#The Complete Hammer House of Horror

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have The Complete Hammer House of Horror. It has Witching Time 1980 , The Thirteenth Reunion 1980 , Rude Awakening 1980 , Growing Pains 1980, The House That Bled to Death 1980, Charlie Boy 1980 , The Silent Scream 1980 ,Children of the Full Moon 1980 ,Carpathian Eagle 1980 ,Guardian of the Abyss 1980 ,Visitor from the Grave 1980 , The Two Faces of Evil 1980 and The Mark of Satan 1980

[billyloomiswhore4]

Crazy for you - Chapter One

Billy and stu x reader

Warnings: cheating, stalking, violence, implied murder, dark fantasies, billy is a perv lmao, slight dumbification, no explicit smut yet

Billy has never been a man of many words, he wasn’t very good at expressing himself. Especially after he met you. Everything about you made him want to tear his own skin off if it meant he could have you. Even if he was with Sid. 

When you moved to Woodsborough, Sidney and Tatum quickly took a liking to you, inviting you to join the group where they sat at lunch. Stu and Randy both liked you as well, Stu liked you a little too much, to be honest. 

Billy couldn’t comprehend how he felt about you, how could he want to give you the world, kill anyone who touched you and completely ruin you all at once. Sidney noticed when he grew distant, always making excuses, saying he was busy. 

But Stu was a completely different story, he didn’t hide the liking he had taken to you, openly flirting with you, even when Tatum was around. But it seemed like his usual behavior so she just brushed it off as nothing more. What she didn’t know was how many times he fucked into his own hand thinking about you.

And when Billy found out that Stu felt the same way as him, god it was immediately decided right there and then that they would have you. 

They sat together outside your window, watching as you did your nightly routine, and tucked yourself into bed. And once you fell asleep, Billy would slide open your window, god leaving your window unlocked, such a dumb little girl. He would think. 

You had to know better, you’d seen enough horror movies to know that leaving your window unlocked was dumb. But secretly you’d hoped that the killer who was making Woodsborough his personal hunting ground would sneak in your window and have his way with you. God, how many times did you bury your fingers in your cunt to the thought of him? 

Stu stared at Billy as he crept his way into your room, but even though the plan was only to watch you, Stu followed after him. 

You were in such a deep sleep you didn’t hear Billy rifling through your drawers, looking for something in particular. 

“What are you doing?” Stu whispered, coming up behind Billy to find him with his hands in your panty drawer. Billy’s hands seem to find exactly what he’s looking for, a red lace pair of underwear. He holds it up, eye’s looking like he’s just struck gold. “God, you are such a perv.” Stu stifles a laugh at his own statement. Billy sends him a glare before shoving the lace material into his pocket. Billy is making his way towards the window when Stu stops him, pointing towards where you lay on the bed. Your sleeping dress has risen up, exposing your bare thigh, and light blue underwear. Billy almost groans as you begin to let out soft noises of pleasure in your sleep. 

The blankets have somehow found their way in between your legs, and you're softly rocking your hips against them. Stu’s eyes light up, as his dick strains against his pants. 

“Let’s go,” Billy says, not wanting to get caught, he pulls on Stu’s sleeve. 

“Just a second man, I wanna watch.” Billy can’t stand watching you get off, he wants to touch you, and he feels as though he’s going to pull out his own hair if he can’t. His hands go to his hair instinctively, as Stu watches you moan softly, plump lips parting slightly to let out the smallest of gasps. 

“I gotta get outta here.” Billy repeats, pulling at his hair, and making his way towards the window. Stu’s brows pinch together in confusion, and concern. Billy almost tumbles out, attempting to flee your room. Stu follows quickly after, making sure Billy doesn’t fall. 

They get in Stu’s car swiftly, and drive all the way back to his house, the entire trip Stu is hammering Billy with questions, but he only mutters to himself, still pulling at his hair. 

Billy jumps out of the car, basically running into the house. Stu jogs after him, softly closing the door behind him. 

“Billy.” Stu calls out to him, but he doesn't reply, just continues to pace up and down the kitchen. “Billy.” He approaches him cautiously, he knows how Billy can be but he hasn’t seen him this messed up since he found out about what his dad was doing with Sidney’s mother. 

Stu’s hands meet his shoulders, and he shakes him a bit to get his attention. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

Billy’s wild eyes meet Stu’s calm, concerned ones. Billy is shaking in anticipation, it’s like he’d just killed someone for the first time and his adrenaline is going haywire. 

“I can’t stand it, Stu. Not having her, it’s driving me crazy.” His words come out rushed, he can’t seem to find the right words for how he’s feeling. 

Stu moves his hands from Billy’s shoulders to his face, holding him tightly to get him to focus. 

“Listen, We’ll have her real soon, we just gotta wait until the plan plays out, all in due time, man.” Stu stares into Billy’s eyes, waiting for him to relax. “It’s going to be fine, everything will work out in the end. “

“Yeah- Okay.” Billy relaxes in his embrace. He sighs softly. 

“Real soon, Bill, Real soon.” ______________

part two? lmk

[flowerandblood]

The sweetest fruit

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Valyrian! • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, sexual tension ]

[description: (Anon Request) Aemond is to meet his future wife from Essos, in whose veins runs the blood of Old Valyria. They've been engaged since they were kids, but he's in no hurry to get married and he's not happy about her arrival. His future wife, however, turns out to be someone completely different than he expected. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond knew this day would come someday. He had known since he was a child. He knew his wife would be a woman from across the Narrow Sea, the blood heiress of Old Valyria of House Vhassar, residing in the Volantis with her family. The thought of her was as distant to him as the continent she was on.

When his mother told him that his fiancée would eventually come to Westeros to marry him, he thought he was going to faint. For some reason he thought that he had more time, at least a couple of years.

He had Alys, who he visited whenever he wanted, satisfying all his needs. He made sure she didn't get pregnant, not wanting to have bastards. The freedom she gave him suited him. He felt like a dragon about to be locked in a dragon pit.

Nevertheless, Volantis was King's Landing's greatest bank and sponsor of some war expeditions. He knew their alliance was of state importance, and he couldn't refuse.

He took his mother's words in silence, clenching his jaw and looking away. He tried not to show how much he disliked this idea and made the decision, that he would fulfill his duties properly.

On the day her family arrived at the royal harbor, a great feast was held in the main hall. He waited until the very end, not wanting to look at her or talk to her. He knew what he looked like. He didn't want to see the bride's look of horror or disappointment that she would have to spread her legs for him in the nearest future.

Finally, however, his mother came for him, saying that everyone was expecting him. He nodded, tense from head to toe, and strode forward down the corridor, his queen mother a few paces behind him. They entered the hall through the side entrance, on the side of the main table.

At first no one noticed them, there was a buzz of conversations, laughter and music to which couples were already dancing. His mother walked over to him and pointed to a girl who had just been talking to Helaena. He felt his throat tighten into a thin knot.

It terrified him how beautiful she was. He thought it would make her even more disappointed with him. His body froze, unable to move, his face completely petrified.

He watched her slender hand go to one of the bowls for a fruit that he had never seen before. A small, dull orange-red ball, the size of an apple, but softer and hairy. She bit into the fruit easily, pursed and licked her lips as she listened intently to his sister. Suddenly her eyes flicked to him.

They stared at each other for a moment, and he felt his heart pounding like a hammer. He felt shivers run through his body as she smiled at him in a way he had never seen a woman smile at a men before.

The corner of her mouth twitched rakishly upwards, her lips tightened and moistened slightly, opening again, now sticky and luminous. He felt his manhood pulse in his pants in shock at the sight and looked away, embarrassed.

Lady Vhassar was clearly not intimidated. On the contrary, she waited for her father who had already noticed the prince. They approached him and the queen together, both bowing low. Aemond dared to look at her again. Her gaze was lowered meekly, there was no trace of her expression from a few seconds before.

She was wearing a thin, translucent dress made of a very delicate material in a shade of lilac. Her light skin went perfectly with this shade, her black hair was partly pulled back in a bun, her bright eyes seemed to glow. His gaze involuntarily moved to the line of her breasts, he could easily see the outline of her nipples.

He looked up and met her gaze, he knew she had caught him in the act. Her lips parted, her gaze expressing satisfaction with his condition. He had no idea what was going on with him or what kind of woman she was, but she certainly wasn't acting like the ladies of Westeros. Her father spoke.

"My queen, my prince. I am glad that our bloodlines remain in a strong bond, which we intend to maintain through marriage. Me, my daughter and the whole family are honored." He said softly, bowing again. He owned the largest bank in Volantis, constantly conversing with outsiders. He had a talent for diplomacy and spoke with ease. The queen nodded.

"We are grateful too, Lord Vhassar, for the tremendous support you give us. Your deeds will never be forgotten." She said warmly.

Finally the king entered the hall and everyone sat down at the tables to start the feast. His fiancée was sitting across the table, with her family. They stole a glance at each other, her gaze showing neither embarrassment nor fear. He was curious what she was thinking.

He had heard that the women of Essos were more liberated and less restrictive about how they shared their beds with men. He thought that he was pretty sure she wasn't a virgin. He felt he had no right to judge her, since he himself had slept with another woman.

Aegon bent over him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I envy you, brother. Will you fuck them two in turn, or will you introduce them and fuck them two at once? Either way, it sounds wonderful." He said, taking a piece of roast into his mouth. Aemond said nothing, taking a sip of wine, his face expressionless.

***

Lady Vhassar glanced furtively at her fiancé once in a while with a faint smile on her lips. She thought she was lucky. He was handsome but withdrawn, terrified and terrifying at the same time. It was a challenge for her, and she loved it.

She wasn't surprised to find out he had a mistress. She had heard a lot about marriages in Westeross, but certainly not that they were successful and passionate.

The other woman didn't bother her, of course as long as he kept her at a distance. She had already spotted several handsome guardsmen who she knew would provide her with wonderful entertainment if her husband turned out to despise her. For now, she has set herself the task of having fun only with her future husband.

She wondered what he had learned from this woman and whether he was a good lover. She felt wetness between her thighs at the thought. She thought she'd go fuck him in the hallway if he wanted to. She saw how he looked at her. How greedily he stared at her breasts and mouth.

She swallowed the last bite of her roast, dipping her hands in the rosewater that was standing nearby. Her brother, Vhogar, commented quietly on what he saw with displeasure.

"They pretend to be saints and bred but I heard Prince Aegon is one big pig. It's a good thing you're not marrying him, but his brother." He said, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, grimacing. "Gods, they have some diluted shit here, not wine. Don't we have our bottles somewhere?"

His sister laughed lightly at his words and placed her hand on his shoulder. They leaned towards each other.

"Hold on a little longer. You'll be home soon." She said gently. He frowned.

"Without you." He said dryly. She sighed softly at his words. They were inseparable from childhood. They were each other's confidantes, telling each other about their adventures, lovers and broken hearts.

"I know." She said softly.

After the feast, it was time for dancing. Her future husband didn't even flinch, but she thought that if he could barely talk, he couldn't dance for sure.

She didn't care, dancing with every lord who wanted it in turn. She saw their greedy glances, escaping to her mouth, breasts and hips. She knew that if they could, they would take her to their chamber for the night.

She stared at the dissatisfied, frustrated expressions of their wives in between. She thought she felt sorry for them and was not going to take their husbands away from them. She suspected that wouldn't stop them from continuing to seek relief in the arms of servants or kitchen wenches.

After another tiring dance, feeling beads of sweat running down her bare arms, she glanced toward the table. She saw her future husband sitting alone, pensive, toying with his goblet. She wondered what was going on inside his head.

She smiled to herself and moved towards the table, walking lightly up the steps, standing in front of him, taking him completely by surprise.

He swallowed loudly and tried to get up, but she shook her head, as she crossed over to sit down next to him. She sat down so that her back rested against the armrest and she was sitting half-side to him. She crossed her legs, her body glistening with sweat, her strands slightly sticking to her face.

She grabbed his goblet and took a sip of wine from it, without taking her eyes off him. He was staring at her intensely, his one hand clenched on the table. She put his cup back in its place, licking her lips.

"Forgive me, my prince. I was thirsty." She whispered and saw him inhale faster, his nostrils flaring.

He didn't say a word, his gaze expressed surprise, horror and curiosity all at once. She smiled warmly at him, got up, and walked back to the dancing couples, leaving him alone.

She knew he watched her dance. She knew he didn't know how he felt about her, wanting to be indifferent, while being jealous and frustrated at the same time.

She laughed inwardly at the thought that perhaps it would be better if that woman were his wife and she his lover. She thought it was a brilliant idea to steal a men form his mistress.

When the feast was over she went to her rooms without giving him a single glance. She asked her servant to follow him and remember where his chamber is. She wanted to be able to recreate this path later.

She changed into her thin, beautifully embroidered nightgown. It was so hot in Volantis that she slept naked. Often she even walked around the chamber like this, knowing that there were only her servants outside the door, letting her know when someone was approaching.

She felt then like a goddess among her nymphs, free and beautiful. Here everything seemed gray and gloomy, devoid of emotion. She wondered if this was what her future husband was like.

After a few hours she went on a journey through the darkness of the palace corridors. She knew his quarters were nearby. She waited patiently for the guards to pass through the corridor and walked barefooted, holding only a peach in her hand. It was her gift for him.

She quickly opened the door to his quarters and closed it behind her. She heard him jump up in his seat by the fireplace, staring at her in disbelief, his mouth parted.

"What are you doing here?" He asked softly and low, the first words he ever said to her.

She smiled at him, walking lightly towards him, unfazed by the fact that her nightgown covered practically nothing. She knew she shouldn't be there, and that if anyone heard them they'd both be in trouble. She stopped in front of him and held out her arm with peach in her hand.

"I have a gift for you. I brought them with me from my homeland." She said gently. She saw him purse his lips, all tense. He didn't know where to look, sucked in a breath.

"You should go back to your quarters." He said coldly. Silence fell between them.

She raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused. She thought she'd play with him. She had no desire to win his heart by begging him to look at her kindly, giving him a sweet look full of hope and pain. She figured they'd have fun together or apart, but she certainly wasn't going to cry over him.

She lifted the peach to her mouth and bit into it. Its soft flesh yielding easily, the juice running down her lips she licked off with her tongue. She loved this taste.

She watched with satisfaction as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze fixed on her lips.

"You're embarrassing me." He said finally. She wanted to burst out laughing at that remark.

"Your lover doesn't embarrass you?" She asked lightly, taking another bite, her face calm and gentle.

He looked at her shocked. He was horrified that she knew about his little secret. He pursed his lips and swallowed hard, apparently completely wiped off the board.

"What do you want?" He finally asked quietly. She looked at him deliberately, wondering why he was so tense. She twisted a bitten peach in her hand.

"I want you to taste my present." She said, looking at him from under her long lashes. He looked at her shocked.

"If I try it, will you leave?" He asked softly, giving in.

She smiled warmly at him and nodded. He reached out to grab the fruit, but she wouldn't let him. He frowned, frustrated.

"I said I want you to taste it, not bite it." She said, biting into the fruit herself again, licking the sweet juice from her lips. When he realized what she meant he shivered, his lips parted slightly.

She approached him slowly, unhurriedly. His whole body was tense like a string, and she knew something violent was going on inside his head. She thought that he was going to hit her right away or fuck her.

She bit into the fruit again, this time deliberately sucking on the flesh for a moment, spreading its juices over her tongue and lips. She slid her hand under his hair, grabbing him gently by the nape of the neck, pulling his face to hers. He leaned back a bit, terrified, his lips slightly parted. He didn't protest.

She stood on her toes, pressing her soft lips to his. She felt him inhale hard and shiver all over. She brushed his lips, waiting patiently for what followed a few seconds later.

Helplessly, he opened his mouth and she slipped her tongue in, letting him taste the sweet fruit. The tip of his tongue licked hers, and they both moaned into each other's mouths, surprised at the intensity of the sensation.

Their tongues licked for a moment, both of them not even noticing when their hands closed around their bodies. Their caresses were drawn out, their tongues rough, sticky and wet, exchanging saliva and the delicious taste of peach each time.

She felt her nipples harden in surprise, wetness trickling down her thighs. She took his hand, clenched tightly around the material of her nightgown in hers, leading her down.

"There are plenty of similar sweet, sticky, juicy fruits in Essos, my prince." She whispered into his mouth, continuing to caress him, their tongues dancing together in a slow, lazy dance. She felt a shiver run through him at her words, and at what she was doing with his hand.

She lifted her nightgown and slipped his hand between her thighs, letting him feel how wet she was. He drew in a sharp breath as he felt it, his lip quivering helplessly. His fingers ran timidly over her sticky, hot entrance, making her moan sweetly into his mouth.

"All the fruits in Essos have this much juice?" He asked low, his voice quivering, his tongue sliding deep into her throat. She moaned loudly, surprised by his words, a shiver ran through her body. She thought with delight that her future husband could give her what she wanted.

"Yes." She whispered helplessly, her hand pressing his fingers to her womanhood, craving more intense caresses, her hips beginning to rub against him, seeking fulfillment. They both began to breathe louder, their kisses one sticky, wet mess.

"If you want, you can try another fruit I brought with me, my prince" She whispered sweetly into his mouth, and he groaned loudly. She knew it was over, that they were about to fuck on his bed.

He lifted her suddenly by her hips. She wrapped her thighs quickly around him, making him moan in her mouth again. He threw himself on his bed with her, laying on top of her.

They didn't stop kissing, licking the tips of their tongues and sucking each other's lips, his hands quickly lifting her nightgown, spreading her thighs shamelessly in front of him.

He pulled away from her, her face hot and smudged, no trace of shame or fear. She saw that he was looking at her with a dark, unpredictable look, that made her feel throbbing inside.

"Let's have a taste." He purred low, suddenly going through a change, as if he wasn't the same person. She thought that she hadn't been aroused so much in a long time.

He cupped her thighs low with his big hands, massaging them leisurely. He leaned in, the tip of his tongue running over her entrance all the way to her pearl, causing her to lean back with a loud moan. Her hand tightened automatically in his hair. She felt him smile, his tongue teasing her clit, swirling around her, then moving down again, licking her juices.

"Delicious." He whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth, gasping sweetly with delight. She felt that if he kept going like this, she would soon come.

Her thighs began to move towards his face, demanding more intense caresses. She moaned loudly as she felt him slide his tongue inside, moving it rhythmically with a wet click. She leaned on one hand, lifting slightly, making his tongue touch her where she felt the greatest pleasure. She moaned softly, looking at him tenderly, her nipples hard with desire.

"Oh gods, yes, lick me!" She sobbed, throwing her head back, her hand tightening on his sheets as she moaned loudly. A wonderful, strong, hot orgasm ran through her body. She came on his face and he, unmoved, licked everything that flowed out of her, making her tremble all over.

"Gods…" She whispered helplessly, laying on her back, panting heavily. She watched, as her future husband ran his tongue over her throbbing, hot womanhood and then up her thigh. She pursed her lips, exasperated.

"Can I taste you too, my prince?" She asked quietly, and he gave her a shocked look, his mouth parted slightly. After a moment he smirked in a way that sent shivers down her spine. He stood in front of her, undoing his pants.

"Come here." He instructed gently. She obediently got up and settled herself on her lap, kneeling at his hips, looking at him expectantly.

"Have you tasted many men?" He asked teasingly, amused, letting her pull his pants down.

She thought that when he was like that, ironic, direct, dark, she could fuck him all night. She thought that she had great lover material. She wondered what his woman would think if she saw them now.

She looked down at his manhood and licked her lips in satisfaction, seeing how big he was. She thought she would make sure he gave her a lot of pleasure in the future.

"I've never tasted a dragon before." She purred, his attention making him smile from the corner of his mouth.

His lips parted in delight as she leaned over him. She licked his entire length with her tongue, glancing at him without a trace of embarrassment. His cock throbbed impatiently, swollen and hard. His hand gently tangled in her hair.

"This is not how I imagined you." He whispered and moaned low as her hand gripped the base of his member, her tongue teasing his tip, licking his own juices. She smiled at his words, popped him into her mouth, wetting him with her saliva, and pulled him out with a loud, wet click.

"Aren't you ashamed of me anymore?" She asked sweetly, shoving his length deep into her throat. She heard him chuckle lightly at her words, his hips moving against her mouth. She sucked him unhurriedly, caressing him with her tongue, taking care of every second of his pleasure.

"No. I changed my mind." He purred low, panting loudly, his hand forcing her to speed up. His member slammed against the wall of her throat, her lips pressed tight against him, driving him crazy. His buttocks pumped his manhood hard between her lips with a wet, sticky sound.

"You have to swallow it all. You know that, right?" He hissed, his hands clasping her hair, he was answered by her purr of satisfaction. He parted his lips, panting heavily, as he felt his fullfilment approaching.

"Oh Gods, swallow it, swallow it like a good girl" He panted, cuming hard deep in her throat, his length throbbing in her mouth. She moaned loudly at his words, swallowing all of his semen patiently, waiting for the last drop to spill out of him.

"Just like that." He whispered, looking down at her, stroking her hair. "Such a good girl."

To his astonishment, he noticed that not a drop had escaped her mouth. She released him from between her mouth with a loud, wet plop, licking her lips.

"Delicious." She whispered.

They stared at each other with hazy eyes, as Aemond pulled up his trousers, tying them back. She wanted to get up and just leave for her chamber, but he closed his hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"What are you doing?" He asked surprised.

"I keep my promise." She said softly, taking her arm away, avoiding him with a light, unhurried step.

"Stay." He said suddenly. She stopped, looking at him in surprise.

"Are you sure?" She asked, trying to hide a smile of hot satisfaction, her eyes shining. He pressed his lips together, sliding under his sheets.

"Come here and go to sleep. I have to get up at dawn tomorrow."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen

[imshii-kin]

Psychic In Training ::

Chapter # 1 Tourist Trapped

Wattpad

Code, Chapter 1 (You are here)

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. - Conan Doyle

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

'Ah... Summer break, the time for parents to ship their kids off to some negligent camp to terrorize some poor 20-year-old looking for some extra cash.'

'That is... unless you're with the Pines.'

You scream as the golf cart crashes through the billboard, roughly hitting the ground before speeding up again. Glancing backward, you could see the shadow of the creature chasing you, and it seemed to be getting closer.

"Dip!" You yell, "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" The boy in front of you shouts back.

"Uhh guys," The girl next to him peaks her head out of the cart, "It's getting closer!" She shouts panicked.

"We know!" You and the boy yell at the same time.

'My name is Y/n. The sweaty boy in front of me is Dipper, and the girl beside him about to puke is Mabel.'

'Now, you probably already know why we are fleeing from some imaginable horror in a golf cart. Well I'm going to tell you anyway, and I promise, it's for a completely illogical reason.'

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan, reaching over to silence the alarm. It's the first day of summer break, but your mother insists on the 7:00 AM wake-up call.

"Y/n! The Pines are here!"

You groan louder. Your mother found a loophole after promising not to send you to camp this year. Now you're left wondering what's worse: a summer at Camp Campbell or a summer with the Pines weird uncle.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you slip into a short-sleeve turtleneck sweater and a pair of shorts, moving as slowly as you can.

"Come on, Y/n! We don't have all day!"

Grabbing your backpack on the way, you rush downstairs, where you're met with Dipper's less-than-enthusiastic expression and Mabel's overly enthusiastic grin.

It can't be that bad, right? No crazy, out-of-control adventures.

With a resigned sigh, you follow the Pines out of the house, bracing yourself for whatever this summer has in store.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking some kind of child labor law," you mumble as you restock the blue and white pine tree hats. Off to the side, Dipper is polishing a jar of eyeballs while Mabel stalks some random customer.

"Mabe," you call out, giving her a pointed look. "Stop creeping on that poor guy and help me with these hats." Mabel just blows a raspberry at you, her focus undeterred. You turn to Dipper with a shrug. "Well, I tried. Your turn."

Dipper sighs, rolling his eyes as he sprays the jar again. "Mabel, I get that you're in your 'Boy Crazy' phase," he says, stealing a glance at the list in the customer's hand, "but you're kind of overdoing it on the 'crazy' part."

Mabel blows another raspberry, this time at Dipper. "Come on, you two!" she exclaims, bouncing over to join you. "This is our first summer away from home!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself, Mabe. I've been going to summer camp since I was five. It's not all it's cracked up to be-just a bunch of rules and chores." You gesture to the hats you're organizing. "This is just a slightly more illegal version of that."

Mabel crosses her arms, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Mock all you want, but I've got a feeling this summer's going to be amazing. In fact," she points dramatically to the door, "I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now."

The three of you turn to see Grunkle Stan walking in.

"Ha!" you snort, pointing at Mabel. "Dreamy enough for you, Mabe?" You continue laughing as Mabel cringes in disgust.

Stan strolls over, eyeing the three of you. "Alright, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!" Mabel and Dipper shout simultaneously, making you groan.

"Uh, also not it," Soos chimes in.

"Nobody asked you, Soos," Stan deadpans.

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that," Soos replies cheerfully, taking a bite out of a chocolate bar.

Stan turns back to you and the twins. "Well, since one of you was slow, you're doing it." He dumps a stack of signs into your arms. "But you've got a habit of 'getting lost,' so you'll need a companion."

Scanning the room, Stan spots Wendy at the counter. "Wendy! Help Y/n with these signs!"

Without even looking up from her magazine, Wendy replies, "I would, but I... uh... can't... uh... reach them."

Stan mutters under his breath, "I'd fire all of you if I could," before turning to Dipper. "Alright then, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." He points at Dipper. "You."

"What?!" Dipper protests. "Grunkle Stan, I always feel like I'm being watched when I'm in those woods." He sneaks a glance at you, lowering his voice. "And Y/n gets weird in the forest."

You shoot Dipper a glare. "Hey! I can hear you, you know..." They ignore you.

Stan gives Dipper an unimpressed look, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, not this again."

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out 'beware.'" Dipper rolls up his sleeve to show Stan.

Stan squints at it. "That says 'bewarb.'"

You snicker. "Who knew mosquitoes were bad at spelling?"

Dipper lowers his arm, embarrassed, scratching at the bites. Stan shakes his head. "Look, kid, the whole 'monsters in the forest' thing is just a local legend made up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that." He nods toward a sweating, grinning customer clutching a handful of merchandise.

"And Y/n's just... a little special. Nothing weird about it." Stan shrugs. "So quit being paranoid."

You huff, handing some of the signs to Dipper. "For the record, I can still hear you."

»»————- 🪬————-««

Hanging up the signs quickly became boring. Dipper was hammering nails into the trees so that you could hang the signs, he was muttering something about Stan not believing him.

"Could you not?" You snap, "All you do is complain, it'd be nice if you'd talk about something more pleasant for once."

Dipper shot a sharp glare your way. "Like you're any better. All you do is make snide comments and dump your work on everyone else."

You gasp, feigning offense. "When have I ever?"

Dipper's expression turned flat, clearly unimpressed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Who shrunk my sweater!?" Mabel wailed, holding up the now tiny garment. "I told everyone this was special cotton! It needs delicate care!"

You glance up from your magazine. "Pretty sure Soos did it," you answer before returning to your reading.

Dipper stared at you before his eyes flicked to the chore list on the wall, your name plastered next to 'Laundry'.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"That was one time." You defend yourself.

"No! It wasn't! That was one of multiple times!" Dipper said exasperated, placing down another nail and hammering it.

Clank

Both of you freeze, staring at the tree. Dipper taps the hammer lightly against the trunk again, confirming the odd sound. Lowering the hammer, he examines the tree closer, running his hand over the bark until he finds a small crack.

With a glance at you, he pries open the "tree."

A mechanical box with two switches sat within a hidden compartment. Dipper tests one of the controls, nothing. He flips the other switch, and next to you, a hatch suddenly opens in the ground.

You exchange a wary look with Dipper before cautiously peering inside the hatch. There, nestled within the earth, lay an old, thick book. Dust covered it completely, cobwebs clung to its edges, and millipedes skittered across its surface. The cover bore a gold six-fingered handprint, with the number "3" written on its palm.

You slowly reach for the book in the hatch, somewhat hesitate as a bad feeling sinks into your stomach.

A sharp shock runs through your hand as your fingers graze the surface of the book. The air around you seems to hum with a sudden energy, and a burning sensation spreads across your palm.

Something was drawing you towards the book, something ancient and powerful as if it had been waiting for you. The sensation sharpens, and a rush of images and whispers, flood your conscience.

