University Superstar

University Superstar

[Summary]: Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system…

[Theme]: Jock!Jk, LacrossePlayer!JK x TeacherIntern!Y/N, Friends(?)ToLovers!AU, EnimeisToLovers!AU

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, lots of hickies, mentions of blowjob, consistent flirting, JK is an extreme asshole (he actually got on my nerves for some of it lol), insensitive JK, lots of passion, squirting, kissing, pining after one another (mainly JK)

[Word Count]: 10,130

[Author’s Note]: I didn’t plan on making Y/n an education major…? But then I was thinking of JK in a bomber jacket and jock x teacher!AU and…yeah no, it had to happen.

Jeon Jungkook.

The name makes you hurl a little in your mouth. Yesterday’s lunch makes its way to the back of your throat. But you swallow it down, telling yourself to be strong and that he will go away soon.

“So,” he banters a smile at you. That stupid yellow and blue lacrosse bomber jacket puffs out around his shoulders, the number “07” poking out in the ugliest school-sprit font you’ve ever seen on his sleeves. His elbows rest on your desk, arms delicately pushing some of your papers and trinkets out of his way. The action only fuels your anger.

“7 o’clock. You and me. Chipotle.”

“In your dreams, fuckboy,” you scoff. The audacity he has to ask you out. The audacity he has to find the school you intern at (literally on your universities campus, but still), interrupt your work, and ask you on a date for the nth time since the start of this week.

You think this might be the 5th time this week he’s asked you out on a date. And it’s only Wednesday.

The amount of explaining you still have to do to your coworkers, and even your kindergartner students, is exhausting. Everyone knows who he is. He’s the captain of your Universities lacrosse team, probably the most popular guy on campus…one of “the hottest” guys in the school (according to your coworker and roommate, Aecha)

You remember asking her a while back why he was always “the talk of the town”, and all she could say was: “Well, look at him. How could he not be?”

You get it. He is hot. But that doesn’t stop you from absolutely hating his guts. Not after he spilled his hot, black coffee all over your white shirt and pants a few weeks ago. Not after he stained all of your precious student’s artwork with his scorching hot Americano.

You were on your way to the school to hang them up in your classroom. Stopping at your University library’s coffee shop, you decided to start your day with a little bit of matcha before you decorated your space.

Your students had just completed a “what I love about me” project, and their responses literally made you cry. Maybe made you ugly cry. So innocent and honest in their responses, this project was probably the most precious to your heart. You had wished you did something like this back when you were so young. Maybe then you would have a reminder on your bad days what younger you always admired before nasty comments and puberty hit your system.

So, when Jeon Jungkook completely drenched them in his black coffee, your stained, very expensive, white work shirt and pants didn’t even matter. The sopping-wet look of your student’s work made you fight to gulp back tears. But you couldn’t help the water that begged to break free from behind your eyelids.

“Oohh!” he laughs, the stupid jock in him making a scene. “Jeez! I’m sorry.” you can feel the antagonizing smirk on his lips as he looks at what he’s done to you. “Here, let me get a napkin,”

Jungkook exits your line of vision and you try to make your way out of the library before he comes back. But, ever the athlete he is, Jungkook is back before you can blink with a giant wad of the coffee shop’s crappy brown napkins.

You don’t even know is talking to you until you take the napkins from his hands, recognizing those ugly, stupid, hot hand tattoos. Who couldn’t recognize them when the whole university makes Jungkook’s tattoos each and every one of its personality traits?

The realization of your perpetrator being Jeon Jungkook only makes you more upset. Had it been anyone else, the hurt in your heart from your damaged projects might have been less painful.

You immediately start wiping off your student’s projects, placing them on the nearest table and patting them dry, trying your best not to smear the Crayola marker and some of them.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckles to himself, again. “Nice line work. Didchya draw those?”

“Please, stop talking.” you spit at him. Finally, you look up at his face, hoping he gets the point.

You think he does, because the minute he catches your gaze, his face freezes. The look on your face was angry, but that tear in your eye from what he did to your papers made you really upset. Which, for some reason, made his heart clench. Hoping he can’t see the tears trying to break free from your eyelids, you look back down and continue your previous actions.

“I-I, um,” he stutters, voice much meeker than what it antagonized you with just moments ago. “Look, is there anything I can do? A free drink? New clothes? A personal invitation to Min Yoongi’s New Year’s Party? An escort around the men’s lacrosse locker room? …During uniform change?”

“Thanks, but, the best thing you can do is leave,” you reply. Just about done drying your projects up the best you can, you gather them up in your arms and face him once again. This time, you stare at his face for more than a few seconds. You hate that he’s handsome, it only makes it harder to stop looking at his playful smirk adorning his face from mentioning the men’s locker rooms.

“You sure? Heard this year’s party is supposed to be a banger.” he bribes, the mole under his bottom lip showing as he smiles.

“Min Yoongi is a close friend. I am invited to his parties every year. Now, I have to go—”

“No way?!” he exclaims, the permed dark curls over his eyes bouncing as he places a large hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off, but he acts like he did nothing wrong at all. “How come I haven’t seen you before? I’d totally recognize you. You’re smokin', by the way.”

Your lips and nose cringe at his statement.

“I don’t usually go,” you explain. “Now, please move before I push you out of my way myself.”

“Hah!” he laughs. “Like you could. Hey, are you an elementary teacher or just a shitty artist?”

“I’m not answering that,” you say. His comment hurts you. This is precious art to you. The fact that he has no regard—didn’t even say sorry meaningfully—for your papers that you are obviously upset about makes your heart sink. All you can see are the faces of your students.

“Okay, well, that offer for a free drink, or clothes, or uh—oh yeah. the men’s locker room deal,” he winks. “is still on the table.”

“I’ll pass,” you flash a tight-lipped smile his way before brushing a shoulder past him and exiting the library.

The first tear makes its way down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it off before anyone has the chance to see it. You think Jungkook might have through the window of the shop, but you assume he is looking at his order number for a new coffee on the screen above it. It would appear more fitting. He clearly had no care in the world that he did something that made someone else upset. From his own actions. But are you really surprised that he wouldn’t care?

The rest of your walk to the elementary school is filled with blasting music in your headphones and a scowl on your face. What was once sadness is now anger. You’re angry. So fucking angry. Your blood is boiling.

“How could he?” you exclaim as you barge into the teacher’s lounge.

“Woah—” Aecha observes. “Is this a new print or something?” she asks, referring to your white-brown shirt and pants. “Please don’t tell me this is a new ‘thing’? No offense, but it’s kind of ug—”

“No, it’s that stupid Jungkook-jock-fuckboy-asshole-bitch—”

You silently thank an existing god that the kids have off today.

“Jeon Jungkook?” Aecha’s jaw drops.

“Don’t even start. I hate that man. Look what he did,” you seethe, slapping your student’s projects on the table.

“Awww,” Aecha’s eyes go beady, her fingers delicately shifting through the precious artwork. “Did he ruin them?”

“Yes,” you fight the urge to swipe all the shit on the coffee bar onto the floor. “Yes, he did. And now I have to give these back to the kids, hoping that when they’re 15 years older they can actually make out what it's saying.”

“I’m sorry,” she pouts. “That’s really shitty. Did he apologize?” she asks, sorting through the damp papers. “They don’t look too distraught. I can still read them,” she assures you.

“He apologized as the third phrase he said to me. The first was an ‘Oohh!’ accompanied by a mocking laugh and then a ‘jeez!’ Didn’t even realize I didn’t care about my damn shirt until he pointed out how ‘shitty my artwork was’.”

“Wow,” she gapes. “That’s totally Jungkook, that’s for sure,” she nods in agreement, thinking upwards. “You know, now that I’m imagining the scenario, it’s kinda hot.”

“Aecha!”

“Okay listen,”

“No, I won’t.”

“Okay, fine,” she gives up. You dig underneath the coffee cabinet, pulling out a spare hairdryer and plugging it into the wall. Your school is filled with mostly women teachers, so finding something like this in a coffee room is not that unordinary here. The room is filled with the sound of the machine as your try to dry them completely. “You going to Yoongi’s party, by the way?”

You remember Jungkook’s offer to invite you to said party. You scoff at the memory. What was once a plan to tell Yoongi that you were—in fact—going to attend, is now a “no” from you. Not when you know Jungkook will be there. He is always there, just too drunk to remember you, probably. He even danced with you a few times, grinding on your ass with a beer in his hand and his other on your waist.

You remember it all too well. That was back when you had positive thoughts about the man. But then he became the captain of the lacrosse team. And then he became obsessed with the amount of “get out of jail free” cards suddenly obtained from his popularity, hotness, and good standing on the school board. Sad, but you washed away any hint of a crush you might have had on him after then.

After you heard about what he was like from Aecha, your friends, the school news, YouTube, etc., you stopped finding him fancy. You couldn’t see the same man you saw that night. Especially not in how he treated you just an hour ago.

“No, not anymore,” you reply, loudly speaking over the blow dryer. It is loud enough to where you don’t need to yell, but you wouldn’t be able to hear her response if you both talked normally.

“What?!” she drops her shoulders in disappointment. “But Hoseok is going to be there…you told me you’d go with me if he was!”

You know Aecha has been chasing after Hoseok since she first talked with him. She doesn’t know anyone else who is going besides Yoongi and Hoseok. Being they’re both men, she doesn’t know if she feels 100% comfortable going alone, even though they would never dare to hurt her or make her feel unsafe. It is more of a girl code—arriving and leaving together—than it is anything else. So you understand.

You had forgotten about said agreement, and you groan in frustration. Now, you have no other choice.

“Y/n, I need to bag this man. I need to,” her voice is laced with determination. “I am like—I am tired of waiting and this is my one last chance and—”

“Okay!” you hush her. “Fine, I’ll go.

She claps her hands and does a happy dance. You wish you could find it happy, but now you’re dreading the upcoming events of this party.

The week is going by fine until you get unexpected amounts of bouquets and edible arrangements all addressed to you from…Jungkook. You send them all back, just to get an angered Jungkook storming into your office.

“You know how expensive those were?!” he half-shouts at you. He quiets his voice, noticing the quiet setting he is in. However, he doesn’t seem to care that he has intruded on your space during your work time. He closes the door to your office anyways, trapping you in it with him.

“How did you get this address…and how do you know I work here?” you interrogate, going back to typing on your computer. The things you type are a mix of keyboard slam and words you’re thinking, faking work at its finest because some abnormally hot jock-asshole needs to make it known that his gifts are not to be returned.

“Min Yoongi is a man of many talents,” he responds. Taking a seat in one of the chairs across from your desk, you watch him as he plays with your nameplate on your desk. “Ms. Y/n L/n. Cute.”

You snatch the gold engraved tag out of his hands and place it back on the desk where it was before. “Please don’t touch my thi—”

“So, you are a teacher, then, I suppose?” he interrupts you. You don’t know it, but Jungkook is really trying here. It took a lot and nothing at all for him to walk in here. Truthfully, he has no idea how to apologize to you. A simple, sincere, “sorry” would probably do it, but he even practiced it in the mirror. Literally impossible. It’s like his mouth was forbidden to say the word without gagging at himself.

Apologizing was never his strong suit. Before coming to college, he was a good boy. Sweet and kind, never once a popular kid until he hit puberty and was suddenly his high school’s prom king. That’s when he started doing things he is not that proud of. It became a habit, but the good boy in him has a hard time practicing apologizing. Mainly because he…never really had to do it before becoming a total high school popular kid and a university super-star player.

But he really fucked up this time. And, he was hoping you would just let it go like people always seem to do when he can’t admit things correctly. But after seeing that tear fall down your face after you left the shop, that clench in his heart followed as you walked away. Those really meant something to you and he knew it. He just didn’t know how to admit he was being an asshole.

“I am,” you reply. “You here for some lessons? Clearly, you need some on how to be a decent human being.”

“Stop,” he grins. “Teacher—student sex has always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Please,” you scoff at him. The audacity. “As if I’d fulfill that for you.”

“A man can only dream,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, well keep doing that. What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I want to know why you sent back my flowers. And my Edible Arrangement! I was fighting the urge not to just eat it when I picked it out for you.”

Truthfully, you were too. You love Edible Arrangements.

“Because I don’t want your sympathy because you realized you were an asshole,”

“Why not?”

“Because none of that matters to me. I’m not an ex-girlfriend who caught you cheating on me. I’m just a stranger you met last week. I want an apology. An honest apology from you. And that’s it.” you explain.

Jungkook puffs his cheeks out.

“You’re difficult,” he raises his eyebrows. “I like that,” he smirks at you.

“I don’t have time for your flirting, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes at him, focusing back on your screen. “Please go home,”

The next time he comes in is around 3pm the next day. The kids are out of school by then, but all your coworkers are still here. So is Jungkook, apparently. Aecha tells you he’s been talking it up with the principal since 3:30.

You groan, hoping he is just here to speak with the principal and not you. It is a farfetched hope, though. You don’t know what business he has with the principal, or anyone else here besides you, for that matter.

It is around 5 when he barges into your office again. You’re packing up your things, dreams crushed when you thought you could exit work without running into the alleged lacrosse star.

“Hey, sexy,” he flirts, eyeing your flowy, loose, figure-hiding, ugly, dark-brown art dress. You roll your eyes again, knowing he’s making fun of you. It was art day, and you had to wear your paint-stained art-apron dress. It’s the only one you don’t care about other than the shirt he ruined just a week ago.

You ignore his comment, zipping your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Reconsidering tutoring?” you mock. Jungkook laughs at you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. You’re really cute when you mock him. It kinda gets him going.

“How’s about 9:00pm next Saturday at Min Yoongi’s?” he asks, trying to get you to go to the party again. Little does he know that you’re going. But you don’t want to amuse him too much.

“Funny,” you banter, making your way to the door. But he blocks your path, staring down at you with those white teeth and bunny eyes. You want to squish his cheek between your forefinger and thumb for reasons you don’t understand. All he has done is make fun of, flirt, and banter at you since you two met. Why do you feel the heat in your cheeks when he slips a finger underneath your chin, dark eyes staring into your soul? Why does your heartbeat in your throat when you look at the glossiness of his lips so close to your own?

You back away, releasing yourself from his flirtatious actions.

“What if I begged on my knees?” he blurts out.

You snort out in laughter at that. The thought of Jungkook, the tall, big guy with tattoos and an award-winning lacrosse scholarship on his knees in front of you? Begging you to go to some party? That’s rich.

Jungkook blushes harder at your laughs. Fuck, your laugh is so cute. He wants to make you laugh like this a lot. Maybe forever, even. You’re music to his ears.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckles with you. “Think I can’t?”

“Please,” you smile wide, a hand covering your mouth, trying not to muster up any more laughs. “That would be too much. You sure you want to pleasure me?”

That sentence has Jungkook’s mouth growing dry. Um…yes?? He would, in fact, like to pleasure you. Maybe not in that way, but he’d do it if it meant you were pleased with him. Fuck! If only he could admit things properly.

“Um, no, never mind” he goes against his wish. “I don’t think I could stand the content look on your face.” He totally could??? What the hell is he saying?!?

Jungkook runs a hand through his thick, brown locks, looking at you as you die down in laughter. If only you knew he’s been after you since two new year’s parties ago. You think he doesn’t remember, but he totally does. The way your hips swayed against his, pressing your ass into his growing boner. He remembers how soft your skin felt underneath his tattooed hand; like a baby’s bottom, it was so smooth. All he remembered is how he wanted to mark it all up, kiss the skin of your lips, neck, and shoulders and claim it as his own. But he had one too many drinks that night, and he found himself passed out on Min Yoongi’s couch the next morning. Starting off the new year with clothes on, cheeks flushed a terrible hangover and no sight of you anywhere. He had been trying to find you for a while on campus, but little did he know you were all the way on the opposite side of it in the Education sector. When you didn’t show up to Yoongi’s New Year’s Party the following year, he realized he may never see you again. Until he ruined your clothes. And your valuables. And your heart. And god-knows-what else. If only apologizing didn’t completely break his fragile ego, maybe he would be kissing you right now. Maybe he could have been spending all his time kissing you and holding you every day since the incident.

“Whatever you say, fuckboy,” you smile at him. “Now let me go — and stop coming into my office. It’s annoying.”

“Principle Green is actually so rad, though. I might come back just for him,” he comments, moving out of your way.

“I don’t care who is rad, I don’t want you interrupting my work.”

“Oh, so I’m a distraction?”

“No, you’re a nuisance,”

“Ouch,”

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you flash him a grin, turning off the lights in your office. You look at Aecha in the teacher's lounge where you exit. She is completely baffled, eyes wide, her mouth dropped, and her bagel falling out of her hands and onto the table. Cream-cheese side down. She heard everything, and you know what she’s thinking.

Luckily, you can leave without either of them making conversation with you. Entering your car, you let out a huge breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in. You look at yourself in your sun blocker's mirror. Cheeks red, lips cracked from all the laughing, you’re a total mess! As if your crush on Jungkook is coming back. It can’t be. He’s a total asshole now. But a charming asshole. Fuck! Stop it, y/n. You can’t do this to yourself.

And so, you don’t. You blast your music and drive away, pretending you don’t see a waving, smiling Jungkook from the school’s entrance in your rearview mirror.

----

3 knocks on your door and an uninvited Jungkook makes his way into your office. Again.

Jeon Jungkook.

The name makes you hurl a little in your mouth. Yesterday’s lunch makes its way to the back of your throat. But you swallow it down, telling yourself to be strong and that he will go away soon.

Last night, after Jungkook’s daily visit to your office (one that ended up with a 3-hour conversation about how Thor is the best Avenger next to Spider-Man), you realized that it’s been almost two weeks since you met him in the coffee shop. Almost two weeks and you have yet to receive a proper apology like you had asked him to give you the first time he visited you at work.

This is the 7th visit since two weeks ago, and still no apology. Despite his charm and how easily you were almost tricked into letting it go, you remembered you were still supposed to be mad at him. And that you should still be mad at him, no matter how many bunny-smiles and flirtatious comments and talks about the Avengers and Principle Green he makes that shoot straight to your heart. And to other places…

“So,” he banters a smile at you. That stupid yellow and blue lacrosse bomber jacket puffs out around his shoulders, the number “07” poking out in the ugliest school-spirit font you’ve ever seen on his sleeves. His elbows rest on your desk, arms delicately pushing some of your papers and trinkets out of his way. The action only fuels your anger.

“7 o’clock. You and me. Chipotle.”

“In your dreams, fuckboy,” you scoff. The audacity he has to ask you out. The audacity he has to find the school you intern at (literally on your universities campus, but still), interrupt your work, and ask you on a date for the nth time since the start of this week.

You think this might be the 5th time since Sunday he’s asked you out on a date. And it’s only Wednesday.

“Woah, why the ‘tude?” he defends, putting his palms up as he slides back into his “designated” chair in your office.

“There is no ‘tude.”

“There totally is ‘tude!”

You glare at him from over your laptop screen. "See!” he points at your scowl.

“Jungkook, get out. Please,” you sigh. You really don’t want to deal with his antics today.

“What? Why?” he asks you. His voice is defensive like you just told him his dick is short and thin. Which, it totally is not by the way. He’d tell you about it, but it doesn’t appear like you’re up for that conversation.

“Because, Jungkook, I’m done with this.”

“With what?" he scoffs. "We’re not even a ‘this’,” he says the last part with finger air quotes.

“Exactly, so please stop visiting me. I don’t want your distractions to make me forget about the fact that you still haven’t apologized.”

“Oh, please, y/n,” he drags out a laugh, slouching on your chair. “I don’t even need to apologize. They were just some shitty drawings. I can assure you that if you go back into that classroom and call an ‘art sesh’ they’d make up a bunch of equally as shitty pieces for you.”

You can feel your fingers nearly breaking the screen of your laptop before shutting it close. You stand up in your seat, motioning your finger toward the door. “Get out.”

Jungkook knows he stepped over the line with that one. He really doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. He knows those meant something to you! Why is he acting like he doesn’t? Why does he choose to say words that hurt you? It only hurts him, knowing that even though he wants so badly to be the person that comforts you and tell you you’re okay; saying the opposite is only going to make it worse. Duh! He wants to beat himself up so badly that he’s lost the ability to speak another word right now.

That clenching feeling he has in his chest is back. He can see the anger in your heart, reaching out to protect the innocence of your students. It’s endearing, really. But he’s in the crossfire. And he’s on the side of your wrath he doesn’t want to be on. He’s the reason you’re protecting them in their absence. He is the reason why you might never forgive him for this one.

“Y/n, I,” he stutters, standing up. He really thinks he’s about to apologize until something within himself blocks him from doing so again. His heart wants to say it, but his egotistical brain isn’t allowing him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean it as?” you ask him, hands running through your hair, you laugh at yourself in disbelief. “You know, I don’t even know why I’m asking you that. I don’t even know why I expect anything from you at all. All you’ve been doing since you got your damn scholarship and your damn popularity has been treating others like how you are treating me right now. Like their feelings don’t matter, like no one else exists in this world besides Jeon Jungkook. Maybe if you had a project like the one I assigned to my students, then maybe you’d have a reason to look back on what it means to be kind to others. Maybe you’d realize that people get hurt because of people like you and lose sight of themselves. Me included. So please, leave my office and don’t show your face in this school ever again.”

Jungkook is at a loss for words. What can he say? You called his bluff. He taught himself how to block out others as a defense mechanism a long time ago. It’s consequence? Confidence as a new defense mechanism. Confidence is always good, right? So why it felt wrong when he started showing that side of him 100% more than it was before was beyond him. And, well, this is why it felt so wrong. And he hurt you because of it. He’s hurt a lot of people because of it. If only he knew how to balance himself.

Jungkook leaves your office, not batting an eye at you, feeling like a student who just got expelled. He would say it was hot, but those feelings aren’t there. Nothing but shame fills his body. He feels ashamed of himself. Especially as he catches light of one of the coffee-stained projects on the lounge-room walls.

[I love my _______ because it makes me feel ________] is the prompt. This one had the most outrageous spelling he thinks he’s ever seen. Backward “e”’s and random capitalization and sizing and all. But he makes out “heart’ and “wanted”.

[I love my heart because it makes me feel wanted .]

Something in him swells again. He can see why those projects meant so much to you. Just that one simple response was enough to feel regret all the way from the follicles of his scalp to his big toe. How he is going to make it up to you? He has no idea. But he can’t lose sight of you, even when he knows he pisses you off and hurts you all the time. He has to find a way.

