bet you’ve learned that by now, though. Do they claw at each other to see who gets to sit next to you on the couch?” Ben joked, unaware that Y/N was flushing– because they pretty much did. “Speaking of Seokjin. I looked into that situation you texted me about regarding the Cirque Mystique fire. As well as the other two things. I’ve had some free time whenever Daisy is down for her naps.”

“Ben. I love you, do you know that?” Y/N’s week was made with this revelation, visualizing his blue eyes rolling back into his skull on the other line. “I have like fifteen minutes until I have to open the doors again!”

“Alright, I’ll give you the basics. I’ll send over everything I’ve compiled after we hang up, sounds good?” A ruffling sound of papers being sorted through came through the receiver; Ben had likely printed out all of the information Y/N had him dig around for. With Ben’s status as a powerful, successful business lawyer, he had not only numerous far-reaching connections, but a persuasive personality to seek out information she could never find out herself. 

“Yes, yes, go ahead,” Y/N urged, pulled out of her intense focus on the reading she had just finished taking notes on.

“So, let’s start with Cirque Mystique. They’ve had a few lawsuits over the years, I’ve worked with other lawyers that handled their cases. One of my buddies has a contact over at the circus, so I was able to ask directly about the hybrid your Seokjin was performing with the night of the fire,” while Ben spoke, Y/N held her breath. “Hannah, a cat hybrid. She’s still with the company, she’s fine… sustained minor injuries, but my friend is working to get her out of the company. She’s pressing charges for unsafe working conditions. If she wins the case, she’ll be able to enter the adoption system.”

“She’s okay? Thank goodness,” Y/N placed a hand over her forehead, overjoyed that she could tell Seokjin the good news later. “Wait, hybrids can press charges like that?” 

On the other line, Ben hummed in amusement. 

“Y/N, you really are clueless about the hybrid world, huh? Yeah, within the last five years or so, the law protects hybrids in certain ways. We’re not all there yet, unfortunately, but for serious matters… poor living conditions, abuse, etcetera, hybrids can press charges and request representation if they so desire. Typically, public defenders take the cases considering most hybrids cannot be legally employed, meaning they have no way to pay for a higher-profile lawyer. However, some of my colleagues have taken cases and waived fees for many cases regarding hybrids. Morally, we can’t stand how some of these hybrids have been treated,” Ben explained patiently. 

“So, hybrids can take cases to court now,” Y/N confirmed, Ben grunting in response. “Which answers one of the other things I asked about.”

“Yeah, so, I’m not quite sure if I can give you a perfect answer. I understand protecting whichever hybrid of yours that may have gotten himself into a situation, but it depends on how serious the issue was. You mentioned self defense in response to an abusive situation, correct?”

Y/N had asked Ben, as vaguely as she could, about how a hybrid would go about protecting themselves if placed in a dangerous situation, and used self-defense in response to danger. She hadn’t mentioned Taehyung’s name at all, not that she was worried Ben was some kind of rat, but because the Kodiak hybrid didn’t even know she was arming herself with information, just in case they’d need it in the future. She prayed that day would never come. 

“That’s right, self defense. For example, say I was walking around Boston Common, and someone tried to mug me and a couple of the hybrids. If they fought back physically in the name of self defense, would juries likely side with the hybrids?”

“Well, that depends on who makes up the jury, and how good your lawyer would be. Say that actually happened, right? Fortunately, Y/N, you have the means to hire a really good lawyer for your hybrids. A few sympathetic members on the jury could definitely sway the verdict in your favor. I’d say, keep whatever happened under wraps until either your hybrid presses charges or the other party does. But yes, I’ve seen cases involving hybrids defending themselves against abuse resolved in their favor,” Ben sounded like he was rubbing his close-cut beard, deep in thought. “I compiled some information about cases like this, I’ll include it when I send the email to you later.”

“Thank you Ben, this is really great stuff so far,” Y/N gushed, relieved to have certain anxieties quelled with his information. “Any news on the last query?”

The final thing she had asked Ben to look into regarded Jimin. Ben’s cousin lived in Wyoming, and was married to a park ranger, so she was able to find out a few things for Ben to report back to Y/N. She had a couple of tricks up her sleeve not only surrounding Jimin’s birthday in a few weeks, but for Christmas as well. 

“Ah, yes, Jimin’s surprise,” Ben said through a smile. “Here’s the thing. You need to send the Yellowstone ranch’s office a copy of his adoption certificate to prove he’s in your care, and what you want to retrieve for him in Montana…”

“Yeah? Rip the bandage off,” Y/N picked at her nails, expecting some hoops to jump through. 

“Y/N, it’ll be a pretty hefty sum. I mean, it’s not like they’d be shipping a crate of books to you. They’re willing to do it, for the right price of course, and provided you show them that Jimin is officially adopted by you,” Ben revealed with a note of skepticism. 

“All I care about is if it’s possible, which apparently it is,” Y/N waved her hand in the air, even though no one was there to watch her gesticulate. 

“I figured,” Ben snorted, knowing Y/N was the type of person to splurge endlessly on those she cared about. “As far as taking Jimin to visit his family, that’s allowed as well. Really, as long as you can show the Park that you’ve legally adopted him, and he’s not just a stray, there’s no rule that prohibits him from visiting his family on the ranch.”

Y/N wanted to take Jimin to see his parents, sister, and friends some time after the holidays, perhaps in January. She only wanted to entertain the idea if Jimin wouldn’t face any sort of punishment, considering he had run away from his home and employer. Since all that was needed was proof that he was living under her roof legally, she could not only gift him a trip to Montana for Christmas, but surprise him with something huge for his upcoming birthday. 

“Ben, thank you so much, I mean it. I knew you’d be able to dig all of this up,” Y/N excitedly stuffed the last bit of her delicious wrap into her mouth, catching a bit of homemade dressing on the corner of her mouth with her tongue. She’d never tire of Yoongi’s cooking. “You’re a superhero. I can’t wait to see you and hug you for twenty minutes.”

“Y/N, don’t flatter me. It was refreshing to look into all of this for you, since I’ve been cooped up at home for so many weeks. Don’t get me wrong, though– I’ve been loving my Paw Patrol marathons with my daughter dressed in our pajamas in the meantime,” the sound of Ben filing away his papers filled Y/N’s ears, his breathy laughter threaded in between his words. “As for what you mentioned earlier, I’d love it if you could swing by tomorrow for a visit. I miss you, and Daisy has been asking for ‘Foxy’. I think she heard your leopard hybrid calling him that.”

“Hmm, how’s early afternoon? Hoseok’s meet isn’t until 5PM, and I have the whole day off. I can likely rope everyone into coming, but we’ll see,” Y/N watched the clock on the wall, making sure she had some more time to finish her lunch. “Hey Ben, one more thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Do you know if anything has changed regarding hybrids getting a driver’s license?” 

“Jesus, Y/N. Do you read any of the articles I send you? Yes, driving schools have begun taking on hybrid students,” Ben scolded lightheartedly, Y/N noting that she’d probably end up signing a handful of the hybrids up to get an official license. 

Getting some form of official ID for those who didn’t want to drive would be wise, too– and when she thought about it a bit longer, Y/N would need to look into getting another car. Her to-do list was never ending, but it kept her busy and the tasks were all worth it, if it meant her boys could live lives as close to normal and comfortable as possible. 

“Ah, I can hear Daisy. She has a new habit of climbing out of her bed after her nap to look for me in my office. Time for Paw Patrol,” Ben had never sounded more affectionate, except for when he was talking about Roy and their wedding plans, perhaps. “Take it easy, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too, Ben. See you then, give Daisy a hug for me,” Y/N wrapped up the call, waiting for Ben to hang up first as he started to baby-talk at his daughter. 

Y/N, while finishing off the little bag of chips Yoongi had included into her lunch, unlocked the metaphysical shop’s front door and turned the sign back around to “open”. It was busier prior to lunch, and typically customers tapered off after her break, so she returned to her stool with a sigh and brought her attention back to her notes on the reading. After many weeks of consulting the guide book, asking Judy to see the physical deck, and slyly observing each hybrid’s behavior, she was fairly confident she had sorted out who was who. 

The Shaman - Related to the element of Air. Insightful person, involved with magic, particularly protection magic. Gaze is ‘ancient’, mature, and seems to possess knowledge from ages past. Animistic spirituality. Meditative. Respects nature and what can be learned from it. Musical, finds the sounds of nature inherently musical. Educator and leader of the young, “walks between worlds”. Seokjin (?)

She had spent a majority of the time trying to decide which card represented the jaguar hybrid. Over the past month she had spent with Seokjin, she noted his insightful, wise nature, his calmness, and his deep respect and admiration for nature. He was the one the others often looked up to, sometimes begrudgingly so, since he was the oldest in the house. 

Often, she heard Seokjin singing– she wasn’t sure if Seokjin was aware he had a listener, let alone a fan, but Y/N often found herself enjoying his melodious voice when he sang in the shower, while he worked on the stable repairs with her and Jimin, or even when he was tipsy and helped with post-dinner kitchen clean up. 

Additionally, there was a certain quirk of Seokjin’s Y/N had recently become aware of. He was unnaturally perceptive, and Y/N would even go as far as saying it was on par with Namjoon’s perceptivity. Seokjin, more than any of the hybrids, could not only sense her immediate shift in mood, but the other hybrid’s as well. He had a unique ability to emphasize with anyone in the house, even if he disagreed with their actions. After much deliberation, she decided Seokjin was The Shaman. 

The Archer - The Spring Equinox, sunrise, air, inspirational and creative. Hoseok for sure. A focused, determined, athletic person full of purpose. Cunning. Eager for adventure, bold, desires to take control of life and ambitions. Steady state of mind. Soulful, clever, uses intellect to their advantage. Imagination is powerful and has the ability to manifest into reality.

The Woodward - Lammas, late summer, fire and water. Associated with the full moon. Others often mistake passive, emotional, humble nature as weakness. Controls emotions with ease, but displays them with ease. Jimin, most likely. Understands facing fears, has experience with darker subjects of the cycle of life. Possesses great inner power. Brave, wise, balanced person. Compassionate, merciful, experienced in natural life cycles. 

The next two were the easiest to figure out; Hoseok and Jimin. Out of all seven of her hybrids, they were the more extroverted of the two. Y/N only had to read three lines of the guide book to know that The Archer was her Hoseok; clever, adventurous, and definitely imaginative. Jimin, on the other hand, wore his emotions on his face clearly and without restraint. However, he was incredibly polite and in control of his actions, which she had clocked when he first scented her. Like The Woodward, she noticed that some of the other hybrids would often make him the butt of a joke because he was so willing to let things go out of politeness, but Jimin was no pushover. He’d make his own jokes in retaliation, with class and wit. 

Yoongi and Taehyung were more difficult to place, but not as much as Seokjin was. She spent a week alone, with the remaining two cards, trying to make out who was who. It was that day, at work, where she finally felt confident enough to assign them a card. Taehyung being quiet and mysterious, and Yoongi being enigmatic no matter how attached at the hip he was with Y/N, she nearly drove herself delirious in the effort. 

The Hooded Man - The Midwinter Solstice, the element of Earth. Solitude, a thoughtful person. Represents death and rebirth. Frost, ice, and winter are associated with the card. Inner depth. Someone who has a quiet or slow voice. Withdrawn. Can be harsh, keeps to self. Seeker of knowledge, old soul type individual. Strong willed, survives any stressful situation and turns tribulations into lessons learned. Good at comforting others… Taehyung (?)

The Guardian - This must be Yoongi. Samhain, elements of Water and Earth. Protective, “human link to the wilderness”. Can incite fear in others, but controls their own fears well. May practice paganism at one point in their lives. Complex person, unafraid of the unknown or the taboo. Can be a trickster, has an inner darkness due to circumstances that have happened in the past. May get lost in their thoughts. Hades, Oberon, Dark Angel.

Biting the cap of her pen, she contemplated whether or not she had placed those two hybrids correctly. The characteristics of The Hooded Man that matched up with Taehyung were his soft-spokenness, and his introverted personality, and his “solitude”. Once she deduced that Taehyung fit that card best, she became puzzled with the remaining card being Yoongi. 

Yoongi, who was probably the most selfless and caring person she had ever met in her life, being a card as dark as The Guardian? It didn’t make too much sense to her, but the other cards fit everyone else too well for her to reconsider. Perhaps there was an inner darkness to Yoongi that she hadn’t seen yet… he did have a proclivity for schooling his features, and Y/N didn’t know too much about his past. Like a lot of the others, he really didn’t bring up his life prior to his adoption, and Y/N was hesitant to prod around, considering how close she and Yoongi had become. 

Interrupting her contemplation over the reading, the witch bells rattled against the shop’s door, announcing the arrival of a customer– a young woman with lilac-dyed hair, holding hands with a tall man. Once Y/N blinked rapidly to clear her head, she greeted the two customers cheerily, watching them peruse the crystal table. 