"-/n! Y/n!!" With a sudden tug, you're pulled away from the book. Dipper, who was now in front of you, was gripping tightly onto your shoulders, a look of genuine worry on his face.

"What was that?" he asks, searching your face for answers. When you don't respond, he turns and reaches into the hatch, carefully pulling out the book.

He places it on the ground and opens it, eyes scanning the pages.

"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon." Dipper flips through the book, each page revealing bizarre creatures and terrifying monsters.

"What is all this?" Dipper whispers in awe. You lean over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a page that reads "TRUST NO ONE!"

"My worst fears have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before it's found. Remember, In Gravity Falls, you can't trust anyone."

You and Dipper exchange a tense look, a silent pact forming between you both.

"HALLO!!"

You yelp in surprise, falling backward.

Mabel was behind you, leaning over a rotten log. "What'cha reading, some nerdy thing?" she teased, trying to peek at what Dipper was hiding behind his back.

"Uh- uh- it's nothing!" Dipper stammers, shooting you a desperate look.

""Uh, uh, it's nothing!" What? Are you not gonna show me?" Mabel laughs.

Dipper looks at Mabel then the Journal then back at Mabel. "Let's... go somewhere more private."

Mabel raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs. She hops over the log and strides quickly toward you, extending a hand to help you up.

You offer her a grateful smile as you reach for her hand.

"What is that?!" Mabel exclaims, suddenly tightening her grip on your hand as she examines it closely. "When did you get a scar like this?"

Startled, you pull your hand back and stare at your palm, shocked to find a vertical eye seared into your skin.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I can't find anything," Dipper mutters, flipping through the pages with a frustrated sigh. "There's nothing about a mysterious vertical eye appearing on someone's palm."

The three of you have ended up in the Mystery Shack's resting room. You're seated beside Mabel, while Dipper paces back and forth, rifling through the Journal's pages.

"But still, this thing is incredible!" Dipper exclaims, holding the Journal open for Mabel to see. "Grunkle Stan thinks I'm just being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a hidden dark side."

You lean forward, a frown tugging at your lips. "Dip, this could be dangerous. That book gives me the creeps." You wave your hand in front of Dipper's face. "And look at what it did to me!"

Dipper bats your hand away, his expression annoyed.

Ding-Dong

"Who's that? More tourists?" you ask, glancing toward the door. Mabel grins at you. "Well, it's time to spill the beans." She playfully pushes over an empty can of beans. "Boop. Beans." Mabel beams, clearly pleased with her joke before continuing, "This girl's got a date! Woot woot!"

You and Dipper exchange incredulous looks. "Wait," you begin, "In the half hour we were gone, you managed to get a date who didn't run away from your... let's say, intense enthusiasm?"

Mabel nods enthusiastically. "What can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible."

Dipper looks like he's about to say something, but you cut him off with a grin. "You know what? You go, girl."

The doorbell rings again, and Mabel jumps up, hurrying to answer it.

Dipper sighs, slipping into the seat Mabel just vacated. "I can't believe I was right," he says with a grin, flipping open the journal. "Do you mind trying to touch it again?"

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Alright, but if I get possessed, I'm blaming you." Dipper brushes off your comment and passes the journal to you.

You carefully take it from his hand, bracing yourself for anything.

...

But nothing happens. No surge of energy, no eerie whispers—the journal sits quietly in your hands, completely still.

"What'cha reading there, slick?" Grunkle Stan asked as he walked into the room.

"Oh!" Dipper yelped, quickly shoving the book behind his back and snatching up the nearest magazine. "Just catching up on..." He glanced at the cover in his hand, "Gold Chains for Old Men?" He read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

Stan leans over Dipper's shoulder and grins, "That's a good issue."

"Hey family~" Mabel calls out as she drags some homeless-looking guy with her, "Say hello to my new boyfriend!"

"Ugh- ew-" you blurted out at the sight of the pale, disheveled boy, but quickly stopped when Mabel gave you a look, "Sorry, it was involuntary."

"Sup." The boy says.

"Hey," Dipper responded awkwardly. Stan, still focused on the TV, didn't bother to look at the boy. "How's it hanging?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How old are you?" you asked.

The boy hesitated, stumbling over his words. "Uh- um- fifteen?" he answered, uncertain.

"...You're definitely lying-"

"We met at the cemetery!! He's really deep." Mabel quickly interrupts your line of questioning.

Dipper narrows his eyes, suspicion clear in his voice. "So, what's your name?" he asks.

The 'teen' straightens up, a bit tense. "Uh... Normal... MAN!" he blurts out.

A faint warmth begins to radiate from the center of your palm, just enough to make you curl your fingers slightly. Unbeknownst to you, a soft greenish-blue glow flickers beneath your skin.

"He means 'Norman,'" Mabel chimes in, leaning closer to him.

You take another look at Norman. "Right... and is that blood on your cheek, Normalman?" you ask, pointing to the red liquid dripping down his face.

"...It's jam," he replies, a little too quickly.

"...Seriously?"

Mabel gasps, delighted. "I love jam!" She turns back to you and Dipper with a grin. "He's perfect!"

You shake your head. "Mabe, your standards... where are they?"

Norman turns to Mabel, "So, you wanna go hold hands or... whatever?" He asks, Mabel blushes shyly, "Oh, goodness!" she exclaims, casting a quick glance at you and Dipper. "Don't wait up for me!" she calls out, her voice light and excited as she hurries out the door with Norman.

As they disappear, the burning sensation in your palm begins to fade, replaced by a faint, lingering buzz. You lift your hand, studying the vertical eye with a puzzled expression.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"Of course Stan sticks me with the broom closet for a bedroom," you mutter, shuffling into the cramped space. As soon as you reach the bed, you collapse onto it with a weary sigh. Your gaze drifts to your hand, staring at the vertical eye on it.

"...What are you?"

KNOCK KNOCK

"Y/n!!" You jolt, startled by the sudden noise.

"Mabel'sdatingazombieandshe'sgoingoutonadatewithhimrightnow!!!" Dipper's frantic voice spills through the door in one breathless rush.

You quickly get to your feet and swing the door open. "Woah, woah, slow down, Dip-" You grab his shoulders, worry knotting in your chest. "Explain that again, but slower."

Dipper takes a couple of shaky breaths, but his panic is still written all over his face. "Mabel's dating a zombie, and she's going on a date with him right now!" Without waiting for a response, Dipper turns and dashes off, pulling you along with him.

"Huh!? Wait- how do you know?" you manage to ask as you stumble after him.

"Earlier today, I was following him to gather evidence," Dipper confesses. "When I reviewed the footage, I saw him lose his hand and then reattach it!"

"I knew something was off about that weirdo..." You mutter, following Dipper out of the Mystery Shack. Stan was standing in front of a crowd, showcasing some kind of rock face, which made it virtually impossible to get his attention.

Scanning the area for an alternative, your eyes land on Wendy, casually sitting in a golf cart. "Dip! Look!" you exclaim, pointing toward her. Dipper's eyes widen before he grins at you. "Nice catch, Y/N!"

Rushing over, you quickly approach Wendy, "Wen, Just the gal I need, you don't mind if we steal that cart and possibly wreck it right?"

Wendy looks at you, then at Dipper, then back to you, and shrugs with a lazy grin, tossing you the keys. "Just try not to mow anyone down."

With a smirk, you hand the keys to Dipper. "Let's go save your sister."

You and Dipper jump into the cart, ready to back out of the lot when Soos suddenly appears, blocking your path.

"Dude, it's me, Soos," he says with a grin, handing Dipper a shovel. "This is for the zombies." He then turns to you, passing you a bat. "And this is just in case you come across a piñata."

"Uh... Thanks?"

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I am seriously regretting giving you those keys" You shout as Dipper drives through the forest like a madman.

"Don't worry Mabel" Dipper shouts loudly, "We'll save you from that zombie!!" He accelerates faster.

"Help!" A shout resonated from off in the distance. You and Dipper gasp,

"Mabel!"

"Mabe!"

Dipper makes a sharp turn off the road, driving through the forest trying to follow the sound of Mabel's voice.

Soon, you both approach some kind of cave, and inside you can see Mabel surrounded by... gnomes?

Dipper slows down, parking once he's in the cave. "What the..." He mutters, "What the heck is going on here!?" he shouts, both confused and extremely underwhelmed.

A gnome runs up to you and hisses, prompting you to kick it.

"Dipper! N/n! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes!" Mabel shouts as she bats away the gnomes crowding her, "And they're total jerks!" One particularly persistent gnome latches onto her hair, making Mable gasp in pain, "Hair- hair- hair-!"

Dipper stares at the chaos, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gnomes... huh, I was way off."

A faint warmth begins to emanate from your palm, similar to before. Glancing down, you gasp seeing the vertical eye glowing with a soft greenish-blue light.

"Hey! Let go of my sister!" Dipper yelled at the brown-haired gnome.

The brown haired gnome spins around, offering Dipper a sheepish grin. "Oh! Uh, hey there," he stammers with a nervous chuckle. "This is just a big misunderstanding, really. Your sister's perfectly safe. She's just, you know, marrying all thousand of us to become our gnome queen for eternity!" He turns back to Mabel with a smirk. "Right, sweetheart?"

Mabel, now tied down, glares daggers at the gnomes. "You guys are butt-faces!" she yelled before one of them hastily muffled her.

You step up beside Dipper, and kneel down to the gnome's height, trying to ignore the faint warmth spreading in your palm. "Listen here, Normal-man," you mock, voice steady, "if you and your creepy little friends don't let Mabel go, I'm going to recreate that gnome scene from the 2015 Goosebumps movie." You give your bat a subtle lift, just enough to make your point clear.

The gnome glares at you. "You think you can stop us? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the-"

You nudge him off the rock with your bat.

Dipper wastes no time, stepping forward to cut the string holding Mabel down with his shovel. Mabel flashes him a grateful smile before kicking the gnomes away and rushing toward the golf cart.

Dipper grabs your hand, pulling you along. For a brief moment, he hesitates, noticing the glow in your palm. You can almost hear the questions forming in his mind, but the urgency of the situation forces him to push them aside.

Once in the cart, Dipper quickly starts it up and speeds away. Faintly, you hear Jeff yelling behind you.

As the three of you exit the cave, Dipper eases up on the speed, his tension fading.

"Hurry, before they come after us!" Mabel urges, prompting Dipper to chuckle. "I wouldn't worry. Did you see their legs? Those suckers are tiny!"

You frown. "I'm with Mabe on this one, Dip. That was way too easy."

Dipper rolls his eyes. "And you called me paranoid-"

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"...I blame Dip. He jinxed us."

A giant gnome monster, made up of smaller gnomes, looms behind the golf cart, chasing you.

"Move, move!" Mabel shouts at Dipper. He stumbles but quickly picks up speed. Glancing back, you see the creature's shadow growing larger.

"Dip!" you yell. "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" Dipper shouts back.

"Uhh, guys," Mabel says, peeking her head out of the cart. "It's getting closer!" Her voice is panicked.

"We know!" you and Dipper yell in unison.

The monster swings its massive arms, hurling small gnomes through the air toward your cart. Two gnomes land beside you, and out of reflex, you smack the one on your left, knocking it out cold.

The gnome on your right hisses, ready to pounce, but you swiftly grab the unconscious gnome and toss it at the other, sending both tumbling out of the cart.

Another gnome crashes onto the hood and springs at Dipper, latching onto his face with a tight grip.

You lunge forward, reaching over the seat to help the boy. The moment your hand touches the gnome, a greenish-blue light flares from your palm. The gnome yelps in pain, releasing Dipper and snatching his hat away in the process.

Mabel gasps, turning to you with a bright smile. "How'd you do that?" she asks. You stare at your hand, bewildered. "I... I don't know..."

Before either Mabel or Dipper can ask more, a tree crashes down in front of the cart. "Watch out!" you shout as Dipper swerves to avoid it. He manages to steer clear, but the sharp turn tips the cart over, sending all of you tumbling.

Groaning, you crawl out of the wrecked vehicle. "Called... it..." you mumble, slowly getting to your feet.

The ground trembles as the giant gnome monster approaches, each of its thundering steps echoing through the forest.

"Stay back, man!" Dipper shouts, grabbing a shovel and hurling it at the monster. The creature swats it away effortlessly.

The twins cling to each other in terror. You step in front of them, instinctively trying to shield them from the looming threat.

With every step the monster takes, you and the twins retreat, until you're backed against a wall.

"It's the end of the line, kids!" Jeff yells from atop the monster. "Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!"

"Shoot..." you mutter, glancing at Mabel. "There's gotta be a way out of this..."

Mabel's gaze locks onto the monster as she carefully considers her next move. Slowly, she steps past you and Dipper, her expression firm. "I gotta do it," she says, her voice steady.

"Mabel, don't!" Dipper grabs her arm, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you crazy!?"

She doesn't waver. "Trust me," she whispers.

Dipper hesitates, about to protest, but you place a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Dip," you murmur. "Trust her, just this once."

After a tense moment, Dipper sighs in frustration, then steps back.

Mabel offers you a grateful smile before turning to face the monster. "All right, Jeff. I'll marry you."

"Hot dog!" Jeff cheers, scrambling down the monster's side. "Help me down there, Jason! Thanks, Andy! Left foot, there we go... watch those fingers, Mike."

Jeff approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring with a smug grin. "Ehh? Ehh?" he says, gesturing to the jewels. Mabel kneels down, letting him slip the ring onto her finger.

"Bada-bing, bada-bam!" Jeff dances with glee. "Now that's how you get a wife! Let's head back to the forest, honey!"

Mabel admires the ring. "You may now kiss the bride," she declares.

Jeff smirks, leaning in for the kiss. "Well, don't mind if I do."

As Jeff moves closer, Mabel leans back and flicks on the leaf blower behind her, aiming it straight at him. The suction pulls him in with a whoosh.

"That's for lying to me!" Mabel shouts, cranking up the power. "And this is for breaking my heart!"

Jeff flails helplessly, yelping in pain.

You and Dipper approach, both thoroughly impressed by her quick thinking. Mabel glances over her shoulder, a sly smile forming on her lips. "And this... is for messing with my brother and my best friend."

She lifts the leaf blower and points it at the monster. "Want to do the honors, Dipper?"

Dipper grins widely. "On three."

"One, two, three!"

They launch Jeff out of the leaf blower, sending him crashing into the giant monster, scattering it in pieces.

With their leader gone, the gnomes scramble in confusion. You grab a rake leaning against the Shack and start herding the gnomes back into the forest.

Once you were sure they were all gone, you turned back and started heading in towards the Shack, Mabel had gone inside after talking with Dipper, leaving just the two of you.

"Oh- Um, Y/n!" " Dipper called out just before you reached the door, making you turn to face him. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to, uh, clear the air?"

He hesitated, glancing at you to gauge your reaction. "Since we've been stuck here, it kinda felt like we were at odds," he admitted. "But with everything that's happened - the journal and all - I figured we should..." His voice trailed off.

"But especially after today," his tone grew firmer, "you helped me when you didn't have to. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I would've been able to get to Mabel..."

You smiled. "I get it, Dip, no need to get all mushy." He flushed, groaning a little in embarrassment. "But, honestly, you proved me wrong. You're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."

Dipper stared at you for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks, Y/n. That... means a lot."

A comfortable silence settled between you just as Mabel popped back outside. "Come on, guys! Grunkle Stan has a present for us!"

»»————- 🪬————-««

You admire your new ring, a simple silver band etched with intricate Celtic designs. Inside, the name 𝕌ℝ𝕎𝕍𝕆ℝℍ is engraved, the letters catching the light as you turn it between your fingers.

A knock on the door pulls your attention from the ring. Shuffling around the tight space, you make it to the door and carefully open it.

"Dipper?" you ask, seeing the boy.

He nods, clutching the journal under one arm, a pen in his other hand. "Yeah, I wanted to talk about your... strange mark." You step aside, allowing him to enter, and the two of you settle on the bed.

"This started when you touched the journal?" Dipper asks, glancing at your hand. "Can you feel anything from the mark?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, there's this constant faint buzzing sensation, and sometimes it gets really warm." Dipper jots something down in the journal, his brow furrowed.

"And do you know what triggers the warmth?"

You pause, thinking back. "It happened when Normalman first appeared - my palm started aching. And then again when we were near the gnomes."

Dipper murmurs to himself, deep in thought. "But why now? Was it the journal that set it off? Could you be some kind of psychic?" He clicks his pen repeatedly, lost in thought.

"Maybe... you have a knack for sensing the supernatural," he suggests, his voice trailing off.

You glance out the window, noticing the sun had long set, "Let's discuss this more tomorrow ok?" You suggest, "It's been a long day Dip, you should get some sleep."

Dipper frowns, trying to protest. "But-"

Before he can finish, you start nudging him toward the door. "Nope, not until I get my beauty rest," you say with a playful grin.

Despite his reluctance, you manage to push him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

"He worries too much," you mutter with a smile. With a yawn and a stretch, you make your way to your bed, sinking into the comforting embrace of the covers. As your eyes grow heavy, you're unaware of the soft glow beginning to emanate from your palm.

. . .

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in an empty field. The sky is a strange, burnt-orange hue, and to your surprise, you spot not one, but two suns hanging low on the horizon.

"Where... where am I?" you murmur, spinning around to take in your surroundings. Far off in the distance, you notice a figure, their entire body obscured by layers of clothing.

With nothing else to guide you, you approach the figure cautiously. "Hello?" you call out, the sound of your voice echoing slightly in the eerie stillness.

The figure jolts, turning abruptly to face you. A scarf and goggles hide their expression, but their posture is tense. "You!" he shouts, his voice sharp. "How did you get here? Who are you?"

You hesitate, glancing around once more before offering a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I just went to bed and woke up here."

He studies you closely, his gaze unnerving. After a moment, he reaches out toward you, his hand passing through your form. You blink in surprise.

"Fascinating," he mutters to himself, stepping back to examine you more. "Somehow, through your dreams, you've crossed into this place."

A strange sensation begins to ripple through you, like a tug from deep within. The man's eyes widen in alarm. "You're waking up," he whispers, almost in awe.

You glance down at yourself, watching in disbelief as your body starts to fade, the colors draining like watercolors bleeding into the paper.

"Wait!" the man calls out, suddenly frantic. "There's so much more I need to-"

But before he can finish, everything blurs, and the dream collapses in on itself.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, the soft light of morning filtering through your window. The room is still, the quiet only broken by your racing heartbeat. You lift your hand, the glow slowly fading once more.

You exhale deeply, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease, wondering what it all could mean.

__

A/N: Wooo Gravity fall's fandom is making a comeback!! This is an old - old rewrite of a fanfic I made on google docs as a kid. Now that I can write, I figured why not revise the old thing?

[thepastdied]

Do You Feel It? p.1

eddie munson x reader

Part 2 <-

Warnings: blood, violence, knives, sexy stuff

In short, Eddie is obsessed with you and breaks into your house. He's not very nice.

It's a stormy night and you're home alone.

You stand in front of a glass sliding door that leads outside to your back porch. It's summer, yet you shiver as your eyes remain locked on Eddie's. Your legs are barely able to keep you up as you shift your weight from one foot to the other - your mind racing at an alarming speed. Both of your hands are gripping the handle of a baseball bat that is pointed to the man who stands directly in front of you behind the glass. It was the closest thing to a weapon within arms reach, and you were so terrified that anything would do.

You hiccuped as a sob spilled from your lips which were tainted red with his blood. The air felt cold on your skin, the new tears keeping your cheeks wet. Your lips quivered as you croaked out pleas.

Eddie harshly bangs his fist on the glass, thick rings scratching against the surface, demanding for you to let him in. He too has a weapon of his own; a broken beer bottle that he had fixed himself. Your eyes can't help but flick over to it, fully aware of what more damage it could do to you.

"I won't hurt you, I swear." He puts his hands up in mock surrender, sticking his tongue out to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth. He smiled sickeningly, though if you didn't know any better it would seem almost sweet.

In the course of the past 30 minutes..

You had become a complete mess.

Your top stretched out and hanging loosly on your skin (and in some areas torn), hair pulled out from your braid it was previously in, and a mixture of yours, and his, blood in various places on your skin.

Previously

He had broken into your house while you slept, scaring the life out of you as you heard toiletries fall from the bathroom. It could have been your cat, you quickly thought, but just as fast realized it's not possible because he was currently laying right beside you and just as curious about the noise as you were. You glanced at the clock. It was 2:17am.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard a more dense thump and a mumbled "Shit-", positive that it was someone coming into your home. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your body broke out in goosebumps. Your head felt light, vision not fully focused, and your breathing stilled. You could hear your blood swooshing in your ears.

There is always a steak knife hidden between your mattress and box spring- just something you put there to feel safer after watching a horror movie with your friends as a young teen. You slid off your mattress, entire body buzzing with fear as you crouch down and feel for the knife. Tears well up in your eyes as you take a deep breath. Your bedroom door is wide open, and you certainly can't run to your parents' to get to the phone.

Just as you were going to pick up your cat and hide under the bed, you heard a sharp tap on the wall directly next to your doorway. Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth with a shaking hand and slid behind your door, sinking down to your knees and hugging them to your chest. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage so hard that you are sure the intruder could hear it.

You peered through the crack of the door hinge. There was no one, which scared you even more. There was a tap again, followed by a loud scrape.

Right on the door.

"Hey..." The man whispered, his face coming into view where you peered out.

You choked out a loud gasp and fell backwards, the knife you were holding scraping your palm as your back hit the floor.

"Oh, shit- I didn't mean to scare you." He shook his head as he lighly laughed and placed a hand on his cheek, eyes wide in mock concern at your reaction. It quickly faded into an emotionless stare- tongue in cheek, hand roughly falling to his side (as if you're wasting his time) and his other tightening around a broken beer bottle.

He reeked of beer.

You immediately whipped around to run to the hallway though he was faster at roughly grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back. He had no mask on, clearly not trying to hide his identity.

And you knew exactly who he was: Eddie Munson, the silly boy from History.

He grunted and mumbled profanities as he wrestled you to the floor.

"Jesus! Calm down, will you?" He gritted his teeth as his grip on your forearms tightened.

You stilled and looked into his eyes, waiting for any sort of explanation as to why he broke into your home and attacked you.

Eddie sighed and gave you a lazy smile.

"Wow.. you're even more beautiful up close." His tongue quickly wets his bottom lip.

He leaned down, his fluffy curls draping around his head and brushing against your cheeks. His eyes darked, narrowing as you flinched your head away from him. His breath fanned across your face as he leaned in.

"Do you feel it too? That spark when we first spoke.. I complimented you in that cute little sun dress, and you blushed. I got shivers when you looked into my eyes, did you?" Eddie's pupils were blown wide as his eyes danced across your face, deeply inhaling through his nose.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your mind was blank. You didn't realize you were crying until you felt tears running down your cheeks and to your neck. Of course you remember the first time you met. The air had been sucked out of your lungs in that moment; he was so handsome and pretty that you were paralyzed. You've talked several times after that during your history class.

"Do. you. remember?" He cleared his throat to get your attention and tightened his grip.

"Y-yes. Yes, I remember." Your voice cracked.

He hummed, a sign you supposed meant he was satisfied with the answer.

"Ya know, I've never felt that before." A hand released one of your arms and moved to your cheek, a soft thumb wiping away a tear.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you today. After you bent down to pick up my Hellfire notebook I dropped. Shit- I got so hard. Your tits were about to fall out of your top." He chuckled, eyes crinkling in the cute way they do, and shamelessly moved his eyes to your chest.

"I guess you could say it's made me a teensy bit crazy. Just thinking about what you'd look like under me.." Eddie's hand splayed across your throat, thumb smoothing over your skin.

"I'm just sayin', I'm not into that rape shit. Wouldn't want to waste my vi.. whatever. I won't do anything until you want me to. I'll wait." He smirked as if he were confident he would be able to do so.

Why did he have to pursue you this way? He could have asked you out like a normal person. He was fucking insane to think that you'd give yourself to him after he broke into your home and tackled you to the floor.

"Why the fuck would I want you to touch me?" You spat at him, some fear draining from your blood and quickly being replaced with anger.

"You broke into my house, Eddie!" You started to flail your legs and, to no avail, tried to writhe out from underneath him.

He scoffed and clenched his teeth.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch, y/n!? Can't even give me a chance, huh? Is it because I'm a freak?" His eyes were wide as he yelled in your face, face becoming red as he got more pissed.

You flinched away and squeezed your eyes shut, violently shaking your head. There is something wrong with him. He isn't making any sense.

"I heard you talking to Robin. Your parents won't be home all weekend, so we have plenty of time, sweetheart." Fuck. You mentally slapped yourself for even talking about that in public, it's a death wish if the wrong person is listening in. What he doesn't know is Robin will be over in the early afternoon.

His head dipped into your neck where he planted a sloppy kiss before trailing them up to ghost over your lips.

Panic spread throughout your body and you flung your head forward, your head smashing his mouth. He instantly let go of your other hand and falls onto his back, wiping the pool of blood from his lips. His eyes narrowed as you scurried away from him, nostrils flaring while he lunged forward to grab your ankle.

Fortunately, you were faster. And you ran as fast as you could down the stairs and toward your front door, Eddie hot on your heels. You barely managed to grab the door handle before he grabbed you by your hair, a shriek loudly echoing through your house.

"So you're just going to play hard to get then. That's fine. I like the chase. It's soo exciting." His fingers were tightly woven in your hair, back pressed firmly against his torso as he held your head against his shoulder.

"You planned this, didn't you? You got some sick, possessive crush on me and decided I was your target." You whispered. There is no getting out of this, and you have come to that hard realization. You feel hopeless.

"Bingo, pretty girl. I wouldn't call you a target though, hun, you're more special than that. I don't plan on hurting you. Just some fun, yeah?" He untangled his fingers from your hair and wrapped both arms around your waist, pinning your arms against your body.

His face settled on your shoulder and he gently swayed you back and forth, humming contently as if you're some happy couple slow dancing at prom. If only that were true. A loud clap of thunder causes you to flinch while Eddie hushes you.

You felt a dull ache in your leg soon followed by a sharp pain. You hiss as you try to take your balance off of it. Eddie's arms hold you more securely as he moved his head to look down. There was a long gash along the outside of your thigh where heavy blood was spilling from. You sharply inhaled and began to cry as the adrenaline wore off, the pain finally settling in.

"S-shit! When did that.. I- I didn't-". Eddie gulped as you went limp in his hold and slid to the floor.

You felt weak and couldn't run no matter how much you wanted to. You must have scraped against his beer bottle in the process of getting away from him. Your back was now against your front door as Eddie ripped the sleeve off his red plaid overshirt and began to tie it around your thigh.

You stared at him blankly. You wanted to kill him. For talking to you that day. For having a crush on him. For thinking that you'd date some day. For letting him deceive you. There was panic in his eyes as he examined the rest of your body. He mumbled apologies as he secured the knot.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you.. I didn't know that happened-" He started.

"Get the fuck away from me." You hissed at him and kicked him harshly with your unwounded leg. Your voice was low, but strong. "If you leave now, I'll never speak of this to anyone."

You couldn't even cry anymore. You were just exhausted and in shock that you were even in this situation.

He winced as your foot collided with his hip. Those big dark eyes snapped to yours and in less than a second the concern and panic was gone. The bastard smirked.

"Thanks for pulling me down from that cloud, almost got all soft." He sighed loudly as he stood up, pushing himself up by slapping his hands over his knees. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned. You glanced at his exposed skin and quickly looked away. Eddie tipped his head to the side and stared into space in deep thought. There was an awkward silence for a moment before he snapped causing you to jump and hold your chest.

"Hah! In my van, fuck, I forgot the weed in my van. Be right back, honey." He walked over to your console table and grabbed the keys. He turned his head toward you as he twirled the keys around his finger and pocketed them.

You waited for him to walk out the back before turning the lock on the door behind you and moving quickly to the dining room. He left the glass sliding door open, his truck just at the bottom of the porch. Just as you appeared he was shutting his van door and staring back at you. You slammed the glass door shut so fast that you thought it would break, and he casually walked up to the other side just as you locked it. The rain was loud and coming down hard. He seemed unbothered. You quickly grabbed the baseball bat that sat next to door frame. It's better than nothing.

Eddie shook his head at you and his shoulders shook as he laughed in a way that said 'dumb bitch'. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys.

"Please.. no." You held onto the lock latch for extra security. You began to sob, and you're not sure why now. Maybe it's because you have a sliver of hope now since he was no longer in the house.