He has to apologize. Sincerely. Like he’s been practicing in the mirror and with his roommates, Taehyung and Jin, for the past two weeks. It’s easier with them. They don’t make his heart beat abnormally fast. They don’t send smiles (other than teasing, antagonizing ones that make him feel embarrassed and give up) that make him want to kiss you until you’re breathless beneath him.

But he needs to. And it needs to happen soon.

----

“So,” you smile at Aecha across your kitchen counter. She’s wearing the skimpiest hot pink dress you have ever seen. No doubt trying to be a tease for Hoseok. No one would guess she’s a preschool teacher with the way she’s dressed. “What’s the plan?”

She turns around, pinning the last bobby pin in her stiff, hair-sprayed-bobby-pinned high bun.

“Okay,” she smiles. “We go in, right? Then I see Hoseok. Then I dance. Then I dance on his dick. Then I dance on it on the couch. Then I dance on it in his bedroom. Then my clothes are off. Then—”

“Okay!” you stop her, laughing. “I get it. Go in, dance, fuck. What do I do?”

“Hmmm,” she thinks. “Drink?? Get high? Maybe mock my actions on a hot captain of the lacrosse team…?”

You give her a knowing look.

“I know!” she puts her hands up. “Was just a thought.”

A great thought, at that. You’ve been wanting to jump his bones since, now, three new years parties ago. But you’ve long accepted that’s no longer on your agenda. Jungkook has proven he is a lost cause. You can’t expect anything from him, no matter how charming his smile is, no matter how well he dances or how his touch makes your butterflies flow through every inch of your body.

You have to put him away and move on. Maybe tonight you can find someone to do that with.

“You know that guy from bread club?” you ask her, fingers pinching the skin between your eyebrows in thought.

“Which one? That club was full of male nerd—oh! The hot one? Park Jimin?” she recalls.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Him! Do you know if he is coming?”

“Oooooo,” she coos at you. “Does y/n see a potential crush on bread-boy Jimin?”

“Not a crush. Although, he is really handsome.” you blush. “I just never gave him a proper chance.”

“You’re right. I did suspect an underlying mutual attraction. My guess would be that he is going. I’m pretty sure he’s with that whole group. If I’m not mistaken, I want to say he’s Taehyung’s brother. Tae rooms with Jungkook and Jin.”

“Ah,” you nod, understanding the explanation. Although, all you hear is Jungkook. You hate that even his name in a conversation not even about him puts a sad feeling in your heart. You really do pity him. You also really want to forgive him. But after what he said back in your office, you don’t think you have the means to. His words hurt. They always do. And he doesn’t know how to apologize. At least not to you. You remember how Aecha was surprised when you told her that he still hasn’t apologized. It made you wonder if you were the only person he refused to say it to.

“Okay, I’m ready. We both look hot. Let’s go,” Aecha says, matter-of-fact as she slaps her pocket mirror closed and shoves it into her purse.

----

You arrive at the sickest party Min Yoongi has ever hosted. Jungkook was right, this year’s party is a banger. Endless drinks, endless space for dancing, endless games, and endless men…boy you have many options tonight.

Aecha claps your shoulder in excitement, telling you that she sees her prey. You understand, letting her make her progress towards bagging Hoseok.

You continue smiling until your eyes land on Jungkook’s. He’s at the beer pong table, beer in one hand and pong in the other, ready to throw his next shot. Although, his progress towards throwing it stops when he sees you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep looking at him. Dressed in all black, with silver accents accompanying his wrists, ears, eyebrows, and face, one could say he completely matched your own outfit. The fact only makes your heart hurt more. Why? You don’t know. You dropped him. He’s done. Wasn’t even a crush for longer than a day three years ago. Why you’re so hung up on him, you don’t know. The fact that you don’t know has you tearing your eyes away from his man-bun that looks too perfect framing his face, and onto the drinks in the room next to you.

You grab a shot or two. Or three. Or four. But who’s counting? It’s New Year’s Eve, you’re single, have nothing to lose, and have strange feelings toward a man you want to forget. Tonight is the night to get so wasted, you end up forgetting him so.

You think you will be successful until a familiar voice calls your name. Turning around, your eyes meet with Park Jimin’s. The bread-boy. Just the man you wanted to see tonight.

“Jimin!” you hug him. “No way! How long has it been since we baked banana nut bread together?!”

Jimin laughs out loud, hugging you back. “About a year, I’d say,” he smiles. His smile is really cute, reaching from cheek to cheek with that insanely addicting voice of liquid he uses to coat his words. “You’re looking really good tonight, y/n.” Maybe he will be your saving grace tonight, after all.

“Thanks,” you smile. “You’re not looking too bad yourself. Dark blue and gold are one of my favorite color combinations.”

“Glad to know you’re pleased.”

“I am,” you smirk. “Somewhat.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Come,” you change the subject. For some reason, flirting with Jimin feels wrong. Even though you want sex with him, even though you want to be able to flirt with him, something about it just doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s the intense eyes you feel at the back of your head when you dance on Jimin in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe it’s when you kiss Jimin that you feel as if you’re imagining it’s Jungkook who you’re pressing your lips to.

It’s all wrong. Everything is wrong.

But Jimin touches you like it is right, and you feel somewhat assured until an extra hand is pulling you away from him. Suddenly, you’re drunken vision sees Jimin standing on the dance floor moving farther and farther away from you as this mystery person takes you away from him. Stumbling to keep up with this person’s pace, you turn around and attempt to pry the strong arm that wraps around your wrist.

“Wha-What do you—who are you?” you ask this person. It isn’t until you realize that this person’s arm is tattooed. It isn’t until you realize that these tattoos are familiar and that they belong to Jungkook. “Jungkook, let go!”

To which he does, only when he’s pulled you out of the house and into the alleyway between another house and Yoongi’s. Jungkook pins you against the wall, his forearms pressing against the brick next to your ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, voice low and eyes foreboding. Those eyes you’ve never seen before. They’re dark and angry; far, far away from his playful innocent-looking ones. They scare you a little, but you’re good at facing your fears.

“I’m having fun,” you respond, not a smidge of the jitters you feel consuming your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t make any mistakes,” he responds.

“Hah!” you laugh, the alcohol causing you to tilt your head back harshly. You forget there’s brick there, and you’re thankful Jungkook’s reflexes are fast enough to slide his hand beneath your head before it smacked against the brick. “You’re so funny, Kookie. You know, that’s actually a good idea. Because the last time I danced on someone like that was with you. And I really regret that.”

Jungkook’s heart pangs in his chest, showing it by closing in on you. His face towers over yours, even though he’s been trying to keep his height as level with you as he can by bending his body at his hips to match the height of yours. But the closer he gets, the taller he becomes, and the more you have to look up to look into his eyes.

You can smell his cologne mixed on his body along with the faint smell of booze on his breath. You hate how his scent makes you fawn. All you want to do is kiss him silly. But you’re in an argument right now.

“You don’t,” he scowls, more so at himself for letting it get this far. The sight of Jimin holding you like that when it was supposed to be him made his blood boil. Fury grew in his veins as he realized he needed to make this right. Right now. Before it’s too late and you’re truly moving on.

“And what if I do, Jungkook?” you lower your voice, still slurring your words slightly. “What if I regret letting my feelings continuously be hurt by you?”

“And what if I told you that I regret it,” he holds your chin in his fingers. “saying those things to you. I do, y/n. I regret it and I don’t know why I kept saying those things. And I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

You pause at his apology. Are you hearing this right? Did Jeon Jungkook just apologize to you? Twice??

“W-Well,” you stutter. Tears start to brim your eyes again for reasons you don’t understand. Maybe because you’re a crybaby. Maybe because this was your reason for not chasing after the man you liked so much. Maybe because his apology gives you the ‘go’ for smashing your lips onto his, feeling his honey lips collide with yours.

They’re just as soft as you imagined they would be. And god, is he a good kisser. His lips alone make a pool in your panties. Your hands slide around his neck, fingertips intertwining in his tied-up locks.

Jungkook’s body nearly stutters when you kiss him. Out of all things, this was the last he expected. Maybe a well-deserved slap or a kick on the shin, but never the feeling of your embrace.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t complain one bit. He’s been dying to feel you again. Your lips on his was an imagery he thought he would never have the chance to live out. But, here you are, holding his body close and kissing him like he is the last person you will ever have the chance to kiss in your life.

Desperation crawls into his veins, lifting you up around his waist, and pressing you against the wall.

He’s been craving this for far too long. Caving you for too long. Jungkook can’t stop touching you, your body is just as soft as he remembered. His curiosity begs him to explore more and more of you. But he’s done enough without your permission. So he waits, continuing to kiss you until you take control.

“I’ve been dying to have you like this,” you say between trailing kisses down to his neck. Jungkook moans as you find his sweet spot, and you think it was the prettiest thing you have ever heard in your lifetime. Sucking on the spot, he raises his chest, trying to control his pleasure but nonetheless fails when you bite down on him.

“Y-Y/n,” he calls out your name, just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles your name on the shell of your ear, and you think you might have gushed arousal out of your cunt. “Not here,” he pants, trapping your chin between his fingers again. He motions your jaw up to you, tempting himself with light scrapes of his lips touching yours. “I don’t want anyone else to see you.”

“Then where?” you whisper back at him. It is so hard not to smash your lips onto his again, but you want this to continue. And if Jungkook wants you where no one but himself can see you, then you’re bound to be wherever that is.

“My place,” he brushes his nose against your cheek before returning your trail of kisses on his neck back to yours. “No one’s home. I brought a car.” He sucks your neck, leaving bruises all over, not bothering to find just one sweet spot but to find them all.

“Wh-Why not the car?” you ask between moans. Jungkook is so good at this. He’s suede and smooth with his touches, hot and passionate with his kisses.

Jungkook chuckles in your ear. “Not with the things I want to do to you,” he bites down on your neck, eliciting a sweet panted moan from your throat. “That won’t work.”

“Then let’s go,” you hold his neck firmly in your hands, stopping him from his parade of kisses. “I don’t want to waste more time.”

“Someone’s eager,” Jungkook smirks, kissing you once before setting you down and taking his keys out of his pocket.

“You have no idea.”

----

The ride over to Jungkook’s is spent palming him in the driver’s seat and Jungkook struggling to focus on the road. He’s not as consumed with alcohol as you might be, even though the effects of it on you stopped midway through making out with Jungkook back at Yoongi’s.

You know you’re doomed when the car abruptly stops. His fist pushes the manual into park, and he rips open the car door, walking around the front of it to come over to you.

You’re still tipsy, however. So, when you’re met with Jungkook’s erection right in your face you can’t help but laugh a little.

“What’s so funny?” he asks you, a little pissed off. It’s hot.

Trailing a finger on the zipper to his black jeans, you outline the length of his cock slowly, admiring its size right in front of you. Dreaming of it fucking you, as if the man in front of you wasn’t on a mission to check that off your list.

“You’re so big,” you teenage-girl-sigh. “I want you inside of me, Jungkook,” you smirk, looking up at him from the passenger seat. Jungkook swears his heart leaps out of his chest. He thinks his voice might crack if he says another word, so he clears his throat, dick twitching simultaneously, before he responds.

“Then, c’mon,” he takes your hand, pulling you up and out of the car. “We’re here.” Jungkook smiles at you sweetly. He almost thinks that he should just wait until the morning to fuck you because of your tipsy-drunk moment until you’re kissing and palming him again. Jungkook moans into your mouth, stumbling you towards his townhome’s entrance. Key fob in hand, Jungkook presses it underneath the door nob, hearing a sound of approval from the security system not long after.

“Teasing me in the car,” he growls against your ear, pushing you against the nearest wall once the door to his home shuts. “You think you weren’t going to get punished for that?”

All you can do is moan. Jungkook’s hands waste no time ripping off every piece of clothing you have on, dying to see you in all your glory.

“Holy fuck,” he pants. It’s almost as if he’s cumming right now at the sight of you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You can’t help but blush a little, his glare on you makes you think that he’s not actually saying these things about your body. Not this man. Not the ripped, 6-packed athlete with incredible strength and muscles that could pop you with one elbow lock around the neck. Maybe it's the booze.

“Take your clothes off, fuckboy,” you demand.

Jungkook shimmies off his black blazer, eyes still on your tits. He wants to suck them and leave marks all over the softness of them. He wants you to be completely covered in him tomorrow morning.

“Don’t call me that,” he walks closer to you, trapping your naked body between his still-clothed one. “I’m not a fuckboy.” he replies, taking off his mock-turtle neck tanktop. You thought it was tight enough on him before, but the sight of his muscles underneath the shirt makes you realize that the shirt did not do him enough justice. Never in a million years did you think Jungkook was this ripped. He basically has boobs. He could probably fit into your bra…

“Then what are you?” you ghost against his lips.

He would like to say “yours”, but he remembers that you’re still tipsy. He wants both you and him to be in a clear headspace before you decided on titles.

“We can decide that in the morning,” he settles on, flashing you a small smile before delving into your lips. His chest is firm against yours, his back so wide, you struggle to wrap your arms around it as he leads you to what you assume is his bedroom.

His room is just as you expected it would be. Covered in trophies and pictures, as neat and organized as you expected it to be. But what really catches you off guard is how comfortable his bed is. The smell of him engulfs you as he gently lays you on his bed. You think about how this night would be if you decided to fuck in the car. How if you would see this view on top of you so clearly as you do now if you did. You’re thankful Jungkook insisted on his bedroom. Now, you can see his face clearly in the dim lighting as he pulls his pants down to his ankles, leaving him in a pair of white Calvins. They do nothing to hide the length and girth of him, and you shutter knowing that he’s going to completely rip you open.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prep you,” he whispers in your ear, sensing your worry. Jungkook’s lips find your neck again, gently kissing his previously left bruises before leaving more of them on the areas of your clavicle and chest.

“What if I don’t want to be prepped?” you whimper, back arching into his chest when his mouth engulfs your nipple, sucking on it hard. “W-What if I want you ri-right now?”

Jungkook laughs deeply as he twirls your nipple around with his tongue. He releases you with a quick “pop”, which makes your head fall back in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook’s body moving up to come face-to-face with yours. “Patience,” he gives you a quick kiss. “I refuse to hurt you any more than I have already.”

“Jungkook,” you coo, holding his jaw in your palm. He looks ashamed of himself. You’ve never seen this side of him, and it feels good knowing that he does harbor those kinds of feelings. Especially that he is comfortable with you seeing him display them in front of you. “I forgive you, Kook.”

“You shouldn’t,” he burry’s his face in your neck again, kissing you lightly as his hand trails down to your wet cunt. His fingers find your clit. You moan when he starts circling slow infinities on the sensitive bud.

“But I do, Jungkook,” you pant, hand coming up to drag your fingers through his hair. You pull out his bun, watching as his hair falls over the crown of his head and onto your skin. It smells like coconut, and you can’t help but bury your nose in it as he continues to gather your juices on his fingertips.

“I was bad to you,” he grumbles against your neck. This time, his fingers circle your entrance. Legs wrapping around his hips, you invite his fingers inside, to which he obliges. Just his index finger feels you first. Jungkook ruts against the mattress at the feeling, imagining the walls that squeeze his finger so tight around his cock. Yeah, you definitely need prepping.

“But, you apologized,” you whisper to him, massaging his scalp. Your hips twitch when he adds another finger. You can’t imagine the size of him in you like this. Two of his massive fingers are enough to make you feel close to cumming around them. he’s going to be the death of you.

Pumping in and out of you, Jungkook moves his head to face yours, his nose kissing your own.

“I’m sorry,” he says once again. “I’m sorry for spilling coffee on you, and being an asshole, and making fun of your student’s art, and showing up at work, and pissing you off, and making you hate me so much you—”

“J-Jungkook,” you stop him. It’s hard to concentrate on a response when his pace quickens with every mention of something he did wrong, as if he was getting angrier the more he realized how much he did to hurt you.

“All I wanted to do was the opposite of what I did,” he kisses your cheek. “B-But it’s hard for me to face negativity without being cocky and stupid about it. I thought that by making it worse, I could make it better.”

“What a strange tactic,” you chuckle against his cheek. Your heart thumps when he flashes you a smile, telling you with his eyes that he knows he was being stupid, but he knows now that he’d never do something like that to you again. “I’m proud of you.” You smile.

“S-Stop,” Jungkook adds his thumb to your clit as his fingers continue to fuck you slowly. The addition causes you to arch your back into him. Jungkook takes the opportunity to wrap his arm underneath your spine, holding you secure against his body. “You’re going to make me want to claim you if you say that kind of shit to me.”

“What if I want you to claim me?” you challenge.

Jungkook nearly growls into your neck, fighting the urge to just flip you over and ravage you. “Stop doing that to me, y/n,”

He feels your fingers start to tug at the rim of his boxers, and Jungkook can’t be any more excited to feel you around him. He presses one more finger into you before allowing you to shove his boxers halfway down his thighs.

Jungkook moans at the feeling of your soft fingers around his cock, head falling into the crevice of your neck again. It’s red and angry and begging to fuck you hard and deep. You swirl the precum that leaks from him and circle it around his cockhead, eliciting a strained moan from the man above you into the sheets just by your ear. His hips jerk at the sudden movement, preparing themselves to fuck you hard and fast.

“I think I’m ready, Kook,” you whisper into his hair.

Jungkook detaches himself from your neck, standing up to quickly knock off his boxers onto the floor. He takes your calves in his hands, spreading you open before one of them spreads your pussy open with his fingertips. Jungkook takes a long look at you. The prettiest he’s seen, by far. Glistening and pulsing for him to fill you up. He knows you’re going to be a tight fit, and the fact only excites him further.

He pulls himself onto the bed, pushing your thighs up with his body. Pumping his cock a few times, he lines you up with his dick, pressing his head against your slick.

“You sure you want this?” he leans down to your face. Your thighs are trapped against your torso, Jungkook folding you up for him nice and good. You appreciate that he doesn’t do a thing without your consent, that he doesn’t dare to do anything unless you’re comfortable. A complete 180 from the emotionally constipated Jungkook you’ve been experiencing for the past two weeks.

You nod to him, looking into his eyes. But this doesn’t satisfy him.

“I need a verbal answer, y/n,” he kisses your cheek, dick rubbing up and down your warm entrance.

“Yes, Jungkook. I want you,” you lean into his cheek. The feeling of his girth stretching you open is enough for you to dig your nails into the smooth skin of his back. Never in a million years did you think you’d be stretched this good.

He doesn’t go in all the way, letting you adjust to his girth before slipping his length all the way into you.

You swear his tip kisses your cervix. When he pulls out and slams back into you, you can confirm that he did, in fact, kiss it. Jungkook moans against you, gripping your hands in his own and pinning them above your head. His hips are strong, slamming into you with everything he has left in him. You’re a goddess below him, legs around his shoulders, fingers digging into the upper side of his palm, tears streaming down your cheeks as you feel all he is giving you.

“F-Faster,” you beg. Jungkook is happy to obey.

He takes your hips and flips you over, his hands pressing against the upper of your back, pushing your chest down into his sheets. Once satisfied, Jungkook firmly grabs your hips and pistons into you, faster, just like you wanted. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, fingers gripping the sheets, legs twitching in resistance as he fucks into you like a madman. His nose is crunched, his lip bleeding between his teeth as he tries to hold back his orgasm. Usually, he never feels ready to release this early. But, you’re the girl he’s always wanted. And now you’re in his bed, begging him to fuck you without prepping you and go faster and claim you, and—god, it's all too perfect. You’re too perfect.

Your moans are like honey in his ears, the sweetest music he’s ever heard. He slaps your ass hard—once, twice, so many times. You scream to it all, each one pushing you over the edge.

“This is mine, you hear?” he growls from behind you, gripping your ass in his hand before slapping it again. “You hear me?” he asks again, gripping your hips tighter and forcibly slapping them against his own hips. The impact makes you gush around him, your release following his forcefulness in squirts of your release. You don’t see it, but Jungkook’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight. No way did you just squirt all over his cock. Can this night get any better?

Maybe it can, because he feels his own release closely following. But he edges himself, pulling out of you to look at the mess you made instead of chasing his high.

You’re so embarrassed, digging your face into your hands as you hear him press his hand into his sopping wet duvet cover.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whimper. You refuse to meet his eyes, even when he flips you over and sits next to your face.

“C’mere,” he pats his lap.

“Jungkook,” you whine, absolutely mortified. Is he mad? You can’t tell. He hasn’t mentioned anything about your release.

“Baby, come here,” he speaks to you with honey laced in his voice. Your heart thumps at the fact that he called you “baby”. Were your dreams coming true?

You gather yourself and weakly climb onto his lap, immediately digging your face into his shoulder.

“Was that bad? You didn’t cum,” you ask him, voice trembling into his neck. God, this is so mortifying. “I won’t do it again, I pro—”

“Like fucking hell you won’t,” he holds your waist firmly again. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen y/n,” he bites your ear. “It’s taking everything in me not to be gentle with you right now.”

Your eyes meet his hungered ones. You were wrong, and you know it not only from him saying so but also from his pulsating cock below. It is twitching and leaking with so much precum, you almost think that it is his cum itself if it weren’t for the clearness of it. And then you realize that he’s edging himself.

“I-I want this to last longer, but I don’t want to hurt you cause I—” his head falls back when you press a finger to his tip, playing with the precum leaking down himself. “Cause I know I will if you don’t take control of me right now…so, ride me,” he demands.

You kiss his neck, feeling lighter that you made him feel strong enough to nearly lose his control just from your orgasm. With power in your hands, you lift your hips just enough to hover your pussy over his twitching cock, sliding down slowly.

Jungkook’s hands come to your hips again, completely out of breath. “H-Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps when he stares down at his dick disappearing and reappearing as you bounce on his cock. “God, you’re going to murder me, aren’t you?”

You laugh at his comment. Although, he’s far from laughing, focusing all his energy on controlling his orgasm. Face falling into your neck, he’s mumbling things you don’t understand as you massage his sweaty scalp again. He moans at your touch, feeling overly sensitive and extremely, beyond-belief, horny. He wants to cum so bad, but he also wants this to last.

“You can cum, Kook,” you whisper into his scalp. You don’t know if you have it in you to cum again. Squirting is so powerful, and it usually takes everything out of you. But you might, considering you have the strength to ride him to no tomorrow. “It’s okay.”

“N-No,” he breathes against your neck, panting. “Can’t. Want it to last.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh against his cheek. “I don’t plan on making you a one-night, Jungkook.”

“A-Ah,” his hips twitch into you. “I-um, ffuccck, y/n!” he sways your hips back and forth on his cock rapidly. “Y-You sure? It’s going to be a lot.”

“Mhm,” you smile down at him.