With a jolt, she realized that the man was actually a hybrid, perhaps a German Shepherd hybrid, triangular ears crowning his head and an air of protective energy surrounding him. The young woman was happily examining a chunk of clear quartz, and to Y/N’s great surprise, her hybrid ducked down to give her an affectionate kiss on the apple of her cheek, the woman giggling in response and getting on her tip-toes to plant one on his lips. Eyes glazing over, Y/N felt a deep ache in her chest; she couldn’t wait to go home and see her hybrids, all of a sudden. 

“Okay, okay, we have to get going now, or Hoseok will be late for his meet,” Y/N was trying her best to corral the seven hybrids back to her Land Cruiser parked outside of Ben’s townhouse. 

She brought a stack of pizzas from Sal’s over for lunch. Recalling Laura’s diet before a track meet from her high school days, Y/N knew that loading Hoseok up on carbs was probably her best bet, and everyone– her hybrids and Ben’s family– loved Sal’s pizza. They spent the afternoon eating in Ben’s grand dining room, catching up, and playing with Daisy. Jimin and Hoseok were delighted to see the bunny hybrid again, and Y/N had to physically shove a plate with four slices of pizza on it into Hoseok’s hands while he was chasing Daisy around Ben’s living room so he wouldn’t cramp up during his meet.

“Foxy,” Daisy pouted in a watery manner, making grabby hands at Hoseok while Roy held her on his hip. Over the course of the afternoon, the bunny hybrid had gotten pretty attached to Hoseok. “Don’ go!”

“Sweet pea, Foxy has somewhere he needs to be. We’ll see him again soon, don’t worry,” Roy soothed, in his typical calm and collected manner. Daisy continued to fuss and reach for Hoseok, who had his lower lip jutting out as well. 

“Next weekend, Dais, okay? I’ll see you then, we’re going to pick pumpkins, remember?” Hoseok also attempted to soothe, Y/N catching Jeongguk rolling his eyes as he hauled himself into the back seat of the Land Cruiser. Y/N was actually quite proud that Jeongguk had refrained from not only using expletives the whole afternoon, but also from lighting up a Marlboro for so many hours. 

“Thanks, Ben, for all of the info,” Y/N gave him a hug, making sure each hybrid was getting into her car as she patted the thick envelope of paper in her tote bag Ben had discreetly placed in there before they left. “See you next week, love you.”

Ben, Roy, and Daisy waved at them as Y/N pulled away, having Namjoon beside her set the navigation to the rec center. Ben lived in the heart of Boston, on Beacon Hill, and the rec center was in her town just outside of the city, so it would take them about half an hour to get there. She was genuinely surprised that everyone was willing to go to Ben’s and then Hoseok’s meet, but she suspected that some of them were just itching to get out of the house, particularly Jeongguk and Jimin, who rarely left. 

The rec center was a huge concrete building, right on the edges of the town they lived in. Large basketball courts were outside by the parking lot, and at the back of the building was the running track. As she had read on the website, soon the outdoor sports would be moving inside. That weekend were the only meets and games Hoseok and Yoongi would have outdoors until the spring, if they decide to sign up again, that is. 

It was 4:15 by the time she had parked and everyone was following Hoseok to the track. He was whistling joyfully, swinging his gear bag around and tapping a rhythm on the side of it, Y/N taking a sideways glance at the basketball court and its stands that she’d be crowding into the next morning. She didn’t know if anyone besides Seokjin would be joining her for Yoongi’s game the following day, but it would be nice if the others would be just as supportive of the leopard hybrid as they were of Hoseok. 

“I gotta hit the locker room and change, the bleachers are over there. I think there’s a dude selling hot dogs and cheeseburgers somewhere, too,” Hoseok paused by the back door of the rec center, overlooking the running track. Already, there were quite a few families crowding the stands, and a handful of hybrids in uniform stretching on the track. 

“Alright, we’ll go find spots. Looks like Yoongi’s already on it,” Y/N snorted, most of the hybrids following Yoongi to the stands like lost little ducklings. Turning to Hoseok, who was rooting through his gym bag, the fox hybrid pulled out a white sweatband, which he promptly shoved over his head to get his hair out of his face, ears popping up cutely with the movement. “Come here, you. Good luck, I’m cheering for you!”

Y/N tugged Hoseok to her by the belt loop of his jeans, squeezing her arms around his waist tightly, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Usually, when Hoseok would give her a hug, he’d similarly place his chin over her shoulder, so she had gotten used to holding him this way. Hoseok was only caught off guard for a split second before he clasped his hands behind her back, playfully nuzzling his nose into her hair. 

“Go find your seat, before there’s none left. You don’t want to have to sit on someone’s lap, hmm?” Hoseok placed his hands on Y/N’s hips, lightly pushing her away with a cheeky grin. “Gotta change and stretch. I’ll see you after, my darling.”

With that, Y/N waited until Hoseok retreated into the rec center before she headed towards the bleachers, most easily recognizing where she had to go by spotting the bony set of Jeongguk’s antlers. Yoongi had chosen a section of bleachers right in the front, and people around her hybrids were giving them a wide berth. After all, it wasn’t like they were bunny hybrids. Y/N wondered if she should go on a podcast or something, so she could tell the world that exotic hybrids were just as clingy and sweet as your average housecat hybrid. 

Y/N settled in between Yoongi and Seokjin, with Namjoon and Jeongguk directly behind her. Confused, she looked around for her remaining two hybrids, but couldn’t visually locate them anywhere. Panic, as per usual, was impossible to squash down. 

“I sent them to get some drinks and snacks,” Yoongi spoke unprompted, cracking his knuckles and glancing at Y/N out of the corner of his eye. Talk about mind reading skills. 

“Hungry again? I knew I should have ordered seven pizzas rather than six,” Y/N relaxed, leaning into Yoongi’s shoulder and humming. 

“Seokjin wanted to try what they had,” Yoongi scooted closer to Y/N, his sweet-scented shampoo tickling her nostrils. “Even though I told him the food is shit here.”

“Hey, let me decide for myself! How could a cheeseburger possibly taste like shit?” Seokjin declared, sending a dirty look Yoongi’s way. Y/N believed it might have been the first time Seokjin ever swore in front of her, and it made her hook an arm around his back in amusement so he could nestle closer to her side. 

“What’s Foxy’s event, anyways?” Yoongi let it go, pushing a hand through his long locks. 

“He told me he’s doing one of the sprints, and a middle distance event. I think the mile,” Y/N replied, eyes lighting up as Hoseok jogged out of the rec center building dressed in his uniform; a red tank top and matching bottoms, black Spandex shorts under the baggier red uniform pants. 

Hoseok made his way onto the track, fist-bumping a couple of his teammates– a racoon hybrid, from the looks of it, and a calico cat hybrid. Y/N, entranced, kept her sight glued to Hoseok doing quad stretches and animatedly talking to his friends. Hoseok, by nature, could talk to anyone. He made friends everywhere he went, whether it be Y/N’s own friends, his teammates, or even a random cashier at the grocery store. 

The coach, a wiry thin man with gray hair, began handing out numbers and pins to the team. Hoseok ended up with the number 807, and even from several yards away, Y/N could see his wide smile as he pinned the number to his tank top. By now, Jimin and Taehyung had returned from the food stand, the former with a tray of sodas, the latter balancing several paper boats of hot dogs, french fries, and cheeseburgers in his arms. Y/N accepted a portion of french fries, still full from the pizza, mindlessly fiddling with Taehyung’s dark curls as he sat in front of her with his soda. 

“Hmm. You were right Yoongi, it’s shit,” Seokjin begrudgingly admitted, Y/N snickering as the jaguar hybrid chewed loudly in her ear with a pout. Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“So, there’s going to be a loud noise when the coach shoots off the flare gun. Just giving you all a heads up, it usually spooks me,” Y/N nonchalantly informed the hybrids, but more specifically warning Seokjin in particular. 

She didn’t want to single him out and make him uncomfortable, but Seokjin was jumpy around loud sounds, so the warning was necessary. Nonetheless, he got the message with his keen perceptivity, and wound his tail around her waist in a silent response. 

Hoseok was incredible. When it was his turn to sprint, Y/N cheered him on, even though he was lagging behind. However, at the last moment, he shot forward like a rocket, coming in second behind his friend, the raccoon hybrid. Y/N clapped like a maniac, nearly spilling her basket of french fries all over the top of Taehyung’s head. 

A bit later on, it was time for the middle distance run, and Y/N was on the edge of her seat. As a joke, Jeongguk leaned down from his seat behind her, offering her an unlit cigarette poised between his inked fingers. After receiving a glare from Y/N, Jeongguk smirked and tucked the cigarette back into the carton, licking his lips. 

“Do we get to leave after this event?” Jeongguk spoke up, Y/N not tearing her eyes from Hoseok jogging in place at the starting line. Twilight had begun to color the sky in lilacs and pinks, a slight chill in the air as the sun disappeared behind the rec building. 

“I think so, unless Hoseok wants to stay and watch the rest of the events,” Y/N replied without looking back at the elk hybrid, gripping Seokjin’s hand tightly before the flare gun would go off again. His palm was warm and combatted the chill, and his thumb lightly brushed the back of her hand continuously. 

It seemed like falling behind, getting a slower start, before surging forward at the last minute was Hoseok’s strategy to win. The fox hybrid ran with grace, and it was almost spellbinding to watch him surpass each of his teammates as he pulled forward in first. Y/N hardly even noticed Yoongi taking off his bomber jacket to place around her shoulders as the temperature outside continued to drop. She only registered the action when she stood abruptly the same time Hoseok crossed the finish line first, the jacket unceremoniously dropping off of her shoulders as she screamed her head off. Sure, the people around her were giving her odd looks, but she didn’t give a shit. 

“Way to go Hoseok!” Y/N shouted, her fox hybrid getting attacked by bear hugs from his teammates on the track. “I’m so proud of you!”

Without thinking, Y/N whistled the three note tone Hoseok always did, and watched as Hoseok tore away from his friends and immediately whipped his head around to locate the source of the whistle. Ears perked up and alert, his eyes zeroed in on Y/N, who whistled again, waving like her life depended on it. Hoseok looked taken aback, even with all of the commotion around him; his teammates slapping his back, the coach attempting to give him a handshake. Cocking his head, Hoseok sobered up, his face splitting into a grin, waving back to Y/N with equal enthusiasm. 

As it turned out, Hoseok wanted to leave after the event, not even bringing up his first and second place wins as he approached Y/N and the others, complaining about the cooling temperature. To be fair, the fox hybrid was covered in sweat, so that couldn’t have helped the situation. Y/N attempted to give him another hug, but he claimed that he was too grimy, so they piled into the Land Cruiser for home when it was all said and done. In celebration of Hoseok’s success, Yoongi made everyone homemade hot chocolate when they got home, killing the cold that had seeped into Y/N’s bones from being outside. 

“You look really good,” Y/N breathed, taking in Yoongi in all of his glory, dressed in his green basketball uniform and leaning against one of the basketball hoops. Surprisingly muscular for his slight frame, Y/N had never seen so much pale skin from the leopard hybrid. Additionally, he had put on a fair amount of weight and muscle since she adopted him– when he was not getting much to eat at the shelter– which was relieving. 

His game was mid-morning on Saturday, and only Seokjin had elected to come with her and Yoongi. Currently, the jaguar hybrid was sitting on the bleachers further away, taking stock of the cooler he had brought along, filled with snacks and drinks. Y/N didn’t think he wanted another hockey puck burger from the food stand, so he packed things from home to eat. 

“Do I?” Yoongi lifted a brow, surprised Y/N would be so forward. “Jersey’s a little tight. Might ask for a bigger one next gameday.”

“Nuh-uh. Looks fine to me,” Y/N shook her head innocently, enjoying the blush on Yoongi’s cheeks with her teasing tone. “Number 54.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Yoongi deadpanned, Y/N shrugging lightly. She had long since become immune to Yoongi’s quick comebacks, and truthfully, she was flirting with him. “Careful.”

“54, get that hair up! Can’t have it hanging in your face during the game,” Yoongi’s coach, a stern middle-aged woman with a blonde crew cut, barked his way. Yoongi had mentioned she was tough, but an amazing coach. 

Yoongi made a move to grab the green scrunchie around his wrist, before Y/N stopped him by lightly snatching his wrist herself. 

“Can I do it? Please?” Y/N dangled the scrunchie in front of his face, winking coquettishly. It was very easy to make Yoongi blush, but even easier to get him to give in to her every whim when she teased him a little with a flirtatious glance. It was certainly an ego boost. 

Nodding with his eyes downcast, Yoongi took a seat on a courtside chair, Y/N filled with glee as she rounded the chair and slid her fingers into his silky black hair. Pulling her lip in between her teeth, she knew that Yoongi’s hair wasn’t long enough to completely tie back into a bun, so she gathered up the pieces on his crown and framing his face, softly scraping her fingernails against his scalp for a little added massage. Hearing him purr from beneath her, Y/N hummed in response, using the scrunchie to make a half-up half-down bun style, before straightening out the strands still loose against the back of his neck. Satisfied, she gave Yoongi a tap on his shoulder, prompting him to get back up. 