His brows furrowed as he examined the keys, rain splattering around him. You saw his adams apple bob as he gulped and looked between you and the keys a few times.

"Jesus Christ! FUCK!" He snapped into a fit, punching the glass hard before grabbing the handle and roughly pulling at it over and over. The keys on the table were car keys, which you had already known. The smile you gave him made him still his deperate attempt to open the door and roll his shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side.

Present

"I won't hurt you, I swear." He puts his hands up in mock surrender, sticking his tongue out to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth. He smiled sickeningly, though if you didn't know any better it would seem almost sweet.

You were shaking as you tried to think of what to do. The phone, there's only two: one in your parents' room, one in the living room. But what if you let Eddie out of your sight? He could run anywhere.

You were pulled out of your head due to the sound of him running down the porch steps. You moved forward and pressed your head to the glass in panic as you watched him grab a large rock from the garden. No... no no no no.

The hard thump of the rock being dropped on the wooden floor of the porch could be felt where you were standing. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, blood still profusely coming out, and pointed to the rock with the broken bottle he still held.

"That-" His head was turned fully toward you, only a couple feet away and separated just by the glass.

"- is going through this fucking door if you don't be a good girl and open it for me." He lightly tapped the glass in front of your face with the bottle. So lightly that you could barely hear it, that made it more creepy- the gentleness.

It was quiet for second until his voice boomed against the door.

"Did you hear me?!" He shook his wet hair back and forth, curls sticking to his face.

You remained silent, fully aware that it only pissed him off more. You couldn't speak anyway, your throat was hoarse and sore from crying.

Eddie spit at the glass directly in front of you, a huge splatter of blood covering your view of his face. He leaned forward and his laugh vibrated against the glass as he licked it, smearing the blood around. You cringed as you watched his tongue glide over the crimson liquid and glass, suddenly feeling heat at your core when he moaned.

You swallowed thickly, refusing to acknowledge the burning in your body. The ache in your leg wasn't worth your attention anymore.

You were pulled from your daze as he lifted his arm, pointer finger moving over his blood canvas and drawing a simple heart. He gave you a tongue-in-cheek seductive grin.

"For you, baby." He tapped next to the simple drawing.

Your heart skipped a beat as he stepped to the side, blood painting no longer obscuring your view, and wiped his mouth with his arm. The bleeding seemed to slow down. Not that you cared.

His breath was hot on the glass as he breathed on it, puffs of fog forming while his forehead pressed against the warm surface as his big, pleading, pretty brown eyes looked at you. A lovesick puppy.

You looked him over. The rain matted down his usually crazy hair making his curls more defined. The remaining blood on his mouth was mixing with the heavy rain and dripping down his chin, disappearing under the collar of his black Megadeth shirt. He had a bruise on his right eyebrow, which was probably from his fall in the bathroom. His big eyes were blinking at you, suddenly patient compared to just moments ago. He involuntarily shivered as a gust of wind hit him, though he seemed to not even notice.

This whole situation is fucked up.

You put your face closer and continued to examine him as if he were a zoo animal. His brows twitched in confusion, though he remained still so as not to scare you away. His sardonic grin was gone, and you hoped it wouldn't come back. You didn't trust him, still. But maybe if you did as he asked, this would just blow over. Then again, he is being a sadistic fuck. But being separated by the glass made you feel more safe.. making you realize how much it turns you on.

A war was waging in your head.

You hiccuped as your crying slowed, using the collar of your oversized night shirt to wipe your tears. You took a deep breath and puffed your cheeks out as you exhaled. You probably looked gross. Not that you cared what he thought.

You nibbled on your bottom lip and were unable to meet his eyes. He was so close that you can see his light freckles, eyelashes, the perfect curve of his nose and that jawline- God, that soft jawline. You moved away from the door quickly and walked to the kitchen to grab a butchers knife. Eddie tensed and moved along the door so he could keep his eyes on you. He relaxed, a bit, when you approached him again. You sniffled and held up the knife, the bat laying on the dining table just behind you.

"You're going to trash that bottle- and anything else that would be considered a weapon." You stood firmly as you tilted your head up to look him dead in the eyes.

His mouth was hanging slightly open, some rain water dripping from his bottom lip. You watched them fall, and he noticed. Lightning flashes. His lips turn up.

Without even looking, eyes locked onto yours, he blindly whipped the bottle into the wooded area off your porch. He put both hands up, fingers spread wide and wiggling, eyes half lidded while the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Pockets." You point to his hip, and he quickly turns his pockets inside out before stuffing them back in.

"Let's start over, sweetheart." His chest puffed out as he ran his fingers through his hair and fixed his t-shirt that had been untucked from his jeans, fingers then clasping behind his back while he rocked back and forth in an 'I'm waiting' motion. His shirt was stuck to his skin, wet and heavy, and you could see his broad chest. Sweetheart.. you liked that. When your eyes met his, he suppressed a laugh.

You blushed so hard that your tears probably evaporated from the heat. He caught you gawking.

You gave him a once over and looked down at yourself. You were in a huge oversized shirt that went mid thigh, nighttime bra, and lacy underwear. You considered going to change, but Eddie knocks on the glass, decently, and startles you.

"Sweetheart...?" His palms were on the window now, one moving to draw smaller hearts around the larger one he doodled on his blood painting. "Throbbing for you... and I don't just mean my heart." His head falls back as he laughs at himself.

Wow, very funny. You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to have no reaction as you were reminded of why this is so fucked up. You slammed the knife onto the table and turned your back to him, ignoring his pissy groaning. You closed your eyes and blocked him out to give yourself a moment to think. You can't make sense of any of this.

You attempted to run your fingers through your hair but winced as it got caught in knots. Thanks, Eddie. You pulled out the hairtie and pulled it back into a messy bun, hair no longer crazy around your head. A loud clap of thunder makes you spin around.

You turned toward him to find his head bowed down, hands still splayed across the glass near his head. He sees your feet appear and glances up, eyes so lustful it makes you shiver.

"Lace? I totally expected that from you.." Eddie slides down to his knees, wet hands squeaking against the glass. "Fuck.." He shamelessly bows his head to peak under your shirt. You kick the door, which gains no reaction from him, and step back. You should feel gross, but you don't. Maybe you put your hair up on purpose, knowing your shirt would ride up. He looked tortured. Not that you cared.

You smirk and nervously bite your lip as you grab the ends of your shirt and slide it up, stopping just before where your panties are visible. He perks up and presses into the glass, mumbling pathetic pleas as he stands up and grabs the door handle. His teeth grit as you contain a laugh, your hand covering your mouth. You stand in front of him, your hand on the latch. You feel yourself throbbing. You're sick and twisted.

Moving to your toes, your lips almost touch the glass, his just on the other side.

"Want me to open it?" You mouth.

The rain is suddenly so loud, the wind howling, and another flash of lighting.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. "If you don't, I will." His head motions toward the large rock still sitting near him.

You pretend to be unbothered by that as you turn and pick up the knife before slowly unlatching the door. His eyes are wide in shock and he doesn't move as you slide it open and stand before him. You are both silent.

You raise the knife to his chest, hand slightly shaking now that there is nothing preventing him from launching at you.

"Be..have.." You try to confidently look into his eyes. "I mean it. Behave. Or I'll fucking cut you." You wiggle the knife.

He wordlessly walks you back into the dining room, his arm sliding the door shut.

"I'll behave if you behave." He jests as he makes his way toward the staircase, to your room.

"H-hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?!" You attempt to catch up to him, but a pain shoots through your leg again. You'd forgotten about your wound, too busy being turned on.

You slowly wobble over to the stairs and hop up, careful not to cut yourself on the knife you currently had, and lay at the top of the carpeted stairs to rest your pounding heart.

The floor creaked as Eddie exited your room with a towel around his shoulders. You quirked up an eyebrow and shimmied away from him, hand coming up and pointing the knife in his direction.

"Back the fuck up, Munson." You hiss at him.

He scoffs and ignores your threat completely as his eyes scrape your exposed thighs, a cold hand resting on your ankle and moving up your leg.

You breathe in and feel tingles spread along your skin. Your eyes watch him before kicking him in the shoulder when his fingers graze your inner thigh. He swears and holds his shoulder for a second before leaning forward and running his lips along your shin.

Persistent. Very persistent.

You liked it.

You want him to keep going. But this is so, so wrong. Robin will be here in the late morning, you just have to hold off until then.

You were about to smack the back of Eddie's head until he placed a messy, loud open mouthed kiss just above your knee- moaning as he lightly bit down on the flesh and licked over it. The same way he did to the glass.

The knife fell from your hand and your fingers balled up into fists. A moan bubbled in your throat and your toes curled as his hair tickled your thigh while his kisses moved upward.

Eddie stilled and looked up at you.

"Fuck, baby. Now we're talking."

×

×

Part 2

[shapelytimber]

A Taste of Faith

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok so the concept for this piece was : historical gay nuns, and 70s lesbian vampire movies meets tes (don't ask me why- I just had a vision at 3 am)

Because I think Serana should have been meaner<3 I love women's wrongs and when vampires do the suck <3

Btw of you want to see more gay Serana art, go check out @gay-of-waterdeep, their art is wonderful, and I can't say this was not a bit inspired by what they do :))

Process (and me rambling about some of my favorite 70s lesbian vampire movies (because I have a problem)) below vvv

Additional details about this drawing ! 1) I used the same Mara design than the one from my tarot deck :)) and 2) the other woman is one of the priestess in the temple in Riften lglggigkglgl her name is *check wiki* Dinya Balu

And now......... Some movies I enjoy because my house my rules, you came this far so why not hear about niche european movies :))))))

Disclaimer for a majority of the films in this genre : the male gaze is very fucking obvious in these movies... they were made by men for men, and the message is often "lesbianism is a dangerous temptation for women". It's a glairing flaw nearly all of them share and that sucks (and frankly it's a flaw Serana's writting kinda has in my opinion, minus the lesbianism part, but let's not dwell on that)- so if you can't get past it, it's completly understandable, be on your way and have a nice day <3

- Daughters of Darkness ! A toxic man is returning to london with his newly wed wife, but they get stuck in Belgium and are forced to stay in a luxurious hotel. Don't worry about the 10/10 smokeshow countess seducing his wife :). Completely unrelated, this movie has, in my opinion, the most beautiful lesbian kiss I've ever seen- but I might not be very objective because Delphine Seyrig is there lglglflflllglm The best one in the list ! So if you want to whatch one, whatch this one <3

- The blood spattered bride ! This is more of... an aquired taste let's say- but I really like it ! A quite effective horror movie, with goofy ass scenes (shoutout to the vampire lady buried in the sand naked with only a diving mask that is not the screenshot because tits), and emasculation being a recuring theme <3 (but if you want to watch it, please check the content warnings beforehand, it has a lot of very shocking and frontal scenes, and it's the 70s so it's not done very tactfully. Also pretty intense flashing lights)

- The vampire lovers ! Ok so this one is a lot less fun compared to the other two because it's made by the Hammer BUT... 1) Ingrid Pitt hello and 2) it's such a intriging thing to see a very christian/conservative studio make a film like that. I know a lot of people don't like the Hammer movies from the 70s, because the studio had a lot less money, and were making wild decisions. But I love them, because they tend to be much more fun bloody and sexy ! I'm a simple woman mjllkklhkhlhlho case in point with the vampire lovers (although if you want a fun vampire hammer movie from the 70s, Dracula ad 1972 is way better). And Peter Cushing is there (i love this man so much-) !

And now I shall resume my quest to find Vampire Lesbos by Jésus Franco and have a probably mid experience watching it xoxo

[amaditalks]

“He may not be in office, but Donald Trump has been speaking with the powers that be about Israel’s war on Gaza—but it’s not in an effort to end the genocide.

Instead, Trump has allegedly been talking with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to avert a cease-fire deal, fearing that doing so could help Vice President Kamala Harris win in November, according to PBS.

“The reporting is that former President Trump is on the phone with the Prime Minister of Israel, urging him not to cut a deal right now, because it’s believed that would help the Harris campaign,” said PBS’s Judy Woodruff Monday night. “So, I don’t know where—who knows whether that will come about or not, but I have to think that the Harris campaign would like for President Biden to do what presidents do, and that’s to work on that one.”

It wasn’t immediately clear if Woodruff was referring to a new report, or an Axios story last week that cited two U.S. sources as claiming that Trump and Netanyahu had spoken on the phone about cease-fire and Gaza hostage talks. Netanyahu’s office and Trump both separately denied the report.”

****

Right now, US Secretary of State Anthony Blinken is in Israel, trying to get the ceasefire and long-term peace deal that both Israel and Hamas have already tentatively agreed to hammered out and brought to fruition. President Biden has been clear that this is one of his top priorities for his remaining months in office. Kamala Harris has made it clear that this is something that must get done. Even with a tentative agreement, both sides are slow walking the process of ending this ongoing horror.

It would be exactly like Trump and completely in line with his long-term behavior for him to try to undercut this peace process, at the cost of human lives, for his own benefit. That’s who he is. And he and Netanyahu are close. Biden and Netanyahu very much are not. He and Netanyahu are both, after all, criminals. Birds of a feather and all of that.

I cannot reiterate more strongly, especially for those of you who are still hedging about voting for Kamala Harris because of Palestine that you are making a grave error and have been all along. It is time to course correct.

If you care about the lives of Palestinian people, you cannot do anything that risks Donald Trump returning to the White House. End of story. 

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

NO NON ON ONO NONONONONO EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW WHAT YOU MEANT BY THAT COMMENT THAT GUN GASLIGHTS PRAPAI

I think most of it made it into the show, but there are some enhancing details that didn't.

I'll put it below a cut, because it really gets into ugly stuff.

Before opening the door to the condo bedroom, Petch (the other dude in the room) had told Prapai that Sky showed up, saw Gun, and dragged him into the bedroom.

He goes in and sees Gun on top of Sky, who isn't resisting in any way, and has his eyes closed while Gun is on top of him and biting at his neck and chest.

It's instantly clear they're having sex, like, penetration has happened. Sky is keeping his eyes closed, but he isn't shaking or clutching the sheets or anything. He's just laying there.

And Gun keeps saying Sky invited him up after they ran into each other, this was Sky's idea. Sky won't even acknowledge that Prapai is in the room.

Payu is guarding the door (Petch had mentioned others were coming), so Rain is with Prapai. But Sky won't acknowledge Rain either.

Prapai punches Gun, and he really is struggling with knowing Sky wouldn't do this and also knowing Sky already tried to sabotage their relationship recently.

He is kind of lost for a second. Like, he doesn't fully believe Gun, but he also doesn't fully know Gun is lying. He needs Sky to make it clear for him, he will believe whatever Sky says.

Prapai forces Sky to open his eyes and sees the complete void in there. No pain, no anger, no anything. No emotion. After jolting Sky and getting him to see Prapai, all Sky does is beg Prapai to not give him away.

And as much as the void in Sky's eyes told Prapai all he needed to know, the words just verify what he suspects.

What even Sky didn't remember from the first assault was that Gun took and kept photos on his phone. He showed them to Sky, claiming he'd shown the pictures to Prapai and Prapai was so disgusted that he threw Sky away.

The pictures show three men assaulting Sky at once. Gun picked a photo that makes it look like Sky is willingly giving a man a blowjob while being double-penetrated. And Gun claims that's what Sky was always into.

That REALLY cements it for Prapai. He knows Sky isn't like that. Prapai has participated in orgies, he admits that, but even though it's hard to read Sky's face in the photograph, just by knowing Sky he knows it isn't consensual. It's Sky just trying to survive.

That's when Prapai takes Gun's phone, breaks it, smashes his head into the wall, rips out the eyebrow ring, and beats Gun until, as the novel puts it "he is no different from a random piece of flesh".

Prapai is covered in blood, and Rain is crying while he tries to get Sky to respond. After what he said to Prapai, Sky locks down in a truly terrifying way, and his eyes are open but he can't see anything.

Eventually, Rain's panic snaps Prapai away from Gun, who is no longer moving. Prapai can tell that Sky is drowning himself in absolute horror and agony, to the point where Prapai sees that Sky isn't even breathing anymore. That's when he screams at Sky to jolt him, Sky always responds to Prapai's voice.

Sky finally starts crying, and Prapai just holds him through it. Payu calls Chai, and when Chai arrives, hands everything and everyone over to him (since Gun had more men coming to help move Sky to a second location, they want to get those guys too). Payu doesn't say anything to Prapai as he leads Sky out, he just quietly hands his car keys to Prapai (Prapai always rides his bike on race nights, and obviously Sky should not be on a bike in his state).

Prapai takes Sky back to his (Prapai's) house, and Payu is going to take care of Rain (who never really stops blaming himself for delivering Sky to Gun that night).

Just to really hammer home how much Prapai beats Gun- when Rain curbstomps Gun's dick before Payu brings him out of the condo, he doesn't kick it. Gun is on his back where Pai left him- Rain full on walks up and stomps his dick into the floor. And Gun doesn't react in any way.

Before losing consciousness, Gun admits he made it all up and assaulted Sky, but Prapai really can't really hear anything at that point. All he's screaming is "You hurt my boyfriend" and "You hurt my Sky". He also didn't need the admission from Gun, he'd figured a lot out.

He knows that Sky thought he (Prapai) gave him to Gun, but doesn't understand anything around that and doesn't care at that moment. Just like he doesn't care about the picture Gun showed him. Like, yes, in general he very fucking much cares, but right then in that moment his exclusive focus is on WHATEVER he can do for Sky.

Prapai takes Sky into the shower (both to put distance between Sky and the assault itself by wiping any trace of it or any scent of anything from him, and to clean Gun's blood off them both, since Prapai held Sky's face while his hands were covered in Gun's blood).

He wraps Sky up in towels, and that's when Sky starts talking. Because for his own sake, he NEEDS Prapai to know what happened. Because even though he never REALLY fully believed Prapai would toss him aside, Gun played into his triggers and his PTSD and shattered Sky.

And he desperately needs Prapai to know that. Even though obviously Prapai is taking care of him and holding him and saved him, he needs to know Gun's gaslighting didn't work on Prapai.

And there are a couple of things that Prapai... didn't believe but also can see where he almost fell for stuff. Like, if Prapai didn't have blinding and all consuming faith in his own knowledge of Sky and who Sky is, he might have bought it.

But at every point, the side of his brain that hears Gun's gaslighting and is like "That makes logical sense" smashes into the side of his brain that screams "Sky loves me", and "Sky loves me" wins out every single time.

While Prapai wishes he could go back and murder Gun himself- or at least rip every tooth out of his head- he knows Chai will deal with Gun more thoroughly than he ever could.

[taleasnewastime]

The feeling’s slow to fade

Summary: There’s something out there. In the woods. On the streets. In your home. You know it’s there have just never seen it. It starts with one seemingly small death, a bird but builds into bigger and bigger animals. Everyone brushes it off, only you feel the ghost of something following you, only you keep seeing the animals it horrifically kills, only you think something bigger is going on here. But when you start to try and work out what’s happening, it seems the guy who has hated you since school is also taking an interest. The two of you embark on a journey to try and find out why animals are mysteriously dying in your town, discovering things about each other along the way.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers, horror with a touch of fantasy, smut, fluff, angst.

Word count: 26.7k

Warnings (there are spoilers in this): Mention of death of both human and animal, mentions of readers parents dying – though not graphically described it is heavily discussed, more detailed descriptions of dead animals, reader kills something, blood, reader feels queasy, uneasy feelings and feelings of being followed, reader is sick, idk I don’t think it’s overly scary but these are still the themes, it’s more emotional than scary? swearing, Explicit sexual content, safe sex, penetrative sex.

Authors Note: Happy (slightly belated) Halloween! Written for the BTS Writing Café’s Welcome to Horrorwood event. Surprise @sunshinerainbowsbts​! Or maybe not as I feel like I was being the most obvious person in the world. I tried to throw you off, but it’s hard to not talk like yourself (before the whole squash debacle I even tried to use the flavor not flavour etc. but quickly gave up when it became obvious I’m not American). I apologise for the length of this, I got carried away as I always tend to get when I write. I also really struggled with the ending of this. But before I completely downplay how great this story is, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all your help writing this, I hope you notice all the little bits I added from the answers you gave in your asks. Et Voila!

There’s blood everywhere. Splatters on the floor and dots all over the walls.

Something died here. Or maybe it was dragged here given the smears in the blood by the door. Whatever happened, it wasn’t pretty, and it happened while you were sleeping only a meter away.

You feel a little queasy. You’d just stood in that blood, can still see the outline of your foot. It was how you’d first realised something was off, waking up and immediately standing in blood isn’t exactly your definition of the best start to the day. Flicking on the light to brighten the near pitch-black room had shown you the horror you now stare at.

Your stomach turns. How did you sleep through whatever happened here? What created so much blood? Whatever it was put up a pretty good fight. And though you have an idea of what, or who, may have done it, it does nothing to ease your worries. If anything it only heightens them.

Heart hammering, you work your way downstairs. Careful to not step in any of the blood, though much of the smaller patches have already dried. You’re not sure if you want whatever it is to be alive or dead. Both seem pretty grim options.

You follow the smears and splatters around your house. They don’t take you far, mostly because the cottage is only small, but soon enough you’re stood in your kitchen staring straight at the thing that created all the blood.

It’s dead. Lifeless body a bit mangled with no hope of resurrection. And sat on one of the bar stools, looking as if he couldn’t care less, is the murderer.

“Tofu,” you scold.

Your cat gives you a curtesy glance before going back to cleaning his paws. Given the amount of blood all over your home you’re surprised his pristine white fur isn’t marred. Though, honestly, you couldn’t care less about your arsehole cat in this moment. You give him a small push towards the exit and then a soft boot out the door. Through the window he gives you a small glare, you’d have normally given him food before kicking him out the house for the day, and he must be pretty proud about his catch. But he’s coated half your house in blood and by the looks of it, has already had a half decent meal today. No, he deserves to be outside, at least until you can clear this up. You’ll shove some food outside before you head to work.

You look back at your room, a headache already forming. You hate Fridays for various reasons, you really don’t need this on top of everything else.

Settling on at least getting rid of the bird’s body before heading to work you try to work out the best approach. The blood around the house will take longer than you have to clean, but maybe you can at least put something on the patches to stop it staining. Honestly, right now, it all feels like a problem for future you, though she won’t be impressed with that decision.

You step closer to the dead animal. It’s a big bird and you’d feel a little impressed with your cat if it wasn’t for the situation. You don’t examine it too closely, it’s pretty mangled and not the nicest sight, plus you don’t have any desire or the time to look at it closer.

You end up having to rush around your house to get ready for work, that headache only increasing in intensity as you leave the house.

The bell dings above your head, a twinkling sound so at odds to what you associate with this place. All you feel is dread whenever you step into the small, quaint bookshop.

The bay window holds a display that changes weekly, today there are various Agatha Christie novels and games. A murder mystery theme for Halloween. The walls of the shop are lined floor to ceiling with books and even in the small space there are a few tables also crammed with books.

Tonight they’re all pushed to the side and one is cleared and crammed with people around it instead. Games night. One of the few occasions you ever come into this place. All other times you avoid it like the plague. It’s a shame, because in any other situation you’d try your hardest to come to this place daily. It just so happens that the man you hate, or more the man that hates you, owns the place. You’re surprised he even lets you in on games night, there’s probably a barred sign with your face behind the till even though it’s only him and Olivia that work here, both know you. He’s probably scribbled little horns on your head and uses it as a dart board, you know, the usual.

As it turns out, you’re allowed on the premises, if only for one night every fortnight.

The man in question, the one who hates you with every fibre of his being, is currently stood looking down at the group sat around the table. He’s smiling, something you rarely see, and you hate the fact that the expression seems to suit him. It brightens his face, lightens his normally dark eyes, causes little creases to appear in the corner of his eyes and those little teeth are kind of endearing.

Ok, nope. Your traumatic day is obviously getting to you because nothing Yoongi has ever done can be considered endearing.

You take a small step into the room and call out, “hey.”

Yoongi’s head is the only one to turn your way. His whole demeanour changes in the process. Before he’s even made eye contact with you his smile has dropped, his body becomes stiff as he stands straight. He looks at you for all of one second, his expression flat, telling you everything he’s thinking; he wishes you weren’t here, hell, he probably wishes you didn’t exist. Your fake smile only widens a little, because as much as you wish you weren’t, you’re not as low as Yoongi and would never treat him like he treats you, even if you do dislike him.

His eyes flick to your smile, a look of disgust crosses his face as his jaw clenches and then he’s twisting and heading out the room.

Well, it could have been a lot worse. At least he didn’t verbalise his hatred.

You take another step into the room, shrugging off your jacket and trying your best to not let your first welcome set your mood.

“Hey guys,” you say again, this time slightly louder.

“There she is,” Seokjin turns and beams at you, at least someone seems happy to see you. “You do realise this thing starts at 7, right?”

“It’s 7:20, Jin, she’s hardly late.”

You shoot Olivia a grateful smile before looking back at Seokjin. “I’ve had a shit day, ok?”

“Oh?” He sounds happy rather than the concerned you were hoping for.

“At least sit down first,” Namjoon cuts in this time, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

You drop your jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down. You don’t miss the fact that Yoongi has drifted back into the room. He’s stood behind the till messing with something you can’t see but you’d bet he overheard the fact you’ve had a shit day and has come to bask in your misery.

Honestly, you’re not sure when his hatred started. As far as you’re concerned it happened when you moved here and started at the same school as him. It was a rough time for you, your mum recently passed away due to a car accident, and your dad in his grief moved the two of you halfway across the country. New house, new town, and new friends on top of all the other emotions you were trying to process; you’d tried your hardest to feel upbeat walking into your first class. When your teacher pointed at your new seat you’d shuffled over to it and then smiled as warmly as you could at the boy sat in the seat next to yours. You introduced yourself, watched as his eyes dragged their way across your entire being, judgment and displeasure written on his face the whole time. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile back or tell you his name, he just turned away from you and sat as far as he could while the class started.

When you brought up his reaction to others, they didn’t seem surprised, apparently it was a very Yoongi reaction – whatever that meant. You brushed it off, took it to mean he was shy. Only, the next lesson with him, he was sat somewhere else. So disgusted by just the sight of you, he asked the teacher to move.

It only went down from there. You started in the school late, were well into your GCSEs by the time you joined. You did well academically, actually enjoyed school. Unfortunately, Yoongi was in most of your classes, both of you at a similar level that you became rivals of a sort. You wouldn’t have minded much, could live with being in the same classes, but he obviously hated it. Whenever he outperformed you on a test he’d gloat, it became a race to answer the teacher correctly before you could or get better marks then you.

You remember one time trying to extend an olive branch by asking him for help with some homework, he didn’t even look at what you were asking for help on, just mumbled how he couldn’t help you and disappeared. The next day you saw him helping one of your classmates, Aimee, with the same piece of work.

You’ve never been able to work out what you’ve ever done to Yoongi for him to hate you. Apparently just existing is enough. Any time you brought it up with your mutual friends they brushed it off, that same old excuse of it just being what Yoongi does. It never felt like that when he only left rooms when you appeared or lost his smiles with you around or became impossibly quiet in your presence. Whatever it was he had against you went on well into sixth form, right until the point you left for university. While he stayed where you grew up, you moved away. You started a new life, studied hard to progress in the career you always wanted, while he opened this bookshop.

And then it all fell apart.

Your dad announced he had cancer. Stage 4. Terminal. All the words you never want to hear about a loved one.

You moved home to look after him. Left your job and your life. You had to, he had no one else, there was only you and you could never leave him when he needed you the most.

It’s been three months since he passed. Just over a year since you moved back here. Months when you could have left, gone back to your old life. And yet you’ve stayed.

“So come on then. What was so shit about this day?”

You look at Seokjin and the broad smile on his face, one of the group of friends from school who still live in the area. “Do you want me to go get you some popcorn so you can properly enjoy this, or are you happy listening without snacks?”

His eyes glimmer at the joke. “Yoongi will get it, won’t you?”

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at the man, his eyes already on you, cold and hard as if it’s you asking him to personally attend to your needs. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to, anything to not add another black mark against your name. He disappears out the back before you can say anything.

Seokjin’s still smiling innocently when your eyes turn back to him. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Tofu killed a bird this morning, there’s currently blood all over the house,” you begin in a flat tone. “Then when I got to work Pedro gave me a list longer than my arm to complete, insulted me approximately ten times and then proceeded to sit back and do nothing all day while I slaved away.”