“Fuck, o-okay,” he breathes out shakily. Jungkook then bucks his hips fast into yours from underneath you, unrelenting and ruthless. You feel his hot ropes fill you up just seconds later. For what feels like a full minute of him pumping his cum into you, his face resting against your breasts in fucked-out glory, what finally breaks you out of your own daze is the sound of fireworks.

From his window, you can see the array of colors lighting up the sky, his digital clock on his nightstand reading 12:00am.

“Hey,” you whisper into his hair, kissing his scalp. “Happy New Year.”

Jungkook detaches his cheek from your chest, bringing his face up to graze his nose against yours. Smiling into your lips he whispers,

“I’m gonna make it right, y/n. This will be our year.”

---

[Bonus]

[Aecha]: Hope you got home okay.

[Aecha]: Ended up a little stuck between Hoseok’s thighs.

[Y/n]: Funny story.

[Y/n]: I never made it home last night.

[Aecha]: WHAT?!

[Aecha]: Are you okay??

[Y/n]: More than okay.

y/n sent an image

[Aecha]: No

[Aecha]: Fucking

[Aecha]: Way

[Aecha]: I—AKJDAKSJHFJKASFKLDJSAFKLJSFA!!! Y/N!!!!

[Y/n]: So like.

[Y/n]: I’m no longer a single lady?

[Aecha]: AHHHHHHHHH Y/N!!!!!

[Aecha]: JESUS DID HE LEAVE ANY INCH OF YOUR SKIN Y/S/C?!?

[Y/n]: We had a lot of…catching up to do lol.

[Aecha]: I’d say.

[Aecha]: I’m the maid of honor. Understand me?

[Y/n]: Lol. You got it.

Contagious

An alternate world in which at the age of 25, your true soulmate is revealed. Some choose to defy the soulmate tie - but you refuse; especially when it’s revealed to be your sisters boyfriend.

Warning; cheating, sweating, begging, gagging, nipple play, breast play, nipple sucking, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, porn with little plot lol, dirty talk, swallowing,

Word Count: 4,104

Alternate Universe

Not everyone enjoyed the idea of soulmates. Who the hell did the universe think they were supplying a human being to be your soulmate - someone you could never know until the day came? It was comical, truly, that at the age of 25 you were deemed "ready enough" to encounter your soulmate. You could be in a relationship or vice versa and suddenly, poof - the person you adored is no longer the one you wish to be with.

Of course, some choose to ignore their soulmates all together. It was easier said than done. If you never met your soulmate face to face made things easier. Eye contact was a guarantee give away and to deny the soul tie would be difficult for both parties, but not impossible. You've read many stories of soulmates ignoring their birth right - it caused scarring and sickness, even paranoia; but it wasn't impossible.

Ignoring your birth right wasn't something you were choosing to do yourself. Your 25th birthday was a day you were jumping with joy at the idea of finding your soulmate. You felt hot and heavy, a sign in which your soulmate was nearby. It frightened you - who was he or she and why were they close? Did your soulmate not wish to be with you? If they were close, that meant you knew of them, and they knew of you. If so, it could only mean they knew of you and didn't wish to follow their birth right.

You were correct when your eyes met Min Yoongi the same day. The fluttering feeling of your heart beating faster, the way your palms begin to sweat, and your legs quivered. The chattering around you died down, coming to complete silence and all your eyes could focus on was his and his presence only. His scent nearly made you intoxicated - manly and woody; it causes your mouth to water.

The problem was nearby - and it caused for you to break your trance away from Yoongi. You watched as arms embraced Yoongi and brought him into a tight hug. His eyes doesn't break from yours when your elder sister hugs him close, oblivious to connection radiating from the two of you. You felt sickened to your stomach at the sight, and it also causes your heart to ache, but you had no reason to be upset. He wasn't yours - officially - and your sister had him first. She was one of the many women to ignore her birth right and declared that she would choose her soulmate instead of having it be chosen for her.

Your stomach churns at the sight once more. Yoongi was older than you and your sister, which meant he knew of your soul tie to him for just as long. You pondered if he cares - if he was similar to your sister in ignoring soul ties. Your sister and you were opposites when it came to the universe - though you weren't completely untouched. You weren't opposed to dating or hooking up; however, you were adamant on never settling for anyone who wasn't your soul mate.

"I'm going to be late." you hear your sister's voice pipe up.

"Where are you going?" you murmur, fingers picking at the skin of your hand. "I thought we were going to brunch."

It was your sister's idea, after all, to spend the night at her place and get brunch the next day in celebration of your birthday - and not to celebrate the day you'd find your soul tie.

"I doubled booked." Your sister giggles, but you don't find anything amusing, especially when it came to a special day such as this. "I forgot I told Yui I'd meet her for brunch last week. We can definitely do dinner."

Your cheeks flushes in embarrassment. You can feel the eyes of Yoongi on you, possibly the same pity eyes he always sent you when it came to your sister's carelessness. It wasn't the first time she brushed you off completely and it'd never be the last.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. "Okay." you agreed. "I'll just..."

"Why doesn't she go with you?" Yoongi's voice is deep and raspy, and you swear you can feel your clit pulsing at the sound of it. "You see Yui every other day." he murmurs to her, annoyance evident in his tone.

Your sister sucks her teeth.

"It's fine." you assure, shaking your head. Your sister and you weren't close, nor did the two of you fight constantly. There wasn't much of a sisterhood between the both of you. She was the elder sister who excelled in whatever she did and went against the norm. You were the quiet younger sister who decided to live in tradition more than anything.

"See? She's fine." Your sister brushes Yoongi's concerns off with a tap on the shoulder. "I'll be back later. It's happy hour."

Yoongi scoffs lowly, eyes trailing as your sister strolls off with her purse. The front door open and closes and it's soon silence between the two of you. He wasn't surprised by your sister's ignorance; she's done this time and time again. However, a birthday was sacred and personal - not a happy hour brunch with a friend.

"I gotta-"

"We should talk." Yoongi interrupts. Your 25th birthday was the day he was dreading ever since he began dating your sister. He passed the age of soul ties and once realized that he has yet met his destined soulmate, he decided to settle with your sister. They moved in with one another after a year and by the second, he had met you - his soul mate. It made his life extremely complicated.

"I don't think-"

Yoongi reaches out for you - a mistake - once you're turning away to walk down the hall to the guest bedroom. A shock runs through his veins at your touch; goosebumps erupting his skin. He flinches away from you as if you burned him, eyes wide. He never felt such a sensation - never felt the need to touch anyone until now.

Shit.

Your smell was intoxicating now more than ever. Your scent forever lingeried in his presence upon meeting you years ago. Your sister's scent being fruitier, it was easier to hide your scent. Now, he's unsure if he could ever get the scent out of his mind.

"I'm sorry." Yoongi chokes out. He understands you - he can feel your sorrow. He chose to ignore his soul tie to you and continue being one with your sister. It was selfish of him, he understood; especially how your sister told him how traditional you were when it came to the universe. Yoongi hated conflict and breaking apart a family isn't something he wished to do.

"Don't be." You managed to choke out, throat tight. You couldn't be upset at Yoongi. You were upset with yourself more than anything. The universe could choose your soulmate, but they couldn't make the person consent into loving you. While you brushed all of your love interests away to be with yours, it wasn't guaranteed your soulmate would do the same. "Why didn't you...tell me?"

'Why would he?' You ask yourself. Yoongi and you weren't friends, only cordial. He has been with your sister for years and the thought of him being your soulmate now makes you sick at the universe for how foolish you truly were.

"I love her." Yoongi's words come out as a whisper and his heart churns at the way your face falls. He was hurting himself along with you. Soul ties did this to you. He could feel your pain and confusion; betrayal.

"I got to go." you cough, vision blurring. The years you studied soul ties, they never told you love would hurt like this. Being denied by your soulmate felt worse than any pain you felt before.

"I don't love you any less." Yoongi hurries to stop you, hands curling around your wrist. "I love you, Y/N, but I cannot betray your sister. Not now." Yoongi shakes his head.

He loves you.

Yoongi loves you.

Yoongi loves you?

"I thought if I," Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat. "helped you that it would be enough."

You furrow a brow. "Help...me?"

"I was the one who paid your tuition. Not fully," Yoongi gulps. "I had help but-"

"You." Your eyes widen. You were swimming in debt after college and the office job helped pay the bills, but it wasn't enough to cover such a hefty bill such as tuition. You told yourself after you finished writing your book (that you haven't even began) that you could be the next big author of the decade.

"I recommended you to Hobi-ah. Said you'd be a good addition to his company."

You blinked your eyes several times. "That's how I got hired to a job I never applied to." you scoff, knitting your brows. You swore that your boss, Hoseok, gaslit you into working for him. He gave you a call and stated that he went through your resume and thought you were the perfect match. After several minutes of speaking, you had a job and left yourself confused, but willing to work.

"I told myself that if I couldn't be with you that at least you'll be alright. That you'd write the book you've been struggling on for years and publish it. That you'll become a big time author and maybe move on from me-"

Yoongi's stunned when he feels your lips on his - soft and inviting. Your hands wrap around his neck and your body pushes against his.

'This is wrong.' he tells himself. 'I'm not a single man.'

But kissing you felt right. He felt alive - his body electrifying with each passing second. His mind screamed at him to stop - your sister was who be loved. Yes, he admitted long ago that he couldn't truly love her the way he wanted to; not with you around. But he could never cause your relationship with her to crumble because of fate.

"Tell me to stop." Your lips say against his lips, so inviting that it's painful at the thought of you halting your actions.

'Stop.' Yoongi's mind demands, but his words don't register. Instead, his tongue dips inside your mouth and marvels at how warm and savory your tongue feels against his.

'Tell her to stop.'

Yoongi's hands find your body and he wastes no time in trailing his hands upwards to grope your breast. His breath hitches at the sensation of your clothed against the palm of his hands.

'Tell her to stop.'

Your moans are sweet melodies his ears are blessed to hear. His hands are large massaging your breast, fingers pinching your nipples between massages.

'Tell her to stop!'

"Don't stop." You moan, a string of saliva connecting your tongue to his and it was enough for Yoongi to be fully consumed by you.

"I never knew you cook." Your sister giggles after taking a bite of her food, more like a nibble. She wasn't going to eat it, she wasn't much of a pork eater.

But Yoongi was, the soul tie telling you.

Speaking of the man, he appears as though he's being tortured. The last he seen of you was a month prior on your birthday - the same birthday he cheated on his longtime girlfriend.

It was difficult for Yoongi to sit across from you when he seen you naked below (and on top) of him. It plagued his mind for the entirety of the days to come, but the guilty he experienced ate him alive. He couldn't look his girlfriend i the eye. He couldn't touch her, either. All her sexual advances had been rejected and he could only guess how horrible she feels.

Yoongi wasn't the only individual who had their mind clouded. Your mind never removed Yoongi from them. The animalistic side he displayed while fucking you - how needy and hard he was, how passionate the sex was between true soulmates.

Minutes felt like seconds when you were with Yoongi, a blur. You laid naked before him on the very bed he shared with your sister. Your mind yells at you to stop - to not be a homewrecker. But your heart and lust tell you to continue - that you were doing nothing wrong. Yoongi may be your sister's boyfriend, but he was your soul mate.

Yoongi's hands engulf your naked breasts, massaging until your nipples stiffen. He licks his lips, head dipping down to wrap his tongue around it. It's savory, causing not only for you to moan at the sensation, but for him as well. Yoongi's breathing quickens as he gets caught into the act of suckling your breast. 

Yoongi shivers, goosebumps covering his skin. He could suck every inch of your body for hours - he could orgasm by just doing so. He was leaking, his cock feeling moist against his boxer briefs. Foreplay with your sister wasn't as amazing as this - but she wasn't his soulmate. You were, and sex with your soulmate was far more intense than with anyone else. 

"I need to taste you." Yoongi pops a nipple from his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it. "You want to ride my face, baby?"

You melt against the bed, fingers clenching against Yoongi's shirt. You tug at it, nodding your head. You couldn't imagine not sitting on Yoongi's face while his tongue pleasures you. 

Yoongi grunts and removes his shirt. His briefs were tight against his bulge, but he ignores it. He needed you on his tongue now more than ever.

You yelp when Yoongi flips you, your dripping pussy against his lips. His tongue pokes out to lick a savory lick against your clit, eyes staring right into yours. 

"S-shit." you hiss, thighs buckling. You slowly grind against his tongue, your eyes fluttering. 

You were in bliss. This is all you ever desired - to be one with your soulmate. Sex wasn't as good as this - it never would be if it wasn't with Yoongi. 

Your breathing quickens when Yoongi's hands place them on your hips and encourages you to grind against him roughly. His eyes doesn't leave you, completely satisfied that he gets to please you in such a way. Your taste causes his mind to spin, and he determines that you were the best pussy he's ever tasted. 

Yoongi was addicted. 

Yoongi's right hand reaches up to clench your breast. You're twitching against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. But Yoongi doesn't halt - no, he doesn't dare. He's slurping your clit aggressively as if his life depended on it, and in a way it did. You were his soul mate. He could feel what you felt - and you were cumming.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you moan out, body twitching against Yoongi's tongue licking up your juices.

You clench your legs just thinking about it. The way you came on Yoongi's tongue was a first in a lifetime orgasm that you couldn't give up. The weeks leading up to today was torture. You couldn't stop touching yourself at the memory of Yoongi in bed with you. But it wasn't enough. Nor was the vibrator and even the dildo you recently purchased.

You lick your lips at Yoongi, heart content that he's enjoying your cooking. You were positive he would, soul ties have several benefits in and outside of sex.

"I'm going to go make a sandwich." your sister stands from her seat, placing the pork contents onto Yoongi's plate.  "And rummage through your cabinets."

Your sister rounds the corner to your kitchen. You can hear her doing as she said she would, opening and closing your fridge and cabinets.

Your eyes glance at Yoongi from across of you. He's finishing up his plate as you watch him. The sounds your sister is making was what caused you to act in such a way. 

Yoongi yelps when something pinches his thigh. His head snaps up to survey his surroundings, not finding you. He dips his head underneath the table and gulps when he witnesses you. 

"Y/N-"

"I need you." you begged, eyes pleading him. It makes him weak, but his brain allows him to shake his head. 

"Y/N, not now." Yoongi hisses, eyes wide with shock. You're so beautiful kneeling before him, but your sister was in the next room. 

Yoongi doesn't stop your hands from inching towards his (hardened) length. 

"She won't hear if you're quiet." You lick your lips. Your own judgment was clouding you. Never in a million years would you have done this, but you'll blame your soul tie (and lust) for Yoongi. "Don't you want me?"

Fuck. 

Yoongi finds himself nodding. His eyes glance to the doorway where your sister stood behind, making her sandwich. 

The things his soulmate was making him do. 

But he couldn't fully blame you. His heart ached for you while he laid next to your sister at night. His mind often played flashbacks of his night with you, and it drove him insane.

"I need you, Yoongi." you begged, falling back against the bed. "I need you inside of me."

"Yeah, baby?" Yoongi slithers on top of you. His lips kiss along your jaw. "You want me to fuck you?"

Yoongi shivers, biting his lips. His hands rub along your thighs. He wished nothing more than to be deep inside of you - to coat every inch of your walls with his cum until you were dripping.

Yoongi's thoughts were filthy. He managed to keep his thoughts of you at ease, but now that the both of you were together and fully aware of the soul tie, his mind couldn't help but crave you. 

Yoongi manages to release his cock. He couldn't wait a second longer - not while you laid beneath him begging to be fucked. 

Yoongi positions his cock at your entrance, gently rubbing against your clit. He grunts - you were the wettest pussy he's encountered. He ponders how in the world he was going to get you out of his mind once the deed was done. 

"Shiiiit." Yoongi grunts as he enters you. You're warm and wet and he regrets not doing this with you sooner.

Yoongi was but a man, but he tries. He tries to be gentle and slow, but your soft moans mixed with the tightness of your pussy sends him over the edge. He couldn't help but fuck into you, snapping his hips to get deeper inside of you. 

Your eyes snap shut. You never felt complete such as this. His cock was made for you, truly. Your pussy was made for him, the way it squelches was just one way of knowing.  

"This pussy was made for me, baby." Yoongi grumbles, nails digging into your skin. He wraps your legs around his waist and snaps his hips inside of you. "You're so wet and tight for me."

Neither of you cared at the mess you were making on his bed, nor the ruckus that echoed across the room. Skin slapping, heavy breathing and moans - it was sickening truly at how comfortable the two of them felt when at any given moment they could be caught. But at this moment, neither of you bothered to care. It was just the two of you in this moment - and you couldn't ask for anything else. 

Yoongi was a man and no matter how hard he tried to not be filthy, he couldn't control himself. He fucked you on your back with your knees behind your ears. He fucked you from behind, hands slapping your ass while you pleaded for more. He flipped and even managed to fuck you while you rode him - and yet and still he could never be tired of the way your pussy felt heavenly for him - just for him.

Yoongi hurryingly pushed down his pants, eyes darting to the doorway. 

Your hands wrap around his cock hungrily, mouthwatering. This would be your first-time blowing Yoongi and you couldn't wait.

You wasted no time in licking the tip of Yoongi's cock like your favorite lollipop. Your hands thrust and rub against the base while you suck the tip of his cock. 

Yoongi bites his lip to hide the moans. Your mouther was amazing, almost as amazing as your pussy. The adrenaline rushing through him excites him. The thought of almost being caught with your lips wrapped around his cock brings the excitement he never knew he desired. 

You bring Yoongi's cock deeper into your mouth. You feel his fingers tangle into your hair, bringing his cock deeper and deeper. 

"Y/N!" your sister calls, but Yoongi couldn't stop himself from thrusting into you. "I'm going to use the last of this mayonnaise."

Your eyes watered as you peered up at a grunting Yoongi. Saliva slides down the corner of your mouth and you could no longer help the low gagging noises when Yoongi reaches your throat. 

"Fuck baby." Yoongi grunts. He slaps your cheeks, eyes dark. There was something sinister in him that desired to do every and anything filthy to you. You were more than willing. "You want us to get caught, don't you?"

You do, as fucked up as it was. You wished nothing more than your sister to see you and your soulmate doing what you were destined to. It was terrible, but it was what she deserved. If she would have agreed to be with her own soulmate you wouldn't have to sneak to be with yours.

Yoongi slides the chair back. If he was going to cum before your sister returned, he'd need to be his usually rough self. He thrusts deeper into your throat. Your sister opens and closes the fridge a few more times, but no footsteps could be heard. 

Your eyes catch Yoongi's, though blurry and teary eyed. 

"You're so beautiful for me, baby." Yoongi murmurs, cock twitching inside of you. "My beautiful soulmate. So dirty...all for me."

Yoongi thrusts a few more times before he cums deep inside of your mouth. It hits the back of your throat, and you swore you'd choke. 

"I love you." Yoongi hisses, legs giving out and he falls back into the chair. 

Your eyes widen, swallowing the cum inside your mouth. Yoongi is breathing heavily but manages to lift his pants up while you wipe your mouth. Your sister is finishing up, you can hear her footsteps come closer.

Your lips place themselves onto Yoongi's in a quick kiss. "I love you, too." you murmur against his lips and push yourself back to your seat. 

"Are you sure this is something you'd want to publish?" your editor snickers, but she's overly amused. 

Months had since passed, and Yoongi and you were left a secret. Everything between the two of you weren't sexual. You two went out on dates, but in the next town over. Your sister had several friends and being caught would only assure that your sister would know. 

Yoongi insisted that he and your sister weren't together anymore sexually, but the titled as his girlfriend still remained to her. It upset you, but he wasn't lying about not touching her. She has ranted how the sex was nonexistent and she was not only sexually frustrated, but physically and emotionally. 

"Yes." you nod your head. 

You managed to finish the book you were writing. The original plot had since changed into the new one, a memoir of your time as a mistress to your soulmate. Your editor insisted that it would be a best-seller, but your reputation would be rooted as a homewrecker. 

It was a risk you were willing to take, however, in order to have Yoongi be yours fully. It was a risk that your sister would come to despise you, but that was what you were willing to endure.

Yoongi was a man that hated conflict. He couldn't hurt your sister more than what he already was. He thought if he became emotionally (and physically) unavailable that she would eventually leave him. 

But you knew your sister. She was stubborn - persistent.

But so were you. 

"What's the title?" your editor raises her brow. In a short few weeks, the book would be published, and no doubt would it be a best-seller amongst young adults. You'll be on your book tour with promoting your book and then will be rolling in cash - all about you cheating with your sister's boyfriend. 

"Contagious." You respond, heart beating rapidly. You couldn't believe you were doing this - but it needed to be done. For you and Yoongi's relationship. He was your soulmate, after all, and he could never remain upset with you for long. 

@juju-227592 @iheartsvt @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632

Trouvaille - Chapter One

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.4k

Trouvaille Masterlist

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Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello everyone, this is Dana! This is the first complete chapter of Trouvaille, an introduction to the story and several characters. I have been working on this story for a long time, so I am overjoyed to share it with others. If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the next few chapters, don't hesitate to ask, I'll gladly add you. Any comments, questions, and feedback is lovingly received, and thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

Although it was Friday, the hands of Y/N’s watch moved as if stuck in honey, hours ticking by painfully, and her patience was wearing thin. Today was her last day at her job. That morning, while sipping a cup of tea wrapped up in her quilt in bed, she had stared out the window absently as she frequently caught herself doing, fog rolling through the tall grasses of the back yard and filling the sky with stormy colors. The morning of her last day of work was like any other, planned to the minute, methodical, and solitary. Routine, she found, drove her crazy, but she wondered what exactly she would do after it’s upheaval – was it back to school, helping her mother out at the library, applying for a job at the smoothie bar, starting a ghost hunting crew? Endless possibilities boggled her even more than repetitive routine, she didn’t have a plan, and it was somewhat freeing. 

The veterinarian hospital she worked at was located in the heart of Boston, and saw near-constant foot traffic. When she arrived in the morning there were nothing but appointments to attend to, animals to check in, bags of kibble to sell, and of course, the odd surgery or two. Her position, specifically, was the on-staff exotics veterinarian, and often trained her colleagues to treat animals that weren’t cats and dogs. 

She was in the midst of her last examination, one that would likely end in surgery for a broken wing. It was getting late, there were only a handful of her colleagues left in the building, and she still had to talk to her supervisor about her leave. Y/N had chosen to word it as “taking a leave” rather than formally turning in resignation papers, as much as she was leaning towards a complete change of career. There was a chance after a few months of indulging herself in new directions that she’d come running back to the hospital.