“There you go, all set,” Y/N admired his face now that his hair wasn’t hanging in it, the shaved sides above his human ears exposed. It was a shame he had to take out all of his hoop earrings for the game, because they’d go well with the hair style. “Knock ‘em dead out there, angel.”

His coach began furiously blowing her whistle, indicating that the game was starting soon, so Y/N took it as her cue to begin returning to Seokjin. Before she could get very far, though, Yoongi caught her around the elbow. 

“Hey, what about my good luck hug sweetheart? Foxy got one,” Yoongi tilted his head. Oh, the tables were turning, apparently.

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Y/N opened her arms, looping them around Yoongi’s back and shuddering at the feeling of him slinging his low around her waist, both of them pressed cheek to cheek. Yoongi wound his fingertips into the hem of her sweater, his chest rumbling with purrs against her’s. In a strong bolt of confidence, Y/N released him, his features curious while her’s mischievous, and much like when he first made her lunch to take to work, Y/N leaned up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on Yoongi’s cheekbone. 

“Good luck, Yoongi,” Y/N whispered coyly into his ear, sending him one more wink before shoving him lightly towards the court, where his teammates were gathering around the coach. 

The leopard hybrid walked off in a daze, caught off guard by the impromptu kiss once again, and Y/N skipped to the bleachers where Seokjin was waiting for her, reading the book club selection of the week. She wondered if Seokjin had seen the spectacle and was ignoring it, or if he was too wrapped up in The Catcher in the Rye. 

“Hi honey, I missed you,” Y/N snuggled up close to Seokjin, the briskness of the wind telling her October was on the way. “How’s the book? Can’t say that one is a favorite of mine.”

“I’m not a big fan so far, either. Um, but next week we’re reading Pride and Prejudice. I remember you said you liked Jane Austen a lot, so I’m excited to get through this one and move onto that. You’ll have to tell me a little about it,” Seokjin set his book down, adjusting the collar of Y/N’s sweater so it covered more of her shoulder. Seokjin often fussed over her bundling up as the weather was cooling down, lately. 

“Ooh, you, Joonie and I can watch the movie after you finish the book. I think you’ll love it. Hmm, maybe Jimin too, he likes romance movies,” Y/N wormed her way even closer to Seokjin– if she was any closer, she’d be in his lap– and linked her arm under his. The jaguar hybrid, she noticed, didn’t like the cold, so she didn’t think he’d mind if she made herself into a space heater for him. 

“So it’s about romance?” Seokjin glanced down at Y/N, his fiery eyes distant for some reason, his voice very soft. 

“Yeah, it's arguably the best romance novel of all time,” Y/N replied, trying not to find his reaction strange. Did she spoil the surprise for him? Before she could read too much into it, Yoongi’s coach blew her whistle, and as Seokjin flinched closer into Y/N’s space, the game began. 

While Yoongi was playing, like when Hoseok was running, Y/N was transfixed. Yoongi seemed to be the best player out of the bunch; and being the shooting guard for his team, he scored several points in the first quarter alone. She recalled her phone call with Alice not too long ago, when her best friend referred to Yoongi as being sexy… and watching that basketball game, she couldn’t help but think about how right Alice was. Something about watching Yoongi running around on the court, yelling in his deep, raspy voice at his teammates, and the sweat that began to collect around his hairline and dampen the locks had her pretty much squirming in her seat. She prayed Seokjin didn’t notice, but he had been periodically going back and forth from paying attention to the game, reading his book, and snacking on some Doritos. 

The game became a nail biter in the last quarter, and Seokjin began to watch it with more focus, offering Y/N a few Doritos as she nervously tapped her foot against the metal bleachers. Yoongi seemed to be growing frustrated with the other team’s shooting guard, a Doberman hybrid, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists as the hybrid kept annoyingly close to Yoongi once realizing he was the biggest threat on the opposing team. 

As the timer was running out, the two teams were tied. Seokjin was soothingly patting Y/N’s back as she gnawed on her nails, eyeing the sweat rolling down Yoongi’s temples. Just as she was praying to the sky, Yoongi managed to get the ball, sinking a three-pointer, not even seconds later the buzzer going off indicating that the game was over. 

Unlike Hoseok, who had welcomed hugs from all of his teammates before seeking out her and the others, Yoongi immediately turned to the bleachers and pointed at Y/N, who was already flying out of her seat and cheering in delight. 

Before she knew it, she was jumping up– right into Yoongi’s arms, as he caught her mid-air, her arms around his neck and legs encircling his waist, his hands supported her by cupping under her thighs. Still squealing with joy into his neck, Y/N didn’t even register all of the cheering around her and teammates thumping Yoongi on his back. He won, and the first thing he did was look for her.

After Yoongi’s game, she treated Seokjin and Yoongi to some lattes and pastries before they headed back to the house, and she spent the rest of the day trying to calm her racing heart after Yoongi held her by working on the stable with Jimin. When she found the coyote hybrid that afternoon, he was on the roof of the stable sans shirt, patching up holes with shingles. So much for calming her racing heart. Fortunately, he put his tee shirt back on by the time he and Y/N were hauling hay into the nearly completed stable. 

The last two things on her agenda, when she woke up on Sunday, were Taehyung’s photography expo in the afternoon, and the banishment ritual she had planned with Namjoon and Jeongguk in the evening. The ritual, fortunately, could be performed inside, and was quick and dirty; after all the running around during that weekend, she was both utterly exhausted and ready to just chill out with all of the hybrids on the couch for a bit. 

The dress code for Taehyung’s expo was casual, but Y/N still decided to wear a cute autumnal dress, in a gothic periwinkle color trimmed with black lace. This time, not only did Seokjin tag along, but Jimin and Hoseok as well, which she thought was a nice gesture. Everyone who went dressed up a bit; Seokjin and Jimin in button downs and dress pants, Hoseok in a maroon sweater and jeans, and Taehyung in his outfit he had worn to the cookout– the ruby satin short-sleeve button down and baggy black cargo pants. They all looked pretty stylish, in Y/N’s opinion, and as she pulled up to the rec center for the third day in a row, she felt many eyes on the five of them. 

“We only have to stay for a little while. There’s no presentation or anything, just a few of my pictures hanging up, and champagne served,” Taehyung began nervously, nodding at the older gentleman holding the doors of the rec center for them. 

“Aw, Tae, we’ll stay for as long as you want! I can’t wait to see your first pictures. You’ve been working so hard, walking around the backyard for good shots, editing on your phone,” Y/N insisted, clicking her tongue when Hoseok rushed by her with Jimin and Seokjin in tow, straight for the nearest person with a serving tray full of champagne flutes. “If I want to get them printed, how would I go about doing that?” 

With this, Taehyung turned quite red, matching not only his shirt but the peculiar color of his eyes, too. Y/N took a cursory look around the room they had set up the event, clumps of people and hybrids scattered around the industrial looking lobby, low tables of appetizers and cheese plates, and of course, framed pictures on the walls, separated by who took them. 

“Taehyung! Good to see you here so early. Did you see where we set up your pictures?” An older woman, perhaps in her sixties, approached her and Taehyung standing in the middle of the room with their champagne flutes. “Oh, you must be Y/N! So nice to meet you, dear.”

Y/N shook hands with the woman, who had gorgeously painted plum fingernails and several artsy bracelets. She reminded Y/N of her mother, vaguely.

“Come, come. I’ll lead the way. I put your pictures up over by the window, Taehyung, and we hung them with the walnut frames you picked out last week,” the woman gestured for her and Taehyung to follow her, and the Kodiak hybrid suddenly looked incredibly nervous. 

Y/N reached for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly, not wanting him to feel shy about showing her the pictures he had worked on all week. She made sure Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin were faring well; they were chatting with a couple of other hybrids across the room and enjoying cheese and crackers, presently. As they walked to where Taehyung’s pictures were, Y/N felt Taehyung’s palm grow clammy in her grip, his ears flattening to his skull so much they were hidden in the mass of his dark curls. 

“Here we are! They’re beautiful, I can’t believe it’s his first time with a camera– Oh! Brian, welcome! Excuse me, you two… enjoy the expo, and well done, Taehyung!” With that, the woman breezed away to greet another hybrid and his family, stepping out of the way so Y/N could get a good look at the four photographs framed on the wall. 

The first one her eyes landed on was a picture of the front of their house in black and white, the sunlight reflecting interesting shapes on the eaves of the roof. It was taken from a spot in the flower beds lining the walkway up to the porch, so a single Black-eyed Susan was closest to the lens. The second, also in black and white, was a picture of himself, holding one of her grandfather’s vintage cameras up to an old mirror in his bathroom back at home. As per usual, he looked gorgeous, and there was a ghost of a smile on his usually stoic face. 

Smiling, she recognized the room in the third picture immediately, it was the room with the piano, and the photograph was in color. It was a shot angled from where Taehyung would lay on the floor to listen to records, and the picture showed Y/N and Yoongi’s feet as they sat at the piano for their weekly lesson. It was amazing that she wasn’t even aware that Taehyung was snapping pictures of them, but judging by the sweatpants Yoongi was wearing in the picture, it was from two weeks ago when he was teaching Y/N “Clair de lune”. The photo showed Yoongi’s sock-clad foot over her’s on the sustain pedal, showing her when to hold it down. If anything, it was quite an intimate shot that had her cheeks heating up. 

Swallowing thickly, and rubbing circles into Taehyung’s wrist bone, she got closer to the wall, turning her attention to the last picture. It was then when she finally gasped; it was a candid, colored portrait of her. She had no idea when Taehyung had snuck that picture of her, but from the softened, fuzzy edges of the film grain, it was taken with one of the vintage cameras. She was mid-laugh in the photo, her hand covering her mouth and eyes scrunched up in mirth, curled up on the couch in the parlor with purplish light illuminating the side of her face from the TV. Y/N never really liked seeing photographs of herself, but this one was lovely. Hardly believing it was even her, she stepped closer to the picture, trying to ascertain exactly when he had taken the photo. 

“Um… they’re kind of amateurish, but I think when I edited the two black and white ones, the result turned out nicely. I didn’t retouch the colored ones at all, they had pretty good lighting on their own,” Taehyung let go of her hand so he could point at certain areas of each photograph, his voice a little unsure. “Do you… what do you think? Are they bad?”

Casting a glance towards the Kodiak hybrid, who was anxiously analyzing his work with knitted brows, Y/N moved to grab his other hand as well, forcing him to face her. 

“Tae, they’re gorgeous. I love them, especially the one that you took with the mirror. Just as I thought, you’re a natural,” Y/N squeezed his large hands as she emphasized certain words. Taehyung could tell, based on her scent, that she wasn’t lying to him, and as if the sun came out, his adorable, wide smile blossomed across his face. It was enough to almost bring her to tears, the brightness of it. “I definitely want to print these. I’m going to display them in the house.”

Letting Taehyung go, she began to admire his pictures once more, taking a sip of her champagne. The Kodiak hybrid moved behind her silently, and sandalwood fragrance enveloped her as Taehyung leaned down to nestle his chin on her shoulder, Y/N feeling low grumbles against her back as he pressed up against her, his arms around her middle. It wasn’t unusual for Taehyung to hug her like this, her back flush to his chest, so she leaned into it with a content sigh. 

“It was hard to pick just four. I’m happy you like these ones, though. You’re not mad I took pictures of you?” Taehyung murmured into her ear, his dulcet voice causing her to shudder in his embrace. 

“Of course not, Tae,” Y/N reassured, his curls tickling the sides of her neck as his face burrowed there. 

Often, she forgot she was in public when moments like this happened, so caught up in warmth and sensation nothing else seemed to matter. As if hearing her thoughts, Taehyung pressed his lips against the side of her throat, featherlight and tender. Feeling her stomach flip, Y/N leaned more of her weight back into Taehyung’s chest. 

“Y/N, over here! Check out this guy’s photos. They’re of a creepy old church, right up your alley!” Y/N heard Hoseok call from across the room, snapping her out of her Taehyung-induced reverie. Stepping away, she kept her arm linked with Taehyung, seeking out the other hybrids she had brought along with her. 

“Let’s take a look around! Then I have to find that woman who greeted us earlier to ask about prints,” Y/N walked side-by-side with the Kodiak hybrid, heading towards where Seokjin, Jimin, and Hoseok were congregating in the center of the room. 

After an hour, Y/N left the rec center with the four hybrids and a thick portfolio full of Taehyung’s photography. When she got home, she placed an order for a handful of picture frames. 

Just like that, September passed them by, and summer’s heat dissolved into a damp, overcast October. Once her, Jeongguk, and Namjoon had completed the banishment ritual, which involved burning herbs in her old cast iron cauldron and handing out sachets of cleansing bath salts for everyone in the house, Y/N was confident that they had gotten rid of the hag entity for good. She no longer felt its presence at all, in fact, the Victorian home had never felt so safe and protected. 