“Only insulted you ten times? Sounds like an improvement to me.”

“I don’t know why you still work there,” Olivia comments over Seokjin.

“Because I need money.”

“Yeah, but you have a degree. You could get a hundred jobs better than that one.”

Not here. You don’t say the obvious words because that would lead to questions you wouldn’t know how to answer. Instead you say, “if you know of any, feel free to let me know.”

“Yoongi was saying how we could do with some help with the accounts.”

Olivia says the words the same moment Yoongi leans between you and Namjoon to place a bowl of popcorn on the table. It throws you, the statement from Olivia because everyone knows Yoongi hates you, so why would she even bring it up if not to stir the pot? The fact Yoongi is so close, placing the food Seokjin asked for right by you also doesn’t help the way you tense at her words. The combination makes you unable to respond meaning Olivia carries on talking.

“That’s what you did before, right? An accountant for Jacobs or something?”

“I doubt I’d pay Y/N enough to enable her to quit her job,” Yoongi’s deep voice comes from right behind you.

You’d assumed he’d left the room again but when you turn he’s there, like right there. You have to crane your neck to look up at him and when you meet his eyes he lifts an eyebrow. Flustered you turn back to the table.

“Yeah, but I bet there are other businesses that need the same services. You could be freelance?”

“I, uh –”

“I bet if we asked Jungkook he’d say the gardening company would take you on too.”

She’s getting way too excited about this thing that’s never going to happen. You can’t start your own business, there would be hoops to go through, things you have no idea about to do. Yes you hate your job, yes you worked so hard to get high up in your old accountancy firm and yes you loved it. Part of you craves to go back to it and if an opportunity came up here to do just that you’d jump on it.

But that doesn’t mean you can do it alone with no experience of freelance. You can’t rely on your friends for business. And by Yoongi’s response it’s pretty clear he wouldn’t hire you even if you were going for it. No, it’s not happening, not even a possibility in your mind. You need to shut this down.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?”

There’s a second pause at the change in topic. Luckily Namjoon picks up what you’ve dropped.

“Worked late tonight so couldn’t make it.”

“Which,” Seokjin’s beaming again, this time the smile not directed at you but behind you. “Means you’re going to have to play. For even teams.”

There’s a pause and you can almost feel the hole being burnt in the back of your head.

“I count four of you. You don’t need me.”

“Two on each team. We need someone to ask the questions and you know, check Y/N doesn’t cheat.”

You glare at Seokjin; he doesn’t even look at you. They love to poke at the fact that Yoongi hates you.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbles behind you. “Let me go get something to drink.”

You almost ask him to get you something too, preferably something strong to help you get through this night. At least you already know the result of the game because there is no way you’ll be winning even if you’re on a team with Namjoon.

This day just gets better and better.

There’s another dead animal. It wouldn’t be a weird sight on your walk to work given you see it on the main road through town, roadkill happens all the time, but this animal doesn’t look like it’s been hit by a car. What causes a chill to run down your spin is the amount of blood. And more the way it’s splattered across the road, mirroring your house.

Much like the bird in your house, this fox didn’t die without putting up a fight.

It’s too big for Tofu to have killed, even if he was allowed out at night to have done it. It’s too big for any cat to have killed. Maybe something bigger? A wolf? But you don’t get wolves here. Plus, you don’t think any animal would cause the injuries you can see, it all looks too calculated. Messy, but like they knew what they were doing.

Another shiver runs down your back.

Standing up you glance around the street. You have the feeling of being watched but as you look around you can’t see anyone. The street is empty and completely silent. Still, that prickling sensation lingers.

Completely spooking yourself on you decide it’s pointless lingering here, you can’t do anything for the fox now. You start back on your route to work, trying to shake the weird feeling that’s come over you.

“It’s weird.”

“Yeah,” you say, putting a pumpkin in your basket, you probably won’t eat it but it’ll look cute by your fireplace. “I mean it’s got to be a coincidence seeing two brutally killed animals so close together.”

“Yeah,” Olivia says, looking at the vegetables laid out in front of you. “But that’s not why it’s weird.”

You wait for her to pick the perfect courgette, something that takes far too much consideration. You sometimes do your food shopping together. You told Olivia about the dead animals you’ve seen in the last few days, how upsetting, gross and unsettling it is. The friends you have in the area is what you pin staying here on. You never had friends you could talk to so openly or go food shopping within the city you used to live. In reality there are other things, deeper feelings rooted in your dad’s death that keep you here. But even though it’s been months since he passed, you’re still unable to properly delve into those thoughts and feelings.

“It’s weird because I also saw a dead animal yesterday.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like the ones you saw, only it was a badger,” she picks up an apple, pausing. “I think. You know, it was hard to see with all the blood and you know, disfigurement.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She frowns at you. “You wanted to know about a dead animal?”

“If it was killed the same way as the one I told you about in my house, then yes.”

“Thought that was Tofu?” She says but then waves it off, starting to walk away from the veg section. “Anyway, it’s all a weird coincidence, like you said.”

“But what if it’s not?”

She gives you another look like she thinks you’re crazy before looking at the range of sausages. She doesn’t even give your answer a response.

“I mean Tofu couldn’t really have killed a bird the size of a pigeon. And there was no blood on him, but there was blood everywhere,” you pause, another thought only just coming to you now. “He’s not even aloud out at night and I don’t have a cat flap, so how did he bring it in?”

“Maybe he’s a better killer than you think,” she says flatly, not giving your theory any room to bloom. “You should watch out.”

“But there have been two other murders on top of that.”

“Of animals,” she corrects, carrying on with her shop, yours is long forgotten.

“Don’t you think that’s more than a coincidence though?”

“Tofu killed that bird. The other two were probably just a car or something.”

“A car didn’t kill that fox.”

“Ok then another animal.”

She’s stopped now, is staring at you with an exasperated look. You’re stood in the middle of the dairy aisle possibly having an argument with your best friend about, what exactly? Some dead animals around town? It feels stupid when you think about it, but you can’t let it go.

“This is why I didn’t tell you. What do you want me to say?” She says, her tone just as tired. “That some sick person did it? I don’t really see what that’s going to achieve.”

She’s right, of course. You’re not really sure what you want from this conversation, maybe just someone else to acknowledge how weird it is, to make you feel better about the dread you’ve felt since seeing that fox, that lingering feeling of being watched. But even if Olivia agreed with you, even if she said she also had a weird feeling about it, what would that achieve? It would surely only worry you more.

“You’re right,” you say, deflating. “Sorry, I’ve just a bit off all week. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Olivia softens too. It wasn’t really an argument, but you’re both back on more even terms now.

“Do you want to pick up any medicine?”

You glance at your half empty basket and then plaster a small smile on your face when you look back at her.

“Nah, I think I might just head home and have an early one.”

Worry seeps into her face, smaller than before, but there nonetheless.

“I’ll text you in the morning to let you know how I feel. I can always take the day off.”

She’s still frowning when she talks, but at least has a joking quality to her tone. “What would Pedro say about that?”

“He’ll have to do some actual work for once I guess.”

None of your laughs are real, both of you faking that you’re ok after the conversation you’ve had. But neither of you say anything as you turn and pay for only half the food you came here for. You bundle yourself tighter into your jacket when you leave the shop and prepare for the walk home alone in the already dark evening.

“Heard about all the dead animals around town,” Seokjin’s stuffing his face with crisps, seeming not to care about any crumbs. “Weird how they’re all dying around Y/N.”

“Maybe she’s cursed,” Jungkook jumps in before you can respond.

“Or, maybe she’s the one killing them,” Seokjin looks to the door that leads to the back room and shouts, “she’s probably practicing before she kills you, Yoongi.”

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide his laugh, while Namjoon at least stuffs his face with some pretzels to hide his. Seokjin still looks satisfied when his eyes fall on yours across the table.

“Maybe it’s you that should be watching out,” you reply, Jungkook ‘oohing’ and picking up the bowl of sweets as if watching a fight. “And anyway, it wasn’t just me that saw the animals.”

You glare at Olivia, the snitch, who conveniently avoids your eye contact.

“Was it also you at the old cottage?”

Your eyes snap back to Seokjin, “huh?”

“Police have reported a break in and asked for anyone to come forward with any information.”

“Well, if you don’t know anything, no one stands a chance. It is where you live isn’t it?” Jungkook teases Seokjin and you watch as a small fight breaks out over the sweets Jungkook holds.

It’s weird though. The old cottage is run down, sat in the middle of the forest it’s been empty since you were at school. One of those places that kids dare each other to go in. Maybe that’s all there is to it, some school kids playing a prank and the police having enough of it and finally trying to crack down. But why now? Why didn’t they report all the times it’s happened before? What’s so special about this time? And what are the chances that it happens at the same time all these animal deaths keep popping up?

“I might go.”

Your statement gets Jungkook and Seokjin to stop bickering. Silence falling over the room and all eyes on you.

“Go … where?” Namjoon asks.

“To the old cottage.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because don’t you guys think it’s weird?”

“Yeah,” Olivia chips in. “But the police are dealing with it. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Oh come on,” you look to Jungkook and Seokjin, the two most likely to be happy breaking a few rules. “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime. Walking through the woods isn’t a crime, is it?”

“No, just creepy as hell,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, didn’t know I was sat with a load of wusses.”

It doesn’t get the reaction you wanted, you thought it might make someone bite and agree to come with you, but the table remains silent. Fine, you’ll go on your own, though you’re not about to admit that out loud given the reactions so far.

“Fine,” you sigh, relaxing back into your chair. The table seems to do an audible sigh of relief.

“I don’t get why you’re so obsessed by this,” Olivia asks.

“I’m not obsessed,” you say, not convincing yourself let alone the room. “Just curious.”

“It’s weird,” you decide it’s best not to point out that’s part of the point.

“Y/N’s just into creepy stuff,” Jungkook smirks.

“Yeah, you wish you knew that,” Seokjin hits Jungkook’s side with a wink, gaining a disgusted look from you and Jungkook.

“No I don’t,” he’s quick to defend, before his tone turns lighter. “But I know someone who would.”

“Alright,” you shake a hand, wincing. “Can we just get back to the game? Who’s go is it anyway?”

“Mine,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time.

Everyone trusts he’s telling the truth; no one even thinks he might be using it to his advantage to get an extra roll of the dice.

You look up at him, mind distracted by what you’ve learnt and what you’re going to do with the information. You know you have to go to the abandoned cottage; you just wish someone else had agreed to go with you. But whatever, you’re a big girl, you can go through some woods alone, however creepy.

Your eyes drift from Namjoon, catching someone staring at you behind him.

Yoongi’s stood behind the till, even when you look right at him, he doesn’t pretend to not be staring. His eyes bore into you like he can read every thought. It’s you that flushes and focuses back on the game. Yoongi just continues to stare at you.

A branch cracks in the distance. You jump, clutch the flashlight tighter in your hand as you look back towards the sound.

It was probably just as deer. Or a badger. Or a terrifying creature that’s following you through the woods determined to –

Nope. You’re not letting yourself do that. You’re not getting carried away.

It was just a deer. You repeat the words in your head as you turn back on your course. Heading up the track that’s covered in dead leaves you try not to let your mind wonder. Focus instead on the orange and brown leaves that make a light crunching sound every time you take a step. It would be idyllic if not for the creepy trees, darkening skies and near silence that surrounds you. But you’re trying not to think too hard about that.

There’s another snap, this time closer and you swear you hear footsteps.

You don’t turn to look. Heart hammering you just increase your speed. As if walking faster towards the creepy, abandoned house that’s brought you here is going to help. Why you thought coming here would be a good idea, you’re not sure. The sun is setting, soon you’ll be alone in the dark with the potential of something following you and no one knowing you’re here.

You’re going to die.

You’re going to die alone, in the woods, with no one even realising.

Another twig snaps this time closer, louder. You jump, trip over a tree root, and decide it’s just better to hide then run. Rounding a tree to hide you pull your phone out your pocket and clutch it to your chest. Your breath comes out unsteady and loud. You try to slow it down, try to calm yourself even as you hear footsteps getting closer.

It goes silent and then a figure rounds the tree and stands right in front of you.

“You alright?”

You jump, knock the back of your head on the tree and then stumble forward. There’s a dull ache made even worse when you look at who’s just appeared.

Yoongi looks at you, a small smile on his lips you wouldn’t see if you didn’t know him. It’s a look that’s subtly smug, a look that if you told anyone they would say he just looks flat faced but you’ve seen it enough to know that he’s amused by you. Not in a good way. Amused at the fact you’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of him. Just another reason for him to dislike you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching your thumping heart. “Yoongi, what the hell?”

His head cocks to the side and that coupled with his casual greeting shows how he has no idea how scared he’s made you. That, or he was doing it all on purpose and is happy to see it’s all worked.

Rubbing a hand on the back of your head, more to make a point than anything, you send him a glare before continuing to walk. He easily falls into step beside you and even though you expected it, it still annoys you.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Well I asked first.”

“I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to come out here.”

You turn your head to look at him, a deep frown on your face, only to see he’s not joking.

“We?”

“In the bookshop.”

“I hadn’t realised you were part of that conversation.”

He’s quiet and when you look at him there’s a slight colour to his cheeks. It could just be the walking and cold air, but you like to think it’s because of what you’ve said. Good, he should feel awkward, he wasn’t even part of that conversation and what right does he have to come following you to tell you shouldn’t be here?

“Is this all something you’re doing?” His head turns to you at the question so you’re both staring at each other. “You know, is that why you’re following me here? Because you don’t want me to work out it’s something you’re up to?”

He looks taken aback, even shakes his head a little as if to clear it. “You think I’ve been killing animals?”

No, you don’t. Still, you shrug and focus back on the path even as Yoongi stares at you. “Maybe.”

“I came here because …” his voice is full of anger and the fact he cuts himself off makes you look back over at him. You both stare, a tension rising as you wait to hear his reason and he tries to hold it back. “Because I didn’t want you walking in the woods at night, alone.”

“But you thought I’d agreed not to come,” you push because it’s too awkward to acknowledge his reason because that would imply he cares about you and that’s absurd.

He gives you a look that speaks volumes, one that says only a fool would believe that.

“Right. Well. Next time don’t creep up on me.”

“Next time don’t go off on your own.”

“Well maybe next time you could speak up and help me not look like an idiot in front of my friends.”

“That’ll take some convincing.”

He says it lightly, playfully but in this moment and because it’s him, the joke flies over your head. You glare at him before walking a little faster, attempting to increase the distance between you. It only takes him a second to close the distance. There’s a light laugh on his lips when he’s back at your side.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you know I was joking.”

“Do I?”

“You’d have laughed if it was Jin who said that,” the lightness in his tone starts to seep out again, not that you notice, your anger consumes you.

“Because he’s my friend,” you say and then as if to drive the point home, add, “and he never made fun of me and my grades at school.”

It’s not fair and it’s not a point you overly dwell on anymore. Sure, it upset you growing up and it’s what caused such a divide between the two of you. But you’re old enough now to be over it. It’s just that in this moment, tensions running high with the man you are so rarely alone with, you find everything seeping out of you.

It’s silent as you round the top of the hill. And when you look at Yoongi there’s a frown on his face and a distant look as if he’s trying to work through something.

You sigh, about to apologise or move on but he speaks before you can.

“You think I made fun of your grades at school?”

It’s more the way he says the words that take you back. The light, slightly broken tone he uses as if the thought upsets him.

“Well, yeah.”

He looks at you with a face that reflects his tone, and you find yourself trying to explain as if he wasn’t there for it all.

“You never helped me with homework, and I remember hearing you laughing about a bad grade I got once. I’m pretty sure Jimin told me that you said you were surprised by me when I first joined too.”

“I never laughed at your grades.”

You roll your eyes. Though you’re not sure what you expected. When you moved back here you thought that after years of not seeing each other Yoongi might be more normal around you. He wasn’t, so you’re not sure why you’re disappointed not to hear any ownership for his actions now.

“It was never like that. I told –”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. Even if he sounds keen to explain you don’t want to listen to his excuses. “It was years ago anyway.”

“Is that what you’ve –”

You cut him off again by pointing out the house that brought you out here. You should never have brought up your history anyway. And Yoongi trying to deny everything he did only proves that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t say anything as you walk towards the house. It’s creepy, the cottage has some its windows boarded up, ivy growing up the exterior. There’s a metal fence a few meters from it, a notice telling people not to enter. You ignore it, stepping up to the fencing you look back at Yoongi in a silent question. Understanding, he steps towards you, flicks you a smile before placing a hand on the joint between two fences and pulling them apart to make the gap bigger for you to slip through.

Flustered by him being a gentleman for once, you slip through the fence without a thank you.

A chill runs through you as you take a step towards the house and wait for Yoongi. You’d never admit it aloud but you’re glad he followed you. The dark, crumbling house looks less than inviting and despite your attempt at heroics you know you would have backed out of this by now.

“How’d you know I was here anyway?” You look over at Yoongi when he steps beside you.

His eyes flick to yours briefly before going back to the house.

“Shall we get this over with?” He ignores your question, walking away from you before getting an answer to his.

You nearly trip in your haste to catch him. “Because I get that you might not have believed me, but how did you know I was coming tonight?”

He continues to ignore you, hand going to the door he gives it a hard push and it creaks open.

You’re annoyed when you walk in, a common emotion when you’re around Yoongi. He continues to walk away from you, doesn’t hold the door open for you this time and you don’t think to catch it. Just before the door clicks shut he turns with words on his lips.

“Don’t let it –” the door shutting cuts him off and he flashes you a glare. “Close.”

“Right, because it’s my fault.”

He rolls his eyes, looks to be struggling to bite back words as he walks back towards the door. You watch as he reaches for the handle, but there’s nothing there. Your heart drops, blood runs cold and again you have that weird feeling of being glad you’re not alone.

“I never said it was your fault,” his voice comes out low, quiet as he tries to not snap at you. It does nothing to calm you.

“You didn’t need to.”

He ignores you, his fingers working at the door, body pushing into it. While you stand staring at him, verbalising your annoyance, he’s being proactive and trying to get you out of this mess.

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“Yeah, well I bet you’re glad I did now. What would you have done if you were stuck here alone?”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me, then maybe I would have thought to hold the door open.”

“I didn’t realise you found my back so distracting,” his voice is still deep, but that same jokey tone has seeped back in. Much like last time it only riles you more.

“I didn’t ask you to come Yoongi. I don’t need you to save me or whatever the fuck you think you came here to do.”

Silence fills the air. Thick and heavy. Yoongi’s stopped prodding at the door and you’ve stopped shouting.

He turns to look at you and you can’t read the emotion written over his face when he looks at you. A mixture of too many things to decipher. His eyes flick over your features no doubt trying to read you the same way you’re trying to read him. Whatever he sees has him looking away and clenching his jaw.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks away deeper into the house.

You stand, shocked by the door for a few seconds before twisting and chasing after Yoongi.

“Where are you going?”

“To find another way out,” he says it curtly, a message to not argue with him. You once again ignore him.

“But we’ve only just got here.”

“And there’s clearly nothing here.”

“We’ve not even looked.”

He rounds on you. “Listen, I don’t know what you expected, but there’s nothing here Y/N. Even if there was, what would you do? What would that tell you?”

You don’t know. It’s the same thing Olivia asked you and you still don’t have an answer. You don’t know what you expected or what you wanted. But, just like with Olivia, it doesn’t stop his words hurting.

This time when he walks away from you, you don’t follow.

You were going to do this alone, you don’t need to follow Yoongi around like a scared pup. You take a few seconds to calm yourself before twisting in the opposite direction.

It’s not a big cottage, only three rooms on the ground floor and you assume the same on the top. You can imagine it would have been nice back when people lived here. But after so long sitting unused and unloved, it would take a lot to get it back to that state.

Still the exposed beams are cute, the windows old and warped. You peak your head around the door of one of the rooms downstairs, do a visual sweep of the room without stepping in and when you find nothing of interest you back away. Just because you’re trying to be brave doesn’t mean you’re going to be reckless.

You pause at the bottom of the stairs. There are vines crawling up the banister, a small window blocked from letting in anything from outside.

Gripping the banister, you put a foot on the first step. Slowly put your weight on it to test it out. There’s a creak but that’s it. It doesn’t collapse, doesn’t strain under your weight. It’s only the first step, but it makes you more confident to slowly go up.

Your heart pounds with every creak your foot creates. Alone, you can feel your fear building. However hard you try to supress it, it doesn’t work. You can’t help but think that Yoongi might have left you here alone. You wouldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly fun to be around earlier. Still, the only positive you can think to him leaving you is that he found an exit. All you need to do is do a sweep of upstairs and you can follow his lead.

There’s an overpowering smell when you reach the top of the stairs. Throat thick, heart hammering you don’t want to consider what it could be. You’re only half aware of Yoongi calling your name as you walk towards the smell.

It’s a cleaner kill then any you’ve seen so far but it’s a far bigger animal.

Stood frozen in the doorway you gaze upon the animal as footsteps work their way up the stairs. There’s a soft curse as Yoongi comes to your side, but you’re more aware of his warmth seeping into your side.

“It looks like someone slept here,” your voice is husky, eyes still firmly on the animal despite your words.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you can see his head scanning the room before he turns to look at you.

“Do you think it struggled?”

He doesn’t answer, because what can he say to that, even if he answered it would be a lie. His hand coming to rest on the small of your back rips you out of your trance. Head twisting to look at his soft features.

“I found a way out.”

You nod, find yourself twisting to look back at the animal. Yoongi stops you with his other hand going to the shoulder furthest from him. He turns you to fully face him.

“It won’t help,” he says the words you know but can’t process. “Let’s go.”

Still in a trance you let him guide you. Honestly, you’re terrified. You’re not sure what you hoped for but finding another dead animal, bigger than any you’ve seen before, more human sized, hasn’t helped. It’s cemented in your head that’s something not right, but it’s also made you realise that you can do nothing.

You don’t know what it is and even if you did, something that’s killing animals that big, that violently, what help do you think you’ll give? You feel so helpless, so lost, so scared as Yoongi guides you downstairs and then out through a window he managed to open in one of the back rooms.

Together you walk silently back through the woods.

The next few days are much the same as your everyday life, the only difference being your mental health.

You can hardly sleep, feel nervous as you walk to work, are jumpy at even the smallest noises. You don’t socialise as much, try and find comfort in solace, though it doesn’t comfort you in the slightest.

Every dead animal you’ve seen in the past few weeks plays across your mind and every day you expect to see a bigger, more horrifically killed one.

Though it was the smallest, the bird is the one you dwell on. It was killed so close to where you slept and you were unaware until you woke that it keeps you up at night. You don’t know what’s causing it, don’t know what you’d do if you came across it. The not knowing somehow makes it all worse. Your imagination running away with you.

The only thing that you can think that makes it any better is that so far you don’t know of any humans who have been killed.

You go through your days worried and more like a zombie than a human.

“What you buying?”

You jump, clutch a hand to your chest. This man is going to give you a heart attack one of these days.

“Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people?” Despite the question you shove the chocolate you were trying to convince yourself not to buy in your basket and move through the store.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You’re just really unobservant.”

“I had my back turned; I literally couldn’t see you. Hence, you snuck up on me.”

He lets out a little sigh when you stop by the bread, but you continue to ignore him. You have no idea why he approached you to begin with let alone why he’s following you. Normally you both stay on opposite ends of the shop if you are unfortunate enough to visit at the same time.

“I’d go seeded if I were you.”

You glare at the bread you were mentally debating over and even though you know he’s right you grab the loaf of white, squishing some slices as you put it in your basket and carry on around the shop. Yoongi continues to follow.

“You planning on advising me on all my shopping?”

“I can if you want.”

You come to a stop by the juices. If he’s not going to leave you alone, you’ll just ignore him.

“Orange and mango is way better than just orange.”

“Thanks,” you say, picking up the apple juice.

“I’d go cloudy apple too.”

“Thanks for that,” you mutter continuing to ignore his advice as you walk away.

You pick up some rigatoni and then pause and look at him when he doesn’t make a comment. There’s a small smile on his face to show that while you’re hating this, he’s loving it.

“Not got anything to say about my pasta choice?”

“It’s the one I would have gone for,” he shrugs. “Not going to change it to prove you prefer everything different to me?”

You work your jaw as he continues to smile. This whole thing is so unnerving for so many different reasons. And while you could stand and argue with Yoongi all day, you just twist and continue with your shop.

“What do you really want, Yoongi?”

You walk a few steps before he says anything.

“I wanted to see how you are after everything.”

“I’m great.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glance at him, can’t even bring yourself to give a sarcastic smile. “Thanks.”

He rubs his hands together as you continue to debate your choice of squash, there’s just so much choice. You pick up on the fact you’re making him uncomfortable but do nothing to change your tone. If he’s regretting doing this then he can just leave now.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” his voice sounds like a sigh, as if he feels as tired as you are. “I’m just … the other night was a lot and I wanted to check you’re ok.”

The words make you pause. You know you look like shit, you know you look as tired as you feel. But Yoongi has never shown concern for you before, normally he does everything he can to ignore you. Speaking to you in the first place is strange enough but checking in on you is something else.

You pick up the orange squash, it’s your favourite flavour.

“I’m fine.”

Before you can twist and walk away Yoongi’s hand reaches out to grab the handles of your basket. Your jaw tenses as you look down at it and he’s quick to drop them, though he doesn’t apologise.

“What are you doing after this?”

You frown as you look at him. This conversation is only getting more and more weird.

“I just,” he pauses again, runs a hand through his hair as his eyes dart around the room in search of the words he wants. Now you’re looking at him you can see the same tiredness in his features. Maybe you’re not the only one having sleepless nights over this. “I wondered if we could talk about it?”

“I thought you thought it was all bullshit?”

His head dips as he narrows his eyes at you. “Can we just talk?”

You toy with the handles of your basket, become fidgety as you play for time. Yoongi lets you have it, is patient as he waits for your answer. You know what you should say, it’s just that it’s Yoongi. But he’s the only one who’s on the same page as you and you won’t deny that you also need someone to talk to. Even if it this person who you don’t like very much, you realise you have to talk to someone soon or you’re only going to build it up more in your head.

“You alright to come back to mine?” Yoongi’s shoulders relax at the words though his face doesn’t change in emotion. “I need to get this stuff in the fridge.”

He nods. “I’ll follow you.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

You turn as you speak, “he’s not a people person, so I wouldn’t –”

You cut yourself off when you see Yoongi. Tofu is winding his way around Yoongi’s legs, his purr loud enough for you to hear. As Yoongi bends down to scratch his head your cat even leans up to try and deepen it.

That bitch.

You beg for his affection and he never gives it and yet here he is willingly giving it out to a man he’s never met before.

“He must realise I hate you.”

Yoongi chuckles, his eyes still on your cat, completely unbothered by your statement. You start to warn him that he hates being picked up but are too late. It doesn’t matter anyway, because as Yoongi cradles your cat in his arms, he only snuggles closer and purrs louder. It takes you a second, the picture of your grumpy cat looking so content in the arms of a man you thought you hated, someone who currently looks softer than you’ve ever seen him, is a sight that’s hard to break away from.

“Of course,” you mutter, eyes still focused on the scene.

Yoongi only looks up at you, a bigger smile than you’ve ever seen on his face directed straight at you. Your heart does a weird flip, your stomach twisting, the air in your throat catching.

“He’s cute.”

“Tofu,” you manage to mutter.

Yoongi looks back down at your cat with that same big smile and eyes full of love.

“Well Tofu, as much as I love this, you’re getting white fur all over me.”

He gives the cat one last scratch before setting him of the floor. You watch, still frozen to your spot, as he wipes a hand down his top, trying and failing to get rid of all the white fur. When he looks up his eyes meet yours and his smile only widens at whatever he sees in your face.

“You alright?”

“I didn’t know you liked cats.”

“Right,” he laughs, stepping further into your house, closer to you. “You pictured me as some sort of all hating, miserable guy.”

“Something like that,” you mutter.

“Well, I like cats.”

“Ok,” you nod, trying to snap out of it. “Want a tea?”

Tofu follows both of you as you head to the kitchen. You ignore them both as you flick the kettle on. You can sense Yoongi looking around the room, taking everything in as you focus on making the drinks. His first question still takes you off guard though.

“Have you got plans to move back to the city?”

It’s asked awkwardly, not the best way to necessarily word what he’s asking, but you know what he means.