Squinting, Y/N skimmed the clipboard containing information about the parrot she was currently treating, taking care not to touch his injured wing when she wrapped the bird in a towel for better handling.

“Lex, I need the radiograph up on the screen, please. Watch out for his beak!” Nimbly, Y/N turned the agitated bird away from the young lab tech before he nipped at her elbow. “He’s a biter, not that I can blame him, after what’s happened to his wing,” adjusting the towel around the Macaw, Y/N glanced at the large screen above the observation table. Eyes scanning the radiograph with practiced precision, she realized that the fracture was not something that could be mended with tape and time. A door closing and the sound of metal rolling in a tin alerted her of the presence of the tech she was most proud of training, a young man named John.

“John? Oh, John, thank God you’re back, did room 103 have the IM pins? I want this parrot to be stabilized as quickly as possible. I don’t think he is used to being handled,” Y/N explained, struggling to keep the bird's large beak away from her ears. Vaguely, Y/N heard Lex slip from the room, likely running to the next room for another emergency radiograph. John, his blue eyes drooping in concern, slid the tray of IM pins across the observation table while clicking his tongue. 

“Poor guy. What happened?” John asked, chest heaving with the effort of running down the veterinarian hospital halls. His creamsicle colored scrubs, an undoubtedly sunny wardrobe choice, was littered with sunset orange sweat stains and spots of animal drool as he reached across the table for the patient file. He let out a low whistle at the accident report as Y/N decided one IM pin would be plenty to get the fractured bone to realign once more.

“Wing caught in cage door? That can’t be right, especially with the size of the fracture,” John exclaimed, smooth features pulling into an incredulous expression. Eyes flicking up to the parrot, Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in frustration, John hurriedly washed his hands in the sink and pulled two pairs of latex gloves from the box next to the sink. It was the unsaid in the report that raised suspicion; how, exactly, did the bird get its wing stuck in the cage door himself? It was more common, in fact, for Y/N to treat animals that were abused; things were rarely accidents, when it came to exotics. 

“Are you ready for surgery? For the size of the bird and the fracture, I estimate we’ll be working for about three hours before he can be brought to recovery,” Y/N slipped a clean mask over her face, adjusting the frameless plastic goggles so they don’t fog, before carefully ensuring John had a hold on the parrot. John grunted in assent, likely just as bone-tired as she was. 

Rider, she faintly remembered, was the parrot’s name, as she watched white suds circle and filter down the drain. Once her hands were dry and the gloves snapped over her wrists, she felt the numbing sensation of dropping into total concentration. In a way, that was the best part of her job; the quieting of her brain for the length of a surgery, distracted by the methodical procedures, the pressure to work against the clock, and above all – the importance of helping the animal. 

Perhaps it was selfish, in a way, to crave the escape from her inner monologue considering her line of work, but some people had meditation and some people were joggers. Certainly, every sane person needed an outlet for serenity to make sense of the rest of the chaos infecting their lives. Sometimes, Y/N even believed she had combined her serenity with vocation, her work and her respite intimately entwined. Other times, at the bottom of a nondescript bottle with her friends, she grew nauseous at the rigidity of it all. 

“Prepare the K-wires, let’s get started,” Y/N declared, pulling the operating light over the table. John grunted in response, Y/N smoothing a hand over the parrot’s crown in a practiced soothing manner. 

“We’ll get you all fixed up, Rider,” Y/N whispered to the Macaw, the eyes of the parrot boring into her in a way that made her feel exposed. 

“So, does this mean we can finally call it a day?” John asked raggedly, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. The air outside of the operating room felt significantly fresher, the bright lights by the employee lockers snapping Y/N out of her surgical reverie. Peeling the sticky gloves from her hands and tiredly tossing them into a nearby trash can, she nodded. 

“All done, John! You can go ahead and get out of here. It’s Friday night, after all – I just have to talk to Dr. Davies before I can go myself,” Y/N smiled warmly at John. While he was one of the newest vet techs, over the past seven months at the office he had managed to surpass all of the other techs in surgical skill. 

Frowning slightly, John paused before reaching for his book bag. “Are you going to discuss your leave?” He inquired softly. 

Y/N sighed heavily. While she had enjoyed training John, and found significant fulfillment in her profession, the past few months had felt more and more draining. Being an exotics veterinarian was one of the hundreds of things she had dreamed of as a child. She had excelled in school, graduating close to the top of her class, and had even landed an amazing position at her current animal hospital fresh out of university. For the first year, Y/N saw herself at Harbor Animal Hospital long-term, aspiring to be like the incredible Dr. Tia Davies, her boss and mentor. 

As time went on, Y/N felt a sadness well up inside of her as she treated animal after animal. The world had become a cruel place full of neglect for animals, especially for the exotics she cared for. When she was a little girl, her grandparents took her to a traveling circus every summer when it came through Boston. It was there, where she watched beautiful parrots soar, elegant leopards slink through elaborate obstacles, and giraffes stand tall in all of their glory that Y/N first dreamed of working with such beautiful animals. To help them, specifically, as she grew up and realized the types of trials and tribulations the circus animals went through in order to perform, was one of her biggest desires. 

Fresh from college equipped with rosy lenses, she believed she could make a difference – but all she found was the revolving door of the hospital, each animal’s case more soul crushing than the next. Abuse, neglect, abandonment; these were the things that kept Y/N staring at her ceiling at night, waiting for sleep that would never come. She couldn’t help but notice the uptick in her anxiety and the dark circles rimming her lower lash line as time wore on, desperate to love her job again. At twenty-four years old, she ultimately came to the conclusion that in order for her to help animals in a way that mattered, she needed some time to sort out her personal feelings. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, raking her hand through her hair, “I just don’t know if I can keep this up, John. I’m running on empty and I just can’t shake this feeling – oh, I don’t know – of heartbreak? I just feel like I need time to regroup. I can’t afford to have my personal feelings negatively impact the animals,” she explained, corners of her mouth turning downwards. 

John nodded thoughtfully, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He was yet to feel this way, and was generally more optimistic than Y/N, but he saw how depleted she had become over the months. She prayed that he would not end up like her; the hospital desperately needed him. 

“Well, Y/N, I’m really going to miss you around here. Hopefully the new exotics vet is just as patient as you are,” he said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. Y/N appreciated the fact that he didn’t plead her to stay, or press the subject too hard. “Call me when you decide to come back. I’ll be waiting for you with your favorite Starbucks order!” 

With that, Y/N gave John a hearty wave as he pushed his way through the doors to the employee parking lot. She would miss him, certainly, but she had wrestled with taking a leave for months before she decided John was ready to take her place until Dr. Davies could find a full-time replacement. 

She opened up her locker, pulling down the picture of her posing at a cocktail party with her friends Ben, Laura, and Alice, the magazine clipping of Keanu Reeves as John Wick, and her bag of toiletries for when she worked late, shoving all of the items into her canvas tote bag. Simply clearing out the locker made her feel lighter in a way, albeit a tad guilty. She thought about some of the patients she saw regularly, such as the sweet elephant seal she treated at the Boston Aquarium, and felt the guilt rise up in her stomach even more. But she had already decided; she was no help to any creature in her current state. 

Setting off down the hall towards the office where the doctors kept patient files and keys to the pharmacy and lab, Y/N took one last look at the polished linoleum floors, the pastel walls, and unflattering fluorescent lights guiding her way. She knocked twice on the closed door, all of the other staff and techs gone for the day as the rapping sound echoed about the empty clinic. 

“Y/N, I’m assuming that is you? Come on in,” Dr. Davies’ sweet voice called, muffled by the sound of a medical mask. Pushing the door open, Y/N hiked her tote bag up further on her shoulder in determination.

Dr. Davies, or Tia, as she insisted everyone call her, was a kind woman in her mid-forties. She wore purple rectangular glasses and had frizzy graying hair, and looked something akin to an art school aunt. Tia always wore chunky, funky jewelry and colorful scrubs, which she had mentioned “brightened up the place”. 

“So, have you made your final decision?” Tia looked up over her glasses, setting the folder she was holding down on the desk. She stood, smiling fondly at Y/N. Swallowing down even more guilt, Y/N nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Tia. I just feel like I’ve…” Y/N trailed off while looking at the floor, at a loss for words that accurately described her feelings. 

“Hit a wall? Been emotionally drained?” Tia suggested helpfully. Eyes shooting up to meet Tia’s, Y/N’s confidence returned after she registered the understanding look on the doctor’s face. 

“In a way. I still want to help animals, and that will never change. Lately, I feel like I haven’t been able to help enough. In a way that matters. The world is… the world is so awful. To these animals, to humans–”

“–to hybrids?” Tia added encouragingly. 

Hybrids!

“Oh my God. Hybrids! I knew I was forgetting something about my schedule today!” Y/N exclaimed, blood draining from her face. 

“Oh Y/N, I remember you telling me about your plans to go with Ben and Roy to a hybrid shelter this week. Is that today?” Tia rounded the corner of the desk, grasping one of Y/N’ wrists tenderly.

“Uh, yes– it is– Ben is going to kill me. I’m supposed to meet him at Government Center in half an hour. I’m so sorry, this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Y/N gasped out, furious at herself for forgetting such an important meeting. Her timing never seemed to be perfect. 

“Listen, Y/N, relax. It’s alright, I just wanted to let you know that my old colleague from Chicago has agreed to take your position until you return,” Tia reassuringly squeezed her wrist. “Or, if you return,” she added, a twinkle of some kind of knowing in her eye. 

“Oh, that’s such good news,” Y/N exhaled, thrilled Tia could find a replacement so quickly, a weight lifted off of her shoulders.

“I have no doubt that you will continue to help animals, you’re like me in that way. You’re young, and like me, you may have to take time to truly figure out where you fit in to make the best difference,” Tia continued, a warm feeling of kinship spreading through Y/N. 

“Tia,” Y/N mumbled in a watery manner, eyes filling up a little.

“I want you to call me, at least once a month, or whenever you need me. I’m here for you. Besides, knowing you, you’ll come up with some new venture that I absolutely need to be a part of. I’ll lend any knowledge I can,” Tia released Y/N’s wrist, opening her arms for an embrace. Now, Y/N truly had tears running down her face, burying it in Tia’s shoulder. 

“Now, get going! If you want to make it to Government Center in thirty minutes, I suggest you run the yellow lights,” Tia released her, winking. Y/N wiped a stray tear from her cheek, squaring her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Tia, for everything. I’ll call you,” Y/N affirmed, taking one more look at the kind doctor. She hurried from the office, the newfound source of anxiety of being late quickening her step to her car. 

As she launched out of the clinic, she took a deep breath in, the air free from the scent of rubbing alcohol and pet fur. While Boston city air was certainly tainted with cigarette smoke and exhaust, the light perfume of black-eyed susans studded along sidewalks filtered through pleasantly. Invigorating her, she squashed down the dread of her evening plans. 

While Y/N was well-versed in the subject of the animal kingdom, hybrids were always a source of puzzlement to her. Hybrids, a part of modern life long before her birth, were created specifically for human enjoyment in large labs, factories, and even dilapidated basement operations. When her parents were in their twenties, the price to own your own hybrid was an astronomical fee, and only the elite were photographed with hybrid companions at fundraisers and derbies. 

As the “wheel of progress” turned, hybrids spliced with large animal DNA became workhorses in many parts of the industrial USA. Hybrids working on logging plants, mining, and even construction, was faster and cheaper labor than hiring humans – an abysmal fact. In more recent times, almost anybody could adopt a hybrid, for better or for worse. Of course, the nasty sort of animal abuser found even more enjoyment tormenting a hybrid, one who could potentially fight back and feel human fear. God-wealthy “hunters for sport” lined up at fancy hybrid shelters to pick out bear and prey hybrids for their sick hobby, according to recent news headlines. 

For the most part, Y/N avoided the topic of hybrids. Although her family had money, there was never a hybrid within their home. This, she did consider odd, simply due to the fact that a large part of her family’s wealth came from her father’s revolutionary studies and practices on hybrid heart surgeries as a cardiologist. He had treated thousands of hybrids and truly cared for them, in a similar way that Y/N cared for her exotics. Her mother, on the other hand, loved hybrids, and even ran a bookclub out of the library she worked at specifically for adopted hybrids. 

Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated her relationship with the beings, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited out a red light. The radio murmured about the weather comfortingly, however, she could still feel the nervousness eating away at her stomach. It’s not like she had never talked to a hybrid, plenty of her parent’s friends had one or two. However, she couldn’t ever shake the feeling that like actual animals, hybrids could sense things about her that humans could not. In an all-knowing, exposing way. 

She blasted through the last yellow light, spotting the bright gold kettle that served as a giant Starbucks sign next to Government Center, and miraculously found a street parking spot nearby. Y/N was only ten minutes late, but in Ben’s mind, she might as well have been an hour late. Taking a quick peak in her rearview mirror, she pinched her cheeks to bring some life back into her complexion, ruffled her hair, and hastily shoved her wallet and keys into the pocket of her lavender scrubs. 

The sun was starting to set as she scuttled towards the entrance of Government Center, dreading the humidity and musty smell of the MBTA station. Ben and Roy told her to meet them inside of the station, where the couple met after Roy’s office hours. Stumbling over a cobblestone in her clunky clogs she wore to work, she cursed loudly as a pack of college students giggled at her outside of the Starbucks. Giving them a passionate Boston-style middle finger, she straightened up when she heard her name. 

“Y/N! Jesus Christ, over here!” Ben’s sharp voice cut through the Friday night rush hour traffic. Whirling around, she noticed Ben’s perfectly coiffed head of red hair, one of his Gucci loafers tapping the sidewalk impatiently. Behind him, sitting sheepishly on a fountain ledge, was his fiance, Roy. Y/N all but ran over to the two of them. 

“Shit– I’m so sorry I’m late– I got caught up in surgery and had to talk to my boss about the leave, plus the traffic, I swear, these Emerson students walk into the street on purpose,” Y/N heaved, right hand clutching her pounding heart. Roy chuckled lightly as he stood from his perch, hand smoothing over the back of Ben’s tweed suit. 

“I texted you this morning to remind you about tonight! Scatterbrain,” Ben scolded, his annoyance tempered by Roy’s gentle hand. Y/N always thought Roy was the best thing to ever happen to Ben. 

Ben Alpin was Y/N’s childhood neighbor, and although he was four years older, they were attached at the hip all throughout their youth. Ben was an amazing friend to have growing up; he was outgoing and sharp of tongue, always protective like an older brother. Considering Y/N had no siblings, Ben was the closest to one she ever had. They had gone to separate high schools, where Ben had flourished in leadership programs and dominated student council. He had always jokingly said that “money was his dream”, but Y/N knew that what he really wanted was to be a leader of some kind. He had eventually gone to Harvard Law, and was now a successful business lawyer. So successful, he was able to afford a brownstone on Beacon Hill – in the end, Y/N supposed he did indeed achieve his dream of money. 

Ben had met Roy Heath at Harvard post-grad, Roy being a new professor of architecture attending a leadership seminar Ben was hosting at the university. As far as personality, the two balanced each other out so well it was almost cosmic. Incredibly patient, calm, and easy-mannered, Roy could de-escalate a classic Ben meltdown in seconds. Y/N adored Roy, he had become a dear friend to her almost as quickly as he entered her life. He often helped her work on her house on the weekends, which offered her not only someone to reach high areas of the ceilings with a paintbrush, but a grounding presence to bask in. The two planned on getting married in less than a year, after Roy published his current thesis. 

“I know, I know… I even replied to your message! Just goes to show how absolutely fried I am these days,” Y/N complained, smacking her face against Ben’s chest and squeezing his midsection until he wheezed. Patting her back, she felt his chest rumble in amusement, surprisingly not as angry as she thought he’d be for her tardiness. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, you were barely even ten minutes late. I doubt ten minutes will determine whether or not there’s a hybrid for us,” Roy reassured her, stooping low to give her a brief hug after she let go of Ben. The latter scoffed, intertwining his fingers with Roy’s, before rolling his blue eyes. “I found three shelters online the past few months, so we’ll see which one is lucky.”

“Don’t forget that seedy one over in Downtown Crossing. That’s our last resort,” Ben added. Ben, ever the realist, had been forwarding articles about hybrid scarcity to Y/N for the last six months. For some reason, the supply of hybrids could not keep up with the growing demand of those who wish to adopt. Y/N suspected the worst – sport hunting was growing in popularity. She did not vocalize her opinion to the couple. 

“Let’s get going. The first one is right up the street by that sucky Irish pub,” Ben declared, pushing a graying-brown curl behind Roy’s ear affectionately. They were nauseatingly adorable, Y/N thought. 

Setting off, Y/N told the two all about how she asked for her leave, what she planned on doing while she had time off, and of course, her house. Stopping at a crosswalk, Ben looked at her inquisitively. 

“So, any luck finding roommates for that big old creepy house of yours?” He asked, an eyebrow arching up into his hairline at the absurdity. Y/N pouted, yet another situation she found kept her awake at night. 

Her maternal grandparents, the very same ones that took her yearly to the circus as a kid, lived in a gorgeous Stick Style Victorian manor outside of Boston when she was growing up. It had been in her family for generations, built in the 1860’s for some wealthy judge and his wife. Y/N loved the house more than anything, its hundreds of nooks, crannies, passageways, and secrets made her giddy like a child every time she went home. She had moved into the home after college, when her grandparents became too old to live on their own. They lived with her mother and father down the street, but Y/N couldn’t bear to leave the beautiful Victorian empty. The house itself would have been part of her inheritance, so she figured why not move in immediately after college?

What she didn’t realize was that her grandmother was a bit of an antiques hoarder, and her grandfather didn’t like to “fix what ain’t broke”. Meaning, the last time the place had any kind of repairs or facelifting was in the sixties. Y/N had her work cut out for her between scraping linoleum off of the kitchen floor and managing the several acres of trails and gardens on the property. Additionally, the place was gigantic – with 10 bedrooms, she could have a convent of nuns move in with her. It was this reason, (certainly not the fact that she could really use someone who could operate a ride-on lawnmower) that she had been asking around her pool of friends if they were looking for a place to live. She hadn’t found any luck. 

“Don’t remind me of that. Seriously, my head’s going to explode. I’ve been asking around for months, I’ve even told people they could pay me three walnuts to live there,” Y/N groaned, following the couple across the street. Roy was practically pissing his pants, face red with glee. 

“You know, Y/N Roy spends enough time there hauling out your grandma’s chair collection, he should move in.”

“Hey! Working on that house is hands-on experience for me. It’s not very often architects get to work freely on a Victorian,” Roy nudged Ben with his shoulder, having to lean down six inches. The sight made Y/N snort. 

“I’m just going to throw in the towel. Maybe I’ll get five cats and they can have the run of the place,” Y/N said thoughtfully. At least with cats, she wouldn’t have to worry about a roommate filling her old home with modern Ikea decor. 

“Oh, yeah, really solidify your granny status with that. Sexy,” Ben teased, head craning backwards to give her a cheeky grin. She stuck her tongue out at him, pointing beyond his nose to the sign in front of him reading Hattie’s Hybrids. 

“Okay! This is the first one, let’s all say a quick prayer to whoever’s listening… Oh, I’m so excited, Ben,” Roy was practically bouncing, the perfect picture of an excited father. Or, potentially soon-to-be father. 

Roy’s excitement was short-lived. Pulling on the door handle, Ben realized the shop was locked up. Cupping his hands and pressing his face into the window, he frowned. 

“The lights are on, but the place looks deserted! I swear, I checked the hours online and they’re supposed to be open,” Ben exclaimed, puzzled. 

“Right here, honey,” Roy sighed, tapping a taped-up sign on the window.

We do not have any hybrids at this time. Please check back in the upcoming weeks.

“What?” Ben’s voice pitched upwards, scanning the paper. “Great. The next shelter is three blocks away. I’m going to need a drink.”

“After we check out the next two shelters,” Y/N warned, knowing how rowdy Ben could get on a Friday night bar crawl. Ben shook his hand twice, yeah, yeah, before following Roy down the sidewalk to the next location. Feeling a touch of exasperation that Hattie’s Hybrids couldn’t save her from a whole night of traipsing around the city, she closely tailed her friends in search of the next place. 

“Fuck! I needed that,” Ben slammed his shot glass down on the crumbling wooden bar, holding up his finger to the bartender to leave the bottle of tequila behind. 

The next two shelters Roy had found were similarly locked up and deserted, which caused Ben to fly into pissed-lawyer mode. 

“How do these people even make money? I can’t understand why there doesn’t seem to be a single shelter in the city of Boston with hybrids. Where are they all?” He continued, pouring himself another shot. Roy looked discouraged, nursing a Budweiser and rubbing slow circles along Ben’s lower back. 

Y/N was similarly distressed. It was getting late, she had been in surgery most of the day, and all she wanted was to crawl into her bed. Instead, she found herself slumping around the humid city, already buzzed off of a stiff gin martini, like she was in grad school again. Mostly, she felt bad for her friends – all they wanted was to have a family together. Swirling an olive around in her glass, she hummed. 

“So I take it, we're off to the ‘seedy’ place,” Y/N encouraged, taking the last sip of her martini. They had ended up in a bar in Downtown Crossing anyways, so at least she wouldn’t have to walk up the hill towards the State House again. Ben grunted.

“Please. If those three places were shut down, I doubt the last resort is harboring a miracle. We’ll go for shits and giggles, the hot dog cart is by there anyways. I’ll have to do more research before we find our little one, Roy…” Ben trailed off sadly, downing his third shot with a shake of the head. 

“It’s alright, honey, we’ll do it together,” Roy affirmed, a sweet smile spreading across his face. Y/N felt her martini rise in her throat at the purity of it all. 

Slapping down a fistfull of cash, Ben rose from his stool, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Come on, granny, last stop before you can race back to the Haunted Mansion,” Ben helped Y/N up from her seat, leading her to the exit. 

The last shelter was less than a block away from the bar. Ben swore when the hot dog cart seemed to have shut down for the day. Roy was busy gaping at the flickering lightbulb outside of the last shelter, which had a chipping sign that simply read HYBRIDS. The door was propped open with a wooden block, the lights were on, and there was a man hunched over a cellphone at the front of a store. 

“Holy–” Roy clamped a hand over Ben’s mouth, probably trying to save him from a bad first impression. Y/N was just as floored as her friend, staring dumbly at the shabby storefront, barely registering Roy pushing Ben into the shelter. Scrambling after them, Y/N entered the building. 