The stable was finally finished, which gave Jimin the opportunity to begin assisting Y/N with house renovations, starting with the hideous wallpaper on the second floor that was peeling in sheets. Even though the house was half-renovated, Y/N didn’t skip decking it out with extravagant Halloween, or Samhain, as she also called it, decorations as soon as the calendar read October 1st. Jeongguk poked fun at her for being overly enthusiastic, littering dozens of pumpkins on the porch and throughout the home, but Seokjin helped her set up the purple and orange lights on the fence around the front yard. Their neighborhood, filled with spooky looking homes from decades past, was popular with trick-or-treaters, so typically everyone went all out with decorations. 

It was the morning of Jimin’s birthday, a Thursday, and Y/N couldn’t help but think that it just missed falling on a Friday the 13th. Because Jimin didn’t belong to any clubs, she was having difficulty coordinating how to get his surprise in place, so she enlisted Hoseok’s help. 

“What do you need me to do, darling?” Hoseok whispered mischievously, after breakfast when Jimin had gone to take a shower before properly starting his day. 

“After he gets out of the shower, do you mind taking him for a walk over to my parent’s down the street? They have a gift for him anyways, so that’ll be the excuse for getting him out of the house,” Y/N felt like they were having a conspiracy meeting, ducking their heads together and speaking in hushed tones. 

When Jimin emerged from his bathroom, dressed in blue jeans and a buttery yellow crew neck sweatshirt, Hoseok promptly tore him from the house, the coyote hybrid sputtering out protests. As soon as they were down the street, Y/N had about an hour to get everything in order. 

“Joonie, can I have your help?” Y/N knocked once on the open door to his van, where he was inside reading a book about chess, spinning a pawn around in his fingertips. The look of shock on his face was adorable, but he set down his things and joined her outside. 

“There’s a delivery truck that just got here five minutes ago, looks like a horse trailer,” Namjoon informed her, following closely behind as they ventured further out into the driveway. 

“It is a horse trailer,” Y/N confirmed as they approached, Namjoon’s ears twitching as he heard something she could not. 

“Y/N, I know you’re a little, um. What’s the right word… generous with the birthday gift giving, but you did not get Jimin a horse, did you?” Namjoon lifted a brow incredulously, looking down at Y/N like she had sprouted a third arm. 

“No, I didn't get him a horse. I got him his horse. From the ranch,” Y/N retorted, tugging Namjoon by his wrist to greet the delivery driver and begin the process of bringing the horse to the freshly painted stable. 

It was no easy feat; Y/N had close to zero experience with horses, but luckily for her the delivery driver and Namjoon seemed to have things covered. Jimin’s horse, a beautiful bay female, was named Vista, and had a seemingly sweet disposition. 

“Now, this horse is used to Montana climate, and the winters can be bone chillingly cold. I think she’ll be alright here, and Jimin will be able to take care of her well,” the delivery man, who spoke in an accent similar to Jimin and Namjoon, gave Vista a strong pat on the neck, the horse nickering softly. 

Seeing the driver off, Y/N was starting to wonder why Hoseok and Jimin were taking so long at her parent’s house. Back in the house, Yoongi was busy making BLTs for lunch as per Jimin’s request, and placed the other gifts she picked up for Jimin on the island– just a nice bottle of his favorite whiskey, some new crystal tumblers, and a couple of new sweaters. 

“Y/N, Judas priest. Go out back, ding and dong returned, and they brought… guests,” Jeongguk came in from the kitchen slider after his smoke break, Y/N pausing her assembly of a sandwich to assist Yoongi. Judging by the look on Jeongguk’s face, which was poorly masked hilarity, Y/N began to hightail it to the backyard again. 

“Hi guys, you’re– dear god,” Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes threatening to pop out of her skull. 

Jimin was pulling her mom’s old red wagon, and nestled inside were chickens. Live chickens. Hoseok, with great effort, was holding a rooster in his arms, his teeth gritted, but merriment in his eyes. 

“My parents got you chickens for your birthday?” Y/N asked stupidly, Hoseok squawking as the rooster tried to flap free from his grasp. 

“Believe it or not, this is the kind of gift I’d get back at the ranch for my birthday often,” Jimin chuckled, completely unfazed. “We should get them to the coop though, that rooster is going to peck a hole into Hoseok’s arm.”

Shit. If Jimin was heading back to the stable, he’d see Vista, and they hadn’t even had cake yet. It couldn’t be helped, however. 

“Hoseok, here, give me the rooster. I’ve handled them before, don’t worry! Why don’t you change, I think it–”

“Yeah, it shit on me. It’s cool, I’m going to take a shower. Here’s the little bastard,” Hoseok thrust the rooster into her arms, sending her a wink before jogging off and into the house. 

“So, this isn’t unusual for you, Jimin? Chickens for your birthday? Honestly, where does my mother come up with these crackpot ideas? I mean we were going to get some chickens anyways, but this is just insanity. How many are there?” Y/N was rambling, feeling nervous about the whole horse situation. How would he react?

“I think there’s five hens. This is good, right? We’ll have fresh eggs soon!” Jimin was delighted, the stable only a few paces away. Jimin’s steps faltered, his ears alert, but he seemed to shake off whatever made him pause with disbelief on his face. 

“Alright, let’s get them in the pen. We’ll have to get some feed, your mother gave me some that’ll last for a few days,” Jimin started plucking chickens out of the wagon, setting them down in the grass while Y/N scattered food by the coop. Just then, Vista whinnied from within the stable, as if sensing her old owner. This time, Jimin flinched, staring at Y/N with round butterscotch eyes. 

“Um, happy birthday?” Y/N squeaked, Jimin springing into action and moving into a dead sprint, bolting into the stable with Y/N hardly able to keep up once she made sure the chickens couldn’t escape their pen. 

“Vista?!” Jimin exclaimed, standing in front of the stall his horse was in, all color drained from his face. “Y/N, is this? How did you?”

Jimin appeared to be on the verge of tears, entering the stall and stroking the horse’s mane with wonder. By his side now, Y/N watched an array of emotions wash over the coyote hybrid’s face. Her favorite, of course, was his joy.

“I just had to prove that I adopted you to the ranch, and they allowed me to have her brought here. I thought you’d like to be reunited,” Y/N revealed, the wind knocked out of her abruptly, Jimin grabbing her more roughly than he usually did and squeezing her into a fierce hug. So fierce, her feet were lifted off of the ground momentarily. 

“Well, why don’t you take her around some of the trails in the backyard? We’ve got saddles and everything,” Y/N breathed once he set her down, light tears still misting his eyes. Nodding enthusiastically, Jimin moved as if floating through air, gathering everything he’d need to prepare Vista for a ride. 

Jimin must have thanked her a thousand times before he let her out of his sight, but she insisted that she had to return to the house to resume helping Yoongi with lunch preparations. She watched as Jimin began to speak softly to Vista, his sandy tail swishing back and forth happily, before Y/N headed back into the house with a face-splitting smile. 

“Ooh, Freddy Kruger? How scary,” Y/N bent down to plop a couple of peanut butter cups into the little kid’s treat basket, holding onto her pointed witch hat as she did so. 

Halloween evening, her favorite night of the year, was turning out to be lively, and her house was ever-so-popular. Between all of the hybrids, some in costumes (Yoongi was Scarface, Hoseok dressed up as a pirate) and the lavishly decorated house, Y/N was practically stationed at the front door constantly with her large plastic cauldron full of candy to hang out. Assisting her was Seokjin, who was wearing a headband with little red devil horns. The kids absolutely loved him. 

“Isn’t tonight a special holiday for you? Samhain?” Seokjin spoke up during a rare moment without kids on the porch, his voice floating over the cheesy Halloween music Y/N had pulsing from her portable speaker. 

“Yeah, it is! You remembered,” Y/N cooed, adjusting the askew headband perched on his crown. “I set up an altar this morning in my room. Mostly, I just wanted to light some candles for my ancestors and put out offerings. I’m going to celebrate for a few more days, too… Samhain, Halloween, it’s a state of mind.”

Giggling at the goofy voice she used during her last statement, Seokjin perked up, a little girl in an Elsa costume bumbling up the porch steps for candy. The jaguar hybrid complimented her costume, offering her some packets of M&Ms. Shyly accepting them, the girl stared at Seokjin with awe before hurrying back to her parents on the street. 

“Y/N, we have a situation,” Yoongi lightly tapped on her shoulder from behind, standing on the threshold of the front door. Gazing upwards, catching the plastic gold chain Yoongi was wearing with his costume, she immediately sobered up upon seeing his distressed expression. 

“What happened, angel? Seokjin, can you take over for a few minutes, honey?” Y/N stood, following Yoongi into the house after he nodded. In the house, she sensed something off right away– there was shouting coming from the parlor. 

“It’s Jeongguk and Namjoon. They picked a fight with Hoseok–”

“Out of my fucking way, I’m outta here,” Jeongguk barked, and the sound of the slider in the kitchen slamming shut as Jeongguk stormed out of the house. 

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

[honkytonk-hangman]

SunKissing

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex but no actual smut xx

Notes: again, ty to @roleycoleyland this one is dedicated to you &lt;3 Title from the Hailee Steinfeld song <3

Masterlist

Jake had stopped listening to the others the moment you nervously walked through the back gate. He’s off on the other side of the yard, so Penny reaches you long before he does, smiling kindly as your eyes flicker to her, then down at the covered plate in your hands when she gestures to it. Jake shakes his head internally. He’d told you that you didn’t need to bring anything, but of course you had anyway.

You smile sweetly, but unsurely as Penny welcomes you, and Jake is glad it’s her who saw you first, not one of the others. He hadn’t told anyone about you yet, let alone mentioned that he had invited you to this post-deployment barbecue Mav had all but ordered.

Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

There were very few things Jake liked more than flying, and almost nothing in the world was worth it to him to give it up. Yet, the past eight months hadn’t gone by in their usual halcyon blur of adrenaline and speed, instead, Jake had found that the time to dragged, the days clung and the weeks hanging on like they had made it their personal mission to torture him.

He didn’t get to make phone calls that often, but you’d given him your email before he’d left, and despite staring at an empty document for three days too long, he’d sent you a short, somewhat conservative update, only to breathe out a sigh of relief when not too long after, he’d received your reply.

Jake hadn’t done this before, not even with his family. He preferred the months at sea with no ties and no tethers to anything or anyone on land, completely unattached and free from responsibility. That was the Hangman promise after all, ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’, which had been working out just great for him the past couple of years, right up until he met you.

It was at the Hard Deck of course, where he’d first sidled up to you, all charm and casual cool, certain that he’d found his night's paramour, only to be thanked for the offer of a bought drink, but dutifully informed immediately that you wouldn’t be going home with him. Jake hadn’t been completely taken aback, sometimes he set his sights on a woman who was taken, or just plain not interested, and that was always fine, but that hadn’t exactly been the case with you. You’d simply gone on to inform him that you didn’t do one night stands, which, in Jake's mind hadn’t made you off limits yet, so he’d bought you a drink anyway, this time free of expectations, and to his own surprise, after starting a conversation with you properly, he hadn’t wanted to end it. 

Only after you’d checked the time and told him you’d needed to go had Jake realised just how much he’d enjoyed your company, and so taking a step out of his own usual comfort zone, he’d asked you out on a date.

You’d been unsure at first, like you could read his usual antics all over his face, and told him that you didn’t sleep with people on first dates either, but Jake only laughed at your bluntness, and assured you he’d just wanted to see you again, sex or not. Even now, he’s not sure how much of that was just a line, but in the end he supposed it didn’t really matter, because only three dates and eight and a half months later, it was the most truthful fact about him.

For the past two-hundred and fifty-nine days, Jake had wanted to see nothing but you, and when that couldn’t happen thanks to his deployment, he’d settled for weekly emails. He’d never admit it to anyone, but for the first time in his entire life as an aviator, Jake had come to look forward to your weekly updates more so than he even looked forward to flying.

You’d been so surprised when he’d called you less than an hour after getting boots on the ground at last, even more surprised when Jake had immediately invited you to the Dagger’s welcome home party that night. Which is the reason why you’re currently looking around nervously, and letting Penny take your plate from you.

Jake is fully checked out of the conversation by the time he starts moving, ignoring any calls after him as he makes a beeline toward you, finally drawing your attention when he’s only a few feet away. Much like him, you seem to cease all other focus when you see him, your eyes never leaving him as he quickly closes the distance between you.

“There you are,” Jake all but gushes, sidestepping Penny and immediately wrapping you up, pulling you in firmly with both arms in a hug he doesn’t intend to let go of any time soon.

“Jake!” You barely get out before you’re engulfed. Jake feels his eyes prickle just a little bit when your arms link tightly around his neck, but he forcibly blinks the sensation away, focusing instead on how good it feels to hold you again.