It’s a question about where you live of sorts, possibly his way of broaching topics you’re less comfortable with but intrigue him. Because they intrigue everyone. And now he’s here, in your home, maybe he thinks it’s ok to start asking. The topic that never comes up, finally some vague way to broach to it.

You clench your jaw as you reply only a half answer.

“It’s been so long I don’t think my old company would take me back.”

“You could contact them and ask?”

You shrug. Honestly you’ve thought about it, but there’s always an excuse as to why you don’t have time. You know you’re putting it off, you’re just not ready to dig into why.

“Or you could re-apply for some other jobs?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

There’s a small pause and then Yoongi says, “the other day, when Liv said I need an accountant and I … well, I do actually need a hand if you want?”

You finish making the drinks, turn to place it on the counter in front of him. He seems genuine, nervous even. “I don’t need any handouts.”

“It wouldn’t be a handout. I need an accountant, you just happen to be one.”

“Used to be one,” you correct.

Yoongi shrugs. “I can get someone else but the offers there.”

Focus on your tea, fingers fiddling with the handle, you give him a small, muttered thanks.

“So the other night,” you thought he’d ask more, thought he’d start asking about your dad the way everyone tries. You look up at him, surprised he’s already moving on to the reason he asked to come here. “What did you think?”

You frown, again, not the question you were expecting. Yoongi seems to catch himself, letting out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away from you. He seems overly nervous since arriving here, it’s only now you’re looking at him you’re picking up on it.

“I guess what I’m really asking is, are you ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you answer too quickly.

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows lift. “It was just a lot, I guess.”

“It was just a creepy –”

“And you seemed to space out a bit when you saw that dead deer.”

Is that weird? You want to ask. Seeing a dead animal and not being overly comfortable. Seems perfectly reasonable to you.

“And you wanted to check I was ok?”

“That’s hard to believe?” He asks, your tone obviously suggesting it is.

“We’re not exactly friends.”

“I can still want to check in on you,” he says sharply, almost annoyed.

You take a beat so that when you talk your tone no longer holds any emotion. “Alright, I’m fine. You?”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, or at least looks like your answer hasn’t done anything to reassure him. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, just nods his head.

“Great,” you say. “Now can we get to the reason you came?”

Yoongi waits, doesn’t say anything. He looks like he couldn’t care less about asking anything else. As if he’s already spoken about whatever it was that made him want to come here.

“The animals are getting bigger,” you state, as if giving him the answer in the quiz.

Still, he says nothing.

“Does that not creep you out?”

“Does it creep you out?” He throws the question back, irritating you.

“What is this? A therapy session?”

He looks taken aback by your sharp tone for a second, but quickly levels his features. “I guess I don’t know what you’re expecting from all of this? Animals die all the time.”

You clench your jaw as you turn away from him. He’s just like everyone else, you should have realised. This was why you were going to do it alone all along. Because everyone thinks you’re insane. Because no one else gets how weird and creepy this whole thing is. Because no one else had an animal murdered a few feet away from where they slept. Because no one else cares that things are dying and that maybe, just maybe, something could be done to stop that.

“But yes,” Yoongi carries on in a tone as if he’s stepping on eggshells. You’d feel bad for making him feel like he has to try and work out how to navigate this conversation with you if you didn’t dislike him so much. “I have to admit that deer didn’t look like it died of natural causes.”

You turn back to face him, he’s said enough to deserve that but not enough to get rid of the glare on your face.

“Is that what the bird looked like when you found it here?” His words sound the equivalent of a hands up gesture; please don’t shoot.

“Yep,” you say. “I found it right where you’re standing.

He doesn’t seem phased by the fact, his eyes just casting down as if he’s going to find some clue there.

“That must have been pretty creepy,” he admits, his eyes going back to yours. “You ok here on your own?

“I have Tofu to help, it’s fine.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you, but at least doesn’t dwell on it. “And you’re sure Tofu didn’t kill the bird?”

“I don’t let him out at night. How would he have gotten the bird in?”

He pauses to think. “What do you think it means?”

You sigh, it’s the million-dollar question. “I don’t know. But I was hoping we’d find some sort of clue at that house. All we discovered was it’s probably some sick human who’s camping out at an abandoned cottage in the woods. They’ve probably run away from there now anyway if the police really were there.”

“Maybe fully run away? Meaning this is all over anyway?”

“Maybe,” you say, not convinced at all.

“What’s everyone dressing up as for Halloween then?”

It’s Friday, which means it’s another games night. While everyone is focused on their hand of cards, trying to work out the next best move, Seokjin is leaning back in his chair his cards face down on the table. You’d wonder if it were a tactic into making you think he’s amazing at this game if you hadn’t already played it with him before. He’s horrendous at it. He just doesn’t care enough to get any better.

“Can’t tell you. You’ll find out on the night,” Jungkook says as he moves around the order of his hand.

“Boring,” Seokjin states, eyes trailing around the table. “Yoongi, what are you wearing?”

You find yourself looking up at the man in question. For once he sat at the table with no complaint. Though he’s still sat as far away from you as possible, he didn’t try and get out of playing or run into the back of the shop when you arrived. In fact he might have given you what he’d consider a smile when you walked in. Now though, he’s sat not quite as relaxed as Seokjin, but his cards are loose in his hand, and he looks like he knows exactly how he’s going to play and will probably win this game.

His eyes flick to you as if sensing your stare and you dart your focus back to your hand, face flushing.

“I’ve got some black jeans on and this top says Fear of –”

“Yeah, not now,” Seokjin snaps as if he’s the only one allowed to get the laughs Yoongi’s currently gained from the table. “For Halloween.”

“Right,” he replies flatly, though you think you hint a smile in his tone. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Oh my god. Y/N, help me out here?”

“Uh, I was going to do Jen Walters,” you pause and when everyone wears blank faces you continue. “You know, She-Hulk?”

“You’re going to paint yourself green?” Seokjin’s face lights up like Christmas day.

“No,” you crush his hopes. “I’m going as Jen Walters. The human form. You know, big shirt and … never mind.”

“Yeah, sounds boring.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you smile and look back at your cards.

“I’m surprised you’re not going as the killer.”

Your smile drops as quickly as it appeared. You don’t look up at Seokjin, don’t want him to see that he’s gotten to you, it’ll only encourage him. But it’s too late. However small your reaction, he’s seen it.

“You could bring a dead animal, have blood splattered all over you and –”

“Alright Jin.”

To yours and seemingly everyone’s surprise, it’s Yoongi that cuts Seokjin off. Yoongi looks at him with a hard gaze while Seokjin looks back with his lips twisted into a smile. Your heart pounds for so many different reasons as you watch whatever is happening unfold.

“What?” Seokjin sounds innocent enough. “I was just saying it would be a good costume.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t funny.”

“Who said it was a joke?”

There’s silence from Yoongi, his glare seeming to harden which only makes Seokjin’s smile widen.

“How is that all going by the way? Gotten any closer to catching the killer?”

All eyes turn to you and you heat from within. You know their feelings about this and you know they don’t align with yours. No matter what you say, they’ll tease you for it.

“You don’t care, so why should Y/N tell you?” Yoongi once again comes to your rescue and you’re too relieved to question it.

“Maybe you can tell me then? You have been helping, right?”

Yoongi flashes his eyes to you, something like guilt crossing his face, though you’re not sure why he would feel guilty.

“Can we just play this game?” Jungkook cuts everyone off. “I really wanted to get home by 8 for bake off.”

“Is that who you’re going as?” Taehyung jumps in. “Paul Hollywood?”

Jungkook just pouts his lips a little as if to stop his smirk and shrugs. Picking up three of his cards he announces, “three tens,” and places them in a pile in the centre of the table.

You don’t even bother to look at your own cards to check how that affects you. You’re too busy looking at Yoongi and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Are you dressed as Tofu?”

Yoongi looks down at himself, then back at you. “Isn’t Tofu white?”

He has a point. Still, the small amount you’ve had to drink coupled with his all-black outfit, little black cat ears so soon after meeting your cat makes you question it. Or maybe it’s just the surprise of him wearing something besides his normal outfit. You can’t recall Yoongi’s previous Halloween outfits, but you’d put him down as a wear normal clothes and say he’s Ross from Friends sort of person. But here you stand, at the annual Halloween party, being proven wrong.

“Yoongi’s met Tofu?” Jimin hands you the drink he left you to make. “When?”

He sounds way too interested and you feel a little sorry for Yoongi given the smile Jimin’s shooting him. The smile only adds to his outfit, the half red, half blue hair really makes him look like a psychotic Harley Quinn.

“The other day,” you cut in, attempting to save Yoongi but only put the spotlight on yourself.

“Yoongi came to your house?”

“That is where my cat lives, yes.”

“But Yoongi was there?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

Jimin looks back to Yoongi, something unspoken goes between them, something you don’t understand. You take a sip of your too strong drink to cover your awkwardness before Jimin is looking back at you.

“No,” he says with a smile, everything about him screaming that the word he’s just said is a lie.

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Well I need a new drink,” you lift your still full cup up, eyes flicking between Jimin’s beaming smile and Yoongi’s flat face. “I’ll see you weirdo’s later.”

Before you make it out of earshot Jimin’s already on Yoongi.

“You went to her house?” He half screams and you resist the urge to look back at Yoongi’s expression.

“It was nothing.”

“But –”

You don’t catch anything more. Jungkook’s appeared in your face making that horrific slurping noise as if about to spit on you. You push his shoulder, fingers running along the exposed skin on his chest. Does his V-neck really have to be so large?

“You’re not Chris,” he makes the same joke he’s made a hundred times. And like every time before you don’t laugh.

“And unfortunately, you’re not Harry Styles.”

Jungkook just beams at you. “Harry Styles wishes he could be me.”

You hum, smirking into your drink. You have to admire the boys confidence. And his costume is pretty cool or would be if he wasn’t incessantly making spitting sounds as if he’s going to spit on Chris Pine.

“You should have brought a goat,” you say.

“And what are you anyway?” His eyes trace up and down your shirt covered body, disapproval on his features.

“She’s my Sophie of course,” an arm wraps itself around your back.

“It’s a crap Sophie costume. Isn’t she, like, an old woman?” Jungkook continues to judge.

“Nah, she’s as gorgeous as this lady here.”

You roll your eyes as you look up at Taehyung. “Is one drink all it takes for you guys to turn into utter sleaze balls?”

“Ouch,” Taehyung laughs, his arm only brining you closer into his side. “Thought you wanted me to show you the world?”

“Isn’t that Aladdin?” Jungkook says flatly.

Taehyung brushes the comment off. “Same difference.”

“Well, thanks Howl,” you say, slipping out of Tae’s arms. “But I think I’ll give it a miss.”

“You know who he is but not me?” Jungkook shouts after you as you walk away, sounding genuinely offended. “At least let me know if you see Chris!”

You look over your shoulder laughing as you shake your head at them. Eyes drifting you see Jimin and Yoongi still stood talking where you left them, the latter’s focus is purely on you. It makes you stutter the way he doesn’t hide the fact. His flat features would have once caused a pang of anger to shoot through you, as if annoyed he would be staring at you with such dislike for doing nothing. Now, knowing Yoongi better, you can’t help but wonder if the look isn’t dislike at all. Instead of a pang of anger, you only flush and whip your head to look away from him. Your heart still leaps, though the feeling is nothing like annoyance.

You spend the party trying to avoid Yoongi. Once you would have done it because you had no desire to be around him. Now, it’s because you can’t trust your feelings.

You drink, have one too many of Jimin’s ‘special’ cocktails that taste like pure alcohol. You laugh at Seokjin trying to convince everyone why dressing as John Tucker is the best outfit. You watch as Olivia walks in dressed as Chris Pine and Jungkook finally gets to spit on her lap, it’s gross and yet Olivia laughs like it’s the best joke they’ve ever made.

For what feels like forever, you have fun. Sure, there have been glimpses of fun since your dad passed, but tonight you feel fully free of everything. For once there is no guilt or overbearing thoughts of something you should be doing instead.

You manage to avoid Yoongi until late in the night when, stood alone, someone comes to stand by you.

“How you getting home?”

You twist to look at Yoongi, a smile still on your face. For once it doesn’t drop when you meet his flat face.

“Huh?” You glance to where you see people leaving; is it already that late? “Oh, I’ll just walk.”

He raises an eyebrow, gives you a look to let you know that’s not an acceptable answer. You flounder, search for something to say to distract him.

“Did you see Namjoon scuttle?”

“Scuttle?” He questions and you beam, mission success.

“Yeah, you know,” you pincer your hands in a crab like motion. “Scuttle, like the crab he was dressed as.”

“Oh,” he elongates the word. “Was that what he was?”

You giggle. You actually giggle at something Yoongi said. And it wasn’t even that funny a joke.

“God, I’ve had way too much to drink.”

He lets of a small, huffed laugh. “I’d don’t know whether to be offended or not?”

You laugh again, this time swaying a little because of it. As if on instinct, Yoongi’s hand comes out to steady you.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “I can walk home alone.”

“You’re on my way.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then it’s not much of a detour.”

“In a place this small it really is.”

He levels his gaze at you, clearly done with coming up with reasons and is just going to try and scare you into agreeing. It doesn’t work. But you still find yourself stopping from putting up a fight. It’s an effort to argue and not any other reason that you don’t continue to push.

Yoongi stands by your side as you go round and say goodbye to everyone. Surprisingly nobody comments on it. You thought Jungkook would for sure make some sarky comment, but maybe he’s had one too many too as he just pulls you into a hug and whispers something about having a good night but making sure you’re safe. Maybe he is concerned about the mysterious thing killing animals after all.

You walk in silence. Your focus on your feet as they move through the pitch-black night.

“Did you have a good night?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are tinted with colour from the cool night air when you look over at him. His gaze is set forward, avoiding eye contact after the awkward question. You don’t think anything of it.

“Yeah. Hoseok even let me try on his astronaut’s helmet.”

“Wow,” you look at him, catch the smile he’s trying to hide. “That’s a big word for you.”

You laugh, the tension between the two of you instantly disappearing. Once that joke would have rubbed you the completely wrong way. Now you find yourself wanting him to keep talking.

“Says the man dressed as a cat.”

He hums, the noise deep, developing in his chest and vibrating through his throat. Fuck. Has Yoongi always had that low a register? It’s not something you’ve picked up on before. Not in this way anyway. Not in a way that makes you look at him like you’ve never seen him before. The smirk growing on his face tells you he knows you’re looking at him.

You clench your jaw, eyes darting from his face up.

“Hey! Your ears have gone!” He reaches up, mock shock on his face as his hands go to his actual ears. You giggle, again, and gently slap his arm. “Your cat ears.”

“Oh right,” he says as if he didn’t know that the whole time, the wide smile on his face telling a different story, one that says he’s proud of the reaction he got from you. “They were making my head hurt.”

“Oh,” you pout, looking back in the direction of your house, you’re nearly at the top of your lane now. “I thought they looked cute.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond and you think nothing about what you’ve said.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, possibly one of the better Halloween parties Liv has thrown.”

“Really? You weren’t a fan of the 80’s themed one?” You say it in a teasing way. No one was a fan of the 80s themed year. Firstly, there was a theme that wasn’t just Halloween. Secondly, it was back before you all went to university when everyone drank way too much, Jimin didn’t know his limit and threw up in the first twenty minutes, Taehyung following close behind merely at the sight. It all went downhill from there.

Yoongi only laughs at the memory, shaking his head at you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way …”

“Always a great start to a sentence.”

You pause, before deciding to just go for it. “I never really took you as one to enjoy parties.”

It takes him a second but he laughs at your words, a small huffy laugh that implies the words aren’t a surprise to him.

“Because I’m a cat hating, party hating, fun hating sort of guy?”

“No, it’s just …” you look around as if in search for the words, though mainly are trying to avoid Yoongi’s stare. It’s not unkind, it’s just interested and a little intense. “I don’t know, we didn’t really get on growing up.”

“We didn’t?”

You look at him, eyebrows raised in a really? expression. He smirks back.

“Ok, you didn’t get on with me.”

He frowns a little at that one. “I didn’t?” This time it does sound like a question, not an attempt to joke.

“You hated me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true …”

“You changed seats so we weren’t sat by each other in class. You used to boast whenever you got a question right that I didn’t. I’m pretty sure you mocked my choice in shoes one time.”

“Ok, maybe I was a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” The word throws you.

“Well, yeah?” He throws back as if it’s obvious. “I mean you had it so easy.”

“Easy?” Another word you weren’t expecting. This one never being something you’d associate with any part of your life.

“Yeah. You just walked into school one day wearing the uniform like … well … like you did and everyone instantly liked you and then you were sitting next to me and I had no idea how to talk to you. Then you just made it all worse by being so good at literally every subject. You were perfect.” He shrugs, looks across at you and you swear your mouth is popped open as wide as your eyes currently are. Frankly, you’re unsure how you’re still walking. “I was jealous, Y/N.”

You were perfect.

You must have misheard or not understood. But the words, said in Yoongi’s deep tone, just keep cycling through your mind.

You were perfect.

You would never have thought Yoongi would say those words. Because surely that’s not true. He hated you. He would leave whenever you arrived, looked angry when his friends invited you to stuff, was annoyed when you got better marks then him, looked disapproving when you turned up with your tie in the perfect knot and your skirt floating mid-thigh. He hated you.

You were perfect.

But he was jealous? All this time you’ve read his emotions wrong. He was jealous of the girl who felt like she struggled to fit in, who’s mum had just passed away, who was awkward and hated her hair and the spots she’d get across her forehead, who thought every girl in school was prettier and funnier than her. Who thought the boy currently walking beside her was far smarter than her. He was jealous of her?

“This is you, isn’t it?”

He knows it is, but your far away look and the fact you haven’t turned down your lane makes him ask. You look at him, mind still whirling trying to work out what it all means, and nod.

He’s back to being awkward as he continues to do as promised and take you to your door. By which point you’ve at least made up your mind that Yoongi isn’t as bad as you thought, that maybe you need to give into the fact that you like him more than you make out. If he can admit he was jealous of you – which you still can’t get over!! – then you can admit you like him.

“So, uh, goodnight?” Yoongi says when you manage to unlock your door. Your turn to face him, endeared by him clutching his hands and looking awkward. He once thought you were perfect.

“You don’t want to come in to see your biggest fan?”

His eyes flick over your shoulder as if half considering it. “I should head home.”

“Oh come on,” you reach out and grab his wrist, encouraging him into your house. He doesn’t put up much of a fight to stop you. “I’ll find my dad’s scotch and everything.”

“Oh … you don’t have to –”

“It’s only going to waste in the cupboard anyway.”

You’ve dropped his hand now and while he awkwardly stands by the door watching you, you’re a riot of movement around the kitchen.

“Honestly, it’ll be nice to see it enjoyed,” Yoongi still doesn’t say anything as you grab two glasses and a half empty bottle of scotch. “I hate the stuff. But still find myself having a sip from time to time,” you pause, even having had a drink you find it hard to admit. “It’s probably weird, but it helps me remember him, helps me feel closer to him sometimes.”

“It’s not weird,” Yoongi is quick to reassure you.

You nod, thankful even if he’s only saying it to be kind, and then lead the way to the living room. Setting the glasses down, Yoongi says nothing as you pour large, nearly half full glasses of Scotch. When you settle into the sofa you take your glass with you and find yourself twisting to look at Yoongi.

He’s staring down at the amber liquid, watching as it swirls around the glass. When he looks up at you his face is flat but everything about him is soft.

“Will you tell me about him?”

It’s asked in a way that tells you to say no if you want to.

But the feeling that comes over you is utterly mad because you find yourself wanting to answer him. It’s mad because you never answer that question; not when he was alive and struggling, not when you were the only one there to help him through it, and certainly not since he’s passed. Every time someone has tried to broach the topic of your dad with you, to see if they could help when he was battling cancer, see if you were ok when he was passing away, see if they could do anything when he was finally gone; every time, no matter who it was you’d push them away with a none answer. And yet here you are, wanting to answer. Which is mad because it’s Yoongi. The man who you thought hated you, that you disliked, that you’re now not sure how to feel about. Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened to the two of you recently, extreme circumstances pushing you together despite your feelings. Or maybe it’s because he's someone that you’re not as close to, someone you feel you could talk to and then not have to see again.

Like most emotions you feel, you know the reason you want to open up to him, you’re just not ready to acknowledge it.

“He was really funny,” you start, and it takes Yoongi a second to realise you’re not saying no. As you talk, he takes a sip of the Scotch, his face warming and his body relaxing as he listens to you. “But in the way most dads are. He loved to embarrass me. I remember once I got 100% in a test, and he would tell everyone who would listen about it. I found it really embarrassing but now looking back I can see he was just really proud of me. He was the same when I got my place at university. He didn’t cry or tell me he was worried; he smiled the whole time he drove me there and left me in my new flat. It must have been hard though, driving his only child off to a new life leaving him all alone. But he was so excited and he obviously didn’t want me to worry about him.”

You pause as you take a sip of your drink, wincing against the strong taste. It helps soften the tightness in your chest though.

“He sounds like he really loved you.”

You smile at Yoongi, sadness still in your eyes. You’re putting on a brave face like you always do when this topic comes up. But for once you don’t deflect, you say what’s actually on your mind.

“I think that’s why I feel so guilty,” you start, finding your glass of Scotch easier to look at than Yoongi. “I hardly came back here, left him all alone while I was out building a career. I even pushed him away at times, used to cancel coming home and say I couldn’t do weekends when he asked to visit. All because I was trying to build a different life.”

You pause again, take another, much larger, glug of your drink. It goes down easier this time and when you look at Yoongi he just sits patiently waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sure you know my dad had cancer,” Yoongi gives a gentle nod as you expected. “He didn’t hide it from me. He didn’t even know he had it until he went to the hospital for something else. But I just wonder if I hadn’t moved away, if I hadn’t pushed him away, if I’d seen him more, maybe I’d have notice something wrong. Even if he hadn’t realised, maybe I would have. Maybe he’d …”

You trail off, not able to say the words. Tears fall down your face and your throat matches the tightness in your chest.

It’s how you always feel when you even think about your dad, let alone talk about him. The guilt and feeling like you never did enough. As if you wasted the time you could have had with him. He did so much for you in his life and you took it all for granted. You feel so rotten. And it’s why you never think about it.

You try and push away all the emotions now, conscious that Yoongi is still sat watching you.

“Sorry,” you smile despite the tears rolling down your face.

“Don’t apologise.”

As you wipe your face Yoongi shuffles closer. You don’t even jump when his hand comes into contact with your knee. It’s done so gently and feels so comforting you let him leave it there.

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I don’t know where you keep them.”

You laugh, spit flying out your mouth. It’s gross but Yoongi is still smiling at you, his thumb now rubbing soothingly on your knee.

“I just … you asked me what my dad was like and now I’m just laying all these unwanted feelings on you,” you laugh again, this time it’s hollow and Yoongi doesn’t join you in it. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he gets you to drag your eyes back to him and does something that shocks you. His spare hand reaches out and wipes away some of the tears you missed, you jump a little at the touch but not enough to get him to stop. “I told you not to apologise.”

You nearly apologise again but manage to stop yourself and just end up nodding instead. Catching the slip, Yoongi smiles at you, his one hand still on your face, the other on your knee.

It doesn’t feel weird, if anything it takes you a while to click who you’re currently sat with, who’s hands are currently on your face and on your knee, who you feel comfortable with and don’t want to pull away from. But you do realise who it is, and however comfortable it feels, part of you thinks how weird it is.

Slowly, you pull away. Part of you wanting to stay in his hands, gaining his comfort. Part of you not wanting to upset him. Part of you still feeling a little weird that you are feeling all of this towards Yoongi and that he’s so willingly giving you this affection.

He doesn’t look offended or upset as you pull away and wipe a hand across your face, he just lets you go. The distance between you increases, but only marginally. There is no longer the length of the sofa between you like when you first sat, though he isn’t holding you anymore, his knee still grazes yours and if you wanted to you wouldn’t have to reach far for his hand.

“Anyway, that’s all in the past.”

Yoongi looks unsure for a second, doesn’t seem to know whether he should say anything that might upset you more or just leave it and let you gloss over everything. Secretly, you get what you want.

“I never knew him, so I realise how this will sound, but you know he’d be proud of you, right?” He pauses, waits a second as if expecting a reply. “And all that stuff, the guilt you feel and the sadness, you really don’t have to apologise, I’m happy you told me. But you shouldn’t feel guilty. It sounds as if he got everything he wanted. His daughter going off into the world and making something of herself. If he really did go round shouting about how great it all was and how proud he was, doesn’t that tell you how happy he would have been to see you achieving everything you did?”

He's right, you know he is. And having opened up for the first time about your guilt, it’s the first perspective outside of your own that you’ve heard. It’s one you’ve not considered or at least one you’ve not let yourself consider.

You sniffle, the noise not cute or delicate. You’re past caring.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

He reaches out and lightly squeezes your knee, though this time his hand doesn’t linger.

“You know, you’re really not so bad,” it’s easier than you had imagined to admit. “I can see why everyone’s friends with you.”

“And here I’ve been hoping you’d be the one to convince them to leave me alone.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the blatant lie for the purpose of comedy. A smile returns to his face as he looks at you and it makes your chest tight for a different reason. Your focus goes to your empty glass. It’s a good distraction, leaning forward to fill it back up, topping Yoongi’s up as you go.

“So, what do you think?”

Even though he’s already drunk plenty of it, he takes a long, slow sip to savour the flavour and give you an honest opinion. You watch as his lips pucker, his Adam’s apple bobs and then his tongue runs a slow trail along his bottom lip. You feel flushed when his gaze finally levels on you.

“I think your dad had good taste.”

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart stutters when you notice it, but it truly drops when you look fully up at it.

Of course you’re right by the graveyard.

Of course that’s where you see a shadow like figure darting away from you.

Of course it’s night time and a mist has settled over the village.

Of fucking course.

A deep breath and you’re heading into the graveyard. You contemplate telling someone but then question who you’d tell. If the last few days have told you anything it’s that nobody believes you, or even pretends to show an interest in this.

Well, that’s a lie. There is one person.

It’s at the first noise that you break. It’s only a bird taking flight from the trees but you jump so high, your heart nearly giving out, that you decide to give in. Yoongi hasn’t been that bad recently. Maybe it won’t be so bad telling him.

“Y/N?”

He sounds surprised. His pitch high, you can almost picture him looking down at his phone as if double checking he didn’t misread the name. The mental image almost makes you smile if it weren’t for the more powerful thought that you’re calling Yoongi. Min Yoongi. The guy you’re supposed to hate, who’s supposed to hate you and therefore not answer your call. Especially sounding so –

“Y/N,” his tone is firmer, the question gone.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you stumble over your words, eyes scanning the misty graveyard. “It’s just that, well, it’s probably nothing. And sorry for calling you, you’re probably really busy and don’t need me disturbing –”

“What is it?” He cuts you off.

“Right, sorry,” you say these two words slowly but the following coming in such a rush they sound like one word. “I thought I’d let you know I think I saw something in the graveyard and just in case I die or go missing someone should know where I went so yeah that’s where I am the graveyard.”

“Hang on. Slow down. You’re where?”

“The graveyard.”

He curses before you hear some background noise. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he’s doing.

“I didn’t call to get you to come here,” your voice has lost its fear at least.

“Stay where you are.”

“Yoongi –”

It’s your turn to curse at your phone. The fucker hung up on you. The cheek. The fucking ego on that man to think you always need saving. He has some sort of hero complex, that at least might explain why he’s always trying to help you.

You click on your phone, about to call Yoongi back, but are cut off by a branch snapping and when you look up you see something moving in the shadows.

Blood running cold, phone forgotten, you start to move towards it. You’re too loud though, the thing pauses long enough to look at you – at least you think that’s what it does, the dark doesn’t help – and then it’s moving a lot faster in the opposite direction to you.

Cover blown, you shout after it to stop as you try and run after it.

Whatever, or whoever it is, is too fast though. Every one of your steps seeming to be three of theirs.

“Wait,” you shout into the darkness, your breath coming out in a thick fog of white.

You really need to get in better shape. Only a short distance covered and yet you’re panting as you come to a stop. The thing is gone. At least out of sight in the dark foggy night. But there’s something else. A weird smell in the air. When you get your breathing under control you realise what it is.

Your blood runs cold as you stand straight as a rod. Despite the fear you head towards the smell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wonder around the graves. You find it where you saw that thing, only making you more certain that whatever that thing was, was what you’re after. It’s smaller than the deer you saw in the cottage, but bigger than a fox, but its body is so disfigured that you can’t tell what it is.