The place was entirely gray. The walls, the tin desk with an ancient register, the old guidebooks lining dusty shelves, all radiated a depressing emotion. Even the man behind the desk, still watching a noisy pre-season Patriots game, had dull gray hair and a sagging complexion. Stifling a smirk at how out of place ritzy Ben looked, Y/N pressed a hand over her mouth as she sifted through a rack of hybrid-specific clothes that were about as old as she was. Roy cleared his throat, standing before the desk, Ben uncharacteristically silent as the man grumbled with annoyance, peering up at the three of them. 

Setting his phone down, the man stood arthritically before painting on a customer-service smile. 

“And how can I help youse today?” Y/N nearly snickered at the man’s Quincey accent, alcohol making her a little giddy, until she realized this man just might be the saving grace of her Friday night. “We’re havin’ a sale on them jeans over there,” the man pointed to the rack Y/N had steadied herself on.

“Uh, okay, good to know. Actually, we’re here to potentially adopt, if you have any hybrids available, that is,” Roy took the lead, Ben’s eyes glazed over as he stared at a cobweb on the ceiling. The man made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, grabbing a key ring from the desk drawer. 

“Got just one, follow me,” the man motioned to them with a finger, unlocking the door at the back of the shop behind a shelf of books. Roy looked a bit disheartened, the chances of the lone hybrid at the shelter being a child slim to none. The trio stepped through the threshold anyways, the back room filled with what could only be compared to empty jail cells sans doors, the scent of cleaning products heavy in the air. Y/N was shocked by Ben’s continued silence, analyzing his stony expression as they reached the back of the room. There was a slim hallway to Y/N’s right, dimly lit, but they did not go down that way.

“Got this one in about two hours ago. She’s the smallest of her siblings, apparently… too hyper for them fancy shelter’s customers, or so’s I’ve been told by the person who dropped her ‘ere. Name’s Daisy, up-to-date on her doctor’s visits, guaranteed,” the shopkeeper rattled off, scratching the back of his head. He stepped to the side, allowing Ben and Roy to peer into the chamber Daisy was in. 

Sat on the little bed in the corner, engrossed in a colorful picture book, was a little girl about four years old. She had beautiful white blonde hair, long white lop ears sprouting from her crown, and was wearing a sundress with strawberries on it. She looked very well taken care of, a teddy bear clamped under her arm and hair neatly brushed. One of her ears twitched at the sound of the man’s voice, large chocolate eyes darting upwards. A tiny, toothy grin stretched across her precious face as she jumped up from the bed, book clattering to the floor. 

“Oh my gosh!” Ben gasped delightedly, the little bunny hybrid gathering a fistfull of his pant leg. Y/N was flabbergasted at the sight of such an angelic little girl in such a drab, depressing place. How in the hell did nobody adopt her?

“Hi! Hi, you’re here! They’re loud…” Daisy practically vibrated with energy, shaking the material of Ben’s pant leg excitedly. Her eyes darted down the narrow hallway Y/N had spotted moments before, one of Daisy’s ears lifting in that direction. 

“She’s beautiful! I can’t believe it – we were looking for a child just like her! Ben, what do you think?” Roy was so happy, his face was entirely pink as he bent down to say hello. The hybrid seemed to not have an ounce of shyness in her body, thrusting her teddy bear into Roy’s hand and telling him the bear’s name. 

“I think that this place was harboring a miracle after all,” Ben said in a disbelieving tone, simply glowing at Roy and Daisy’s interactions. She was chattering on about her morning, what she wanted to eat for dinner, and her new book. 

“I don’ think she’ll be here for very long,” the shopkeeper called from next to Y/N. He looked like he was aching to get back to his Patriots game. “If you wanna adopt, I suggest you do it tonight.”

“What breed is she? How old, and how much, and where do we sign?” Ben asked rapidly, blushing furiously as Roy picked Daisy up when she stretched her arms out to be held. Y/N could hardly believe the events unfolding in front of her; she knew that the couple was prepared to adopt that very night, but she was sure they wouldn’t be able to find what they were looking for right away. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, no matter how close she was to Ben and Roy. 

“Uh…” the man pulled his eyebrows together, checking a clipboard velcroed to the wall. “She just turned four. Lionhead rabbit, the fancy Latin name ‘ere too if you want it. Adoption fee for her…” looking thoughtfully at Ben’s Gucci loafers, the man smirked. Y/N turned away, feeling ill from her martini, stalking off slightly down the mysterious hallway. “... $2,500. I’ll print up them papers in the office.”

Slinking down the short hallway, Y/N took a deep breath. Daisy was like a gift from some cosmic entity, and it almost seemed too good to be true. She felt warmth spread through her chest as she thought about the spare room in Ben’s townhouse, already decked to the nines with children’s toys and furniture. Daisy would want for nothing, and it was as if Ben and Roy had already fallen in love with her. Dragging her fingertips along the cinder block walls, she made a surprised sound at the heavy metal door a few feet away from her. Further down the hall, there was a normal wooden door left ajar, an office, from the looks of it. Humming, she turned her attention to the safe-like door, a big red sign nailed to the left of it. The sign read: Exotics and Aggressives - Do Not Enter. 

Now that sign certainly caught her attention – all she had to read was Exotics before a happy sensation flooded through her. Giddy, she began to rise on her tiptoes to peek through the small square window of the door, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Startled, she whipped around, guilt painting her features as the shopkeeper eyed her suspiciously. 

“I wouldn’ get too close to them, if I were you, young lady,” the man said, hands on his hips. “They’ll take off your arm in a second.”

Arching an eyebrow, Y/N’s curiosity was piqued even more with this statement. The man sighed, pointing at the window. 

“Go ahead, take a look. They’re all vicious, the jaguar bastard bit me yesterday,” he muttered, tenderly rubbing a bandage on his left forearm. Staring at the man, as if to decipher if he was egging her on or not, Y/N turned back to the window, finally peering in. 

The room was large, but all divided by iron bars, like giant cages they would keep big animals in at the clinic. At first, she had to squint to see anything other than iron, but then she let out a startled gasp as her eyes focused. 

She counted four hybrids, fully shifted into their animal forms. First, her sight landed on a gorgeous, albeit underweight, leopard, laying on its side, asleep. In the cell next to it was what appeared to be a coyote, turned away from the door and shaking like a leaf in the corner. 

“My God,” Y/N whispered, taking in the third animal, a black jaguar, most likely the one that had bitten the shopkeeper. It was asleep, breathing labored, as blood oozed from a jagged cut on his side. 

Anger welled up inside of her, beginning to turn to the shopkeeper in wrath, before her breath was cut off by the sight of the final animal she could see: the biggest Northwestern wolf she had ever seen, and it was staring right back at her. Undoubtedly a male, the wolf’s amber eyes bored into hers, ears swiveling forward in alert and teeth baring immediately. The creature’s expression sent shivers down her spine, even as he was laying down in his cell separated by the heavy door Y/N was pressed against. Unable to tear her gaze away from the wolf, she forgot all about her bed calling her name, about Ben and Roy, and about Daisy. 

“Who are they?” Y/N asked, eventually breaking eye contact with the wolf. Looking at the shopkeeper, who had pulled out his phone to check on the Patriots, didn’t even spare the door a glance. 

“Bunch o’ bastards. We get the unadopted hybrids that are found wandering the streets, the ones that are rejected by other shelters, sometimes from circuses or zoos if they stop doin’ what they’re supposed to,” he replied, sounding bored. He began to walk away, heading towards the office, when Y/N pulled herself away from the door to urgently grab his wrist. 

“Wait! I– oh,” she let go of his wrist, blushing in embarrassment. “What’s going to happen to them?” Y/N asked, fearing the worst. The man scoffed, beginning to get annoyed with her questions. 

“Listen, lady, I’ve got a guy from Manhattan coming in tomorrow morning to pick up them animals. He’s offering seven G’s for all seven of em’... for hunting or something, I don’ really care what for. It’s payday tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to send that rabbit on her way with your buddies so I can finish the game in peace,” with that, the man stalked to the office, muttering something about “women”, the sound of a stuttering printer filling the hallway. 

Affronted, Y/N felt her heart begin to race, thinking about the beautiful leopard being hunted down, and the chances of the injured jaguar living past tomorrow evening. Feeling more ill than ever, the disgust for the world she lived in infiltrated every cell of her body. She peeked back into the room once more, immediately searching for the other three animals, but could not strain her eyesight into the far hidden corners of the room. A pained wheeze came from the jaguar, tail limply beating the floor. She looked at the wolf again, but to her surprise, he had turned around from her view and curled himself into a ball. Her heart sank, palms sliding down the door. If she didn’t feel powerless to help animals before, she certainly did at that moment. 

“Y/N? Where did you go?” Roy inquired, voice raised. She blinked rapidly, ears picking up Daisy’s childish giggle, and huffed sadly for the seven hybrids behind the locked door. While her heart was breaking for them, she wouldn’t allow herself to dampen her friend’s spirits on such a wonderful night for the two of them. 

She stiffened as the shopkeeper brushed past her, a packet in hand, grumbling in her direction. Curling her lip up in a snarl of disgust, she begrudgingly followed him, glancing at the metal door once more. 

“The papers. Let’s sign em’ up front, come on, now,” the shopkeeper grunted, stepping into the light of the main hybrid holding room. Roy still had Daisy on his hip, his face confused as it landed on Y/N. She brightened up in the best way that she could, smiling sweetly at Daisy, who had begun to sleepily nod her head against Roy’s shoulder. Ben held her teddy bear and picture book, pacing around the space she was in as if to check for any other of her belongings. 

“Sorry, guys! I had to run to the bathroom in the back,” Y/N lied, watching the shopkeeper carefully to see if he would rat her out. He rolled his eyes disinterestedly, already making his way to the storefront. Roy easily bought the lie, trusting and easygoing, face dissolving into understanding. She felt rotten about the deception, but she would feel even worse if she robbed her friends of the happy glow around them with the news of the exotic hybrids only feet away. 

Ben straightened up from where he was crouched over by the bed Daisy had been sitting on, face a touch melancholy. 

“Honey, is this all that you brought with you?” Ben asked Daisy, brushing a strand of hair away from her cherubic face. She cracked an eye open, peering at Ben’s outstretched hands holding her teddy bear and book. Nodding twice, she buried her face into Roy’s neck, sleep threatening to pull her under. Ben tutted, a look of adoration on his face. 

“I think she likes you, Roy,” Ben whispered with glee. “Let’s go sign the papers and get her home,” Ben took Roy’s free hand, flashing a brilliant smile towards Y/N, face clear of all stress from earlier. She trailed after the new family, no longer filled with exhaustion from her eventful day, but instead was consumed with cyclical thoughts. 

She felt dazed as she watched Ben smoothly sign his name on the papers, eagerly pushing them towards Roy once he finished, nearly tossing the packet off of the tin desk. The shopkeeper went back to his game on his phone, yawning, as Ben excitedly joined Y/N at the front of the store. 

“Can you believe it? Y/N, what are the chances?” Ben gushed, fingers fumbling along the bookshelf stocked with the hybrid guidebooks. Digits dancing along the spines, he carefully selected one while scratching his close-cut beard thoughtfully. The book was specific to hybrid children. 

“I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe it’s this easy to adopt – I mean, there’s no interview? Or background check?” With this statement, Ben turned to look at her curiously.

“Well, I know that the other shelters have at least one quick interview, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ben said slowly, sensing something off about Y/N’s countenance. “Besides, look at this place. Sadly, I don’t think Belichick over there is very concerned with who walks out of here with a hybrid. What’s up? Why do you look so upset?” 

Y/N shook her head, spotting a rabbit hybrid booklet and pulling it off the shelf for Ben. Her fingers paused, noticing a thicker book for wolf hybrids a couple of spines over. She snapped out of it, sensing Ben’s probing gaze, and handed him the booklet with a grin. 

“I’m not upset, that martini just made me feel a little sick. I think today has just been a little crazy,” Y/N explained. Ben softened at her response and her offering of the booklet, pulling her into his side tightly. 

“I haven’t thanked you yet for coming along with us today. It means more than you know, having you be here for this,” Ben confessed, squeezing her once. 

“Always,” Y/N replied, tears threatening to fall for the second time that day. He let her go, lifting the books in the air, heading to the register to pay the final fee before they could leave with Daisy. 

“That’ll be $3,000 even – with the tax an’ the books,” The shopkeeper punched numbers into the noisy cash register, cursing as the sport’s broadcaster announced a foul from his phone. Ben handed him his thick black credit card easily, and with the flimsy bag for the books in hand and credit card securely back in his wallet, the four left the dreary shelter without any complications. 

Unlike when Y/N left the clinic earlier in the evening, exiting the shelter and breathing in the nighttime air offered no relief to her current anxiety. Roy was busy ordering a cab for their ride back to their townhouse, carefully shifting the sleeping bunny hybrid on his hip. Ben was busy blathering on about what he should whip up for Daisy’s dinner, or if he should call in some takeout. Y/N tried to steady her breathing, checking her slim wristwatch for the time. It was only 9 PM, but it felt like midnight. She considered leaving her car in the spot seven blocks away in favor of jumping on the Red Line, but wasn’t thrilled about a ticket likely being tucked under her windshield wiper come morning. 

“Guys, I’m gonna get going. My car’s a little ways away, so I should start walking now,” Y/N piped up through Ben’s cooing at sleeping Daisy, both men turning to face her. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your car? I can order another cab for myself after,” Ben offered, ever protective and concerned for her walking alone at night. She shook her head lightly, reaching out to stroke the back of Daisy’s head. She was irresistible and her hair was impossibly soft, and Daisy leaned into the touch even in her sleep. 

“No, no, don’t worry about me. I have a taser and a knife. And my clogs are heavier than they look, for kicking some nuts. You guys should get home as soon as you can, settle her in,” Y/N said slowly, trying her best not to wake the child. Ben looked like he wanted to protest, but was cut off by the pulling up of the cab Roy ordered. Y/N pushed him towards the passenger side door, eager to spend some time thinking on the walk to her car. 

“I’ll call you in the morning to check in, and I’ll even come and stop by tomorrow if you want, and ask my dad to schedule a check-up for Daisy,” Y/N offered, opening the doors for both of them. Roy gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, mouthing a thank you sincerely, carefully maneuvering his way into the backseat. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Text me when you get home,” Ben hugged her once more, folding himself into the passenger seat and closing the door softly. Y/N waved as the cab drove away, waiting until it turned the corner before sparing another glance at the shelter behind her. Brushing a sticky piece of hair from her forehead, humidity pressing down on her, she set off down the street to her car. 

It was close to four in the morning, and Y/N was putting away gin seltzers like it was her new job. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck, the air conditioning units she ordered not to be installed until Monday morning, as she bent on all fours scraping a hideous high-gloss varnish off of the landing on the grand staircase. Sleep evaded her after she arrived home from the shelter, even after a cooling shower and a bite to eat. Instead of tossing and turning in her bed, she decided to get thoroughly drunk, get a chunk of housework done, and pass out watching Ghost Adventures reruns on the couch in the parlor room. 

Wiping sweat from her brow, Y/N leaned back on her knees and let the grip and pull scraper clatter to the floor. She had a metal playlist on, numbing her thoughts, pulsing through her little wireless speaker as she worked. The Tiffany lighting fixtures in the foyer were dim and flickering– they’d have to be replaced soon— making her eyes strain in effort as she fumbled for her drink. Greedily, she gulped down the last few swigs of the botanical liquor from the condensation-coated glass, bobbing her head at the sound of Corey Taylor’s passionate vocals. Metal was one of her favorite genres, the heaviness and noise of it clearing out all intrusive thoughts; and it just sounded so damn good. Feeling too tipsy to continue scraping varnish, she assessed her work. She had gotten half of the staircase stripped, muttering curses about her grandfather’s foolish decision to defile beautiful oak planks with period-inappropriate glossy varnish the whole time she worked. 

Y/N, with the help of her mother and Roy, had made significant progress restoring the mansion for the past two years, but there was still much work to be done. The kitchen and the bedrooms were her first priority, especially when she thought she’d have roommates moving in. Roy had painstakingly gutted and designed a new kitchen for the home, one that would flow well with the old-world charm of the place but with modern comforts. Y/N had fond memories of tossing Budweisers back and forth to him last spring as they peeled lemon yellow wallpaper down from the crumbling 50’s style kitchen. 

The bedrooms weren’t too difficult to restore; some had water damaged ceilings, others had horrifying The Conjuring-esque wallpaper, and a couple were stuffed to the windows with old junk her grandmother collected at antique shops around New England. Grandmother’s antique collection was good for one thing— free furnishings for the home. Her mother even helped her crack open the basement door, leading to a pretty grim, unfinished and wasted space, totally transforming it into another whole bedroom and rec room for art projects or exercising. 

Y/N’s paycheck pretty much went entirely into the home, an amount set aside for food and essentials, but every penny she put into making the home beautiful again was worth it. The bedrooms were stately and comfortable, the kitchen spacious with marble floors and sleek appliances, and most of the unused items her grandmother had held onto that were broken or just plain ugly had been donated. She still had her work cut out for her with the rest of the home and the grounds, but all of the work she had accomplished had turned out beautifully. 

Wobbly, she stood, grasping the railing of the staircase gingerly (considering if she applied pressure, the whole thing might clatter to the floor), empty glass in her free hand and speaker tucked under an armpit. A Deftones song began to play, making her giggle in delight, descending the steps slowly to avoid scuffing her hours of work. It was a challenge, considering the low lighting. 

Traipsing through the hallway past the parlor and dining room, she reached the kitchen, lit up beautifully with brand-new stained glass fixtures. Roy’s work took her breath away every time she enjoyed a cup of coffee in the refurbished breakfast nook, and even tipsy she had to pause and admire the space. Setting the speaker down on the island, Y/N yanked the fridge open for more seltzer and gin, swaying her body to the gnashing guitar. She swore that this would be her last drink, collapsing heavily on a barstool at the island, mixing her drink sloppily and taking a hearty gulp. Cutting through the music, the grandfather clock in the hallway clanged noisily, scaring the wits out of her. Suddenly, she was aware how alone she was on a Friday night, drinking at four in the morning and tip-toeing around the house like there was a ghost about to pop out of the dining room.

Glancing around, she began to feel unease, noticing all of the space around her and how empty it truly was. It was a shame, really, that a large family wasn’t taking up the ample space, but she had always planned on either having one herself or substituting family for roommates. At times, when she was by herself in the home, she felt lonelier and more on edge than ever. It’s not that she was exactly afraid of ghosts, but it was an old home and she had watched many horror movies that involved a single woman in a creepy house.

Staring deeply into her glass, her mind went to the place she prayed it wouldn’t – to the seven hybrids left at the shelter. A sharp pang of sadness shot through her like a bolt of lightning, the glass loosening in her grip as she straightened up in her seat, music suddenly making her head pound uncomfortably. Slapping the off button on the speaker aggressively, she groaned loudly, the sound echoing throughout the hollow halls of the house. Fisting her hands through her hair, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. 

Come morning, when she would peel herself out of bed and cradle an AlkaSeltzer to her chest in the bathtub, those seven hybrids would likely be loaded into some kind of horse trailer to their imminent doom. Chased, hunted, humiliated and killed, all for sick enjoyment. She felt booze crawl up her throat, foolishly washing it down with another sip of the same poison. Perhaps a few of them would get away, but perhaps not. And the ones who didn’t, maybe the injured jaguar or the malnourished leopard, what would become of them after their deaths? Would they be left in the woods, would they be stripped of their coats? Blood rushed to her face, heating up her entire body with the beginnings of a panic attack. 

“Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me?” Y/N exclaimed, standing suddenly. She began to pace around the kitchen, calming herself in the best way she could for her panic. The thought of the hybrids dying became unbearable, even if she hadn’t even seen the other three that were tucked in the corners of that dark back room. Practically tearing her hair out, she stared out the glass door to the backyard patio, full moon illuminating the foliage. Without thinking, she tossed on her light denim jacket she’d left hanging on an old hatstand, and hurried out into the backyard. 

Crickets chirped as she sucked a deep breath in of cool nighttime air, collapsing on one of the lounge chairs near the door. Counting her breaths as she focused on the hazy stars in the sky, gentle wind rustled the willows beyond the pavingstones of the patio. Familiarly, her fingers dove into the pocket of her jacket, finding the lighter and carton of menthols her cousin had smuggled to her from Rhode Island. It wasn’t a healthy habit, but Y/N had carried on the drunk distress cigarette tradition she had picked up with her friends in college whenever she felt the urge. It was a small rebellion. 

Flicking the lighter, cigarette balanced between her lips, she took a cathartic drag, closing her eyes as she exhaled. She felt a calming, minty sensation blanket her immediately, the sounds of nature refocusing her thoughts. Smoke curled and danced in the air, and she tried to make out shapes in the forms. Humming, she craned her neck backwards, taking in the imposing height of her house, and froze with the cigarette dangerously hanging from her mouth.

The mansion had 10 bedrooms. It had a small guesthouse that needed some work, a library room, numerous nooks and plenty of bathrooms. Vast grounds with trails, gardens, and water. A kitchen for a family on TLC reality show, multiple lounge rooms, two towers, even. Y/N had plenty of space, plenty of loneliness, and money.

An idea so crazy enough for her to flinch to a stand, knocking the cushion off of the lounge chair, struck her like a freight train. She could adopt all seven of the hybrids. Laughing, a sound that was akin to Gollum from the absurdity of the thought, she stuck the cigarette into the ancient outdoor ashtray. If she was a touch more sober and sane, she’d take a couple Benadryl and sleep her fantastical thoughts away. 

Marching out to the yard, she took a better look at the house in the moonlight. Only her bedroom, the kitchen, and the foyer she was working in less than a half hour ago was illuminated. Y/N imagined the whole house lit merrily, string lights on the patio twinkling with use and the picnic tables set for a beautiful summer cookout. The image in her mind almost tore a sob through her chest, because that was what the house was always for; for family and celebration of life. 

Ben had always teased Y/N for lacking the logical mind of someone who was a medical professional. Y/N had always chalked it up to her hippie mother and her fantastical side of the family, straight out of Practical Magic. If Ben was there at that moment, he probably would have forced her into the shower with her clothes on to sober up. 

Sober or not, Y/N figured that she would have dreamed up this solution in a cold-sweat that night in bed. As soon as she had the thought of having people to come home to, the house warm with life, her mind was made up. Besides, she couldn’t let them suffer so terribly at the hands of some hedge fund manager’s trigger happy son, it went against her very oath she swore to help creatures of any kind. Hurriedly, she made her way back into the house, switching on her coffee maker, and made a beeline for her bathroom to freshen up.

Y/N was still chuckling to herself, bumbling down the hallway to the master bedroom in a gleeful manner. She’d already come up with a plan to undermine the Manhattan man’s plans to take the hybrids away, and it was so delicious, she could hardly believe she came up with it four gin seltzers in. 