“I’ll take this inside…” Penny says softly, knowingly, but neither of you really notice her slink off. You also don’t notice Fanboy nudge Phoenix, or how the rest of his squad slyly stop their talking to watch the two of you with various levels of interest.

“God, I missed you,” Jake hears himself say before he can really stop and think about it, his heart thumping rapidly away in his chest at the possibility that you didn’t actually feel the same. You laugh a little, and sniff, burying yourself deeper into his neck.

“I missed you too!” You say muffled into the collar of his shirt, tightening your hold on him slightly. Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and squeezes you closer.

“You alright sweetheart?” He asks quieter than before, feeling a few spots of wetness seep through his shirt, as well as hearing the way you sniffle again.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you try to reassure him, despite the shake to your voice. Jake can only hum, and adjusts his hold on you so he can sweep one large hand up and down you back in soothing motions, something he’s pretty sure he’s only even done once before, to his mother before he left for the Academy damn near seventeen years ago.

Jake just holds you there for a few minutes more, until your sniffling finally stops and you begin pulling back. He’s glad you don’t go far though, keeping your arms around his neck still as you lean back to get a proper look at him. He doesn’t comment on the redness of your eyes, but he does have to blink rapidly to stop his own prickling once again.

“God, look at you!” You say softly, not really explaining what you mean, but you’re smiling brightly, so Jake doesn't care. He sorta gets it, when he runs his eyes over you. You’d gotten a haircut since he saw a picture of you last, he thinks you might’ve changed the way you did your eye makeup. Just little things he wouldn’t have noticed had he seen them day by day, but all at once carry over to be much more noticeable.

“I’m glad you came,” he tells you honestly, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to your mouth, which turns into two quick kisses, which turns into a third, longer, more substantial one. Behind him, someone wolf whistles, and Jake can’t help the grin that covers his face when he pulls back and gets a look at your flushed features.

“Come on, lemme introduce you to these idiots, or they’ll get even more annoying.” He rolls his eyes, but really, Jake can’t get enough of the way it feels to sling his arm casually around your waist and tug you into him as he guides you back to the otherside of the yard. He smiles widely, taking immense pleasure at getting to show you off for the first time in front of his friends. He loves the way you sink into him, hand resting naturally against his sternum, the place where you are feeling like exactly the place you belong.

In fact, Jake believes so firmly that the place you belong is right by his side, he doesn’t let you leave it all night. He’d gotten a lift to Penny and Mav’s with Coyote, so he drives your car back for you, taking your hand and bringing it across the console to rest on his thigh, coving it with his own and giving it a squeeze every twenty or so seconds as he sees fit.

“Come back with me?” He’d asked before pulling out of the curb side parking, glancing over at you meaningfully. It had been you who’d squeezed his hand then, and smiled softly at him in the dark of the early evening.

“If you want me to.” You’d said to him. Considering right up until his deployment you’d been taking it slow, he understands the trust your acceptance really imparts, and feels a warmth spread through him at the mere suggestion.

It’s ironic to Jake that eight and a half months ago he would have be raring to go at your agreeing to come back to his home after a party, but now, with so much time between you and with Jake still firmly in recovery mode from his deployment, sex is really the last thing on his mind. It’s even more ironic to him that once he’s tucked your car away in his garage for the night, and dragged you inside, it’s him who puts the breaks on things escalating, something he’s fairly certain he’s never done before in his life.

“Mmphf… baby, wait, wait…” Jake hears himself say breathily, forcing himself to pull his lips away from yours entirely. He’d been kissing you the moment the front door was shut, shoving you gently against the wall so that he could really savour how you tasted after all these months, but your hands grasping at the front of his shirt, pulling him in, begging for more nearly has him giving it to you right there in his entryway. He refrains, though, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours, though indulges the both of you by pressing himself into you, letting you feel his weight on top of you.

“What’s wrong?” you all but whine, brow furrowing sweetly, like perhaps you thought he wanted to stop because of something you’d done. Jake lifts his hands to cup your jaw, tilting your chin higher and plants two more less-than-chaste kisses to your already swollen lips.

“You’re not going to believe me when I say this,” Jake starts, a wry smile already pulling at his lips and he rolls his eyes at himself this time. You blink up at him questioningly. “Lets just go slow for tonight,” he says, your disbelief confirmed when you stare at him utter in confusion, your frown deepening. “Listen, darling’, I’d love to continue this line of thought you’ve got,” he can’t help but lean against you harder then, something in his abdomen stirring when your eyelids flutter and he sees you swallow thickly. “But… I’m exhausted, honey… let me just hold you, alright?”

He says the words without much question to them, knowing that you’d respect his request without thought. He’s rewarded for his honesty by you mirroring his hold on your cheeks, your own hands cupping his face as you coo.

“Jake, you don't need to entertain me if you’re tired, I can go home…!” you try to tell him, but he ends that idea with a sharp narrowing of his eyes, his hands gripping you harder.

“Baby I haven’t seen or touched you in months, I’m planning on calling you out of work sick tomorrow,” he jokes, though, the thought does strike him as actually a good idea. You laugh, and for a moment he feels slightly light headed because of it.

When he regains himself again, he drops his lips back to yours slowly and maybe a little too hotly, but he doesn’t regret it. “Come on,” he says eventually, tugging you from against the wall, but keeping the line of your body flush to his. “Let's go to bed baby.”

–

You wake in the early hours of the morning with a small start. At first you don’t recognise your surroundings, which makes your sleepy brain panic, but a few seconds later, a dim light to your left reminds you of where you are and who you’re with.

You peel your eyes open and find Jake lying next to you, his head resting in his palm as he leans up on his pillow, phone in hand, his brightness turned all the way down you suspect. You wake further upon realising he’s wide awake, and clearly has been for some time, but at feeling you begin to stir, the arm he still has draped around you tightens, like he’s trying to soothe you in your sleep. He looks up from his phone then, and it makes your heart flutter something wild that even when he thinks you’re asleep he’s remaining attentive.

“Shh, close your eyes baby,” he whispers, clearly not realising you were fully conscious now. You shuffle closer though, curling into his side, and using the opportunity to take him in fully. Jake always looked beautiful, and you aren’t shocked to discover he was even more so at this hour of the day, with his hair completely mussed from your earlier making out, and his features totally relaxed in a way you’re almost certain you’ve never seen before.

“Why’re you awake?” you ask with a yawn. Jake sighs and runs his hand up and down your back a few times.

“Did I wake you up?” he replies, frowning. You shake your head and stifle another yawn.

“What’re you doin’?” you try again. Jake puts his phone down, tucking it under his pillow.

“Lookin’ up mattresses,” he tells you, pulling you in closer, so you’re facing one another. Neither of you raise your voices above a whisper, and despite everything that has happened tonight, this moment feels more intimate than anything else.

“Jake, I wasn’t bein’ serious!” you faux-scold, but he only shrugs. His hand brushes absently over your spine again, and you’re once again surprised by just how touchy Jake has been since his return.

Before he left, the two of you had been out together a whole three times, only two dates of which had ended in brief, but breathtaking kisses, but despite that, you’d initially been a little surprised when he’d told you he was leaving for the better part of a year, and then proceeded to ask for your contact information. To be perfectly honest, you’d expected Jake to break up with you, not somewhat flusteredly explain to you that emails were the best form of regular contact at sea, and ask if it were okay if maybe he sent you some.

You reach a hand up and smooth down some of his hair. Jake leans into you and closes his eyes.

“The springs in this thing could kill someone,” he whispers, shuffling so that his knee slots between yours. “And if my bunk on the carrier is more comfortable, then I definitely need to upgrade.”

You watch him closely. Usually, in the past, you’d had trouble telling whether or not Jake was being honest with you, but for some reason right now you have absolutely zero doubt he was lying.

You suppress your smile, but only because if your emails over the last eight and half months had taught you anything, it was that Jake found it hard sometimes to be vulnerable just for the sake of it, and often hid it under the guise of other thingsv. You don’t believe him about finding his carrier bunk more comfortable, but you understand this is his way of making room for you, asking you in his own way to stay, much like his asking for your email had been all those months ago now.

Jake shifts and peeks one eye open at you.

“Maybe we can go to the store tomorrow,” he says lightly. You hum, and try not to give your insight away.

“The weekend perhaps? I don’t finish until late tomorrow,” you tell him, only for his head to begin shaking.

“Nope, not working tomorrow,” he insists, at last opening both his eyes when you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, you were being serious!” you laugh, just as Jake draws you closer, so his breath ghosts over your lips teasingly.

“I won’t be so tired in the morning… and maybe you can help me test out the new mattress.” his voice is low and sends a thrill down your spine at his implication.

“Well, I can’t let you test it out on your own…” you concede, just as he leans in and presses a kiss to your jaw, shaking his head.

“After eight months of ‘testing it on my own’, that would just be cruel.”

You can't help but laugh, scrunching up your nose and lightly smacking his chest. Jake grins, and kisses another spot along your jaw, higher this time, making you barely suppress a shiver. He chortles to himself and adjusts his positioning to wrap an arm around you. You settle in against his chest and for a few minutes the two of you just lay in comfortable silence.

“I want you to be comfortable here,” Jake whispers eventually, making you pull back a little to look up at him. He’s still referencing your much earlier comment about his old mattress, but you really had been mostly joking.

“As long as you’re here, I will be.” you tell him  in just as quiet of a whisper. Jake shuffles, and shifts his eyes away from you, to look somewhere over your head.

“But I’m not always here…” he says even quieter than before, still not looking at you. You want to question why you would be at his house when he was away, but it strikes you then, that perhaps in the future, that's exactly what he wants.

You pull back even more, but only so you can cup his cheeks and force him to look back down at you. Kissing his lips briefly, you lean in and brush the tip of his nose with yours.

“Then let's go mattress shopping in the morning.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

[luveline]

jade if I’m not too late and requests are still open, can you write bombshell!reader and spence’s first kiss? secretly I think it would be funny if the team saw a hickey on her neck or something that she didn’t expect but oh how I love how soft she is for spence

ty for your request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"It's classic, comfortable anger-excitation," you say, hitting the flat of your ballpoint pen against your fingertip, a repetitive tap. "But his geographical profile is everywhere. No one place is untouched, but if he's as practised as we think he is, he'd kill away from home." 

"Then he's not practised, he's an expert," Hotch says in the seat beside you. "He knows to divert our attention." 

Your tapping increases. Spencer takes a few steps back and puts his hand over yours. You glance up at him. He mimes a deep breath for you to copy. You do it without complaint. 

You're so focused on being perfect that sometimes you forget to breathe. You're very good at being perfect, in Spencer's opinion, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect frenetic hands. And you're doubly perfect at whatever this is, smiling at him with an unquantifiable emotion in what's probably the prettiest set of eyes on planet Earth. 

Spencer puts your pen on your notebook and goes back to his board. The locations of each murder are tacked into a map. You weren't kidding when you said everywhere. 

You're in one of the poorest places in America, and the police station reflects that. There's no conference room for you guys to work undisturbed, and the beat cops and deputy alike can hear and see everything you're doing. Most have the manners to leave you alone, but you're you; you tend to draw attention. 

You've taken up the pen again, clicking and unclicking incessantly. It's an annoying sound but you're not aware that you're doing it, too determined on cracking the case before anything worse happens. Your team knows to ignore you, or even to disarm you. Emily snags the pen from your hand with a friendly laugh. "Jesus, you're tightly wound today." 

"Mm," you murmur, struggling to pull yourself from your notes. A few more seconds and you look up with a blinding smile, "That's because Spencer skimped on my neck massage last night." 

"Come on, pretty boy," Morgan says, though his heart isn't truly in it, "I thought you knew better." 

Spencer shakes his head. You and Spencer had very separate hotel rooms and no sensual touching occurred, but he loves how happy this running joke makes you, so he stays quiet. 

"He knows everything," you say, backtracking, "That's why he's gonna make me a cup of coffee. He knows exactly how I like it." 

He leaves to make you a cup of coffee, but he was heading that way anyway for his own. He's thinking to himself that coffee is a bad idea and that he wishes he was better at saying no to you when you follow him in, your arms already open as you close the two or three steps to his chest and hug him over the shoulders. 

"You didn't say anything when you left," you worry, your embrace overwhelming, sweet and soft and with a loving squeeze to round it off. "I wasn't being bossy, was I?" 

You can be, but not this time. "Shut up, you know I'll make you a cup of coffee whenever you want it." 

"That so?" you ask. 

There's an excess energy you haven't managed to kick today racing through you. He can see the restlessness in your smile, no matter how glitzy. 

"Are you okay?" he asks. 

Spencer's poorly kept secret is that he's obsessed with you. You dote on him, you tease him, you torture him, but Spencer wants all of it and more. He likes being the centre of your attention, loves how your fond flirtation has changed to plain affection, and he would do anything you asked him to if it meant you were gonna kiss his cheek at the end. He thinks you're beautiful and electric and a thousand yards out of his league, and he thinks you're the nicest woman they ever made under all your bravado because not once have you encouraged that line of thought —you like him for him. You don't want him to change. You don't need anything from him he can't give to you. 