You feel sick.

“Y/N.”

You’d nearly forgotten you’d called Yoongi, nearly forgotten he was going to come here. At least this time his appearance doesn’t make you jump.

“Y/N,” his voice is louder and when you look over your shoulder you can see his silhouette outlined by the streetlights behind him.

“Here,” your voice is hoarse, but his head still snaps in your direction. You don’t watch as he stomps in your direction, can just hear his annoyed mutters as he gets closer.

“- told you to stay. Assumed that would be clear enough to mean the entrance of the graveyard not the fucking darkest spot. What if something had –” he cuts himself off when he comes to your side. You expect him to question what he’s looking at but he remains silent. You guess it’s pretty obvious what it is.

“I saw whatever it was,” you say, drawing Yoongi’s attention to you. “I chased it but it –”

“I’m sorry,” his tone it tight, terse and gets you to look at him. His features are just as stern. He looks livid. “You did what?”

“It ran off before I could see what or who it was.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” his tone almost has you stepping away from him in surprise. It’s been a while since you heard him speak to you like this.

“Oh right, sorry. Didn’t realise I had to wait for you to arrive before I went and found out what’s been causing all this.”

“Do you have a death wish or something?” It’s a rhetorical question, still he continues before you can answer with a snarky comment. “I asked you to stay put and wait for me. Not run headfirst into trouble.”

“Yeah, and what help would you have been?”

“Probably none. But at least we would have been together.”

Together. The word feels so weird to associate with you and Yoongi that it makes you pause. Both of you stare at each other through the white fog created by your breath.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Yoongi’s voice is softer, still tense but less accusing now. “Shall we leave?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, take one last glance as the dead animal before nodding your head.

Yoongi waits for you to lead the way, closely following behind you. He doesn’t leave your side until you’re safely back at your house. Even then he looks reluctant to leave you.

Yoongi doesn’t appear at your weekly shop. You don’t bump into him in the street. It’s the week off for your games club.

What once would have been a week you’d have loved, now seems weird.

You don’t miss him, but you notice his absence. You find yourself looking for him when the door opens in the grocery shop. You find yourself looking over your shoulder when walk to work. You find yourself listening to Seokjin a little more closely, just in case Yoongi’s mentioned. Everywhere you go, you look for signs of him.

He’s not mentioned. He’s not there. And strangely, you feel it. Even Tofu reminds you of him now.

All of it only pushes you more into working out what’s going around town.

There haven’t been many dead animals in a while, but that doesn’t comfort you. You’re on edge all the time, waiting for something else to turn up. You fear this time it won’t be an animal that you see, which only makes you think about the whole situation more.

The police have gone quiet, not that they were doing much in the first place, but they at least were looking into the abandoned house in the woods. And then there was the graveyard. Maybe it’s moved to another location to sleep, but whenever you try and think of somewhere it could sleep, there’s nowhere.

When you think of all the times you saw dead animals, the time you saw whatever it was in the graveyard. There’s a thread. Thin, but a lead none the less.

You have a plan.

He wasn’t best pleased when you didn’t tell him last time you did something like this. You could text him your plan, or call him, or just not bother saying anything at all. Still, you find your feet walking towards Yoongi’s shop.

The lights are still on and as you approach the glass door you can see Yoongi’s shadow moving around in the back room.

You pause only a beat before knocking on the door. As expected, Yoongi’s head pops out from behind the door to the back, his lips popped open in that way you’ve grown to know is his thinking face. It’s cute.

The thought jolts you. Maybe it’s why you give an awkward wave of your hand, forcing a smile onto your lips as Yoongi tries to smother his as he heads to the door. He doesn’t unlock it before he opens it.

“It wasn’t locked.”

“I noticed,” you say through your forced smile. He makes it hard for you to like him.

“Ok, well you know for next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“You coming in or ..?”

“No.”

“Ok,” he pauses, waits for you to explain. As always, his patients outlives yours.

“I, uh, I’m going back to the cottage in the woods.”

His head cocks to the side, surprised. You carry on before he can get annoyed.

“I thought I’d tell you. Only because, you know, you seemed pretty pissed off last time I didn’t.”

A nerve ticks in his jaw. But he just nods his head, his hand slipping from the door.

“Give me a minute.”

And with that he turns and leaves you standing alone at the door.

You fiddle with your fingers, shift your weight from foot to foot. Yoongi’s quick to grab a jacket and appear back at the door. His reaction is expected at this point, but it doesn’t make it easier, the way he comes so easily without question. Especially given the fact that you so easily came here. You’re not one to easily ask for help.

“You alright?”

You force the smile back on your face, not sure if the gesture is reassuring or makes you look more manic. “Yep, good, great. You?”

He hums, you definitely need to chill out. Any second now and he’s going to call it a night before it’s even begun.

Yoongi locks the shop, tests the handle to double check and then you’re both walking.

“What you been up to recently?” You shoot a look at him as if his question proves he knows how much you’ve been missing him this past week. He doesn’t look like he’s been secretly watching you or hearing things through your friends, he looks like he’s genuinely interested.

“Uh, just work,” it’s awkward and it gains you a small smile from Yoongi.

“And works made you want to go back to the cottage?”

It throws you, like most things Yoongi says. It puts you on edge even though he says it lightly, the smile still on his lips.

“Oh come on,” he laughs the words. “Did Jin tell you the police had been back?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what’s changed?”

Your whole demeanours changed since first seeing him. You’re on edge, preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. You knew he wouldn’t be happy about this, you just hope he won’t talk you out of this.

“Nothings changed,” you say flatly. “I still want to find out whatever’s happening.”

“And you always have to do that when it’s pitch black out?”

He laughs at his joke, you only clench your teeth. His laugh continues as he looks at you, low and light, but meeting your pissed off makes him realise you’re not on the same page.

“Hey,” he mutters, hand coming out clasping your wrist, bringing you both to a steady stop. You don’t look at him, but also don’t pull away. “Let’s go later, when it’s light out. Come back to mine and we’ll have a cuppa.”

You shake your head. No. Being stubborn has never been one of your best traits.

“I have a theory,” you admit. He waits, hand still holding you in place. You take a breath before explaining. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But I was just thinking about it and every time I’ve seen an animal it’s been at night, or just as the day’s started. And when we last went to the house it was night and there was nothing there. I just thought, maybe, it hunts at night and if we went now, in the morning, we might see it.”

“Ok,” he says gently. He doesn’t point out that if you waited a couple of hours like he suggested your theory might still be proven. Maybe he sees how anxious you are to do this, how you couldn’t sleep last night after thinking the theory, how the minute you could class the day as starting you got ready to go. His eyes roam your face for a second, his fingers holding onto you for a second longer before letting you slip away “Let’s go now.”

Both of you walk in silence as you head towards the path that’ll lead you to the house. Slipping into the trees the day only grows darker.

You’re lost in thought as you walk. You’d not considered your plan this far in advance, maybe a small part of you had thought Yoongi would stop you, but there he is next to you. Your thoughts turn to whether your theory is right. If that happens then you’re about to come face to face with whatever is doing this. And then what?

As different scenarios flash through your head you get distracted. The darkness, your distracted mind and the tree roots littering the path is a combination that has your feet tripping. Your hands go out to break your fall and while it stops your from hitting your head, it doesn’t stop the pain.

Your hands and knees bang into and then scrape along the ground. The pain starts in your right knee but it flares brighter in your hands. Yoongi is down by your side before you can lift them up to inspect the damage.

“You ok?” There’s no hint of anything but worry.

His one hand is light on the small of your back, while the other goes to your hands as you lift them from the ground, not quite touching but hovering around them, unsure. There’s a sharp intake of breath as you turn them palm side up. You can’t see any cuts, but that’s more because there’s too much blood to see where it’s being produced.

“Let’s get you up.”

Yoongi’s hand moves from your back to your hip and though you don’t need his help, it’s nice to have his support as you scramble up from the ground. You know he’s a one step at a time sort of guy and you also know with how bad this cut is what his next words are going to be. It’s why, when you’re stood up, you turn your hand away from him, push it down to your side as you stand facing him.

“It’s ok,” you say before he can speak.

A frown forms between his brows. “We should go clean that.”

“It’s fine.”

“There was a lot of blood.”

“And yet, it’s fine. We should keep goi–”

“You must be joking if you think we’re still going.”

“Then call me Nicole Byer, because clearly I’m fucking hilarious.”

“I don’t know who the fuck that is,” Yoongi says flatly. “I’m not taking another step unless it’s in the direction of my house.”

“Relax,” you say despite clenching your own jaw. “It doesn’t hurt that muc- ow!”

You accidentally brush your hand against your leg causing a flash of pain. One of Yoongi’s eyebrows quirks, a sign of him letting you know he’s right. Your jaw only clenches tighter in response.

You’re about to protest further but the sound of a branch snapping behind you stops you.

Yoongi’s eyes shoot over your shoulder as you grow tense. There’s another snapping twig, closer. You can only watch Yoongi’s reaction to whatever is playing out behind you. The way he tenses, his eyes wide, his skin losing all its colour, only terrifies you.

You open your mouth, about to ask what’s happening as you start to twist. Yoongi’s eyes snap to you. He lunges, takes the step to close the distance between you and closes his arms around you.

“Shhh,” he whispers into your hair.

There’s no comfort in this embrace. It’s all fear and tension. You want to know what he’s seen, need to know what’s going on. As if predicting this, Yoongi speaks again.

“Don’t move.”

Despite the words you do the opposite, Yoongi’s hands tighten around you in response.

“What is it?”

He shushes you. Not rudely, but in a quiet way, a panicked way. It only makes you want to twist in his arms more, which only makes his grip tighten.

“Y/N,” he mutters, his lips right by your ear. “Please, for once, listen to me.”

“What is it?” You whisper back.

“Nothing.”

It takes a second for him to reconsider. And then before he can clarify his hands are on your hips and moving you from his front to behind him, his whole body a shield as another branch snaps, the closest one yet.

You can see it now. Over Yoongi’s shoulder, hidden behind his back.

It’s like nothing you’ve seen before. More human than animal. But less human than anything you’ve seen.

It’s walking slowly towards you. Its movements distorted, head jolting from side to side with every step it takes, arms held out limp in front. It’s wearing clothes but they’re ripped and torn showing scarred skin underneath. Its head, if you can call it that with hollow sockets where eyes should be, thin to little hair and a flattened nose, lifts in the air.

It’s stops then. The action should feel comforting, if only a little, but it moves its head around as if sniffing the air.

And then it looks right at you.

Body no longer moving, you feel like your breath has stopped. Yoongi’s grip tightens on you, his whole body tensing as if he’s readying to fight.

The blood on your hand, you realise. The cut that you created only moments ago is what has brought it here. It kills animals, devours them presumably for food. And now it’s sniffing the air as if it’s about to do the same to you.

And while you’re utterly petrified at whatever that thing is and what it might do to you, the strangest sensation washes over you.

You don’t want Yoongi to die.

Sure, you also don’t want to die. But he told you to run while he was going to stay and fight. He’s now protecting you like a human shield. He’s now gripping you as if he’s feeling exactly the same way about you.

Oh god. Do you like Yoongi? Like, more than like Yoongi?

The answer doesn’t have time to form in your mind as the thing jerks, drawing your attention back to it. Yoongi pushes back into you, clearly also shocked, but in doing so he knocks into your hand, pain coursing from the cut there. He must realise, hearing you suck in your breath or maybe from your body language, because his hold on that side of you softens.

Both of your focus still on the thing and waiting to see what it’s going to do.

To your surprise, and utter relief, it takes one last sniff, turns and then runs away. Both you and Yoongi stay where you are for a second longer, just in case. But only a couple of seconds pass from it disappearing from view to Yoongi letting you go enough to turn and face you. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs your good hand and starts to lead you out of the woods and back to his place.

Your hand is clutched to your chest as Yoongi tears around the room. You thought you’d seen Yoongi mad before, but it was nothing in comparison to this. You can’t even take in his home, which you’ve never been in before, due to your eyes tracking his every movement, unsure what he’s going to do next.

He tears open a cupboard door so forcefully you think he might rip it off from the hinges. You bite back any words you might have; you don’t want to add to his annoyance, but your hand is also throbbing so badly that you just want something to help with the pain.

“Why do you keep doing it?” He spits the words out as he searches in the cupboard for anything to help mend you. “Why do you care so much? You always hated this place and yet you’re so fucking obsessed with that thing.”

You tuck your hand a little closer, blood dripping onto your already ruined top. Your stare is firm when he twists round to look at you, bandages in his hands. His look is like thunder, still you hold it. Tension rises as neither of you break the stare or the silence in the room. When Yoongi speaks it’s soft, almost croaky with emotion.

“You could have gotten us killed.”

Your eyes drop at the words. Maybe it’s the shock setting in that’s making him lash out, but he doesn’t need to say it out loud, you were both there and you both know you were only there because of you and that thing only came because of your blood. You almost killed him. And what’s even more confusing is he was going to act as your human shield.

There’s a deep sigh before the sound of feet shuffling towards you. A scrape of a chair before you see the tops of Yoongi’s feet. When he sits his legs are framing yours, his knees almost touching yours. Still you don’t look at him.

“Let’s see it then.”

His voice is gruff and doesn’t inspire you to give over your injured hand. Yoongi must realise, he’s much more observant than you thought. Shuffling closer his knees press into yours as he lays his hand face up on your lap so you can see it.

You look up at his face. There’s a pleading look in his eyes, like he really wants to help you.

Reluctantly you lay your hand in his, keep your eyes on his face so as not to see the cut. Yoongi looks down at it and lets out a sharp hiss. The noise makes you start to pull away but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and stop you.

“It’s ok,” he mutters, his free hand trying to sort out the things he needs.

“It doesn’t sound ok.”

“There’s just more blood than I expected.”

“My now red shirt didn’t allude to that?” Your tone is snappy despite the attempt to joke.

“It’s ok though,” he pauses, looking up at you with a smile. “I don’t think I’m going to have to cut it off.”

You flush, have to look over his shoulder to stop the tightness in your chest. It’s a terrible dad joke, something Seokjin would say, and yet you find it loosening you.

“I’m going to clean your hand,” he goes back to his muttering. “It might sting a little.”

The wipe touches the outside of your palm, as far from the cut as possible. Yoongi works it over your skin in gentle swipes, getting closer and closer to the cut. He pauses before he wipes the cut and then, holding your hand firmly in his, he runs the wipe over it. Instinctively you try to close your hand, but Yoongi doesn’t let you.

“It’s ok,” he says, gently. “Just a little more and then it’ll all be over.”

He continues, muttering about how he has to do it to stop any infection, how the cuts not that bad but maybe you should go to the doctors in the morning and keeps repeating how close to finishing he is.

He doesn’t say anything as he puts some cream on your cut and then wraps a bandage around your hand. It gets a little unnerving. You liked his gentle mutters, found comfort in it. But the silence is horrible, worse even then when he was slamming the cabinet doors. At least then you knew how he felt. Now, you have no idea.

“Thanks,” you say as he twists away from you and starts to clean. The only thing that gives you a little hope you haven’t completely messed this up is that he hasn’t drawn completely away from you, his knees are still firmly pressed into yours.

You nudge your leg into his. His movements stall for a second, not much but enough to create another spark of hope. Still, he doesn’t look at you, just continues to clean. Or maybe he’s just pretending to clean.

You move to knee him again, a little harder, a more distinct movement to tell him you want him to look at you.

The smile that was starting to grow drops as Yoongi pushes away to stand.

Eyes wide, you follow his movements. Heart pounding in your throat you watch as he runs a hand down his face.

Maybe you misread everything. Maybe these feelings aren’t two sided. Maybe Yoongi is genuinely just being nice. But how could you have read this all so wrong? As if to answer the question you silently watch him for any signs.

He goes back to cleaning up, winding up bandages, creating a neat little line of safety pins, something for the sake of nothing. He’s avoiding you; being near you, looking at you, talking to you. Everything. And it only makes your heart pound that bit harder.

You should leave him to it, you shouldn’t push him. But something makes you reach out and take his wrist, the same gesture he’s done to you so many times before. It gets him to stop his movements if nothing else. But he doesn’t look at you, just stares down at the counter.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name. It’s spoken like a question, one you’re not even sure the meaning of.

His eyes flick to you, his body still facing away from you, your hand still wrapped around his wrist.

An unknown confidence sparks inside you despite the fact your throat tightens. You swallow before slipping your hand lower. Yoongi lets you lace your fingers with his, his eyes tracking the movement before they look back at you, a small frown now between his eyes. You try not to worry about how your actions could be a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” the words are said as gently as his name was.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to apologise.”

You nod, not sure what he wants you to say instead. He doesn’t enlighten you to what he does want and the fact only makes you more desperate. There was a time, not so long ago, when you wouldn’t have cared what Yoongi thought of you, in fact, him ignoring you would have been welcomed. You would have done anything to push him away. But now, you don’t want that.

“Yoongi,” your voice sounds pleading as you push yourself to stand. He doesn’t back away, doesn’t pull his hand out of your grasp, so in the end you’re chest to chest with him, bodies not quite touching.

“I don’t get you,” he says, and though it’s not what you want to hear, you’re so relieved to hear him talk that you just want to hear him continue. Because you can’t lose him too, all your other friends didn’t believe you, they left you to do this alone, only Yoongi stayed by your side and now after one mistake, you can’t lose him too. “I don’t get why you keep pushing this.”

You know why. You may not have realised the day you saw that dead bird in your kitchen or when you started to realise that wasn’t an isolated incident. You didn’t read into it, probably because it was too painful to admit. But now you know why. You just can’t seem to admit that to Yoongi.

Your eyes dart over his shoulder. “Because that thing is killing animals in –”

Panic. That’s all you feel as Yoongi shakes his head and starts to pull away from you. Heart hammering you chase after him, scramble to reattach your hands.

You can’t lose him too.

“Because so many things have died in my life, so many people, that I can’t risk any more dying.”

The words fly out of you. They ring around the room in the silence that follows. Neither of you are moving anymore. Yoongi stopped at your admission and you followed suit not long after. His brow is furrowed even though you thought he would have guessed that was the reason why, just wanted you to admit it, show you trust him.

It pains you to carry on. But it’s as if now you’ve said one thing, you can’t stop.

“Because my mum died. And then my dad. And honestly, I can’t let anyone else die,” your voice is pained, starting to take on a husky quality as the emotions start to build in you. “Because that thing is starting to kill bigger and bigger things and who’s to say it won’t be Jin next, or Liv … or you.”

It doesn’t look like it was the answer he was expecting. But as soon as the first tears slips out of your eyes he’s back on you, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest, lips by your ear as he tries to sooth you.

“I can’t … let … anyone,” your words stop coming out, throat closing as tears continue to fall down your face and sobs wrack your body.

Yoongi pulls you tighter against him, letting out a soothing shush in your ear.

“It’s not going to kill anyone. I won’t let it.”

You nod, even knowing Yoongi has no power over that. Your throat is too tight to speak.

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

It doesn’t feel that way but you want to believe him regardless. You trust him and over the past few weeks you’ve started to rely on and lean on him for support. Even if he can’t do anything, maybe it’s best you start letting someone in, help hold the load that’s been weighing so heavily on you. Together, that’s the words Yoongi used and it’s one you need to start believing in.

Your breath comes out as a shudder as you pull away from Yoongi’s chest, just enough to be able to look into his eyes. They’re full of concern as he flicks between yours, deep gorges of worry lining his forehead.

Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. You’re hardly even breathing as you stare at him from what feel like a breath away.

A tension rises between the two of you, one you’ve felt before, but this time there’s nothing causing it to break and you find yourself not wanting to break it.

It’s you that leans in. It would feel like a risk but knowing everything Yoongi has hinted at about how he feels – or at least felt – about you and after growing so much closer over the past few weeks, you’re confident he wants this as much as you do. And you know, or at least can guess, that the first move will always have to come from you. There’s too much troubled history between you and Yoongi seems like one of those guys that wouldn’t be able to read a sign if it was right in front of him.

He’s still when your lips touch his and you’d bet if you opened your eyes you’d see him looking back at you. Lips curling at the edges at the thought of how affected you’re making him, you push further into him, take his bottom lip between yours and tug it gently.

You feel him gasp, his fingers tightening on your hips. You smile again as you start to pull away. But Yoongi’s finally woken up from whatever shock possessed him. He chases after you, so eager that he pushes too much of his weight into you causing you to have to step back.

Still in his arms you laugh as your lips pull apart. How have you gone from Yoongi slamming doors and shouting at you that you nearly killed him, to this? It’s surreal.

Holding you steady in his arm Yoongi attaches his lips back on yours. There’s no laugh on his lips and he effectively kisses yours away.

There’s so much want in his kiss. His fingers curling around to your back, tugging you impossibly closer as if he needs more and more of you, wants to make sure he’s not missing out on a single thing.

All your thoughts simmer down until only those of Yoongi are left. The feel of his hands, so large, on your back. The push of his legs against yours. The taste of his tongue as it pushes against yours. The feel of his slightly chapped lips. The smooth plane of his nose running along yours, dragging along your skin as he twists and turns his head to get the perfect angle to kiss you. The coolness clinging to his hair as you tangle your fingers in it.

Every part of him is a contrast. And every part of him you want more of.

You push into him, too hard to begin with so that he has to take a step back. You laugh while Yoongi remains serious, hands on your hips dragging you back onto him. His lips steal your laugh, swallowing it as his hands start to roam your body. Laugh turning into a moan, you arch up into him, try and silently encourage him as your own hands wonder the panes of his body.

He’s solid. Far more than you thought he would be.

You shift, your thigh grating along his body. You’d not noticed before, your bodies pressed fully against him, but obviously not there. He’s hard. And now you’ve felt it you realise how much he must be straining in his pants. While Yoongi tries to twist away, get back to the position you were in where you couldn’t feel him pressing into you, you try to chase the feeling of him. Because, damn, is that how turned on he is from making out with you?

“Stop,” he pulls away, hand firm on your hips to make sure you follow the command, the other going down to his crotch to adjust himself.

You smile at him, glance down at where his hand is to see what you’ve only felt until now. When you look back up at his face, he’s finding it hard to hide the amusement he’s feeling.

Pushing forward you steal a kiss before he can stop you.

“Do you have a bedroom in this place?”

The question should be obvious but it seems to throw Yoongi off, the hand on your hip tightening as his face quirks in surprise. Your heart squeezes.

“You know, so we can …” you drift off, not quite able to spell it out so plainly. Still Yoongi doesn’t say or do anything, your words seeming to freeze him. “Unless you just want to continue making out in your kitchen?”

His eyes flash to your lips then just as quickly go back to your eyes. Colour lights his cheeks. You think he’s going to chicken out, think you’ve moved too fast or said something wrong, read him wrong, but then he’s moving. He nearly grabs your injured hand, but just as his fingers graze the bandage wrapped around your hand he pulls away. You laugh as you hold out your other hand. Back to being serious Yoongi takes your hand and leads you through his house.

You catch glimpses of his house as you head through his hall and up his stairs. It’s not much smaller than your house, a narrow hallway leading to some steep stairs. There aren’t many photos, not a lot to tell you about the man in front of you. A few pieces of art, even fewer photos, all on white walls; clean and tastefully placed, rather than the more chaotic and colourful approach you take.

It’s very Yoongi, you realise. And the fact that doesn’t worry you tells you everything.

As soon as you walk through Yoongi’s bedroom door, you’re back on him. Tugging his hand, you get him to twist towards you before you push into him and place your lips back on his. Even as your tongues tangle you don’t stop moving. Your hands go under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth yet hard panes there. You feel his muscles go taught as your hands go higher.

You smile against his lips, satisfied with the reaction you gained. Your hands start to go higher but stop when Yoongi’s hands take a handful of your ass. Gasping you pull away from him, pulling your hands out from under his top you lightly slap his chest.

“It’s a good ass,” he defends, as if that would help.

You hit him again, still soft but a little harder so that you push him backwards. He laughs and when you go to push him again, he takes your wrists in his hand. He easily tugs you back into his arms, keeping your hands pressed between you as he gently kisses you.

Nipping and tugging, he pulls your lips gently between his teeth before kissing the spot better. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips but when you open up for him, he doesn’t go in. He’s teasing you and while it frustrates you, it really turns you on.

Building you up to a point where your hands are tugging to be out of his grasp, he finally lets you go.

You tear at his clothes, struggle for a second to find the hem to his top but when you do you break away from his lips to tug the material over his head. Making the most of the opportunity, Yoongi rids you of your top in a similar manner, his eyes roaming your chest appreciatively. Rolling your eyes you reach behind you and remove your bra, giving him something to actually look at. Colour tints his cheeks but his eyes don’t move away.

“You just going to stand there?” You smile, working at the button of your jeans.

Your trousers are halfway down your legs before Yoongi comes back to himself, the colour remaining on his cheeks as his hands go to his trousers.

“You got a condom?” You say when you’re both naked and your lips are back on each other, the back of your knees touching the bed.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters but doesn’t move from the spot in your arms.

Too transfixed by him, it takes a second for you to do anything. “Are you going to get it?”

He hums against your lips. “In a minute.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Yoongi. Still neither of you break from each other.

A minute passes and then another. Hardly any time but enough time for you to want more.

“You going to get that condom?” You say against his lips, only gaining a hum in response.

It feels like torture to pull away from him. You let your legs dip beneath you as you sit down on the bed behind you. Yoongi’s hands fall away from your side, your lips feeling cold without his on them. Now much lower, your eyes are level with one of Yoongi’s other attributes. Only having seen it straining against his trousers before now, you can’t help but admire his hard, thick cock. You don’t even realise you start to lean towards it until Yoongi steps away, a deep laugh leaving him.

His hand wraps around himself as you continue to watch. Dragging your eyes up to his, you curl your lips into a smile. He doesn’t react, his face flat as he stares down at you. You swallow, swear a pool is starting to form between your legs. And then he nods his head to the headboard, and you know you’re dripping.

He’s silent as he drifts away from you, cock still wrapped up in his hand. Your eyes track him as he walks to his draw. He pauses before looking over his shoulder at you. Fuck. He doesn’t have to say a word to get you shuffling back up his bed.

The draw opens and as Yoongi walks back over to you he rips open the foil pack, dumping the rubbish on the floor but keeping the condom rolled up as he crawls onto the bed. Your breathing feels heavy and laboured as he crawls towards you and then knees either side of you, shuffles over you. He stops only when his knees are level with your hips.

You watch, breathless, as Yoongi kneels over you and rolls the condom down his length.

Is this happening? Are you really about to have sex with this guy? It’s not even that, are you really about to have sex with Yoongi? The guy who hated you, who you disliked, who you couldn’t even be in the same room with only a few months ago.

Even as you watch him rolling the condom on. Even as you’re lay naked beneath him. It’s hard to believe.

“Hey,” the word makes you drag your eyes up to Yoongi’s face, now full of concern rather than lust. “You sure you’re ok with this?”

You nod, then realise that you should verbalise your feelings. “Yeah.”

“We can stop. We don’t have to go any further.”

“I want to,” you reach a hand up and he leans in so you can more easily run your hand along his jaw. It’s a contrast to all the heat between you up until now. “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either.”

You feel like you mean it in different ways. The way Yoongi says it doesn’t make you think he means he can’t believe he’s about to have sex with the girl he hated not so long ago. No, he looks like a man who’s dreams are all coming true.

Yoongi leans down, chest resting on yours as his lips touch yours. Slowly, deeply, with so much love that you try not to read into, you kiss each other. Tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing, lips pushing and pulling.

You reach down between your bodies but before you can get to where you’re aiming, Yoongi’s on you. In that all familiar way his hand encompasses your wrist. He doesn’t even have to break the kiss as he drags your hand back up your body and pins it over your head. The whine you let out is halfway between pleasure and dissatisfaction. You want more and you want it now.

Yoongi is slow to give it to you. His hand pinning one of yours above your head, the other injured one he’s more careful with.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You’re so drunk on him that you can’t comprehend the words just yet. Arching up into him you just try and let him know how much you want him too. Still, he takes his time with you.

Kissing you for another excruciatingly long minute, Yoongi finally reaches down to grab the one thing you want. He never breaks the kiss as he runs his tip between your folds, but when he comes to rest at your entrance. Forehead pushing against yours, his breaths are heavy as they mingle with yours, chest heaving so much that it dips low onto yours.