Her bathroom was still outfitted with fixtures from her grandparent’s heyday, the bathtub, toilet, and sink all an off-putting swamp green, but even that couldn’t dampen her spirits. Scrubbing her teeth violently, she used her other hand to shimmy out of her “restoration sweatpants”, nearly toppling over in the effort. After splashing cold water on her face and spritzing some body spray from her head to toe, Y/N raced into her bedroom, rummaging through her dresser for a pair of linen pants and a clean tee shirt, throwing everything on and checking the time on her illuminated alarm clock. It was now almost five, and she would need to leave as quickly as possible to get to the shelter as soon as it opened. 

She guessed that dealing in cash would be more tempting to the greedy shopkeeper, and she was prepared to hand over a significant sum. Her grandfather kept a three-foot tall safe in the master closet for his coin collection, and it was there that Y/N kept cash for everything from buying period appropriate curtains at some Jamaica Plain estate sale to unlikely hostage situations. Turning the lock combo with urgency, she cracked the safe open, grabbing a stack of bills from the top shelf, and slammed it shut. She tucked the band of bills into her tote bag, dangling from the post of her bed, and left the bedroom swiftly. 

Returning to the kitchen, Y/N filled the largest to-go coffee cup she had with the piping hot coffee she had brewed, burning her throat by finishing what was left in the carafe. Thankfully, the drinks she had consumed were spaced out enough so she wasn’t drunk, just tipsy, something she could get rid of quickly with the coffee and adrenaline she had running through her veins. Besides, she had about two hours to completely sober up and find her way to the shelter. She pulled up the app to order a cab to the shelter, not irresponsible enough to drive in her condition, and turned off all the lights in the kitchen on her way out. 

Stepping out the front door, Y/N locked the heavy deadbolt and ran down the steps of the porch, latching the gate at the front of the property when she reached it. The sky was still dark, but a little greyer with the slowly rising sun, and the mansion looked dreary and deserted. Smiling wistfully, she supposed this would be the last time she would see it look so sad. 

Y/N waited on the curb for her cab, sucking down scalding coffee with her tote bag on her lap. She felt like she was carrying a Fabergé egg, the stack of $100’s laying heavily in her lap through the canvas bag. A little voice in her head told her she was absolutely nuts for what she was about to go through with, but she ignored it entirely. 

What she had wanted all along was to have some kinship; especially with her friend’s lives going off in different directions. She knew that Ben and Roy would always be with her, but with the adoption of Daisy, they would have their hands full settling her in and raising her as a family. Laura was busy with her own young family, and Alice had her cat and full-time job at the newspaper. Everyone seemed to have something they could go home to, and Y/N wanted that, too. Additionally, without her job, she had ample time to care for the hybrids, to fill the hours with friendship rather than longing. She was not oblivious to the challenges that would come with the adoptions, considering the shopkeeper had mentioned the hybrids weren’t exactly friendly, but Y/N was prepared to handle all of the hiccups in order to give them a safe home. 

The cab she ordered rolled down her sleepy street, headlights cutting through the oppressive humidity. Jumping up from her perch on the curb, she jogged to the passenger’s side and crawled into the car. Buckling in as the young man pulled away from the end of her driveway, she took another swig of her coffee and felt the remaining alcohol haze slip from her body like a spirit. Y/N’s heart was racing, the whirlwind of events and lack of sleep making her feel like a floating head. Even so, she knew that her mind was made up, despite the fact that she hadn’t even met the hybrids yet. Thankfully, the young man driving her to the shelter only exchanged a “good morning” with her before following his navigation into the city, leaving her to eagerly go over her “plan”.

The cab dropped Y/N off right in front of the shelter, which was to open any moment. She bounced on her heels, scanning the sidewalks for anyone dressed in a suit or hunting gear waiting nearby. The shopkeeper hadn’t mentioned what time exactly the Manhattan man was to pick up the hybrids, however, Y/N wanted to beat him to the punch as soon as the shop opened. Sneaking a peek into the window, she noticed the same man from the night before counting the register serenely. Before she could stop herself, she began to knock on the glass, making the man jump a foot into the air in surprise. Registering Y/N’s face with great surprise (and annoyance), he ambled to the door and turned the lock. 

“Now, why’re you here? Tell your buddies I don’t do refunds,” he threatened, looking Y/N up and down. She imagined her appearance, purplish dark circles from her all-nighter, holey Black Sabbath tee, and hair wild with frizz. Likely, she looked like an undergrad student the night before a final exam. Y/N pulled the door open determinedly. 

“I want to adopt those hybrids in that back room,” Y/N blurted out, the shopkeeper’s mouth hanging open in shock. 

“What? Lady, are you insane?” The man sputtered, hobbling after Y/N as she marched to the door leading to the back. 

“All seven of them. I’m prepared to adopt them all, now,” Y/N confirmed, arms crossed as she waited for him to unlock the back door. The man looked angered, hands on hips. 

“So, you are nuts. Didn’ I tell you I got that guy from Manhattan picking them up today? He’ll be here in an hour or so,” The man made no motion to open the door, leaning against the register and wiping limp gray hair from his eyes. 

Frustrated that she was not being taken seriously, Y/N reached into her bag, slamming the band of bills on the counter. The shopkeeper swore colorfully, flinching away from the large stack before grasping for it. 

“That’s $70,000, count it. I’d like to adopt those hybrids. All of them,” Y/N enunciated. Her plan had unfolded; making a counter offer to the Manhattan man, way too tempting to refuse. 

“Holy shit. I don’t care if you’re crazy, lady, you’ve got ‘em,” the man wheezed, already leafing through the stack of money greedily. “Never liked pricks from New York anyways,” he mumbled, a greasy smile spreading across his face. 

Tucking the bills in his back pocket, Y/N stepped aside impatiently as he unlocked the back door and led her to the slim hallway. The room was unchanged from just a few hours ago, the scent of Clorox even stronger. She was relieved that the shopkeeper had taken the money – there was no backing out now, and there was no chance of the hybrids being shipped away to their doom. 

“So, how do you wanna do this?” The shopkeeper asked, the two of them standing before the metal door to the hybrids. Freezing, Y/N stood still like a statue; she hadn’t thought that far. How would she get the hybrids home without a bus of some kind? What if they didn’t want to come with her, or didn’t like her? She didn’t even know their names, ages, or gender. Feeling a little silly, she hoped that her generous payment for the hybrids would butter up the shopkeeper enough to help her out with logistics.

Normally, people prepare for an adoption of a hybrid; including reading up on their habits and behaviors, buying a suitable wardrobe, and making sure the pantry is filled with foods for them to enjoy. Y/N had gone off half-cocked, and all she could offer the hybrids was shelter and their pick of a bedroom, for now. Their personalities might clash, they might reject her completely, and it would be hard for the hybrids to trust her right off the cuff. Not to mention, the hybrids were completely shifted to their animal form, and it was unlikely they even had a single set of clothes with them. Unlike Daisy, Y/N didn’t think they’d have books or pretty sandals that they’d be ready to walk out the door with. The thought formed a pit in her stomach, but she couldn’t be too upset with herself. The opportunity came as quickly as a summer storm, and she would not have been able to prepare for seven whole individuals in seven days — let alone in 12 hours.

“I suppose I should meet them first,” Y/N offered, wringing her hands. The light was off in the room, so she wasn’t able to see through the window on the door. “As for transportation, I’m not quite sure…” she trailed off, trying her best to look in need of assistance.

“You’ll probably have to make a couple of trips. Some of ‘em don’t get along, so start with the ones that don’t gnash their teeth at you. I got a buddy with a van I can give a call,” perfectly pleasant now, the man even gave her a toothy smile, using his comically large key ring to unlatch the deadbolt of the door. “My name’s Gerry, by the way.”

Putting a hand up to stop Gerry for a moment, she looked at him sternly. 

“Why is the jaguar injured?” She demanded, giving his bandaged wound a pointed look. Gerry followed her gaze, scoffing. 

“That wasn’t me, swear. Damaged goods aren’t good for business. He was dumped ‘ere that way,” Gerry replied, pushing on the door. Y/N was appalled, about to ask for more information, but Gerry had already begun to push the door open.

 The door gave a deafening groan, which was followed by a series of feline hisses and deep grunts of an animal Y/N couldn’t place. Squaring her shoulders, Y/N followed Gerry into the room, his fingers fumbling for the lightswitch and flooding the room with fluorescence. Her eyes adjusted for a split second, blinking rapidly as they darted around the room.

The hybrids were still shifted. She caught sight of the jaguar, first, side still injured and lying in the same position he was when Y/N spotted him the night before. The coyote was curled up on its cot, blearily eyeing her and the shopkeeper, and the underweight leopard in the cell next to it was sitting closely to the bars separating them all, staring right at Y/N. 

Standing a bit taller, she turned to get a look at the left hand corner cell she couldn’t see, trying not to look intimidated by the sight of a very large elk. The elk grunted loudly with the eye contact they made, the sound she could not place moments ago identified. Nodding thoughtfully, Y/N swallowed, stepping closer to the right side of the room, where she curiously sought out the remaining three hybrids – the two unidentified, and the wolf.

Her eyes registered the vibrant orange coat of a red fox, head inquisitively cocked at the sudden intrusion of the room. It jumped down from its cot, sticking its twitching nose through the metal bars. She had always loved foxes, and practically squealed upon seeing the perceived friendly action. Gerry backed up slightly, once blocking the furthermost cell on the right, pale in the face. 

“That one… you might need a bus, if he doesn’t shift,” he said weakly, inching towards the hallway. Y/N tore her eyes away from the fox to see what he was referring to, and gasped softly. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, coming face-to-face with the largest bear she had ever seen in person. He must have been at least 10 feet tall if he was standing on his hind legs, and would make even the most experienced animal caretaker wary. Recovering quickly, she wondered what kind of bear he was, far too big to be a grizzly, and was embarrassed that she didn’t know right away. 

“So, they’re all yours. I’ll get them papers ready and call Murphy about the van. We’ll work out who’s going with you and when I come back with the goods. Clipboard with information is on the wall next to the bear,” the Gerry called, already inching out to the hallway. He looked anxious to get the hell out of dodge, to the recesses of the office. Stunned, she watched him leave, various sounds of confused animals making her feel overwhelmed all at once. Y/N closed her eyes briefly, composing herself as best she could, before turning to the center of the room. Feeling eyes boring into her skull, she looked for the source, but somehow knew who it was already. 

The wolf, standing in a defensive position, eyed Y/N with an intensity that made her feel like her skin would melt off. It made her want to shiver, but she knew that she had to maintain a cool head in order to establish a trusting relationship with the hybrids. Not exactly sure what to do, especially because all of the hybrids were shifted, she cleared her throat, wincing at the sound cutting through the room. 

“Uh, hello. I’m Y/N,” she began, her voice a tad scratchy from her hot coffee earlier. “This is probably pretty strange to you all, considering we haven’t met before. I was here last night? My friends adopted a child here, and I happened to take a peek through the window.”

Scanning the room, most of the animals were watching her carefully. The jaguar was still on his side, but his ear was flickering, so she knew that he was listening. She continued, slowly reaching for the clipboard as if not to startle the bear that was crammed into his tiny cell. 

Not noticing before, Y/N realized there was a little bathroom by the elk’s cell; she thought that the hybrids could shift and change before they left together. It would be much easier to get back to the house if they were in their human forms, as well as more comfortable, considering the size of each hybrid. They weren’t house cat hybrids– most of them were apex predators. 

“Well, Gerry told me last night that there was a man coming in from Manhattan to adopt you all,” pausing when she heard a loud rumble coming from the bear. She figured the hybrids were clued in with their fate, acute hearing most likely picking up most happenings at the shelter. “And I guess I just… Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. All night. One thing led to another and I found myself coming back here, so I want to apologize for lack of preparation on my part,” Y/N scratched the back of her head sheepishly, realizing she was rambling. Deciding to cut to the chase, she bit the bullet.

“I… I’m adopting you, all of you. Instead of the Manhattan man,” she announced, clutching the clipboard to her chest. A symphony of growls and noises of surprise filled the room, however, Y/N was not to be discouraged. The deed was done. 

“I just left my job last night. I was an exotics veterinarian, I worked on the other side of Boston. My home has plenty of space, so I have been looking for others to live with anyway. And, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me yet, but I promise I just want to give you all a home to be comfortable in,” Y/N summed up her best elevator pitch of herself and her plans.

The coyote had jumped down from its cot, getting closer to Y/N as it could behind the bars, its yellow eyes assessing her very closely. She heard low growls coming from the wolf. Perhaps it would take a few days of convincing to get him in particular to the manor. Her first priority was hopefully bringing the jaguar with her at the very least, so she could treat his injuries and prevent further harm and infection.

It came as no surprise that the hybrids were wary of her, considering the place they had landed in. There was no way for her to tell what kinds of tribulations they had all gone through. Every day, there were articles about some of the disgusting things that happened to stray hybrids; they were forced into unpaid labor, adopted by sexually abusive owners, bought to be hunted. Just as she had no knowledge of them, they had little to go off of her own character by the state of the world.

There was a folding chair against the wall near the door, so Y/N dragged it to the center of the room slowly, the sensation of being inspected from all angles making heat rise to her cheeks. Lowering herself onto the chair, she smoothed down the first page of the clipboard. 

“Okay…” she mumbled to herself, scanning the page. The sheet had pertinent data relating to species, heights, measurements and weights of both animal and human forms, as well as age, gender, and name. The first sheet was the leopard’s. 

“I want to get you all out of this place as quickly as I can, but I’ll keep coming back until you’re comfortable enough to leave with me… so, you’re Yoongi? 28, male,” Y/N tilted her head towards him, what sounded like a rumble of acknowledgement came from the hybrid. She flipped through the other 6 pages slowly. So they’re all male, Y/N thought, understanding why some of them didn’t get along. Finding the page she was looking for, the jaguar named Seokjin, she studied his stats. Y/N wasn’t leaving the shelter that morning without him. 

“Seokjin,” Y/N murmured, memorizing his measurements so she could buy at least one set of the decrepit clothes up front for him to change into when he shifted. Eyes flickering upwards, she noticed Seokjin had turned his head at the sound of his name, still laying on his side but finally looking at her. He was beautiful, but had an expression of sadness about him. 

“So, I was thinking, since you’re injured, it’s probably best if you come with me today. I can treat your injury, I have all of the supplies at home to mend that wound in a flash,” Y/N speculated, maintaining eye contact with Seokjin. The hybrid wheezed, which was better than growling at her, so she took it as either resignation or feeble consent. Maybe it was resignation, or the hybrid was in so much pain he couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Hmm… so, I get the feeling that a few of you will need some time before you come with me, but I’d love to take a couple more of you with me today, yeah? Don’t worry – I’m signing the adoption papers for everyone today, so nobody else will come and take you God knows where. Anyone willing to take the leap and get out of here?” 

Y/N was met with silence, which made her want to crawl into a hole. Not ready to give up yet, she stood, making a slow circle around the room. She avoided the wolf, who was still regarding her with hostility, as well as the bear and elk that backed away from her as soon as she approached. She would not try to engage with the hybrids that wanted nothing to do with her yet, it would be counterproductive in earning their trust. Yoongi had slunk back to his cot as she passed by his space, disinterested. Y/N bit back a chuckle, sensing he would be a bit of a character when she got to know him. Not today, then. 

Circling back to the fox, who was still poking his face through the bars, Y/N grinned. 

“You don’t seem to hate me, huh?” Y/N wondered aloud, consulting the clipboard for his name. “Hoseok! How ‘bout it?” 

The fox blinked, pawing the ground. She registered the reaction as a green light to consider him one of the ones leaving with her today, making her feel utterly elated. 

“Alright! Any other takers for today?” Y/N inquired, starting to feel mirthful. A pitiful whine came from across the room from the coyote. She remembered his name from the sheet already, he was Jimin. 

“Jimin, right?” Y/N crossed the room at a glacial pace, smiling at the quivering hybrid so as not to frighten him further. He looked like he’d rather travel to Mordor than spend one more second in that shelter, so she made a mental note to bring him along that day as well. “Well, three out of seven for today is more than I was expecting, so that makes me happy,” Y/N breathed, a smile stretching across her face. Jimin’s ear fluttered, sitting shakily on his haunches in expectation. 

“Alrighty, I’ve got all of the certificates, ‘ere. Just need your signatures. Murphy’s on his way,” Gerry bustled into the room, holding a stack of paper and a fountain pen. Again, he made sure he stayed far from the cells, not sparing a single glance to the hybrids. Y/N felt acute dislike for the man, but needed to remain cordial so he would allow her to return for a couple days for the others. 

Walking away from Jimin, Y/N reached for the papers, adding them to the clipboard. Gerry watched her with mild interest as she sorted through the certificates, uncapping the pen. Aware of the hybrid’s stares more than ever, she signed her name carefully seven times, officially sealing the deal. The hybrids were safe, and she could breathe a little easier.

“I’d like to get some clothes from up front for them, for the ride back,” Y/N handed the pen back to Gerry, tucking the clipboard close to her side. Gerry nodded, scuttling out of the room, beckoning to follow. 

“I’ll be right back!” Y/N assured the seven pairs of eyes on her. 

Back at the front of the shop, she studied the measurements of the men, deciding to just pick up a set for all of them. She would take them all shopping for things of their own style when they settled in later that week, the thought of enjoying a day at the outdoor mall with seven new companions filling her with anticipation. 

The clothes were just as plain and dated as they were the previous night, and there was not much to pick from, but thankfully all of the sizes she needed were available. She selected various tee shirts in colors of cream, gray, and olive, as well as seven pairs of thin black sweatpants. Adding a pack of socks and underwear to her armful of apparel, she hummed, lamenting the quality. In little cubbies, there were even shoes that she could buy, so she had Gerry haul seven pairs to the front of the store. 

“Murphy’ll be here in ten minutes. He’s over in Chinatown. How many you takin’ today?” Gerry asked her, hanging up the phone he had been shouting on while Y/N was choosing clothes. 

“Three. I’ll be back tomorrow for the others. I might have to impose on Monday, as well,” Y/N explained, heading back to the hybrids. Gerry waved in acknowledgement, whistling and loading the boxes of shoes on a dolly to cart behind her.

Reentering the room with the stack of clothes, Y/N grunted as she piled everything on the folding chair. Seokjin had managed to roll over, head weakly lifted as he watched Y/N rip the pack of socks and underwear open. She squealed as the socks burst out of the plastic bag, catching her off guard, quickly apologizing as a startled growl came from the wolf on her right. He was definitely going to be a tough nut to crack. 

Divvying up the clothes according to who they were for, she neatly folded them into piles as quickly as she could, depositing each pile in front of the hybrid they were intended for, easily accessible through the wide iron bars. Gerry had wheeled the shoes to the mouth of the room, his key to the cell doors on the top box as per her request, but went no further inside the room himself. Y/N could still hear him whistling at the front of the store, to the tune of Money, Money, Money by ABBA. Muttering about his inconsideracy, Y/N placed the shoeboxes in front of their new owners as well. 

“So! I’m sorry you weren’t able to pick these yourselves, but we can go out next week or whenever you’d like to pick out clothes that are your taste. We could even order some clothes online if you’d prefer,” Y/N apologized, arms coming out to hug her midsection. She was starting to feel the fatigue of staying up for longer than 24 hours, and was running purely off of fumes at this point. 

“Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin, the ride home should be here any minute. I’ll wait for you up front, and let you change,” Y/N urged gently, sensing the eagerness to leave in both Jimin and Hoseok. She felt the need to say more to the other hybrids, a bit crushed that she’d have to leave them for some time.

“The rest of you guys, I’ll be back first thing in the morning like today. I’d love it if you’d all come with me tomorrow, but we’ll talk about it then,” she turned to the elk, Jeongguk, the clipboard informed her, and admired his beautiful antlers with a wistful smile. Keys in hand, she slowly approached Jimin’s cell, unlocking the door but keeping it closed, before doing the same to Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s. A large part of her wanted to unlock all of the doors, but she didn’t want to risk an altercation between the remaining hybrids when she left for home.

With that, she gave a little wave, and retreated back to the storefront. Her heart began to race, wondering what the hybrids looked like when they shifted, how their voices sounded, and what their personalities were like. She couldn’t wait to actually hold a two-sided conversation with them, feeling like she was talking to herself for the past half hour, and paced back and forth in front of the window as she waited for Murphy’s van to pull up. 

Tempted to add some guidebooks to her list of purchases, Y/N thought the better of it as she noticed the outdated materials. Her mother would be able to find what she was looking for at the library, that is, when Y/N told her about the hybrids. Blood draining from her face, she realized that nobody in her life even knew what she had just done. Grinding her teeth, a part of her basked in the feeling of having a secret just to herself, for now, even if it wouldn’t be for long. She wouldn’t even be able to put Ben off come evening. 

Deciding to cross that bridge when she got to it, she jumped a foot in the air as a car noisily honked outside. Checking the window, a rusted mint green VW Microbus was double parked in front of the shelter. A sandy haired older gentleman was waving at her, mouthing her name and pointing to the backseat. Frantically, she ran out the door, approaching the vehicle. 

“You’re Y/N?” The man confirmed, scanning her face expectantly.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for coming out like this,” Y/N leaned into the passenger window. “I’ve written my address down for the GPS, I’ll come back out with the others,” handing him a scrap of paper that came from the sock package, she tripped her way back into the building, bewildered. She almost fell over as she collided with another body, hands reaching out to steady her by her biceps. 

“Whoa, there,” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, immediately releasing her upon her recovery of footing. Looking up, Y/N felt her cheeks flame as she registered the man’s face. 

The first thing she noticed were a pair of clever mocha colored eyes, widened in surprise. Second, of course, where the red fox ears were crowning glossy strands of mahogany hair, ears turned back flat against his head. His golden skin contrasted unfairly well with the olive tee shirt he had donned, and all at once Y/N felt overwhelmed and embarrassed. 

“Hoseok?” She breathed, face on fire. Of course he had to be good looking. Backing up a foot, resisting the urge to fan herself, she watched as a cheeky grin appeared on Hoseok’s face. Starting to say something, he was swiftly cut off by the sound of a dragging foot behind him, stepping to the side in alarm. Trying to shake off her astoundment, she pulled her eyebrows together, peering around Hoseok’s frame for the source of the sound. 

The two other hybrids inched towards the front door, the taller’s arm slung around the other’s shoulders for support. Gasping, Y/N moved forward to help, noticing blood seeping through the cream colored shirt Seokjin had put on. 