His simple question transforms you, your glossy lips perking immediately into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

"You seem tense. I've never given a massage before, but I can actually try," he offers. 

Your hand cups his cheek, your voice aglow with a saccharine quality, "You're lovely, that's why. Maybe I'll take you up on it later–" 

"It's not like–" 

You'd been attempting a sweet thank you, and Spencer was brushing it off, but somewhere in the middle of it you'd gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Spencer —idiot, uncoordinated, inexperienced, is going to hate himself later Spencer— turned away from your touch to argue with you, directing your lips against his. 

Soft, sticky, pretty lips pressed to his. 

You set back on your heels quickly. Your eyes are wide, beautiful but flared in shock, a sheepishness tugging your brows together as you say, "I'm so sorry." 

"It's my fault," he says quickly, braceleting your wrist in his hand, "I'm sorry–" 

You both lean back in for a second kiss at the same time. Spencer's head angled down and your chin tipped ever so slightly upward, you close your eyes as he closes his, completely silent. It's not often you're quiet. Spencer doesn't mean to, but he kisses too hard, too much, forcing your hand from his cheek as he grabs you either side of the head to keep you in his reach. 

Your breath comes out in a huff that lights his nerve endings on fire, the barest hint of your voice tacked to it like a sigh of relief, like you're taking the edge off in the circle of his arms. Spencer's hand slides behind your head to hook you in, your lips parting at the seam from the pressure. You feel the heat of him and respond with vigour, your hand a nagging demand at the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, as his other hand trails down your arm. 

Your elbow bumps the coffee mugs, it really is his fault, and you spring away from him like you think you've been caught. Smiling, a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, you throw your gaze around the room to check you're still alone before stepping forward to laugh against his mouth. 

That's a good sound. A great reaction. You have more patience than Spencer, dotting kisses thick with lip gloss up into his top lip, your mouth just open enough for him to feel faint. 

"It was really an accident," he says between shorter, kinder kisses. 

"I know," you murmur, words smushed. You steal a last rather frantic one before you stop, breathing funny, hands smoothing down the hair you'd mussed initially with sorry tenderness. "Was that okay?" 

He puts his hand on your hip, refusing to gratify what feels like a silly question with a response when you can't not know he's been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Maybe months. "Are you sure you're fine?" 

You smile at him like you know something he doesn't. "I'm sure, Spence. I think I just needed to do that." 

#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 #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[suugarbabe]

Gotcha!! I am a sucker for how you write Enzo, and even more of a sucker for hurt/comfort or angst that ends in fluff. So to mix the two, my brain came up with this: Reader and Enzo have been together for a while, both are in love with eachother. The only thing is, R has never seen Enzo's "dark side", because the occasion never presented itself, until when Enzo beats up a guy for touching R and making her uncomfortable. R is shocked to say the least, or taken aback, but offers all the same to clean up Enzo's wounds, very lost in thought, because maybe usually violence scares her. Knowing Enzo he would realize this, and kind of spiral in a "did I scare you? Are you afraid of me? I would never hurt you" worries, while R was simply worried about Enzo's well being. So it ends with Reader comforting Enzo and vice versa, just a sweet bonding moment after a bit of a scare and angst. Feel free to change this or make it more dramatic💕💕💕💕💕

you couldn't shake the slimy feeling you had since this morning when Cormac tried to touch you. Well, he did touch you, smacked your ass really. And when you gave him the finger he called you a slag. You tried to ignore him, ignore the interaction. Enzo had tried to ask you what was wrong at lunch, but you told him you were just tired, that you'd had a tough divination class that morning. You could tell he wasn't buying it, but he also didn't push you.

when you were walking with Pansy on your way to the library, she had asked you again, and finally you told her. "What a fucking tosser! A right prick, he is," you had agreed with her words, telling her that you were going to go to the library for your free period. She said she would see you later and that you two could plan to hex him during dinner if you'd want.

You'd liked that idea, so when you saw Pansy sprinting towards you in the library, you were heavily confused. You stood up as she approached you, nearly out of breath. You urged her to tell you what was going on. She nodded, hands on her knees, "Enzo...in the court yard...Cormac...blood...s'getting real bad."

"Oh my god," you took off running, Pansy (reluctantly given that she had just sprinted to you) close behind. When you got to the court yard a small crowd had already formed. You pushed your way through until you got to the inner circle, your hand instantly going to cover your gape at the scene before you.

You always knew Enzo was a big man, he was not only tall, but broad as well. You just never realized how much broader he was than most the guys your age because from where you were standing, you couldn't even see Cormac with how Enzo was hunched over him, landing blow after blow.

You looked around the circle until you spotted the rest of Enzo's friends, storming up to them. You pointed at Blaise and Mattheo, "Stop him. You stop him right now before a professor comes out here."

Mattheo smirked, "No way, princess. This is Enzo's victim, he's not finished yet." You turned, now seeing a different angle of the fight. Cormac's face was bloody and swollen, one eye closed completely shut, the skin around it looking taught like a balloon.

You turned back to the both of them, "Mattheo Marvelo you stop this right. now. or I swear to Merlin I'll hex your dick to the size of a peanut for a month." With his middle name and the threat, Mattheo nodded at Blaise, both boys launching themselves toward Enzo, struggling slightly to pull him off.

Enzo was fighting back against them slightly, trying to swing towards Cormac again. He was so blind by rage he didn't even notice anyone around him. You couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't watch him fight anymore.

"Lorenzo, enough." Your voice was loud and stern. Enzo looked toward you, immediately catching your eyes and relaxing in the two other boys' hold. When you nodded they finally released him. You instructed the other boys to 'take care of this', motioning toward Cormac's beaten and moaning body.

You grabbed hold of Enzo's forearm, not wanting to fully grab his hand and get covered in someone else's blood. You led him down to the dungeons, down the hall of the boys dormitory and into the bathroom.

You pointed to the edge of the tub, "Sit." Enzo did so immediately, looking down at the ground like a child about to be scolded. You opened of of the cabinets, grabbing gauze and some healing potions that the boys kept on hand.

Walking back towards Enzo, you tapped the inside of one of his knees, signaling him to widen his legs so you could stand between them. You lifted his head with a finger under his chin. His had a small cut on his lower lip, "Looks like he got one good swing on you."

Enzo smirked, "Yeah, one's all he got the chance to get." You tsked at him, "You know I hate fighting, Enzo. You never fight, it's always the others."

Enzo's smirk turned to a frown, his lip splitting open slightly more, "I'm so sorry, angel, did I scare you? Are you afraid of me now? You know I would never hurt you, righ-"

You cut him off with a finger to his lips before patting the split in his lip with gauze and a healing potion.

"Why were you fighting him," you knew the answer, but you wanted to know how he knew. You grabbed one of his hands, waving your wand over the cuts that you can only assume were made from either Cormac's teeth or the harsh bridge of his nose coming into contact with Enzo's fists.

"Darling, my angel girl, he touched you, no, he smacked you, and called you names? What kind of protector would I be if I let shit like that slide. No way, that is never happening." You couldn't help but smile as you finished healing his other hand.

You cupped his cheek now, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, "My sweet Enzo bear, my big bad protector." Enzo placed his hands on either side of your hips, one hand going round to give you ass a playful squeeze.

You squealed, swatting at his hand with a giggle. Enzo smiled at the sound, pulling you closer still, "I will always be here to protect you, no matter what. I love you angel girl."

You smiled, "I love you too, Enzo," leaning in again to give him a proper kiss.

#nonny bo bonny #enzo berskshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire angst #enzo berkshire fluff

[satorisoup]

GREEN THUMB .ᐟ

ft. kento nanami

cw : fluff + sfw. neighbor! nanami. brief mentions of sickness. mentions of baby bumps. petnames ( my love, darling). mentions of children.

wc : 1.9k

you can recall the feeling you had just a few months ago, unfamiliarity that bubbled in your gut and gushed out of the seams. moving to a new home was stressful, and the loneliness that could occur was fearsome.

the small but comfortable house that you now owned definitely needed some fixing when you had first arrived, the paint chipped and floors creaky at the time. making it your own was a job for many, but you managed to do it all by yourself. your proudest accomplishment being the beautiful garden that took up your spacious backyard, colorful and bright with the flowerets that scattered across the tall grass. every day without fail, you cared for your garden like a mother to a child, taking your time to nourish it with water and dense soil.

today was no different, as you stood outside in the beaming light. your sundress brushed to the floor beneath you, hair braided out of your face as you tended to the newest addition to your ever expanding eden. the seedlings you had were placed ever so carefully, each having their own special spot.

“ zinnia’s ? ”

you’re rather startled by the sudden voice, falling back from your squatting position with a thud, and your head whips up to the culprit of the question.

a man stands as he looks to you, golden locks neatly in place as he peers over the short wooden picket fence that seperates you two. his eyes widen ever so slightly, but you’re sure not to miss it as you stare intently.

“ im sorry. i didn’t mean to startle you, miss. ”

if it weren’t for the kind, sultry tone in his voice and the… handsome face he displayed, you probably would’ve yelled out a curse by now. but you have better judgment than that, lifting yourself off of your tailbone to sit upright.

“ it’s alright. yes, um… they’re zinnia’s ”

you notice his face soften when he realizes you weren’t too startled, relieved that he hadn’t given you a heart attack or gotten chewed out.

“ ah, those bloom nicely this time of year. ” he notes, hand now outstretched over the fence posts in greeting.

“ kento nanami. your neighbor. nice to meet you. ”

since that day, you’ve seen nanami on the other side of that fence almost every time you watered your plants. he was very kind, and seemed to have quite the interest in your garden.

———

it’s another spring day, and the birds seem to be enjoying the sunlight as they chirp from the trees with their tunes, and you’re of course in your garden. the metal watering can sprinkles onto the newest blooms and growing blossoms, dew drops collecting on the petals.

yet again, nanami was in his yard, half of his body standing tall over the wooden pickets as he asks you a question that you’ve never had the pleasure of answering before.

“ which one is your favorite flower ? ”

the watering can stops it’s stream as you look to him, laughing lightly at the question.

“ i don’t actually have my favorite flower in my garden. ”

nanami’s brow furrows, “ oh ? why not ? ”

“ i suppose i just don’t have a green thumb when it comes to them. i’ve tried, but i just haven’t been able to plant them right. ” you admit, setting the watering can down onto a patch of clovers as you stand to his eye level.

“ i see. well, what are they ? ” he asks again.

“ oh, tulips. they’ve always been my favorite. ”

———

when you had gotten the call that your grandmother was in the hospital, you wanted to leave your home right away. she had fallen a bit ill, and you always had the worst of worries. you didn’t know how long you would be gone, or what could happen if you didn’t leave soon. but what you did know was that your garden needed watering and care, and you wouldn’t be there to do it.

when you had seen nanami in his yard as usual, you rather frantically ran through the stone walkway to your side of the fence, bag swinging at your side and a fresh bouquet held tightly in your hand.

“ mister nanami ! ” was what you had yelled, coming to a stop at the wooden barrier, braid swinging to the side of your shoulder.

“ oh, hello. are you alright ? ”

you think to yourself for just a moment about the outcomes of your question, and you knew it was quite late notice, but he was your last and only resort.

“ i have an emergency… im very sorry to ask you, but would you mind watering my garden while im gone ? if you’re unable to— ”

“ — of course. that’s alright with me. ”

you’re almost stunned by the sudden agreement, not sure why you were expecting him to say no. you awkwardly nod your head, hand digging into your bag to fish out your house key.

“ thank you, thank you so much ! i can’t thank you enough. i should return soon… the watering can is by the door, and if you could water the poppies more frequently, oh ! and the roses need to be— ”

“— i know. i’ve got it covered. be safe, please. ” nanami again stops you before you’re able to continue rambling, soft smile adorning his face.

your hands briefly touch, only for a moment, as you hand him the polished key to your home. you smile and wave one more time to the man before you, eternally grateful for his immense favor to you.

———

nanami had watched you work in your garden more times than he could count. he was observant, and knew your routine from start to finish. he always took the time to note the amounts of water you trickled onto the petals, the soft pats you gave to the soil as if you were tucking a child into bed, the care you took when planting something as small as a seedling. he would admire you, all while you two shared simple yet meaningful conversations.

he knew exactly what to do. he knew to water your orange poppies a bit more thoroughly, and to only sprinkle the droplets on the marigolds. he made sure to pat the soil of your newest seeds, daffodils. he wouldn’t forget to splash the daisies, or pot the lilies.

but nanami knew there was something missing in your garden, and he couldn’t forsake the opportunity.