He doesn’t push into you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kiss you or move. Just looks down between your bodies breathing so heavily you begin to wonder whether it’s him that’s not ok with this.

His hand now loose on your wrist you easily pull out of his grasp. Gently your run your fingers through his hair, his eyes flicking to yours at the gesture. You don’t rush to speak, let the moment linger for a second.

Eyes now on yours, you don’t even get a chance to speak before Yoongi’s pushing into you. Just the tip to start. In and out in slow yet satisfying motions. Your eye contact never breaks. Even as he starts to push deeper into you, even when the pleasure becomes so much you have to fight to keep your eyes open, your contact never breaks.

Pushing your feet onto the bed you angle your hips so you can push up into Yoongi every time he grinds down into you. Deepening how much Yoongi goes into you, increasing the pleasure, which seemingly only gets Yoongi to stop.

“Fuck,” he elongates the word as he comes to a stop fully in you, his eyes closing and head dipping. “Please don’t do that.”

It takes you a second. He doesn’t want you to help him? Only wants you to lie there looking pretty? But then it occurs to you.

“What, this?” You say as you clench around him.

He lets out a low growl like sound, his jaw tight as he angles head to look back at you.

“Just give me a minute, ok?”

You smile, at least it seems that one thing hasn’t changed, your joy for winding him up hasn’t diminished. “You going to come so early?”

A nerve in his jaw ticks, his eyes darken.

“And what you going to do, huh?” You carry on when he doesn’t respond. “If I don’t stop?”

You wait a second and then smirk as you clench around him.

“No, seriously,” he says, voice strained as his chest buckles in towards you. “I need a second.”

You bite back your laugh because that’s not going to help this. Hand going to his head you run soothing lines across his scalp, pushing him to relax into the crook of your neck. It’s flattering, honestly, because even though you’re not gaining much physical pleasure right now, Yoongi being so affected by being inside you is such an ego boost.

Slowly, as if not wanting to move too fast too quickly, Yoongi begins to move again. His head remains where it fell on your skin, his forehead pushing into you, lips hovering just over your skin, breath coming out in huffs that fan out across your skin.

His pace builds. From long, slow movements, to faster and quicker thrusts. Your head falls back, you can’t stop yourself from arching up into him, your hips gyrating into Yoongi on their own accord. This time he doesn’t tell you off, doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

“I’m going to come soon,” he admits more breath than words.

You can’t even speak, words losing all meaning before they can leave your mouth. Instead you hum out your agreement. You’re so close, his tip running along every seam within you.

He shifts on the bed, skin becoming slick with sweat, he adjusts his knees either side of you so he can thrust deeper but slips as he does so. Though not graceful, it pushes him into you at such an angle that has you groaning out.

“Oh,” he says in his own bout of pleasure, pausing just long enough to feel you loosen around him before thrusting into you again, trying and succeeding to hit that same spot. You twist in pleasure beneath him, the coil in your stomach knotting and tightening. “That’s the spot?”

You don’t respond, can’t respond, as Yoongi leans over you hold your hip on the side of your injured hand and your arm on the other side, pinning you in place as he thrusts again. He makes it harder to move, puts you in a position you’re at his mercy. You’ve let him know your weak spot and he’s going to use it against you.

The moans fall from your mouth of their own accord as Yoongi punctuates every spot by making sure he hits that spot within you. Every time you can flutter your eyes open you see his own face contorted in pleasure, screwed up in a way that lets you know he’s fighting every instinct to come.

Reaching a hand between you, you sloppily place a finger on the bunch of nerves to help you get to your release. With every thrust you feel Yoongi’s skin on the back of your hand. With every thrust the coil in your centre tightens and tightens.

“You close?” Yoongi can barely get the words out, his hips never stopping for a second. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You let the question go unanswered again. Unable to answer him. But yes, you’re so fucking close. And as if spurred on or maybe just growing impatient or possibly just chasing his own release, Yoongi dips back down onto you, his hips flush with yours as he puts more power behind each thrust. One, two, three, four short but powerful thrusts is all it takes for you to come. And on the fifth Yoongi stutters and comes in the condom.

His hips continue to move, slower, shallower, as he mumbles words you can’t hear against your skin.

Too tired to move, you both stay like that for a few minutes, when Yoongi finally pulls out you’re already half asleep. You try to rouse yourself, you should head home but Yoongi’s hand grazes your forehead.

“You should sleep,” he mutters.

Too tired to protest or think much about where you’re with, how significant it could be to stay the night, you fall asleep.

The last thing you’re aware of is a light press of lips on your temple.

A twig snaps.

Your heart hammers as you look around the woods. It’s so dark but the moon is bright tonight and it’s letting you see the outlines of the trees around you, but nothing else.

Another twig snaps. This time louder. Closer.

You twist, heart hammering as you look behind you.

There’s nothing there and it only terrifies you more. There’s something out there, watching you, getting closer and you can’t see it.

Snap.

You twist a final time and there it is. Limbs disjointed. Movements jolty. You watch as that thing takes another slow step towards you. It’s still far away, but it’s getting closer. You would twist and run but when you try and move this time you find you can’t. Looking down your feet are in thick, wet mud.

Panic sets it. Withering and pulling and fighting you try to escape the mud keeping you trapped while that thing gets closer and closer.

Snap.

You want to scream, but your voice catches in your throat. Silent and stuck you become a victim to whatever it wants to do to you. You can’t escape.

You watch in horror as it tilts it’s head in that now familiar way, seeming to sniff the air. You expect it to twist away like it did before. Expect it to be repelled rather than attracted to your scent. What you don’t expect is its head snapping in your direction.

You finally let out a scream as the thing comes running towards you.

You wake with a jolt. Feel sweaty in the bed from the dream you just had. Heart still pounding from what you’ve just witnessed.

Just a dream, you try to reassure yourself, despite it feeling so real.

The next thought that goes through your head is that this isn’t your bed. The arm draped over your waist isn’t something you normally wake up to. And yet it doesn’t add to your panic, if anything it helps calm you down.

Twisting, you roll over so you’re facing the person next to you.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy with sleep, barely open as a smile transforms his face.

“Morning.”

Your stomach flips at the dark husk that is his morning voice. Yoongi’s hand tightens on your hip, his fingers rough on your skin but so nice. It brings back flashes of last night, only heating you up more.

“Hi,” you whisper back causing Yoongi’s smile to broaden.

A silence falls over the two of you, not awkward or weighted but comfortable. Yoongi’s fingers steady on your hip, a small comforting movement on your skin. Sleep still heavy on your brain, laying in bed, in Yoongi’s arms, you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

That is until you shift, the initial aim to get more comfortable, but your leg bends and pushes a little too close to Yoongi. You feel him, not quite erect but still hard.

Every nerve in your body comes alive, the point on your leg that touched him retains the feeling. Even though you touched him all last night, had him inside you, have now slept in his arms, you still feel unsure how to react. Do you call it out, try and be sexy and cool, two words you’d never associate with yourself? Or do you pretend nothing happened, something you once would have done but now unsure if that’s how you should be?

Yoongi, the ever-patient man, let’s you think it out.

“It’s weird,” you say, surprising both of you by speaking so calmly as well as the actual words. “I would never have thought I’d wake in bed next to you.”

Even though the words come out as rude, Yoongi smiles, his fingers squeezing your side. “The Min Yoongi.”

You giggle, shuffling closer into him, though careful to avoid anywhere your leg touched earlier.

“I’m pretty sure my fifteen-year-old self wouldn’t believe this is happening either.”

It’s something he’s alluded to before, something you’ve never pushed for more information but now you have the chance.

“Because he hated me?” You say it with a smile, a hint of a joke, but it’s a serious question you want to know the answer to.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I would have used.”

“It’s what I always thought.”

“I guess I was a bit of a dick with all the nerves I felt around you.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t believe me?” He says. When you nod your head he hums in thought, the hand on your hip pulling you even closer to him so that his hand can rest on your back, your chests ghosting each other, your faces only inches away so that you could hear each other even if you whispered. It’s like, even though you’re the only two in the room to hear whatever is spoken, you want to make sure these words are only for the other. “Jimin mentioned there was a new cute new girl who started before I ever met you. He thought anything with a heartbeat was attractive, so I didn’t think much about it, until you walked into that first lesson.”

You can’t smile at anything he’s saying. It all feels too real. Probably because it is real. All these things he’s hinted at in the weeks you’ve been getting to know him and yet it still feels strange to have such a shift in what you believed to be real.

“I don’t really know what I thought. I’ve never really reacted that way at just the look of someone. You just looked so beautiful and perfect and my hormonal self really struggled when you started to walk towards me and I realised you were going to sit beside me,” he smiles as your heart pounds. “Fuck,” he chuckles the words. “Let’s just say I wish I had a pillow.”

“So you asked to move seats?” Your voice is raspy, but neither of you draw attention to it.

“You really I think I could have sat next to you when that was my first reaction to seeing you?”

You laugh, “what did you tell Miss Talbot to get her to move you?”

He shrugs, the colour tinting his cheeks telling you a different story. It warms your heart thinking of that boy you knew from school doing all of this.

“I just can’t believe it,” you say. “I can’t believe you actually liked me.”

He hums again, his eyes flicking over your face. “I think I more than liked you.”

“You had such a funny way of showing it.”

He groans, closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing into yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. You can only laugh.

“I was an awkward fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t know how to react around beautiful girls.”

“How did you ever pull?”

“I hardly did,” he mutters into your neck.

Your heart clenches, your hands going to the messy strands of hair on his head. “Still, I really did think you hated me,” you pause then add, “even when I moved back, I thought you hated me.”

He pulls away from you, holds his weight so that he’s resting above you. His eyes are intense now, no longer half closed and sleepy, but instead are awake and dark.

“I’ve been a dick,” he repeats, no excuses made. “Can I make it up to you?”

You watch as his eyes flick to your lips, a clear message of how he hopes to make it up to you. It’s still weird, still takes you a second to comprehend just who this is and what you want him to do to you.

It’s so different from last night, at least the start when you were the one who was having to push him. That shy, nervous guy is gone now.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He’s slow to lean down into you. Slower still to move his lips against yours. Nose pushing into you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. There are so many emotions behind everything he does, as if if wants to tell you things without using words.

Even when he pulls another condom out, rolls it on and pushes into you, his movements are slow. His lips reattach themselves as he rolls his hips into yours and you try and not think too hard about the fact that all of this feels like way more than just sex.

The bell tingles and for the first time it doesn’t fill you with dread. What you do feel though, is nerves. They’ve been pumping through you before you even saw Yoongi through the window, well before you decided to come here after work, to be honest they started nearly as soon as you left his house this morning.

The door closes slowly behind you. Your focus purely on Yoongi and the way his eyes drag slowly to yours. They’re indifferent to start, start to warm in welcoming a new customer but then burst with shock before settling on what you think is joy, even if he does school his smile down from the beam to a small curl of his lips.

“Oh hey,” your eyes shoot left at the voice, not realising Olivia was even here. “You’re here.”

Her eyes flick to Yoongi, a question on her face that reads what the fuck is going on? when she looks back at you she plasters a smile on her lips.

“Don’t see you here much.”

“Oh right, hi Liv,” you say, not having thought too much about the fact you’d have an audience for this. Turning to Yoongi you’re surprised he’s moved from behind the till, stepping towards you with that same small smile.

“Don’t you have some stock to deal with in the back?” Yoongi asks Liv, predictably she doesn’t move.

As you step towards him you can’t help but remember that this is the first time seeing him after the night you spent together. It was only this morning, but you didn’t do too much talking before you left his place. You heat, try and fail not to suddenly be awkward. Yoongi’s smile only widens, clearly picking up on your behaviour and is clearly very amused by it.

“Hey,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s smile twitches, his eyes alive. “Hi.”

“You ok?”

“Yep,” he pops the p. “You?”

“Uh-huh,” you smile like a fucking teenager who’s in front of her crush.

“Did you come here for anything in particular?” Yoongi’s tone is playful. “Need my help finding anything?”

You laugh, light and gentle. Your mouth opening to come back with some retort. The words never leave your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” it’s Olivia that speaks this time, dragging your attention to her but failing to get Yoongi to stop looking at you. “What the fuck am I watching right now?”

You heat for a second time, find it hard to drag your eyes back to Yoongi even as you can feel his focus still on you. This whole thing is weird enough without Olivia being here.

“I – uh –” you look back at Yoongi for help, he only raises an eyebrow as if also wondering the same thing. “Well, I’ve come for a book.”

You look back at Olivia and smile, though you’re sure the gesture looks more manic than reassuring. Olivia frowns, eyes flicking back to Yoongi with that same unsure look.

“Ok,” she elongates the word as her eyes drag back to you and your still manic smile. “I guess I have work in the back to do then.”

She hesitates a second, reluctant to go as if waiting for you to shout out for her help any second. Slowly, she drags her feet along the floor in the direction of the back room.

“So what book do you want?” Yoongi’s tone is all amusement and cheek.

“Lord of the Rings?” It’s the first book you think of, one that causes Yoongi’s lips to pop open for a second before he nods and starts to lead you around the room.

He takes you to the corner furthest from the open door leading to the back room. His back to you as he searches the shelves you build up the courage you need.

“So, uh, I didn’t actually come here for a book.”

He turns, his face still alight with amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, though his tone suggested that was pretty obvious.

“Well that’s good because I don’t have Lord of the Rings in stock.”

Your eyes flick to the travel books he’s lead you to as if betrayed by something you didn’t even want. The smile is wide on his face when you look back.

“Who doesn’t stock Lord of the Rings?”

“I can order it in if you want?” He lifts an eyebrow, a laugh on his lips. “But I thought you didn’t come here for it?”

“Right,” you flush, eyes darting away from him. The only way you think you’ll be able to ask him is if you don’t keep eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to mine for food tonight?”

Your eyes flick back to his face to gage a reaction. The smile doesn’t fade, his eyes don’t dim. He still looks immensely happy and your heart softens in relief, worry seeping away as if he may answer any other way.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That would be nice. I can get to you by 7?”

You nod, a smile to match his taking over your whole face. Back to being crushing teenagers you stand for far too long just smiling at each other. The only thing to break you being Olivia dropping something heavy in the background. You jump in the air as you hear a loud ‘sorry’ that doesn’t sound very apologetic.

Flushing you look back to Yoongi who still looks like he couldn’t care any less by the rest of the world. As if, as long as you’re stood in front of him, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“Right,” you mutter. “Well, great, I guess I’ll see you later?”

Yoongi nods, you nod back and then remembering the audience flash your eyes to the back room before darting out of the shop to safety.

Tofu darts out the door when you open it. Yoongi’s stood with a bottle of wine and a large bunch of flowers. You awkwardly take them off him, the items getting in the way enough that all you can exchange is a small half-hug. You flush and ramble about having to find a vase as you lead Yoongi to the kitchen.

“I didn’t even ask if you ate meat,” you say, horrified as you put the flowers in an inch of water in the sink. You look around at the nearly finished meal. “Or if you have any allergies. I mean do you? Because we can order something in or I can run to the shop and get –”

Your words trail off when you turn and look at Yoongi leaning against your counter, a wide smile on his face.

“It looks and smells amazing,” he says.

“It’s just roast chicken.”

He hums, then says in a sweet yet sarcastic tone, “just,” as if there’s nothing throwaway about what you’re making.

“Well,” you say, drifting off and turning away from Yoongi’s gaze. You’re so unused to this Yoongi. Or at least having to interact with this Yoongi like it’s a normal thing. “Shall I pour some wine?”

“Tell me where the glasses are and I’ll do it.”

You look over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “A proper gentleman,” you tease before telling him where he can find them.

You fall into an easy rhythm as you both get on with your own tasks. Yoongi pouring the wine, you managing the food. It’s easy, feels normal. It’s nice.

“Here you go.”

You turn to be given a glass of wine, gladly accept and gulp a large sip. The two of you fall into easy conversation about your days.

There’s a weird noise, a meow that’s high pitched and more a warning than anything. Still half concentrating on Yoongi you flick your eyes over his shoulder.

You see it. Through your kitchen window. It’s in your fucking garden.

You go still before the panic fully sets in. Yoongi’s still talking, his back to the window he’s completely oblivious to what you’re seeing. But that thing is all you can see.

It’s seen something, you can tell. Your heart hammering in your ears, your breath shallow, your mind is slow to catch up to what you’re seeing.

And then you realise.

Your first instinct is to go for a knife you left out to cut the veg. Sharp, powerful, you don’t think any of this through as you start to walk to the door.

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s words are slow to come to your ears, but as you’re slow to head to the door, he’s faster to work out what’s going on. “Fuck.”

Your hand is nearly on the handle when Yoongi stops you. You fight against him, are deaf to his words begging you to stop.

“It’s Tofu,” you blurt. “It’s going for Tofu.”

Yoongi’s hand slackens enough for you to pull out of his grasp. Banging the door open you rush outside, Yoongi hot on your tail.

“Tofu,” you scream as if your cat is like a dog and would run to you. He doesn’t, his attention is solely on that thing. Cornered, Tofu’s fur stands on end, back arched, tail bushy to make him look as big as possible.

Heart still pounding, adrenaline coursing through you, you start towards that thing. You scared it off once, maybe you can do it again.

Something stops you. A tight hand wrapped around your wrist. When you turn to look at Yoongi it’s with betrayal.

“Give me the knife,” he says

“I’ve got this,” you bite back, trying and failing to escape his grasp.

“Give. Me. The. Knife.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he warns.

You look at him, glance over your shoulders to see the thing nearly on top of Tofu. His small furry body starting to shake in the corner of your garden. It’s not stopping. If you don’t do something now it’s going to get him. When you look back at Yoongi you’re sure it’s with desperation.

“Please,” you mutter. “Let me do this.”

His hand slackens, his face softening. You know he’s not happy about this, but he can see why you want to do it. You’ve opened up so much to him, more than anyone else. Still, he doesn’t let you go.

“Please,” you plead.

He shakes his head and your heart drops. But then he releases your arm. Before you can turn and carry on your mission he says, “we do this together.”

You nod though really you have no plan and no time to come up with one. In the time Yoongi stopped you, all your confidence has gone. Your adrenaline is still high but fear is starting to creep in.

“Hey!” Yoongi screams, he gains your attention but you’re not sure it’s done anything to that thing. “Over here mother fucker!”

You’d laugh if this were a different situation, but as it is your face stays steady as you look back towards Tofu. That thing is now looking at you, it hasn’t moved this way but is at least looking, head cocked to the side in an almost unnatural angle.

“Hey,” your voice is croaky, and you have to cough a little to clear it. “Get the fuck away from my cat.”

It comes out clearer. The thing turns and looks fully at you now. And then it starts to move.

“Y/N.”

There’s a flash of white fur as Tofu takes the opportunity to run. The thing is moving straight for you now, faster than you’ve ever seen it move before. It’s why Yoongi shouted your name. It’s why you held up the knife, the only thing you could do, hardly enough time to do anything else.

You scream, guttural, more like a war cry than from terror.

You stick your arm out, feel and hear the knife penetrating skin and then muscle and eventually the cracking of bones. There’s a screech from the monster, high pitched and full of pain. It flails it’s arms, catching your arm and ripping the skin. Still, you manage to hold the knife tight, your own screaming mixing with its. Blood sprays out of it and from your arm. Your injured hands gives a twang of pain as you bring it to grip the knife, twist as you pull out and then stab it again.

This time it pulls away. Movements more disjointed but slow as it slinks away from you. Blood pouring from the wounds. You don’t want to watch but you also can’t look away. You did this, you need to watch the consequences.

Slowly, but eventually, it stops moving. The world is silent and the thing is dead.

There’s blood everywhere. Not quite splattered like the bird you first discovered was, but this time it’s all over you.

Twisting to the side, you throw up all over your lawn. Yoongi’s almost immediately there to hold your hair back and rub your back through the whole thing. He whispers words you hardly hear, things about how it’s ok, how there was no other choice, how he’s going to stay with you for however long you need him. You think that might be forever, and you think if you asked he’d agree.

You remain on the lawn far longer than you should before Yoongi coaxes you inside for a wash. He takes care of everything, the long-forgotten food, Tofu still hiding outside, and you.

It’s all over, you let yourself think as you fall asleep in Yoongi’s arms that night.

“You can’t place a Jack on a King.”

“It’s the same suit.”

“Yeah, that means fuck all.”

“They’re both picture cards.”

“Have you even played this game?”

“Pretty sure I’ve played it more times than you.”

“You do realise this isn’t cheat, right?”

“Y/N,” you try to dampen your smile as you look over at the man whining at you.

“Seokjin?” You ask back in a sarcastically sweet way.

“Can you tell your boyfriend to fuck off?”

You hum as you look over at Yoongi, that smile becoming hard to hide. You open your mouth to say as much but Yoongi leans in and kisses your words away. Pushing his shoulder you laugh before he can kiss you again.

“I preferred it when you two hated each other,” Seokjin groans as he fishes his Jack off the pile. You and Yoongi are too consumed by one another to hear.

[amazable01]

A little quick write inspired by @dailysandersidesaudoodles mafia mociet drawings. Soz if it's not great, I wrote this at midnight <3

TWs: Mafia-typical gun violence; coercion; morally gray sides; mentions of sickness, poverty, intoxication; description of injuries (bruising and being tied up); implied animal death (hunting); toxic relationship dynamics

“Can you do it?”

Four words. Four deceptively simple words.

Patton held it in shaking hands, eyes trained on the barrel in front of him. He’d never fired a gun before; never even thought about it. His pop had tried to teach him when he was little, but he’d never had the stomach to hurt the animals he was told to hunt. The ripple of power, the loud bang, the whimpering pain the creature released as red sprayed across the ground before him. Patton had vowed then and there never to hunt again, never to shoot a living thing.

And yet, here he was.

The man they had chosen for this was someone Patton knew all too well. A stock broker. A conman. A monster and abuser. And, of course, Patton’s boss. He’d been bound to a chair, tied down tightly to the wood. The bright ropes cut into his bruised skin to leave colorful dots and lines, not unlike a pretty package on Christmas. Even the green gag had been wrapped in the front in a sadistic mockery of a bow, all ready to be splattered and frayed with the shot Patton had been gifted.

The hand on him shifted, now placing its palm flat against his lower abdomen. Patton couldn’t tell if it was meant to be comforting, encouraging, or mocking. He… really didn’t think he wanted to know, come to think of it. Seeing that crooning face all over again wouldn’t help his rapid, unspooling indecision any more than it had the first time.

This group was Patton’s last resort. Almost destitute, Patton had crawled pityingly to their doorstep with his ill son in hand. Logan was of a sickly nature; brilliant of mind yet feeble of body. It had taken only one boy at school to walk in feeling under the weather, and Logan was unable to move on his own. Patton had tried to cure him, tried to pay for the treatments, and no one bothered to give any real help. He’d lost every penny on the boy he so desperately loved, and he was rewarded with being kicked to the curb by both his landlord and boss.

Janus was the lucky one to answer his endless pleas for sanctuary. The man brought them in, nursed Logan back to health with no cost. Not only that, he housed them and gave Patton a job close by in order to get back on his feet. He wanted Patton around because it was apparently rare to see such a bright mind and a beautiful face together at the same time. Patton had fallen for the flattery and adoration on the spot.

As time had passed, Patton became more desperate for Janus’ affections. The man acted like Patton was the most interesting little doll he’d found at a charity shop: only worth bothering with because there was a spark of potential and the soft slump of obedience in Patton’s gaze. And as for Patton, Janus was the very air he breathed: smokey and husky and tainted with feelings best left in the quiet hours after intoxication. At this point, Patton was under his spell completely, willing to do everything Janus had asked of him and promising he always would be.

And here they were now. Janus wanted to see precisely how far Patton would go if asked. Patton had promised once more he would do anything.

The gun trembles. He runs a finger over the hammer.

“Is he not worthy enough to die? Is my word not enough for you?”

An immaculate finger ghosts over Patton’s earlobe, barely there but enough to make him shudder in equal terror and agony. A tear wells up behind his lenses.

‘No one would know’, Janus had promised. It was to be their little secret, a truth unspoken to all and carried to the dusty grave Patton would be lowered in. It was to be his hell, his horror, his beauty and acceptance. In doing this, Patton would belong to them, to him. There would be no point in leaving after he made this choice; Janus would have more than enough evidence to get Logan off him before throwing Patton away somewhere so he wouldn’t talk.

Not that Patton would ever talk. He was in too deep for that, now.

“Maybe you need direction? Perhaps you have forgotten what I need of you…”

A hand cups Patton’s shaking one, and steadies it as Janus gently shifts Patton’s hand into proper aim. Patton watches as a thumb reaches around ever-so-gently, and cocks the hammer into place to prime the gun.

The man in the chair squirms and screams. Janus chuckles gently under his breath.

Patton closes his eyes, and shifts his finger onto the trigger.

“Fire.”

There was no other option, in the end. There was no world where Patton would not choose to obey.

[reverieparacosm]

Art's Silent Language (Lukai Hwei x GN!Reader)

Warnings: violence, blood, slight torture, kidnapping

Chapter 4: Through the Artist's Eyes

(part 1 here)

Summary: Captured by Jhin, you face a final performance of pain and beauty. Will this be Jhin's last act, or just the beginning of something more?

(Note is at the end of the chapter)

A searing pain lanced through your skull, each beat of your heart a hammer blow against it. You fight to open your eyes, the world a swirling vortex of darkness and pain. You blink, the world snapping into focus, revealing a figure bathed in the dim, ethereal glow of a single lantern.

Jhin.

His lips curl into a smile that holds no warmth, only a chilling, unsettling amusement. He moves with a grace that belies the terror he instills, his fingers, slender and elegant, tracing the outline of a wound on your head.

The cloth he holds, pristine white against the darkness, is a stark contrast to the crimson blossoming on it. He presses it gently against your wound, the pressure a searing agony. But there is a strange, almost hypnotic quality to his touch, a calculated precision that feels more like a surgical procedure than a simple act of tending to a wound. Each stroke of the cloth is deliberate, methodical, as if he were an artist meticulously applying paint to a canvas. The blood, once a vibrant red, is absorbed into the fabric, leaving a dark, ominous stain that mirrors the chilling dread that grips your heart.

You try to speak, to scream, but your throat is parched, your voice a mere croak.

"Shh, do not struggle," he coos, dabbing at your face. You flinch at his touch, feeling scrapes where your skin meets ropes. Jhin examines you with a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and malice, as if savoring discomfort. "You’ll make this worse for yourself," he warns softly, leaning very close.

"Release me," you say sharply.

Jhin throws back his head and laughs, a grating cacophony that sets your nerves on edge. Slowly, he circles you, trailing a gloved finger along your tense shoulders.

"My dear captive, you presume to threaten me?" he croons softly. "It is I who hold power in this dance, not some chirping fledgling gasping in my claws."

Halting before you, Jhin grips your chin in a punishing grip. His veneer of control cracks, exposing raving lunacy beneath.

"No artist lets his muse flee until the opus is complete! I have divined such exquisite torments for our finale. Through your anguished song will I craft my crowning masterwork!"

His long-fingered hand traces your cheekbone, leaving a trail of cold in its wake. You tremble under his gaze, uncertain of what horrors lay in store. 

You struggle against your bonds, to no avail. Jhin observes your movements with interest, like a painter studying his subject. Outside, the sunset paints the decaying walls in hues of orange and gold.

"Through art, all things can be transformed," Jhin continues rapturously. "Your mortal flesh will become something everlasting. I will alchemize your essence until only brilliance remains."

He lifts a glinting tool, and you see it is a sculpting knife, its edge honed to deadly precision. Panic rises in your throat as Jhin studies the play of fading sunlight on the blade.

"Diamonds, like humanity, are born of turmoil. Extreme heat and pressure fuse the chaotic cloud into clarity. So too shall you be remade." His voice rings with messianic fervor. "Soon, you will shine eternally as my greatest creation. The transformation begins...let the ceremony commence!"

As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, more details of your surrounds emerge. Crumbling brick walls are papered with faded posters advertising long-forgotten shows. A thick layer of dust covers the worn floorboards; your chair stands center-stage in a decrepit house.

Overhead, tattered curtains sway in the breeze drifting through broken windows. Beams of dying sunlight pierce the gloom, illuminating spinning dust motes like flecks of gold. It is a place suspended between creation and ruin - the perfect setting for Jhin's dark vision. 

The artist himself paces before you, muttering excitedly to himself.

"The lighting is perfect, the composition sublime," he muses. "All that remains is to complete my masterwork."