“Oh, Jesus, can I please help you out?” Y/N hesitated reaching out, not wanting to touch someone without permission. Seokjin’s head of wavy raven hair was bobbing, skin an ashen color, and she forgot all about her previous state of fluster. It must have taken a lot of effort for him to shift and change, his energy waned to nothing.

“I don’t think he can hear you, entirely, Miss,” a rugged voice piped up: Jimin. Balking at the title, Y/N glanced at him with concern. Overgrown blonde hair covered his eyes, a concentrated grimace across his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” Jimin assured her, his hand firmly gripping Seokjin’s wrist over his shoulder. 

“O-Okay–” 

“I’ll help you get him in the back, let’s go,” Hoseok cut her off urgently. Leaping out of the way, Y/N suddenly felt out of place as she watched Jimin drag Seokjin out of the shelter, Hoseok jogging out first and pulling the van door open. She didn’t miss the way Jimin tipped his head back, filling his lungs with fresh morning air, and Hoseok’s stiffened posture loosening up the moment his feet touched the sidewalk outside of the shelter.

“Gerry, I’ll be back in the morning. First thing!” Y/N yelled into the recesses of the shop, not caring if he replied or not. 

Out on the sidewalk, she bit at her nails nervously as she watched Jimin shift to get a good hold on Seokjin’s shoulders, Hoseok grasping his ankles and hoisting him up. Seokjin groaned loudly, head rolling back, his sweaty face screwed up in pain. Y/N felt her heart break, the same way it did whenever she saw agony written all over someone’s face, and vowed to find whoever did this to him and slap them with Ben’s most aggressive lawsuit, or maybe claw their eyes out. 

Hoseok bared his teeth as he hauled Seokjin’s lower body into the van gingerly. Waiting for Jimin to lift the rest of him into the van, Hoseok sat in the back seat with Seokjin’s legs dangling over his lap. Jimin had to maneuver Seokjin’s chest and head so it was propped up on his thighs, all three of them cramped in the back, breathing laboriously. 

“Aw, hell, is that blood?” Murphy exclaimed, twisting his body to eye Seokjin’s bloodied shirt. 

“I’ll pay for any damages, can you just take the fastest route?” Y/N shot back as she slammed the passenger door, buckling up. Murphy sputtered, looking at her like she had two heads, but obeyed by throwing the van in drive and shoving AirPods in his ears. Adjusting herself so she could face the backseat, she scanned Seokjin’s face, his eyes closed and breathing shallow. His face was positively angelic, however, marred by the shadow of pain, and he was definitely feverish judging by the sweat dripping from his hairline.   

“So… where do you live?” Hoseok asked, his cadence a bit awkward as he tried to sit as close to the edge of the seat as possible. Y/N cleared her throat, tearing her attention from Seokjin’s face, returning Hoseok’s gaze. 

“Outside of the city, in a wooded area by a lake. I live in my grandparent’s old house,” Y/N answered, squeezing her fists as she prayed Murphy’s driving was as fast as her’s. Hoseok half-smiled thoughtfully, looking out the window curiously as buildings rolled by. Sunlight caught gold flecks in his irises and the rich red of his hair. 

As conversation halted there, Y/N started to plan out the mid-morning: she would have to roll out her grandfather’s old wheelchair for Seokjin, find the best place to treat him, show the other two around the house, and hopefully sneak in a nap somewhere along the way. Later that night, she wanted to order a few more sets of basic clothing for the hybrids until they could make it to the stores – after all, she didn’t know when the wolf hybrid would want to even be in the same room as her. She’d probably have to order some groceries, as well, there weren’t enough items in her fridge and pantry to feed everybody. Pulling out her phone, she kept track of all of the loose ends to tie up that night, ignoring missed texts from Ben crowding her lockscreen. She’d have to call him later, as well, and she wasn’t looking forward to it, luckily he was probably preoccupied with Daisy. 

“Miss? You said you’re a veterinarian?” Jimin piped up after a stretch of time, brushing his hair off of his face. His eyes were a shocking shade of yellow, round and clear as a spring morning. Swallowing hard, Y/N nodded.

“I am. I worked with exotic animals, like parrots, lizards… I even treated a giraffe at one point. Though, hybrids, I have not treated before…” Y/N trailed off, unnerved by Jimin’s intense eye contact. He seemed significantly less jittery now that he was shifted into his human form, which was relieving. “But, I know that I’ll be able to help Seokjin, for sure– and my father can come by, as well. He specializes in hybrid cardiology.”

Jimin’s sandy colored ears pricked up in interest, with this, his shoulders relaxing an inch. Interestingly, the three hybrids had no animosity between them, seemingly, as Seokjin was passed out, and Y/N wondered which ones didn’t like each other. She wondered if Laura, the master of conflict resolution in her friend group, could swing by in the future and give her some tips. 

“Hybrid cardiology?” Hoseok repeated, an eyebrow raised. Nodding enthusiastically, Y/N cringed as Murphy took a sharp turn off of the highway towards her town. 

“He went to school for cardiology, because my grandfather on his side passed away from congestive heart failure quite young. He eventually became part of a group study that practiced surgical procedures for hybrids when my mother was pregnant with me, for some additional experience. My mother told me that he enjoyed working with hybrids so much, and that the field had so much improvement to make, my father focused his studies on hybrid cardiology from then on. Up until a year ago he had a practice in Boston, now he’s semi-retired— he can still access his office and do examinations,” Y/N explained. Her father had helped trailblaze heart surgical procedures for hybrids, and would love the news of Y/N’s spur-of-the-moment adoptions. Another phone call to add to the list.  

Hoseok and Jimin listened to her carefully, and while she was grateful they seemed to express at least a little interest in her life, she was absolutely dying to know more about them. Sadly, she knew that it would take a lot of time to get close enough to ask personal questions, and knew better than to pry right off the bat. While they didn’t say more than a few words compared to her ramblings, it felt nice to have someone listen.  

“I’ll have to go back to the shelter tomorrow to pick up the others, as I’m sure you heard, but you’re welcome to come with me into the city again then! Maybe we can stop at a drugstore on the way back so we can pick up toiletries and snacks,” Y/N offered hopefully. Jimin opened his mouth and closed it, eyes flicking downward as if he was conflicted. She began to backtrack when she remembered how anxious he seemed at the shelter, internally scolding herself.

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” Hoseok replied quickly, flashing a lovely smile. Overjoyed, Y/N returned the grin, admiring just how pretty his smile was – after all, it was the first time she saw it in its entirety. 

“Jimin,” Y/N continued, not wanting to put him in a tight spot, “If you’d like, you can write me a list and I can pick up whatever you need. It’s a good idea to have someone stay with Seokjin while he comes down from his fever, and you can settle in.”

Biting down on his thick lower lip, Jimin looked both alleviated and a touch guilty, a peach blush dusting his cheeks. 

“If that’s alright, Miss, I’ll watch over Seokjin for you,” Jimin answered, hand reaching up to tug at something on his head that wasn’t there, as if he had an imaginary hat on. The action was odd, Jimin slightly frowning as he realized his fingers grasped air. Pretending not to notice, Y/N turned the right way in her seat as the familiar library building passed by, her mother’s car parked out front; they were almost home. 

“Oh! We’ll be there soon!” Y/N exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. She stole a glance at Seokjin, who was fast asleep, oblivious to the chatter between the rest of them. Hoseok was locked in on the scenery of the town, small shops she grew up around zooming by, beautiful August flowers studding the storefronts. The fall festivals would be coming up in less than a month, and bringing the hybrids to the events would be a blast. Thinking of the hayrides, harvest stands, and apple picking filled her mind, now that she finally had time to attend the festivals. 

Murphy pulled out an earbud, snapping gum between his teeth. 

“Next street over?” He yelled, earning a gravelly moan from Seokjin. Y/N had the feeling Murphy was a bit hard of hearing. 

“Yes, yes,” Y/N waved, directing him where to park. She’d have to unlatch the gate and blast into the house for the wheelchair.

Murphy crawled to the end of the street, Y/N tapped her foot, watching her neighbor’s old Victorians pass by. The hybrids in the back seat were quiet, the only sound in the van coming from the GPS. Finally pulling up in front of Y/N’s house, the last one on the dead end street, she breathed a sigh of relief, unfastening her seatbelt. 

“This is it!” Y/N announced nervously. She hoped that they would like the house, that it wouldn’t be too old and scary looking to them. If the hybrids held any opinions on the exterior, they kept them to themselves, ears alert as they both leaned towards the window to take a look. Admittedly, the view of the house was pretty obstructed by the large willows planted in the front yard, but the shapes of the roof peaked over enough to get a glimpse. Debriefing Hoseok and Jimin on her plan to retrieve the wheelchair, she had them wait in the van while she ran into the house.

Jimin and Hoseok maneuvered Seokjin as gently as they could into the leather wheelchair. Murphy honked his way down the street as he left, and thankfully none of Seokjin’s blood seeped into the seats of the van. Y/N insisted on pushing the wheelchair despite Jimin’s protests, Seokjin still fever dreaming and mumbling incoherently. She had to take the hybrids in the side door where the wooden ramp fashioned for her grandfather’s wheelchair led into the kitchen. 

“This place is huge,” Hoseok observed, getting a better look at the building once in the backyard. Looking back at the two hybrids trailing behind her, Y/N noticed Hoseok’s mouth hanging ajar, eyes roaming over the windows and steep eaves of the roof. The house was pretty imposing, painted dark shades of maroon and gray, but it was light and airy inside, something she knew the hybrids would love. 

“Yeah, it is. I used to get lost in some of the nooks and back staircases when I was really little, my dad got me Barbie walkie talkies for Christmas one year when it became a frequent problem,” Y/N chuckled at the memory. “Back when it was new, a wealthy local judge had it built for his wife. They had six children, so it has more bedrooms and living spaces than the average Victorian.” 

She eased the wheelchair over a bump in the pavingstones, finally back to the patio where she had only been hours ago. It was almost impossible to believe where she was now compared to just a short time ago.

“Looks like you’ve got some real nice grounds in the back here, Miss,” Jimin added, bright eyes sparkling as he took in the fauna in the backyard. Y/N froze as she attempted to unlock the kitchen door, casting Jimin an embarrassed look. 

“Thank you, Jimin, we can walk around the trails tonight if you’d like – and I can show you my poor landscaping skills! And please, you can just call me Y/N,” she insisted, smoothly yanking the sliding door open. She heard him sputtering, along with a snort from Hoseok. 

“We made it! Okay, so I’ll give you guys a proper tour after I treat Seokjin, but this is the kitchen,” Y/N gestured about the room, the mid-morning light warming the room pleasantly. Thankfully, she had cleared away her gin glass from last night before she left that morning, so the kitchen was absolutely spotless and ready for dinner. Hoseok whistled lowly, skimming a palm along the granite island. With the restaurant-sized refrigerator, multiple ovens, beautiful cooktop and walk-in pantry, Y/N was more excited than ever to reignite her passion for cooking and baking now that she had others to share food with. 

Pressing on, Y/N wheeled Seokjin towards the hallway, opting to put him in the nearest bedroom to her’s until he was well enough to pick one for himself.

“Either of you like to cook?” Y/N wondered aloud, slow footsteps behind her flooding out into the hallway. Cringing as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that the possibility of them having access to a kitchen could be slim. Stupid! 

“The only thing I can make is a hamburger,” Hoseok said mournfully. So far, he had taken her completely by surprise, and her anxieties were quelled. Y/N laughed heartily at this response, looking forward to teaching him and the others how to make a few other staples in the future instead of lamenting over their pasts she didn’t even know about yet. Jimin even allowed a small chuckle to escape, with this, the mood light despite the circumstances. 

Passing through the foyer, by the dining room and parlor, they arrived at the bedroom, which was once where Y/N stayed before her grandparents moved out. It still had her large bookcase filled with all of her favorite books and encyclopedias, a small geode collection lining the desk, and her old wardrobe filled with clothes from her teenage years. When Seokjin got better, she’d have to clear out space on the bookshelf and the wardrobe. Acting with urgency once more, she pushed the wheelchair into the sunny sage green room.

“Let’s get him onto the bed,” Y/N switched into vet-mode, pulling the comforter on the bed back and easing Seokjin’s sneakers off. Hoseok and Jimin pulled Seokjin up by his armpits, heaving him onto the queen-sized mattress, moans of protest coming from the jaguar hybrid. The two stepped back as Y/N rounded the bed frame, getting a good look at Seokjin’s face. 

His fever had spiked, hairline completely soaked, skin pale and blotchy pink. Breathing shallowly, Seokjin’s eyebrows were scrunched together in pain. Bending over to grasp for the medical kit Y/N placed there earlier, she placed it on the bed, sorting through the items she’d need right away. She pushed damp hair off of his forehead, using the back of her hand to check his temperature, cursing at the ovenlike body heat coming off of him. 

“Jimin, do you mind wetting a cloth or two with cool water for me in the bathroom just there please? There should be some face cloths in a basket on the sink,” Y/N asked, pointing to the ajar door to the un suite. 

“O-of course,” Jimin stuttered, hastily crossing the room and disappearing into the bathroom. Y/N took Seokjin’s pulse at the base of his throat, which was thankfully thrumming strong against her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she carefully lifted the hem of his soiled shirt to reveal the wound on his right side. 

A series of healed scars littered the hybrid’s body, standing out against his damp skin. He was bruised in several places along his torso, shades of purple and green mottling around the site of the open wound. It looked like he had taken a few years of beatings or had fallen off of a ladder judging from the damage. Gritting her teeth, she examined the cut, which was miraculously uninfected, but still dribbling blood. The wound was not a puncture, but wide enough to not be able to mesh together without treatment, likely the reason it was still bleeding. Her fingers gently grazed the bruise by the site, Seokjin flinching even in his stupor. The wound was not deep enough to require stitches, but it was gnarly enough for butterfly bandages and gauze. She would have to periodically change his dressings, making sure an infection wouldn’t set in, but there was a lot less she had to do than she originally thought. 

“Here you go, Y/N,” Jimin returned, making the effort to drop the earlier “Miss” title, three cloths wrung out and rolled up in his outstretched hand. In the other, he had even filled the glass for the toothbrushes with more water. Looking up to him with a grateful smile, she set the glass on the nightstand and placed a cloth over Seokjin’s forehead gingerly. Feeling him still looming over her, if she should need anything else from him, she set the cup of water on the nightstand carefully. 

“Thank you, sweetheart, why don’t you and Hoseok sit tight on the couch until I finish up and I’ll show you around. I’m sure you’d love to settle in and relax,” Y/N said, using another cloth to begin swabbing away dried blood from Seokjin’s chest. Jimin had gone pink, mouth opening and closing again, before hurrying over to Hoseok already sitting on the green couch when the latter cleared his throat in amusement. Y/N fell into silence, searching her kit for some bruise cream. 

“Where’re you from, Jimin? That accent of yours certainly isn’t Bostonian,” Hoseok questioned, crossing an ankle over his knee. Loading up a piece of gauze with disinfectant, Y/N pretended she wasn’t listening to their conversation as she worked, hand pressed lightly on Seokjin’s chest so he wouldn’t flinch off of the bed due to the stinging sensation.

“I’m from northern Montana, my family is still there. I worked on the Yellowstone Park ranch,” Jimin answered easily, Hoseok making a hum of acknowledgement. “You?”

“Ah… I’ve been to so many places over the years, I can’t say that I remember where I was originally. Could have been London, might have been Paris. Around the time I was 17 I was brought to the States,” Hoseok said vaguely. Y/N had the feeling he was leaving out certain pieces of information purposefully, the tone of his voice genuinely surprised someone had asked him a personal question. Arching a brow, she applied the bruise cream on all of the spots she could see on Seokjin, hoping the cooling properties of the formula would ease some discomfort brought on by the fever. Hybrids healed faster than humans, so Seokjin would probably be able to get out and about by tomorrow afternoon, but she wanted to make sure he felt better as soon as possible.

The site of the wound cleaned, Y/N began to carefully place butterfly bandages on it. Her eyes felt like they were beginning to cross with fatigue as she fastened the last one by a rib, balling up the paper wrappings and stuffing them in her pocket. All she had left to do was cover the bandages in gauze and tape, and monitor his fever periodically – the thermometer she had pointed at Seokjin’s forehead told her his fever wasn’t something that required medications.

“So, a ranch? What, were you a cowboy?” Hoseok continued, preventing Jimin from asking a question first. Jimin sucked his teeth in annoyance, crossing his arms and leaning away from the fox hybrid. The sandy fur of Jimin’s tail stood on end, a defensive though uncontrollable action.

“You could call it that if you want, but we were ranchers. Mainly, we managed the cattle, trained horses, and maintained the park’s wildlife. I wasn’t Clint Eastwood,” Jimin grit his teeth, the words coming between them. Jimin must have gotten a remark like that hundreds of times to warrant that reaction, which made Y/N hide an involuntary snort as she taped down the gauze rectangle on Seokjin. 

Hoseok was laughing freely, his eyes squinting in humor while Jimin fumed on the furthest spot of the couch away from him, ears flat against his hair. Frowning, Y/N felt too bad to leave Seokjin in a shirt soiled with sweat and blood, so she straightened up and walked across the room to the wardrobe stuffed with her teenage garb. She was very into baggy band shirts in high school, so she knew that there would be at least one in the drawer that could accommodate Seokjin’s wide shoulders. 

“Good lord, I’m sorry, Jimin. I wasn’t expecting you to react like that,” Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye, sighing happily. Contrary to his unwillingness to reveal much about himself, Hoseok seemed completely at ease between the two other hybrids and Y/N herself, his body language relaxed as he slouched on the couch. Jimin mumbled back, Y/N not quite catching what he uttered. She grasped her largest shirt, an ancient Good Charlotte graphic tee from Warped Tour, cringing hard from the memories that came flooding back. 

Back at Seokjin’s side, she used the tiny pair of scissors in her kit to cut away the soiled shirt, pulling it off of him like a paper doll. 

“Hoseok, can you please help me sit him up for a second?” Y/N removed the cloth on Seokjin’s forehead, sliding a hand under his shoulder blade to lift one side. Hoseok jumped from the couch lightly, watching as Y/N held the back of Seokjin’s head so it wouldn’t roll backwards. Moving awkwardly, Y/N eased the well-worn shirt over his head, his rounded black ears popping up cutely as they passed through the neck opening, thanking Hoseok as he pulled Seokjin’s left arm through the hole. Straightening out the shirt, embarrassed of the print, Y/N and Hoseok gently laid him back down. She pulled the covers up over Seokjin when he began to tremble, the fever chills setting in. Lastly, Y/N replaced the cloth on his forehead with a new one, and supplied a bottle of water from her tote bag to leave on the nightstand.

“That wasn’t too bad, luckily. Another day or so in that shelter, he would have gotten an infection,” Y/N used a finger to swipe a lock of hair from Seokjin’s eye, smiling in satisfaction with her work. He looked far more comfortable, cozy, even, now that his fever was being managed, even humming in his sleep with the comforter pulled up to his chin. 

“Ready for the tour?” Y/N tore herself away from Seokjin, rubbing her eyes as she approached the other two hybrids. 

“Are you tired, Mi– Y/N?” Jimin asked, quickly covering up his habit for titles. Grimacing, Y/N drew the curtains partially closed in the room to keep it from heating up in the afternoon sun. She definitely looked tired, her eyes swollen, watering, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror by the wardrobe.

“Just a little bit! I’ll probably take a short nap after I show you around. Staying up all night isn’t as easy as it was when I was nineteen,” Y/N admitted, almost fainting at the thought of sinking into her bed for an hour or two. “Let’s let Seokjin get some rest, I’ll check on him before I nap myself.”

Leaving the door halfway open, she motioned the two hybrids out into the hallway. 

“Straight ahead here, that’s my bedroom. These two doors here on the right are coat closets,” Y/N pointed out their immediate surroundings, moving forward into the foyer. “This is the front entrance! It still needs quite a bit of work, as does most of the house, as you can see with the half-stripped staircase…”

Hoseok made a circle around the foyer room, looking closely at the cloudy stained glass windows, pausing by the staircase. 

“What’s that door, there?” He questioned, pointing to the door down to the basement. 

“That’s the basement! My mother and I just finished renovating it, want to check it out? I suppose you took a peek into the dining room and the living room we passed by earlier, so all that’s left on this floor is the old office, the yellow and blue bedrooms, and the sunroom. You can take a look as you please, later,” Y/N opened up the basement door for Hoseok, switching on the lovely new lights her mother hung up. 

In an effort to make the basement less horrifyingly haunted looking, Y/N’s mother painstakingly helped her paint it in bright creams and soft green, making sure there were plenty of light fixtures and lamps. Y/N took the lead as Hoseok and Jimin followed her down the carpeted staircase, the scent of paint still vaguely lingering in the air. 

“Over there, my mother put in a little gym area.”

The right side of the basement had a mirrored wall, an exercise bike, and a rack of dumbbells. The full bathroom was over there, as well, complete with a little sauna room, something her mother had splurged on for Y/N’s last birthday. It hadn’t gotten much use, with Y/N’s extended hours in the past months, but she had a feeling that was about to change with her newfound free time. Hoseok whistled, an apparent quirk of his, smiling widely at the stereo system mounted on the wall. 

“On that side is a nice new bedroom, what was once a storage room for my grandmother’s junk collection. There’s even a little window in there by the ceiling that was hidden behind some old, crumbly drywall,” Y/N slid the pocket door open, which offered privacy from the gym, letting Jimin and Hoseok get a good look. 

The bedroom had a nice set of rosewood furniture, keeping it on theme with the rest of the home. A large dresser, a desk, queen sized bed, even a space heater tucked away for wintertime. It was one of her favorite bedrooms, artistic painted wallpaper stenciled in by her mother’s hand. 

“This is beautiful,” Hoseok breathed, fingers skimming the cream quilt. She watched him admire the painted ivy on the wall, tail swishing as he walked the width of the room.

“I’ll relay the message to my mother,” Y/N crossed her arms in amusement, leaning against the doorframe. Jimin had gone to examine the sauna, excitedly, his shoes making hollow thuds as he walked around in it behind her. “You want this room?” 

Hoseok’s head snapped up, catching Y/N’s bemused expression, before tilting his head in contemplation. 

“Can I think about it?”

“You absolutely may, there’s a lot more to see,” Y/N affirmed, bringing him back out to the stairwell. Jimin was already waiting for them, flicking his overgrown hair out of his eyes again. She’d have to make appointments for everyone to get a haircut next week, her list of to-do’s becoming longer by the second. 