———

when you had arrived back home almost a week later, nanami was no where to be found. your house key laid under your doormat neatly and hidden from view. you knew you had to thank him somehow for the kind deed, but for now, you had to check on one thing first. that being your beloved, sacred garden.

the first thing you noticed as you stepped out into the clovered yard was the stepping stones, neatly hosed down and free of dirt and debris. cleaner than you had ever seen them.

the second thing you saw was the lively blooms of your precious daffodils, slowly making their way out of the soil as they protruded from the ground in little sprouts.

the third, your garden was in absolutely perfect condition, if not better than when you had left. the blossoms from all of your flowers were lively and brighter, happy and hydrated. bee’s were buzzing happily in the pollen, and monarchs had taken a liking to your butterfly bush.

the final thing you noticed was impossible to miss, and you could feel your heart leap from your chest as you looked onward to the once empty spot in awe.

tulips had made an appearance into your garden, standing tall in precious pinks along the side of your fence.

———

you stand in your garden years later now, prospering petals shining brighter than ever before. tulips still line the perimeter of the fence posts, pretty in bulbs of a soft pink.

nanami watches you from the door to your enchanted eden now, admiring your soft, gentle hands that fluff up the bushes and swipe droplets from petals.

you’re in your sundress that now rises a bit above your feet, flowing long and graceful. the bump under your dress doesn’t go unseen, and your skin glows under the soft light that basks down onto you.

“ kento ! ” you call for him, foot shifting from the green grass to beckon him over.

nanami walks over to you, following the same stone path that has been etched into the ground over the time that has passed.

“ my love ? ” he answers, hand traveling from the small of your back with tender touches to wrap around your bump, hand resting just above your belly button.

you both now stand together on one side of the wooden picket fence that once separated you two, vines now beginning to grow up and through the small cracks. you look to him with the small fond smile that you had given him many times before.

“ do you think we could plant white tulips next ? ”

nanami smiles at you as he ponders your question, already knowing the answer.

“ anything for you, darling. ”

———

“ sweetheart ! don’t run or you’ll trip… ”

nanami warns. he sits on the small gingham blanket that covers the trefoil clovers, cookies and fruit plated on the woven picnic basket.

he watched your young daughter run through your garden, giggles erupting from her mouth with each barefoot step she took. her two braids swung wildly in the wind, ruffly dress swaying by her toes.

her laughs seem to be contagious as he watches you giggle too, smile bright and eyes squinted shut as your daughter runs into your legs, arms wrapping around them in a hug.

he sees his two darling girls spin and sway in dances under the warm sun, before his daughter comes running towards him. her arms are open wide, jumping onto him as he almost falls back with a small surprised “ umph !— ”

she looks to him with her babytoothed grin, and settles as you walk over to sit on the shared blanket too.

“ daddy ? ” is what your daughter says, shy smile as her arms come up from her sides with flowers grasped in her tiny hands. “ please ? ” is what she follows up with, and he already knows what your daughter is asking.

and soon enough, your daughters messy, sunkissed braids are littered with daisies, white and yellow sprinkled into the twisted strands.

“ kento ? ” he hears you call for him from beside your daughter, watching as your hand holds the same flowers that your daughter did. “ please ? ” you repeat the same words your child had asked moments before.

now, the two of you have your braids decorated from his own hands, wild and free as he watched you two continue to dance in your beloved garden.

nanami knew since the moment he had stepped foot into his bland yard years ago and locked eyes with your flowing yellow sundress, he wouldn’t be able to deny the beauty that stood in the backyard, gentle in the spring sun.

#first nanami post sobs i love him dearly </333 #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #nanami kento #jjk kento #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #nanami drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk headcanons #jjk nanami #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk smau #jjk texts #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[spacebarbarianweird]

Beloved Monsters

So, it happened! I've finally brought Alethaine, Astarion's dhampir daughter, to life!

Synopsis: Domestic fluff about a small family of monsters.

Tags: fluff, comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 7

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

“Mum! Mum!”

As you open your eyes, the coziness of your bed with a fur blanket and the softest pillow surrounds you. It feels so comfy, like a warm hug. 

“Mum!”

A pale-skinned Elven girl with hair the color of snow stares at you like a cat. She stands upside down on the ceiling as if her legs were glued to it.

“Hi, Alethaine. Is anything wrong?”, you yawn and look at the window. It’s late afternoon and it's snowing. Winters in that part of Faerun are cold and merciless but nights are long. Which is good.

Alethaine, your dhampir-daughter, jumps onto the bed and you notice she’s already put on her warm clothes. Unlike Astarion, she is not immune to cold.

“Can I go? Pleeease!”

You sit up and hear a loud laughter from the inner yard. The town kids. Mostly humans, but Alethaine’s best friend is a dwarf boy, an Innkeeper’s son. All younger than ten, careless and brave like all the kids of this age no matter the race and social status.

“Cover your ears”, you say, making yourself get out of bed. You hate being stuck at home for so long – your body craves fights – but having a little child puts certain limitations.

“Thanks!”, Alethaine bares her fangs.

For the last month, you’ve been alone with Alethaine. Astarion left in the late month of Uktar, complaining that he didn’t want to travel in that awful northern weather and that there is nothing more disgusting than autumn. 

“It’s cold and I will have to sleep in the dirt. Besides, hags are “known” for their hospitality!”

Simple as that. A daughter of one of the noble families fell in love with someone from the common folk. He rejected her, and she made a deal with a hag to get him. The hag turned the girl into something and locked away. So, her family searched for help and eventually got to Astarion – the only person who knew how to deal with both supernatural contracts and the monsters themselves.

“Well, I will either find a loophole to save this idiot of a girl. Or I will have to fight the hag. Not the first time. Gods, good thing Alethaine is going to be much smarter than that!”

You smile. Since Alethaine was born, Astarion has been very sensitive about cases when a young woman, someone’s daughter, is trapped by supernatural forces. Astarion can deny it but he imagines Alethaine trapped the same way.

“Alethaine! Where are you?”, the dwarf boy throws a snowball into the door with a loud thump.

“Coming!”

Astarion was supposed to come back a week ago. Before Alethaine was born you had dealt with such things together. Be it a monster hunting or helping with contracts. But life changed seven years ago. 

You two became parents.

A little girl, a silver-curled elf with long pointy ears, is so delicate as if made of crystals. She has long vampiric fangs and can walk on the ceilings. A tiny copy of her father — Astarion was in tears when he realized that. 

“Bye!”, Alethaine wears her warm winter coat and hat but her long ears stick out.

“Cover them!”

“It hurts when I do that!”

You sigh. Elven ears are so sensitive it hurts to tuck them under heavy winter hats. As a half-elf yourself you can relate though yours are much smaller.

You take a scarf and wrap your daughter’s head in it. By doing that you can’t resist touching her ears which twitch a bit. The girl giggles, baring her fangs. It’s a funny image – the dhampir fangs grew up many years ago and didn’t show any signs of being “baby fangs”. They were probably a single set for all her life which will last for many centuries, growing along with the rest of her body.

But her “baby” incisors have already fallen out.

“Alethaine! Come on!” the dwarf boy waves to her. Alethaine frees herself from your hands and rushes toward her friends.

The moment she is outside, she takes the scarf freeing her ears to the cold air. 

You let it go. 

Sticking at home on your own is boring so you take out a two-handed ax and go outside to take care of it. You never know when the weapon is needed. Here, far in the wilderness dangers lurk in the dark. Wild trolls, gnolls, werewolves, bandits, name it yourself. Townsfolk aren’t people of war and they rely on you, a retired adventurer, to protect them. 

So, you always have to be ready.

The process completely takes you over as the early night falls upon the world and prickly stars start shining in the skies.

And then suddenly…

You are lifted in the air by strong hands.

“Astarion!” you exclaim and wrap your hands around his neck.

He kisses you and then looks into your eyes with love and adoration. But you can’t help but notice he is exhausted, with bruises and dark circles under his crimson eyes.

“Did something go wrong?”

“Darling, there was an obnoxious princess who could not take “no” for an answer, her brother who doesn’t process the idea that he is not as smart as he thinks. And three hags. Three, not one! And each of them had a personal contract with the girl, each contradicting the other one. What could possibly go wrong?”

“So, did you save the girl?”

“Depends. She won’t have to spend another five centuries being locked in a mirror. But she will be the hags’ servant for eighteen years, six for each of them. They also wanted to transform her into something I would call a half-rotten gnoll, but I managed to talk them out of it.”

“Two decades is long for a human.”

“Well, she wanted to make that boy her mindless lover for the rest of his human life so I think it’s fair. Her family didn’t agree, though, so I had to return on my own.”

“Did they pay you?”

“No, I stole some valuable possession of theirs”, he puts you on the ground and slips a ring on your finger. “It’s not enchanted, I checked.”

The ring is beautiful. It looks as if the fire was trapped inside it.

You two kiss again and get inside. The moment Astarion steps into the bedroom he starts undressing – he probably has been dreaming of getting rid of the dirty clothes for weeks. 

You smile. You’ve seen him undressing and naked thousands of times but you never get tired of it.

“I’ve seen Alethaine. She made those human children carry her on the sled,” he says.

 “If they don’t treat her well, who would sneak to other people’s houses to steal sweets?”

It is a common complaint. Apparently, Alethaine learned that if her feet are bare she makes no sound walking on the ceilings.

“I am tearing apart against the necessity to punish her for that and admiring her skills”, Astarion adds.

“You were a magistrate; I think you can find words to persuade a seven-year-old.”

“It’s much easier to persuade a devil than Alethaine!”

“Who could she take it from?”

He laughs and you approach Astarion for another kiss. You missed him. Gods knows, you missed him. You caress his strong shoulders ready to start something more sensual.

“Love”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to.”

You pull away and touch his cheek. There aren’t enough words in your vocabulary to express how proud you are of him. It’s been twenty-seven years but he still has issues with saying “no” to you. And you often find yourself in an intimate situation when you suddenly realize he doesn’t want to take part in it. Maybe, not to upset you. Maybe, out of stubbornness.

“Sure. What do you want, then? Bath? Blood? Sleep?”

“Everything you mentioned in that exact order.”

“Wait, I will prepare the bath.”

… Soon enough, Astarion sinks himself into the bathtub and you start washing his curls out of dirt while he scrubs his skin. You notice some bruises and scratches. They still haven’t healed properly and you try not to think how they looked a week ago.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like I was butchered”, he answers, noticing your concerns.

“I wish I could come with you.”

“Darling. Alethaine is growing faster than a kitten – soon she will be old enough to be on her own. We will be doing this together again.”

You smile. Yes, that’s true. As a half-elf, you have much more time than humans. You are sixty-three, your human siblings are either long dead or very old. But you still look like you did when you were twenty. You have more than a century of life ahead. Plenty of time. For adventures, for miracles, for everything. Maybe, even for another child. 

You spend what looks like a pleasant eternity like this. Talking, laughing, smiling. At least twice Astarion takes your hand graciously and drinks blood from your wrists. His bruises and scratches immediately heal. Whatever blood he managed to take in the winter woods wasn’t enough.

When the water gets cold, Astarion gets out and dresses in clean clothes, a white shirt with an embroidered dragon and black trousers. 

… Together you sit in front of the fireplace. Astarion hugs you and you silently look at the fire. 

A loud thump wakes you from bliss. 

“Dad!” Alethaine cries out and in a moment the girl is on her father's lap.

“Hello, princess,” he stands up, lifting the girl in the air. You notice her ears have a purple color. “I see your teeth keep falling out”

Altethaine grins. And Astarion plants a gentle fatherly kiss on her forehead.

“Wait a moment, I brought you something” He puts Alethaine back on her feet, and she yawns like a cat. 

Astarion pulls out two books out of his travel sack. Alethaineimmediately opens the first one. You can see pictures and intricate Elven letters – despite being a half-elf you never learned how to read it, meanwhile Alethaine had learned to read and write both Common and Elven before she turned five.

“Is it Elven?” she asks. “I can’t understand what is written!”

“It’s Old Elven. A little bit different from the one we speak.”

Alethaine opens the other book and sees an image of an Elven woman with long silver hair, and dark eyes.

“She looks like me,” Alethaine says,

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”

You look at them unable to stop smiling. Monsters. A vampire and a dhampir. 

Your beloved monsters. The daughter and the husband. Sometimes you treat them like something given – besides, what is more “traditional” for a mortal woman than a child and a spouse? But Astarion never forgets, even for a moment, that these normal things are supposed to be impossible. He isn’t supposed to have a home, a wife, and a child. 

You remember him crying with the newborn in his arms. Mere seven years ago. You remember coming back from a “dragon slaying travel” in the middle of the night to see Astarion and Alethaine sliding down a hill together. You remember his stare – which he gives you every single morning. The look of adoration, love, and gratitude. 

The girl yawns once again, and you notice how sleepy she is. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” the girl pouts. “I wanna sleep.”

“Oh, all right then. But come downstairs if you feel hungry”, Astarion strokes her silver hair.

Alethaine approaches you and wraps her hands around your neck. You feel a soft prickle of her fangs on your shoulder. 

“Have a good sleep, kitten”, you say.

Alethaine snatches both of the books from the table and goes away. Unlike Elven children, Alethaine does sleep. Like a predator, deep in her dreams but waking up a moment something off happens. 