“Onwards!” Y/N marched up the stairs and wincing, legs screaming in distress. Jimin made a choked sound as he hurried after her, Hoseok lingering for a moment longer before he followed. 

The three ended up on the second floor after taking a blast through the remainder of the first floor. Jimin took a liking to the blue bedroom by the sunroom, overlooking the backyard. Y/N could tell he wanted to claim it when he sunk into the royal blue velvet chair by the window, but refrained from pushing it on him until he saw the rest of the place.

The hybrids followed her through the library, the dusty billiard’s room and family room, and the two tower rooms. They didn’t seem to jump on the opportunity to be on the higher floor, even the pink, lavender, and sunset orange rooms with smaller windows than the tower rooms didn’t get them as excited as they were previously. Y/N was wilting with exhaustion, patiently answering questions about art on the walls or books on shelves, but with the tour of the house done, she knew that she’d be crawling into bed any moment. 

“Any decisions?” Y/N pondered, trudging down the stairs. Met with nervous silence, Y/N sighed lightly, giving the two an encouraging look when they arrived back in the foyer. 

“I’m partial to that blue room, over in the back…” Jimin stared at the black and white tiled floor, voice soft. Y/N wanted to grab the both of them and insist that this was their home now too, and deserved to pick the room they wanted the most, but getting them to believe that would take time and even more patience. 

“It’s yours,” Y/N confirmed, hoping Hoseok hadn’t wanted the same room suddenly. Jimin perked up, shuffling his feet, and giving her a nod in thanks. They both gave Hoseok an expectant look, while he stared at the basement door. 

“Hoseok?” Y/N giggled, his ears swiveling back in embarrassment when he caught their looks. “Did you think about it?” 

“I think the basement is calling his name or something,” Jimin teased, surprising everyone else in the room. Perhaps it was payback from Hoseok’s earlier jabs. 

“Am I that obvious?” Hoseok exclaimed, nudging Jimin with his shoulder. Jimin blushed, eyes squinting in mirth. He had a gorgeous smile, and it was so nice to see the two of them get along amicably with their teasing. 

“So, Jimin will take the blue room and Hoseok the basement room? Is that right?”

The two nodded, still smiling from their little moment. A chorus of angels sang hallelujah in her head, finally able to get some rest now that the room choices were squared away. 

“Do you need anything from me before I get some sleep? I’ll be up to make some late lunch, but please feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want a snack,” Y/N insisted. 

“I’m alright, thank you… but you should really get some sleep. We’ll be fine,” Jimin reassured her, Hoseok agreeing with a hum. Grinning gratefully, Y/N began to head towards the hallway. 

“Well then, I’ll leave you two to settle in for now. I’m just going to check on Seokjin, first,” she gave them a little wave, watching as Jimin set off towards his room with a skip in his step and Hoseok waved back animatedly. 

Shaking her head with a chuckle, she slid into Seokjin’s room quietly, eyes adjusting in the low light. She could hear his steady breathing, and upon closer examination Y/N saw that he was still fast asleep. Gently, she rinsed another cloth in the cool cup of water, swapping it from the warm one on his forehead. Seokjin mumbled in his sleep as it draped over him, his ears fluttering against the pillow. 

Leaving him, Y/N set an alarm on her phone to wake her in time to make the food mid-afternoon, stumbling down the hallway. The list on her phone grew lengthy, bullet points reading: open up seven hybrid-specific credit cards, call friends and family to break the news, order cell phones, schedule haircuts… all of which she would tackle later that night. 

She strained her ears for any sounds of the other two hybrids, but all she heard was the wind blowing willow branches against the windows of her bedroom. Deciding to take a nice, cool shower after her nap, she closed her door, stripped to her underwear, and collapsed into her bed. Her lights were out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, but she already felt like she was floating through a dream.

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe

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

IT WAS THE MONSTERS: 1

SUMMARY: You were born with the ability to see and spot spirits and monsters. From vampires, to werewolves, demons, ghosts and ghouls. Now, as an adult, you use this “gift” to help your clients overcome their worst demons. The “gift” you had never really caused you trouble now that you’re an adult, but you guess some monsters don’t like psychics who interfere with their fun. 

RATING: 18+ (i am not a babysitter, you are in control of what you consume.)

PAIRING: ot7 x reader | poly!au

BOOK MENTIONS: Violence | Eventual Polyamory | Talks Of Reincarnation | Reader Is Too Stunned To Speak | Destruction Of Property | Paranormal Stuff | Gifted Reader | Inaccurate Description Of Demons & Spirits | Cursing | Terrible Therapists | Readers Left Eye Is Purple | Small Mention Of Jesus | Jimin & Tae Are Angry Boys | I Suck At Tagging Pls Help

A/N: I spent so much time procrastinating this sorry hotties. Only at least 1k word but It took so much out of me.

Second sight, passed on from the L/N bloodline from generation to generation. There was a sudden stunt in its flow for at least 8 of those generations, until you were born. Your mother complained throughout her pregnancy that she’d see visions of you in your past life but it was waved off. When you finally came into this world, your father says there was a flash of something in your eyes, a purple gleam that danced there as he held you.

At least, that's the story you get when you ask about your eye

Being that  you were the first in 200 years to be sighted, you had no one to teach you how to control such a “gift”, at least that's what others called it. Though there are many that call you blessed, you'd beg to differ. Growing up, this quirk always got you into trouble.

Playful spirits yanked at your puffs and pulled out your barrettes and often caused your silky pressed hair to frizz. Some monsters take their time to torture you by sitting in your closet or under your bed, lurking in the shadows. Middle school was definitely your worst era. You had random outbursts and twitches that caused people to push away from you. It wasn't even your fault, but what could you really say?

“It’s not me! it’s the monsters!” That's ridiculous really.

Your parents took you to therapy for it but you could see the deceitful demons sucking and clinging onto them, so that never helped you at all. They were so quick to throw you a bottle of pills that it eventually stopped working.

  As you get older, you learn to ignore it along with learning to be patient and more even tempered. During high school you were weird and lowkey, wearing huge black sunglasses from freshman to senior year. They helped block out your sight and question's about your eye.

You managed to make friends with a werewolf though he left unannounced in the middle of senior year.  You guess he shifted early and went away to his home where people like him roamed freely.

Graduating as a below-average person, you decided to say fuck college and open your own business.

A “palm reader” ,  “physic” , “witch”, “Woman Jesus”. There were many terms that your clients and random people called you. 

Your job was to find your client's demons and attack them. Any addiction, health issues, relationship problems. These were all caused by parasitic demons and they thrived off sucking the life out of regular people. You didn’t have the qualifications to banish anything by force, so you did help many people in a safer, smarter way with 3 easy steps. 

Identifying the demon. This wasn't hard for you, since you literally saw the demon sucking the life out of a person

Acknowledge them

Taming them

 The most common among all parasites are lust demons. 

Their job was to suck you completely dry and leave you broken. Most people were too far gone before you could save them, but the ones who weren’t you changed their lives greatly. One night while you were closing your shop, two men walked in, one short and blond, the other dark haired, and taller than the other. They were both dangerously handsome and the energy that came from them was hot, sensual, and angry. The blond stormed up to you hissing, eyes turning an unnatural shade of black. “So you’re the one putting us out of business?” 

Staring at his face, you could definitely tell this was one of the men disrupting the lives of so many men and women in this area. Most of your clients have complained about these two being a one-night stand at some club, then as days go on they invade their dreams, and every single thought. Jimin and Taehyung, the dynamic incubus duo. 

You’ve never had a demon come directly to you for butting into their affairs. You guessed these two were fearless, but fortunately the underworld had rules. If any entity killed someone on second sight, they’d be banished back to hell for eternity, and you're sure these two parasites have been around for a long time.” 

“ I’m sorry gentlemen, I'm not sure we’ve met?” You tilt your head, clenching your purse strap up on your arm. Taehyung scoffed, walking around your shop touching a few things every now and then, with a flick of the wrist, the shelf on the side of you tumbled to the ground. 

You squeak, moving out of the way, tripping and knocking over a display table filled with tarot cards. “You are the only one in this miserable town with real second sight.” 

While Jimin talked, Taehyung walked through your shop dropping shelf after shelf. 

“No screaming tongues, or holy water.” the crashing of shelves halted and only the thud of Jimin's boots coming towards you could be heard.  “Your banishing is less dramatic, more modern, effective and so you.” 

You jumped at the sound of your crystal ball shattering above your head, making you scream, as tiny shards of glass cut into your hands. “Y/N L/N, that is your name now?”  

When Taehyung spoke your name, the walls began to vibrate as did your body. 

“Ah taetae, I don't think this is our little princess, just a sad little human of no morals or knowledge”J imin appeared in front of you, bending down to you, hand burning into your skin as he lifted your chin up to meet his blood red eyes surveying your skin. “Though you still possess an untouchable beauty”

You were speechless, scared, and confused. They talked as if they knew you from another lifetime. You can't say you didn't believe it was possible, since you saw devious things every day, but it was still nerve-racking to hear. ''Maybe we should just keep you little princess, and bring back those old memories ”

 Your shop began to shake and tremble, all the shelves had fallen, glass shattering and books spinning around the three of you. 

Standing, he made himself very loud and clear, “Don’t let us hear your name again,” and for their grand finally the front windows of your shop shattered around you.  

TAGS: @tinymesblog @leilei-9 @starrlo0ver @uarmyhore @mageprincess @lachimolala22019

@eclecticranchzonkcookie @thedarkwinterrose@hey-syia  @djodjom  @scuzmunkie 1  @ilover ubberduckiez-blog  @jamlessstars @rinkud

red string 1

“our connection is determined by a tiny invisible string”

summary: you figured it was too late for your string to solidify, used to the idea of finding someone on your own, who also never got their string. However, your string began to tug when you least expected it, to the last person or people you would have ever thought. 

genre: soulmate au, red string of fate au, poly au, 

pairing: BTS (Yoongi centered) x Reader 

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: slight yandere themes, smut, insecure reader, alcohol, talks of jealousy, soul bonds, mentions of past abuse,

chapter warnings: soul pain, first meetings, running away, mc didn’t really want a bond, cinderella-esque plot line, small panic attack, mc is cynical, allusions to past abusive relationship, 

I am not going to have a taglist for this fic. I will only be using the permanent taglist as its intended for all of my fics.

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​ @strxwbloody​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @carolinexkpop​  @azazel-nyx​ @strawberry-moonpies​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​ @dahliasbouqet​ @black-rose-29​ @tinyoonsblog​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @stellauniverse​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​ @tinyoonsblog​ @veronawrites​ @tatyhend​ @singukieee​ @m0v3m3ntsblog​ @exfolitae​ @butterymin​ @queen-in-the-shadows​ 

masterlist // part 2

———————————————–

Being in your twenties was weird. You went from being in a structured routine for twelve plus years, having to ask to go to the bathroom, to being on your own and having to make mistake after mistake until you get the hang of being an adult (even if you never actually figure it out).

Being in your twenties also meant something else to most of the world’s population. The tiny string of fate that was always thought of as a fantasy would solidify, only visible to you and the person or people on the other end. The string was supposed to lead you to your soulmate/s, but sometimes only served to be a reminder of what you couldn’t have.  

Some people are lucky enough to already be with their soulmates and receive their string when they meet them, even before their twentieth birthday. You were not so lucky.

Keep reading

When you found out they cheated on you

Pairing: Maknae line x Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: see, no one asked for this. I did this out of my own volition 😂 but this had been living in my mind rent free. I hope you enjoy!

Jimin

You angrily wiped your tears, shoving your things in your bag thoughtlessly. You didn’t care about the things you were leaving, didn’t care about the way you probably looked like an insane person, you didn’t care about anything but getting out of here as soon as possible.

Your movements were quick, going from one room to another in your haste to collect most of your things. You were about to go to the bathroom when the front door opened with a slam.

“Y/N! Baby!” Jimin’s voice was frantic as he called out for you, his legs carrying him to your shared room. The one you thought was filled with love and honesty, only for the memories to be sullied by him cheating on you.

You thought you were being irrational when you started suspecting that something was wrong, but you should have known that a woman’s intuition was almost never wrong. And God did you wish it was wrong because when you followed him from two cars behind and saw with your own eyes that he went to a exclusive hotel, only for him to come out hours later with a woman beside him, it broke you.

And when he kissed her, it destroyed you.

But nothing could have hurt more than the look in his eyes when he saw you from your car, his face telling you all you needed to know. And so you drove as fast as you could away from him and his lies.

But you guessed you could only run for so long before he caught up.

You didn’t look at him, didn’t even spare him a glance when he was desperately looking at you, his hand gripping your bag, attempting to stop you from packing your things.

“Baby, please. Please. Please talk to me, please,” he pleaded, tears falling from his eyes. He was out of his mind from the time he saw you looking at him from the parking lot as though you were disgusted by him. No. Not as though. You were disgusted.

You wrenched your bag away from his hold to no avail. And to your anger, you shoved your bag at him. If he wanted it so much, then you were going to leave it to him.

Fuck all your things.

Fuck him for breaking your heart.

He paled from your actions. You were always calm, always so gentle when it came to him that your sudden forceful actions displaced him. You were almost to the front door when he snapped out of his stupor, catching up to you. He caged you in his arms, pulling you so tight to him. Jimin was afraid that if he let you go, you’d leave and never come back.

“Let. Go.”

“No,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by him shoving his face on your hair, inhaling your scent in an attempt to calm the raging demons in him. “No. I’m sorry. I know I was wrong,” he said in a small voice that you almost jumped from how he screamed his confession next. “Something’s wrong with me! But please don’t leave me! I’ll fix it! I’ll fix us just please! Don’t leave.”

You didn’t know how, but you were able to wretched yourself away from him. You pushed him away, and in his emotional state, he fell to the floor.

Jimin looked pitiful. But you felt nothing but disgust when he touched you when before, you craved his touch.

Now you just felt dirty because of his touch.

“No. You disgust me,” you sobbed before leaving his house, and in turn, his life.

Taehyung

“Tae Tae! I’m home!” You sang as you entered your shared house. You came home early because you wanted to surprise him. You knew how much he hated being away from you, and he barely let you leave the house last week even though this was for your work. Your Taehyung pouted all the way to the airport, and even demanded cutely that you kissed him for five minutes before he even let you out of the car.

You frowned when you saw two, opened food container when you passed the kitchen. You thought innocently that he must have been hungry. And with a smile, you entered your bedroom, only to see your boyfriend sleeping. He looked peaceful and hot as he slumbered off, his shirt nowhere to be found and his hair tousled. He must not have shaved since you left, and you’d admit you loved seeing him like this.

With light steps, you sat on the bed beside him, brushing his midnight hair away from his handsome and princely face, before planting a kiss on his cheek.

He opened his eyes, anger swirling on them before he smiled at you. He looked like a child on a Christmas eve when he saw you. He sat up immediately and embraced you, smiling from ear to ear as he finally had you again in his arms.

“Taehyung! You’re squeezing me,” you complained in his ear, and yet despite that you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. He was warm, so pleasant to touch that you couldn’t help but rub his bareback, loving the way his muscles rippled.

“I miss you, princess,” his voice deeper from his sleep. “You’re not allowed to leave me again. I forbid it.”

You chuckled at your boyfriend’s silliness. You knew Taehyung was a bit clingy and possessive, but it never bothered you because at the end of the day, you knew his love for you was unparalleled.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious.”

“Fine, my prince. I’m not going to leave you that long again,” you said to appease him. You planted a kiss on his shoulder when you caught a reddish mark on his otherwise perfect skin. Did he scratch it? Was his allergy acting up?

“Promise me,” he demanded in a hard voice.

“I promi-“

The sound of something inside the bedroom’s bathroom suddenly made you look at that direction, your brows furrowed as you pushed him away gently. If you were confused that he gripped your wrist, you didn’t comment. But still, you smiled at him and walked closer to the bathroom. You wished you didn’t open it because what was inside destroyed how you looked at him, how you looked at the one you loved the most.

The woman in front of you looked down, shame creeping on her face. Her hair was wet, undeniable that she showered in your shower. Her arms were wrapped around her as though to protect herself. But you wouldn’t hurt her.

She wasn’t the one who made a commitment to you.

The man behind you did.

Slowly, you looked at Taehyung, his lips quivering in panic.

“So…” you started in a cold voice, one that could be mistaken for calm if not for the storm that was in your eyes. “You missed me that much that you fucked another girl?”

He flinched, your words bullet to his heart. “This was a mistake, princess-“

You scoffed when you heard him called you that.

“It was a mistake! One that should have never seen the light of the day if only you left!” He screamed at the woman behind you, vein popping out of his neck from anger. He stalked to her, shouting at the now terrified woman. “I told you to leave! Why did you stay!! Why are you here?!”

You couldn’t recognize the man beside you. He never once shouted at you, and now seeing him angry at someone he fucked was unbelievable. How could he blame her when it took two to tango?

You pushed him away from the cowering woman. If you were not a kind person, you wouldn’t do this. But you couldn’t just stand there and let him verbally attack someone when he was an accomplice too.

“Why are you still here?! I told you to leave! Leave!”

You looked behind you. And despite the hurt and hatred in your heart, this was something between the two of you. You quietly told the girl to leave because if she wouldn’t, Taehyung wouldn’t stop screaming.

And when she left, you felt his hand touch your cheek sweetly. “She’s gone now, my princess,” he whispered, hope in his eyes as he gazed at you. “She’s never coming back.”

You slapped his hand away from your face. “How many times did you cheat on me?”

Taehyung ran his hand through his hair, his breathing shallow and rapid. “I-It was only once. It didn’t mean anything. You weren’t supposed to find out-“

“I don’t mean anything to you,” you whispered in realization. You flinched when he reached for you.

“You do! You mean the world to me!” He swore, visibly panicking when you wouldn’t let him touch you, when you kept on backing away from him as if he was dirty. “I-I was gonna propose. See?!” He hastily opened the drawer and retrieved a velvet box, in it was a ring he commissioned for you, something that was one of a kind. “We’re going to get married and all this will just be history.”

You were shaking your head before he could even finished. How did he think that you were still going to marry him after this?

Taehyung was certifiably insane.

“I’m never going to marry a cheater, Taehyung.”

And you ran to your car parked in his massive garage, eager to escape the man you thought loved you with all his heart. From the rearview mirror, you saw him running after your quickening car, never stopping until you passed the gate to his house.

You heard him screaming for your name.

Jungkook

“No! No no no no no! Fuck, love please!” He begged as he attempted to catch up to you.

You didn’t think that your innocent surprise to your boyfriend of four years would end in this: you running from him. You finished your work early that day, and he had been begging you to let him see you tonight that you finally decided to surprise him in his work this time.

But you were the one surprised.

You should have taken noticed of the way the staff looked at you when you asked them where he was. They all looked at you with pity and fright. They were terrified of what would happen to you and how the golden maknae would react. You were so naive that you were smiling as you opened the door to the studio, only to find him sitting, his legs spread wide as a girl you recognized was one of the dancers bobbed her head up and down on his length. His eyes were closed, his hands on her head as he used her. You didn’t know how long you stood there, why you were frozen, why you couldn’t react. Was it because you thought he loved you with all his heart? That you thought he was the person you could trust the most in this world? That he would never do this to you? That your four-year relationship meant something?

Was that why your heart felt like it was going to break into tiny, million pieces?

“Y/N! You’re here,” You suddenly heard a deep voice from behind you which awoken Jungkook from his lust. The one who called you was Namjoon who was smiling at you, until he saw what you were seeing.

“L-love,” he stuttered, his eyes widening. He pushed the woman away from him, tucking his length inside him but before he could even do that, you were running away from him. Your tears were falling freely from embarrassment and pain. Did anyone know this? Were you made a fool?

“Y/N! My love! Wait please!” He yelled at the top of his lungs as you ran to the elevator, pushing the buttons repeatedly, willing for it to go faster because if it didn’t, you’d end up facing something you couldn’t even begin to process. Jin and Suga walked out of Suga’s studio with confused look on their faces when they heard the clamor of their golden maknae screaming his lungs out. Jin looked at Namjoon for explanation, and when the leader quietly explained it to his hyung, Suga’s eyes went cold.

Heavens must have taken pity on you that the door opened just when he was about to reach you. But you should know, Jungkook was fast. He shoved his hand on the elevator, effectively stopping it from closing. His doe eyes looked lost and afraid when you slapped his hand away from you.

“How could you do this to me,” you said with venom in your voice. Even in your sadness, you were conscious of the eyes on you, specifically Namjoon, Jin, and Suga. “How could you do this to us?”

He shook his head, his lips quivering as you pushed him out of the elevator. “I-I’ll fix this for us. I’ll be better. I’m sorry-“

“No. You’re sorry because I caught you, Jungkook.”

And when he didn’t say anything, only looking at you with tears falling in his eyes, you knew what to do. With resolution in your heart, you slipped off the ring he gave you just last week when he asked you to be his wife.

Last week, he loved you.

And now, he cheated on you.

“I’m so glad we’re not married yet. Thank you for cheating on me this early,” you mumbled as you walked near him, holding his hand so you could drop the ring he gave you. You could almost laugh in pain when you remembered him being so shy and scared as he knelt down and asked for your hand. And now you saw him with a girl kneeling for him.

The irony, you thought.

Jungkook shook his head when you tried to give him the ring, and when he didn’t accept it back, you dropped it to his feet.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you said in a cold voice. You were going to enter the elevator again when you felt his tight grip on your arm.

“NO! YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE ME OVER SOMETHING AS STUPID AS THIS! WE’RE GONNA GET THROUGH THI-“

“You’re hurting me!”

“No! You promised me you’re going to be mine. You said you loved me! Do you not love me despite of my mistake! You can’t leave-“

A sudden hand shoved him away from you. You gasped as you looked up at your unlikely savior, Yoongi.

“You okay?” He whispered as he looked at your tear-filled eyes. Your hesitance to nod was clear to him. He offered you a small, reassuring smile. “Go inside. I’ll take care of him.”

Jungkook attempted to step closer to you but Yoongi’s hand was steady on the maknae’s chest. “Yoongi hyung! What are you doing! I need her-“

“Stop it, Jungkook.”

“No! I’ll die if she leaves me!” You could hear his screams, terror in your eyes as he trashed against Yoongi that Namjoon and Jin had to help the rapper contain the strong man. The elevator door seemed to take forever to close. The way he looked at you with desperation in his eyes, the way he trashed and struggled against his hyungs who could barely restrain the distressed man was etched in your mind forever.

And even as the door closed, you could hear him scream for you.

“I’ll find you, love. And we’re going to get pass this. You’re going to love me again!”