“So, I think we should follow her example”, Astarion lifts you up in the air bridal style. “It’s tediously boring to sleep alone, do you agree?”

You giggle. When Astarion leaves, Alethaine doesn’t let you sleep alone. She crawls into her parents' bed and hugs you from behind pressing her little nose into your back. Anyone would think the girl is afraid of darkness or monsters.

But it’s not that.

Alethaine, a half-monster herself, sincerely believes her mother needs to be protected. And if Astarion isn’t at home, it’s her duty to make sure nothing comes after you. Maybe you slay monsters with your two-handed ax but who knows what night can hide? 

You caress Astarion’s cheek.

“Yes, how could I even fall asleep without my beloved monsters?”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x tyrael #oc tav tyrael #alethaine ancunin #astarion being a dad #dadstarion #astarion fluff #astarion x you #spacebarbarian fics #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | next chapter

Six days after Maverick’s disappearance, Bradley isn’t quite whole anymore. But, there isn’t time to crumble.

warnings: : age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, extra warnings to be added chapter by chapter. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back.”

“Rooster, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone.”

It’s a stomach-sick, sweat inducing kind of fever that lingers now on this mild morning. Breeze blowing across his skin, patterned and rhythmic, reminding him every now and again to breathe.

It has been exactly six days since Pete Mitchell was declared missing in action. Six days since a missile meant for Bradley hit Pete’s plane and sent the sixty-five million dollar aircraft spiraling into miles and miles of desolate, freezing forest. Bradley has slept four times in those six days, and each time he has, his subconscious reminds him of exactly what he is responsible for

Today is a relatively chilly morning in May, and Bradley is sitting on the front step of a cottage near Bird Rock in northern San Diego. Today is the first day since he got home three and a half days ago that he has left his apartment. Natasha stayed over last night. She has stayed over every night. She slept by his side, on top of his covers, just holding his hand. When he was in the shower this morning, she laid out his clothes for him. She hasn’t ever known him to be this quiet. Ever.

He hasn’t said much at all since they got back. Natasha knows that he’s picturing himself alone in that forest. Dead, or worse.

Now, she sits at his side and rubs soft circles on his shoulder over the black fabric of his t-shirt. He would do it for her, if she was the one going through this. She would be too stubborn to listen to him too. They have known each other since flight school. Natasha got so drunk the first Friday that Bradley spent his entire first Friday holding her hair back while she threw up.

The next day, Bradley embarrassed himself so badly in front of a girl he liked that he almost quit just so that they wouldn't have to see each other again. After that, they have remained pretty close. Especially now, when they need each other.

“Rooster, no one expects you to be here right now — you went through something awful out there.” She says it one last time anyway, even though she knows that it won’t change a single thing.

That’s one of the reasons that their friendship is so strong — sometimes a person just has to do what they have to do, Bradley and Natasha respect that sentiment. Even if it means texting back a no-good ex, or staying out a little too late on a work night now and again. Each other’s best interests are always at heart, but it’s human to not put yourself first now and again.

Bradley hasn’t sat on the steps of Maverick’s two bedroom beach cottage since he was thirteen. Right before Maverick pissed off an admiral and got shipped out somewhere crazy, somewhere cold — he can’t remember exactly where anymore, he never wrote a letter there. Right before he started only seeing Maverick on holidays and special occasions, the occasional baseball game.

Pete bought this place back in the eighties. He got it for a steal. A craftsman bungalow three blocks from the beach, with two bedrooms and a small yard. He had wanted to be close to Carole, and he had just gotten married. Bradley’s memories of Charlie are faint, but he knows that her father helped Pete with the down payment. Maverick hated him for that. His first and, as it happened, only marriage hadn’t lasted very long. Two or three years, maximum. She was gone before Bradley finished second grade, anyway.

The spare room here used to be Bradley’s. Back when his mom worked weekends at a hotel in La Jolla, and he and Pete would take Friday night trips to Blockbuster every week. He hasn’t even been inside yet. He can’t imagine how much the interior would have changed since those weekends back in the nineties.

Glancing down at the IWC clock face on his wrist, the big hand has been creeping up on ten o’ clock for what feels like hours by now. Breeze sweeps a strand of Natasha’s hair off of her face. She leans against her best friend, her palm trailing to the middle of his back.

Natasha has two parents. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye often, but she knows where they are. It’s a Sunday, they’ll be at Costco. She has a sister who gets on her nerves but adores her nonetheless, Leona will be at a spin class this morning. None of the people she loves are missing. If one of them were, she would have others to lean on.

For Bradley, it’s just her now.

“I can’t let her turn up to an empty house.” Bradley’s voice comes out more hoarse than either of them is expecting it to. He hasn’t cried yet. He keeps thinking he might, the urge is there, but the tears just don’t come.

Bradley doesn’t even know you. Not really. Not even when he was a kid. It’s been sixteen years since Bradley was even on speaking terms with Maverick. But now, everything’s different. He has a debt that he’ll never repay.

It has been six days. If Maverick survived the initial hit, and the ejection, then he has still been out in the snow for six days. Probably injured. Alone. Being hunted. He’s gone. And yet, Bradley just can’t — or won’t — grieve him. Moving on isn’t an option.

The person that they are waiting for is yourself. Pete Mitchell’s only child. Bradley doesn’t even know who he’s looking for. The last time he saw you was when you were three years old, staring at him from the backseat of your mother’s blue ford escort with a pacifier in your mouth while your parents argued a few feet away.

Penny Benjamin is the one that contacted you after the initial Navy correspondence. Bradley wouldn’t have even known how. He doesn’t have Maverick’s number any more, much less yours. Back when he knew you, you didn’t even know your numbers. Really he only saw you a handful of times. You hadn’t crossed paths much. Your mother lived up near Oregon. She was a waitress. Most of the time Pete drove up to see you, or the weekends that you visited him, Bradley would stay with a neighbour.

He bows his head just slightly, elbows rested on his parted knees. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn sweats. He hasn’t ever let Natasha dress him before. Today wasn’t a good day to start. Meeting Mav’s kid wouldn’t be a formal occasion, but under the circumstances.

His ears perk up at the sound of a misfire. Natasha flinches against him. She’s not been feeling that great since they got home either. Her dreams are like his too. It doesn’t matter. The car squeals around the corner at the far end of the street like its driver is trying to get it onto just two wheels. He lifts his head in time to see a steel blue ford escort hit the curb on the street just past Maverick’s property line.

Instantly, he pushes himself onto his feet. That kind of maniacal attitude to manning a vehicle must be hereditary.

Both he and Natasha watch as the driver slams their fists into the wheel in frustration. Then, you, the driver, notice them for the first time.

You’ve seen Bradley Bradshaw periodically throughout your life. There is no escaping his image when Maverick’s around. But, none of those photos are recent. They’re all from at least twelve years ago now. The only information you had been given was that Bradley looked kind of like Goose now.

And you — are not a little kid anymore. Natasha pushes herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her palms onto her jeans. A brief look is sent towards her best friend, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He’s staring straight ahead as you twist open the door handle and kick.

It complies with a groan and you start off with one foot on the pavement. High top black converse. The other foot follows next. Jeans. Normal, appropriate for the early May weather before the heat really picks up.

Then, as you push yourself to stand, Bradley can see the rest of you. You exhale and your hand flies to the back of your neck instantly.

“Hi,” You force out. “Bradley, right?”

That’s stupid. You know who he is. He knows who you are. You both know why you’re here. Natasha watches as you cringe into yourself, not necessarily physically, but it’s plastered all over your worried little face anyway.

“Yeah.” Bradley agrees without a nod. His hands are neither in his pockets nor doing anything else that might be productive. He tells himself that he should maybe shake your hand, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that maybe he should say something more, but he doesn’t.

Towering over the pretty brunette at his side, Bradley doesn’t look anything like he had in his photos at high school graduation. His face is longer and wider at the same time, his cheeks have lost some of their roundness but they still have a youthful pink flush. His hair is shorter, auburn and tidy around the back and sides. Still trying to be curly on top.

He grew up near the beach and his skin tells the tale. Freckles and a golden glow to his skin that you just know is an all year round kind of thing by now. Slight redness across his collarbones, the high points of his body where the sun hits most when he’s drying off after a swim.

In his eyes, you were hoping to find the boy from the pictures. The grinning blond in the baseball uniform. Instead, there’s something else.

Whatever it is, you hope it isn’t pity. Just because his dad — no, you shouldn’t think that. It shouldn’t start out like this.

“How was the drive? — Not too bad, I hope?” The tiny brunette finally bursts through the wall of silence that you and Bradley have been competitively building up since your sneaker touched the pavement two minutes ago. “I’m Natasha. I work with… — I — I’m Bradley’s friend.”

“Hi. It wasn’t too bad. I need to see a mechanic while I’m here, but — I don’t know. I’ll find time.” Just from watching you, Natasha can see that you’re all over the place. Neither here nor there. You don’t look like you’ve been crying either. Mascara intact, your makeup looks pretty.

Bradley knows that it has been a long time since he and Maverick were on speaking terms. He knows that even before that, they didn’t talk much about you. But, shit — he wishes now that he had at least seen a picture first so that he could prepare himself.

He remembers footie pajamas and drool and chubby, perpetually sticky cheeks.

Now, the belt looped through your blue jeans makes sure that the denim hugs you in all of the right places and that tank top is confirming to him that you’re no longer anything like the faint image he has in some of his oldest memories.

There’s got to be something wrong with him — that that’s the first thing that sprung to his mind. That Mav’s kid got hot in the twenty years since he saw her last. He shakes it from his head. Physically. He shakes his head and finally springs into action.

“What’s the matter with it?”

For the first time in five days, it’s the first time that someone hasn’t started a conversation by asking how you’re holding up. It catches you totally unprepared, and your knowledge of cars leaves you under qualified to answer anyway.

Bradley Bradshaw takes three long strides along the stone garden path and he has reached you already. He’s on a course right for you, and he’s big when he’s not squished into one of those photo frames in Maverick’s house. You lean back slightly, starting to brace for the impact of him hitting you.

He’s aware of his size and has learned to grow careful with it, stepping around you narrowly and heading straight for your old shitbox of a car.

“I don’t know. The steering is loose and the engine is making a weird noise.”

Bradley twists his neck and shoots an incredulous look at you, back over one of his wide shoulders. It’s a fourteen hour drive down from the Oregon coast, on a good day, and this car ran like shit when your mother bought it twenty something years ago.

Popping the hood, Bradley finds himself thinking of something other than those snowy peaks for the first time all week.

Ahead of you, you’re confronted with Mav’s place. The cottage you were forced to spend the occasional weekend or weeks in during the summer a couple of times through your childhood. Most of the times that you saw Pete were in your hometown. He was always the one who travelled. It seemed fair. His job meant that it didn’t happen often.

Your memories of this house are faint, but the same uncomfortable restless feeling it gives you remains. You remember quiet days sitting on the couch with your hands in your lap, waiting for that court-mandated forty-eight hours to be up.

Natasha is facing the other way. She watches Bradley step off of the curb and pop your hood. Bradley has a technical knowledge of engineering from his career, and a slightly broader scope from his interest in vintage cars — but he’s not a mechanic.

A quick glance to her right and she takes note of the way you’re frowning at the weeds poking through the stone path pavers.

Like watching a storm roll in before a big surf, Natasha has a bad feeling about this arrangement. Two people who should be coming to terms with their grief, and it's clear to her that you’re both planning on ignoring this problem by busying yourself for as long as you can.

“You can’t drive this piece of shit.” Bradley decides from the street. You turn slowly on the balls of your feet and push your hands into the pockets of your jeans. He doesn’t even look up.

Crowding over the hood of your car, glaring down at it. Thick shoulders filling out a plain black t-shirt and long legs hidden under loose fitting grey sweats. An auburn curl dangles over his forehead.

You twist and shoot a look back at Natasha.

“I… Kinda have to.” You point out. A recent graduate with no immediate career plans, who just quit their waitressing job to pick up the pieces of their presumably dead, semi-estranged father’s life. Buying a new car isn’t exactly in the budget right now.

Bradley opens his palms and braces them against the open hood. He turns his head and looks first at Natasha. His best friend. Then, the house. He learned to ride his bike on this street. Maverick lived on this street. Finally, his attention turns to you. He watches you watch him.

Leaning against your shitty, old car like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet. Squinting at you because he left his sunglasses in work and the doctors won’t let him go back there for another couple weeks.

You’re staring back at him, wondering why he’s looking at you like that. Like he’s looking for something.

He pushes off of the car and stands, wiping his hands on his sweats. “I’ll take care of it. Whatever you need. I can drive you for a bit.”

As Bradley walks around to the back of the car and pops open the trunk to grab your bags, Natasha is struck with a numbing realization.

Maverick put himself in an early grave trying to make up for a mistake he made when he was young, and Bradley won’t stop until he does the same.

…

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you