Jhin's hands flit restlessly over his assortment of strange artifacts: gleaming surgical tools, arcane tomes bound in human skin, vials containing viscous liquids and mysterious powders. His meticulous artist’s mind sorts rapidly through options.

Finally, he selects an instrument resembling a paintbrush, but its bristles end in thin blades. He tests the edge delicately against his finger, nodding in approval at the bead of blood welling forth. 

"First, we strip away your outer shells," Jhin declares, tracing the blade lightly over your cheek. "Only then can your truest essence shine through, polished to dazzling radiance.”

Jhin steps close, looming over you with the metallic bristles poised at your throat. You thrash against the ropes binding you, heart pounding, to no avail.

"Peace, my subject," Jhin soothes. "Struggle will only prolong your suffering. Remain still, and I can elevate you to glory." 

His gaze bores into you. With a surgeon's precision, he drags the blade slowly down your neck. You cry out as beads of blood rise in its wake, crimson against your skin.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the blade presses deeper. You inhale sharply but do not cry out - you will not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

A bead of blood wells and Jhin leans in, tongue darting out to sample your essence on his lips.

"Sweet," he groans, eyes fluttering closed. When they open once more, wild hunger blazes within. Jhin looms closer still, trapping you with his gaze as the knife dances over your hammering pulse.

Jhin makes a small noise of pleasure, tilting his head to observe his handiwork. "Exquisite. The raw material reveals its luster."

"Transformation is seldom pleasant," Jhin comments clinically. "But pain birth beauty, as fire shapes the jewel."

"I knew from the start what lurked beneath your silken words and gifts," you say coldly. "The way you twisted Hwei's heart to suit your depraved games, used his passion as just one more sick puppet in your shows."

Jhin's gloved fingers suddenly wrap tight around your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His touch is cold yet burns your skin all the same. 

Jhin cocks his head, regarding you with a curled smile. "The petal thought he understood my art. In time, he too would have become a masterpiece."

His patronizing tone only fuels your fury. "I saw how you fed on his love like some parasite, how you twisted his mind until he was but a shadow, living only to feed the void within you."

Chuckling softly, Jhin runs his thumb along your swollen bottom lip. "And what of you, my feisty little songbird? Do you also fly willingly into the fox's waiting jaws?"

You meet his eyes steadily. "Your acts of violence and violation do not move me. I understand you better than you understand yourself - you who knows only how to feed chaos and feel nothing."

Jhin's smiling mask shatters, giving way to something ravenous and raw. "Feel nothing?" he snarls, seizing your face in a crushing grip. "I feel it all, each exquisite moment - the passion, the rapture, the divine perfection of destruction! Through my art alone do I truly live!"

Releasing you, he draws back, composure sliding neatly back into place. But his eyes hold a new calculation.

"And what makes you think you know my intentions, my dear?" he whispers, voice low and deadly. Bloodlust swirls in his eyes yet something else flickers there - intrigue, admiration for your spirit.

You swallow yet hold his stare, defiant to the last. "I see the emptiness within you. Your 'art' is but a shallow mimicry of passion, meaningless destruction performed for an audience of one."

Jhin laughs softly, a mirthless sound. His flawless mask cracks, revealing the gaping void beneath, the ache that drives him to create through carnage alone.

Leaning impossibly close, he breathes against your trembling lips. "Perhaps you know me better than I thought, my clever sparrow. If shallowness is what you perceive...then let me show you the inferno that consumes."

With that, his mouth slants hard over yours, ravaging with a desperate hunger to feel - to feel anything amid the numbness. You gasp into the kiss, your heartbeat answering his like clashing symbols in a dark symphony.

For a stolen moment, passion transcends intention as you drown in sensation. But when Jhin pulls away, craving and madness have resurfaced in his eyes once more. The tender illusion shatters, and you know - this was but one more manipulating performance in his grisly design.

He rises and paces, gesticulating wildly.

"That kiss was but another brushstroke on the canvas of our drama together. Through it, I sought merely to elicit emotion - yours, and of the audience that surely hangs on our every moment."

Pausing, Jhin gazes down at you. His perfect features twist into a ghastly mockery of affection.

"Did you feel, little songbird, as I tore open your heart? Did you tremble with anguished rapture, swept along in the ecstatic tide of annihilation?"

His mocking laughter rings through the dusty room.

Jhin grips your hair forcefully, pulling your head back as he breathes against your neck, his warm breath sends shivers racing down your spine. You feel your back arch involuntarily.

He leans in closer, his lips grazing your skin as he slightly bites down on your neck, the sensation both pleasurable and painful.

His hand glides down your arms, fingers trailing lightly as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The touch feels possessive, yet there’s a strange tenderness in his movements. You can’t help but feel the tension building between you, a dance of power and vulnerability. He then shifts his attention to the bindings on your wrists, circling your wrist with his thumb in a deliberate manner, as if testing the strength of your restraints. For a fleeting moment, it feels as if he’s loosening them just enough to let hope flicker to life.

But the moment is fleeting. You turn your head away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the feelings swirling inside you. Just as you think you’ve escaped his grasp, he takes your face in both of his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes. His thumb brushes softly against your lips.

"That, my dear, is the only 'passion' I know—the opus of agonies I craft through my works," he whispers, his voice smooth and chilling. "All else is but pale imitation. Remember that… should any wisp of feeling dare cloud your judgment."

With a savage grin and swish of his cloak, Jhin is once more lost to his dark imaginings, leaving you questioning all you thought you knew of this depraved artist.

As Jhin turns away to arrange his infernal stagecraft, you gather every ounce of strength and begin to struggle anew against your bonds. The ropes bite cruelly into your wrists, yet you twist and strain with wild desperation. 

Jhin pays you no mind, lost in his own deranged mutterings as he lays out gleaming utensils.

Seeing your chance, you redouble your efforts with a frenzied yell. The ropes fray and tear—and with one final wrench, your hands rip free!

Jhin whirls at the sound, anger flaring in his eyes at being denied his dark muse. But you waste no time gawking at the monster—you launch from the chair at him.

Off-balance, Jhin crashes to the dust-caked floorboards. His blade skitters away into the shadows.

Not sparing a glance at him, you sprint for the splintered exit with renewed vigor. Black night swallows your retreating form as you pour every ounce of will into escape.

Laughter and rage and the sound of pounding footsteps chase on your heels.

Your lungs burn as you push your exhausted body further into the desert night. Jhin's maniacal laughter still echoes behind you, though the sound is fading with each step. You dare not look back, knowing his twisted grin will be etched in your mind if you do. All that matters is putting as much distance between him and yourself as possible.

Up ahead, a faint glow peeks through the sparse trees - an oasis. New adrenaline surges through your veins at the sight of what might offer refuge. Sand kicks up with each footfall as you rush toward the glowing pool of water. Palm trees whip past you in a blur, their branches outstretched like beckoning arms guiding you to safety.

Bursting into the small oasis, you stumble to a halt beside the water's edge. Your hands brace against your knees as greedy lungs drink in air. Through the shallow pants, your ears strain for any sign you are still being pursued. Only the gentle lapping of waves meets them, the normal night sounds of the desert serenading the sparse trees.

Slowly, muscles uncoil from their clenched state. The immediate threat seems past, at least for now. You lower yourself fully to the cool sand and let the sight of glittering water soothe frazzled nerves.

Soft moonlight dances across the surface, dappling the shore in an ethereal glow. Clarity returns along with your breathing, allowing reality to truly sink in.

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the desert chill.

Pushing to unsteady legs, you shuffle closer to the pool's edge. Your parched throat begs for refreshment after the exhausting escape. Cupping greedy hands, you bring the cool liquid to chapped lips. Too soon, the last droplets fall from your palms. Thirst barely slaked; other needs demand attention in your weary state.

Scanning the sandy shore, your gaze lands on a cluster of palm fronds piled near the trees. With any luck, they might offer cushion and cover for the night. One problem at a time - rest now, plans later. Heavy feet carry you to the pile and you collapse into the fronds with a sigh. Cool surrounds quickly lull frayed senses as lingering adrenaline fades into exhaustion.

Darkness pulls you under like a comforting blanket.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The desert night is alive with the constant song of insects and wildlife. A sliver of moon drifts overhead amid patches of scattered clouds, casting the oasis in a dim glow.

As you drift in the space between sleep and waking, a shiver runs through your body that has nothing to do with the cool night air. 

Something is different. An energy tingles at the edge of perception, faint yet familiar. Slowly prying open weary eyes, you lift your head from the nest of palm fronds.

Rippling across the surface of the water is a blur of colors, dancing in hues too vibrant to be natural.

A paintbrush comes into focus, wielded by a figure kneeling at the pool's edge. Colored wisps trail his movements like an artist’s ashes, each strand levitating impossibly in the air.

There is no mistaking Hwei's magical brush at work, weaving ephemeral illustrations that shimmer on the water's canvas.

His eyes, iridescent even in shadow, find yours across the shore. Recognition lights within those prismatic orbs before flickering with an emotion you can’t place. Concern? Relief?

With fluid grace, Hwei rises and strides to your side. Up close, faint scents of oils and pigment cling to his frame. His gaze roams your form, lingering on patches of torn cloth.

"You're hurt." His voice is soft yet carries an undercurrent that raises the hairs along your nape. Fingers gently grasp your wrist to examine your wounds. You suppress a wince at the contact.

"It's nothing serious." Your assurance does little to quell the tempest raging behind Hwei's eyes. Releasing your arm, he pulls his brush from where it is strapped across his back. Colors sprung to life along the bristles at his beckon, bleeding together into a soothing teal wash.  

Without a word, Hwei dips the brush’s edge into the shimmering paint. Your breath hitches as cool bristles make contact, tracing delicate lines along your wounds.

Where pigment spreads, numbness follows in its wake, deadening pain.

Fascinated, you watch reddened skin knit together before eyes, leaving fresh and unmarred in the healing liquid’s wake.

Magic, or simple a gift of Hwei’s brush? Impossible to say where abilities end and the artist begins.

You gaze up to find his focus intent on the task, lips parted slightly as his skill purifies damaged flesh. Heat rises unbidden to your cheeks under such devoted care. Your heart, already quickened from your closeness, threatens to burst from your ribs. 

The last abrasions disappear under careful strokes. Hweis' eyes lift to yours, their depths reflecting colors and emotions too deep to comprehend.

One arm encircles your waist and pulls you against his slender form, the other brushes tousled strands of hair from your face. His thumb lingers and caresses the line of your jaw with tenderness.  

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Hwei’s hushed murmur causes lids to flutter closed, lost in the soothing rumble of his voice.

Lips meet yours then, slow and searching as if committing every facet to memory through touch alone.

With utmost care, he gathers you into his lap to cradle against his chest. One hand soothingly combs through your hair while the other takes up his brush anew. Upon the oasis sands, Hwei begins to paint in colors of serenity.

Lush blooms spill from under his talented strokes—petite lilies burst with dewdrops; morning glories unfurl translucent petals. Their vivid hues shine all the brighter in the shadows of night. As detail after detail comes alive, the flowers' sweet fragrance joins the cool desert air.

Instead of darkness, visions of sunlit gardens dance behind your closed eyes. Hwei watches vigilantly, brush never ceasing until the last stem stands vibrant and whole. Only then does he set the magical implement aside once more. You feel relaxed and calm.

Gently, he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. Hwei gazes for long moments, memorizing each fleeting emotion buried beneath fatigue. His hands cup your cheeks with care.

"Let me share this burden," Hwei murmurs, breath soft against your lips between words. "I would bear it all if only it rids you of pain."

Then slowly, he lowers his mouth to yours in a kiss filled with promise and devotion profound as the stars above.

Art is the highest form of hope.

All thoughts flee under that tender onslaught. Your hands tangle in his tunic, clinging to escape the nightmares of past hours in his grounding presence.

Within the circle of his embrace, reality seems but a distant dream. Here, in Hwei's arms, you know only comfort, protection... and love that shelters your heart, always, from any threat in the waking world.

As the stars light creeps over the dunes, you stir in Hwei's tender embrace. Beneath palms and stars, the remainder of night has passed in comforting solace.

Gaze meeting Hwei's own, you ask in hushed tones, "How did you find me here?" A rueful smile touches his lips, fingers lifting to brush aside disheveled locks. "Worry not over such details, my heart. What matters is you're safe now." 

Still the unknowns nag, his knowing eyes betraying depths beyond casual passersby. "Through your magic, wasn't it?” Hwei's nod grants affirmation, though guarded concern now creases his features. A painter's sight can unveil truths better left buried; it seems...

"Tell me what horrors drove you to this place," he bids softly, voice roughened by rising emotion kept barely leashed. And so, haltingly, the tale spills forth —of Jhins plan, his machinations to make you "a creation beyond compare." 

How Jhin's maddened machinations seek to immortalize your agonized demise. How by fortune or fate, an opportunity arises allowing escape from dire design. Yet escape is not the end, as horrors haunt memory still... 

At the story's close, Hwei grows deafly silent.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The journey back is a somber one. Smoke rises on the horizon long before Koyehn's Temple simple spires come into view, an ominous shroud hanging overall.

But no prayers can prepare you for the hellscape that awaits.

As the temple comes into sight, it is engulfed in angry orange tongues that devour sacred scrolls and timber alike. Embers swirl chaotically on smoldering thermals, borne aloft to spread ruin further still.

Hwei reins in with a sudden gasp, leaving you to brace against his back. You clutch him tight as anguished cries escape his lips, giving voice to the torment writ large across his features. Never do you see such depths of anguish from the stoic painter, who schools his passions into disciplined lines and fluid strokes.

"No..." Hwei's choked whisper tears at your heart. This place is his sanctuary, his home—now reduced to cindering ruins. You grasp his arm for support as much as offering console, finding only tremors wracking his lithe form in return.

His soul bleeds… and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows him whole.

His brush falls unheeded, magic sparking errant between clenched fingers as if begging release. Yet for all the chaos within, no colors escape Hwei's tight rein—not here, not for this.

Sliding to the ground, you pull him into your arms as tears carve trails down soot-stained cheeks. You stand locked in mournful embrace until the sobs begin to still, the conflagration within banked to smoldering embers once more by love's balm. Lips press against your hair, murmuring apologies for all that can never be regained.

As morning's light lifts the ashen pall shrouding all, the full horror of the night comes into grim clarity. Where once lived and worked over fourscore brothers and sisters, now only broken shells of walls remain amongst the rubble.

You pick your way over the ruins, hoping against hope that some sheltering alcove or secret chamber may offer refuge to even a sole survivor. But as the sun climbs overhead with no signs of life stirring, grim certainty takes root.

You stand alone as the last remnants of an order consigned now to memory alone.

Hwei searched the longest for any survivors, as if refusing to accept the bitter truth laid bare before your eyes. When he finally sinks to his knees in defeat, wracking sobs echo the agonized screams that must have filled the night air as flames claimed their victims. You pull him close, but no comfort of yours can staunch the flood of his grief.

In time, his tears run dry, leaving in their wake an exhaustion of body and spirit you fear no rest can repair.

Hwei wanders as one dead, seeking solace that forever eludes him amongst the ruins. Nights find him waking in terror, reliving each moment of devastation in vivid and gruesome detail no hand can capture.

One such night, a glint of color amidst the cinders draws his numbed feet. Lifted free, it reveals a fiendish trap, its petals splayed open in grinning mockery—a lotus blossom none, but one artist could have crafted.

Understanding dawns in those hollow eyes, a cascade of emotions stirring their murky depths once more: terror, sorrow, betrayal... and a dreadful fascination you know all too well.

The ruins fall silent once more as Hwei gazes unblinking upon that noxious blossom. You dare not break his reverie, dreading what shadows might take root should he linger too long in contemplation of such madness... and the dark allure it holds, even for one whose gift is life and color, not decay.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The crackling fire does little to cut through the tavern's smoky chill. You nurse a mug of ale, staring into the fire as if they might hold answers to questions plaguing Hwei's mind.

It has been moons since you left the smoking remnants of Koyehn behind you. Amongst the ashes, you find renewed purpose—your art brings messages of hope and restoration to weary communities... but sometimes also of destruction. But with each new dawn, fresh mysteries call Hwei ever onwards.

You glance to where he sits apart, brush hovering restlessly as always. His eyes, once home to passion's vibrant spectrum, now seem but windows onto an abyss churning with shadows.

Hwei seeks understanding through revelation of torment—by replicating each scene of suffering until its essence bleeds forth. You fear such intimacy with evil may leech away what remains of his light.

As the sun dips low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the tavern’s wooden beams, you sit beside Hwei, captivated by the way his brush dances across the canvas. Each stroke is filled with emotion, transforming the blank surface into a vibrant landscape of colors. Hwei pours his heart into the painting, bringing to life a sun rising triumphantly over a gentle sea, its rays bursting forth like tendrils of warmth. Hwei is completely absorbed in his painting.

Truly, no artist tolerates reality.

You lean closer, intrigued by the imagery. “Is it a sunset or a sunrise?” you ask, admiring the way the light plays in his eyes. Resting your chin on Hwei's shoulder, you feel a warm connection, as if the moment stretches into eternity.

Hwei pauses, his brush hovering above the canvas as he turns to you, a soft smile blooming on his lips. “It’s a sunrise,” he replies, his voice warm and tender. “A new beginning. I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.”

His gaze lingers on you, and in that moment, the world outside the tavern fades away. You feel a magnetic pull, an unspoken connection that draws you closer.

The ambiance is thick with the scent of paint and the calming whispers of the sea outside.

You close your eyes as his hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb softly traces your bottom lip. As he leans in closer, you can feel his warm breath mingling with yours.

His kiss is tentative at first, mere brushes of contact that leave you craving more. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against his form.

His other hand slides into your hair, fingers twisting in the strands to tilt your head to a better angle. His kiss becomes deeper, more passionate. When his tongue sweeps along your lip, you grant access eagerly. As your tongues meet, a soft moan escapes you.

All the while, his hand on your cheek begins a slow descent. Over your jaw, down your neck, it comes to rest on your waist. His fingertips graze under the edge of your shirt, sending sparks across your skin. You cling to him more tightly, lost in the bliss of his lips moving with yours.

When you finally part for air, he does not go far. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as you both pant, lost in the moment. His hand never strays from your waist, thumb making gentle strokes across the sensitive flesh. In his embrace, you have never felt so wanted, so cared for. It is here, in his arms, that you are meant to be.

Hwei opens his eyes and whispers, “Some people are artists. Some themselves, are art.”

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look into his eyes, which shimmer with joy and intensity. But as you glance back at the painting, something catches your eye. Dark, shadowy figures seem to writhe within the vibrant hues, lurking just beneath the surface of the canvas. They flicker in and out of existence, vanishing as quickly as they appear.

A shiver runs down your spine. “Hwei, do you see that?” you ask, pointing to the canvas.

His expression shifts, a shadow crossing his features. “I—I’ll protect you,” he says, his voice suddenly serious, his grip tightening around you. The remnants of the massacre at the temple echo in his eyes, a haunting reminder of the darkness he has faced.

“I know you will,” you reassure him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, the weight of his past hangs heavy in the air. He leans into your touch, the warmth of your presence grounding him. “You’re my light,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the firelight dances upon Hwei's face, you trace gentle fingers along his jaw, brushing aside an ebony strand fallen askew.

Hwei leans into your touch with a soft sigh, clasping your fingers in his own. "I feel there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. I feel like art and love are the same thing: it’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.”

His lips graze your knuckles, stirring memories as vivid as yesterday's joyous discoveries. For a moment's respite, all traces of grief and care dissolve beneath remembered rapture...

...Until a sharp rap at the door shatters remnants of days past like spun glass.

You open the door. A single lotus flower lays on the ground.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The memories of Hwei's past weigh heavily on him, each loss a haunting echo in his mind. Yet, as he paints, the burdens begin to lift. His art speaks of grief and longing, capturing the essence of his experiences in hues and textures that transcend language. With every stroke, he communicates the inexpressible—an intimate connection to those who suffer alongside him.

While words can falter, art holds the power to bridge the chasms of isolation. It is a silent language, one that resonates deeply within the hearts of those who behold it, conveying feelings that can never be articulated. The beauty of creations offers solace, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, connection is possible through the shared understanding of emotion.

Art can speak for one, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. In a world rife with pain, it becomes a guiding light—a universal form of communication that unites hearts across boundaries.

Though silent, art speaks volumes. In this moment of catharsis through creative expression, one begins to find healing. Art provides an empowering and voiceless language to communicate intimate feelings beyond what words can say.

Especially in times of deep suffering when words fail, art becomes a "silent language" to express the inexpressible emotions of a soul.

Through art, one always finds a way to express the inexpressible, to share a silent language with the world.

Art's Silent Language.

Note: Well, here it is—finally the grand finale of my fanfic! 🎉 Did you notice that this is the fourth chapter and the whole thing clocks in at 14,444 words? I mean, come on, Jhin would definitely be proud of me for that little numerical homage. Four is his jam, right? Haha! So, about the ending... it’s kind of a happy one, or at least an open one. I did toy with the idea of killing off the protagonist—just a little cheeky thought, you know? Hehe. Oh! And I hope you caught the title drop at the end, “Art’s Silent Language.” Subtle, right? Or maybe not so much, but I tried! Now, I did mischaracterize Jhin a tad for my down-bad heart (shoutout to all my fellow simps!), but I did my best to keep him lore-accurate. This chapter is dedicated to all my broken artists out there. 💔 Don’t let life get you down—pick up the pieces and create something beautiful! That’s the real message here. Art can express feelings that words sometimes can’t. As I wrote, "Art is the highest hope." And for the Van Gogh fans, I hope you recognized some of his quotes sprinkled throughout! I love Van Gogh, and honestly, Hwei gives off major Van Gogh vibes. Plus, he has that surrealist flair, so it felt natural to weave in some of that genius. If you’re curious about my theories on Hwei, check out my theory account (https://www.tumblr.com/hwei-theories?source=share). And if you want to see more of my chaotic thoughts, here’s my main account (https://www.tumblr.com/reverieparacosm?source=share). Thanks for reading, everyone! Keep creating! 💖

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hi!! I hope you’re having a great day so far. 👋🏽 I thought of an idea of Gun Park x Reader, but they go on a date somewhere that people normally don’t go to. For example, a haunted house or something. I bet that’ll be interesting to write about! (But you can write about any setting you want. That’s just an idea or an example that you can base your writing from.) Hope to see what write about!! 😊🖤🖤🖤

MY LOOKISM GATEWAY! also, now I've given this a go - extra impressive how you write Gun because this guy... Stoic, quiet and mean. My characterisation? Poor. Dialogue? Low. OOC-ness? High.

(And then when you realised you wrote about everything else more than the actual main guy lol 😭 sorry in advance)

* **

Gun x Reader Fairground/Haunted House Shenanigans

Yeah you were a bit of a baby but so what. It's one of your earlier dates with Gun, whilst you were just getting to know him and there's no way you're gonna show him your weakness

I mean that man is pretty intimidating enough as it is

Your mood generally swings from horny or intimidated when you're in his presence

You've had all these fantasies of a cute fairground date. Maybe some friendly games, winning prizes, then finishing with a kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel

The first sign of things going wrong was you challenging Gun to the strongman test and him completely wrecking the machine AND the hammer. I mean what the hell, you didn't even manage to get a go

The second: you taking turns to be the first to beat the coconut shy and again Gun destroying the stall and nearly killing the guy

Excuse me? I thought these games were RIGGED

So yeah, Gun was intimidating. He annihilates half the fair and hardly blinks... but you were also a little competitive 🤷‍♀️

And then when he saw you grimace at the haunted house and he gave you that smirk of his and the challenge in his eyes, you knew that you couldn't back down

You hated it, you could barely stand horror films so you're not sure why you even bothered to go in a haunted house with live actors

You heard screams and growls and felt things brushing against you as soon as you stepped foot inside

Of course Gun that bastard wasn't affected at all

"Tsk, I didn't think you were such a baby"

You glared at him but after a few more nervous twitches he took your hand to lead you through

"Idiot, it's all fake... Besides nothing will dare to haunt you with me here"

It wasn't quite the Ferris wheel kiss you wanted but this was actually... Nice too

You walked a little closer hand in hand...

... and everytime he felt you jump, he gave your hand a light squeeze

(Who would have thought this man was capable of any softness)

Finally you were both nearing the end, but nothing would ever be that straight forward

As a final haunted house treat, a group of badly dresses mummies and zombies jumped out and gave you a final scare

You were already feeling delicate, but this last part actually made you scream

Taking pity on your state, and having some warped sense of chivalry Gun of course beat them up

"I said I'd protect you... next time we'll just go for dinner"

And that was how you and Gun were banned from the fair (but you did have fun after all🙂)

Gun: (lovingly) you pathetic motherfucker

[theperfectquestion]

ARE YOU THERE, GOD? IT'S ME, DEAN

The Venture Bros. approach to God Almighty is in line with its approach to all authority: one more rubber mask on one more old weirdo.

A revelation hit me during a recent rewatch of adult swim's long-running animated pastiche of adventure fiction, The Venture Bros. It is such a large scale Biblical relevation that I can't believe I didn't notice it before: Yahweh, the Lord of the Old Testament, is a recurring minor character, voiced by Archer and Bob Burger's H. Jon Benjamin.

For the uninitiated, one of the supporting players in The Venture Bros. is Doctor Orpheus, who rents rooms from Doc 'Rusty' Venture, the father of the titular twins. Doctor Orpheus is one of my favourite characters in the show, because he is a protagonist of a whole other pulp fiction genre who is comfortable being a secondary character in the world of The Venture Bros.

Orpheus is a mix of Doctor Strange any number of Christopher Lee's characters from Hammer Horror films. He looks like Vincent Price in those occasions when he is being chummy with Kermit the Frog. And this Sorceror Supreme, who guards the very fabric of reality from unfathomable peril, who commands his own super-team with its own villains and long-term plots, serves the sitcom role of kindly but wacky neighbour, and the father of young Dean Venture's hopeless love interest, Triana.

A brilliant recurring joke is that, although magic is definitely real in the universe of The Venture Bros., and that Doctor Orpheus unquestionably has talents that bring the entire nature of reality into question, Doc Venture refuses to acknowledge or respect magic. As a former boy adventurer, he has seen so many supernatural threats pulled out from under their rubber masks that, as an adult, he simply doesn't waste a microsecond of his time considering magic as anything other than a cheap trick. Doctor Orpheus is often torn between defefending his professional pride and placating his often unkind landlord.

There's a lot to Doctor Orpheus, but the aspect I'd like to focus on is the fact that he regularly visits an extradimensional entity in his daughter's closet. Orpheus' command of spatial dimensions is dealt with matter-of-factly: his rooms are physically located elsewhere, and the abandoned arachnid research centre he rents on the Venture property is just a convenient place to warp space so that he can access them from Colorado. You see, Doctor Orpheus is recently divorced, and retains full custody of his teenage daughter, Triana. One has to read between the lines here, but presumably the Venture Compound is close to where Triana's mother has moved, and this extradimensional trick is a way for Triana to be able to visit her mother while being legally resident at his address. The fact that this is treated so casually is a joke in itself, and is another Definitely Magical thing that Rusty completely ignores, though there may be some connection between Doctor Orpheus' rooms and the reason why Rusty, who is a notoriously workshy and light-fingered kind of super-scientist, is able to produce the world's first functional teleporter later on in the series.

So with all this malarky being commonplace, it is only a small elaboration to say that, within Doctor Orpheus' house, there is a portal to another dimension. But due to some magical snarl he can't straighten out, the portal is located inside his daughter's wardrobe. Orpheus goes inside the closet to talk to the Master.

The Master, all all-knowing, shape-shifting entity who lives beyond time and space and who mentors Doctor Orpheus in the magical arts (though, in practice, we see him act more of a life coach), is presented without ceremony or occasion. Even his flat voice which, as mentioned, is from the proudly rangeless but reliably hilarious mouth of H. Jon Benjamin, undercuts the enormity of his presence. The Master seems to spend most of his mental energy coming up with live-action productions of custom Aesop's Fables for Orpheus using his shape-shifting abilities and, occasionally, a put-upon assistant. These morality plays seem to always, by accident or design, lead to the Master getting his rocks off in some way or another. The Master's horniness seem to cast him in the mold of a Tibetan vajrācārya - after all, if Orpheus is Doctor Strange, then the Master is his Ancient One, who is vaguely Tibetan in origin. The joke is that rather than being enigmatic, the Master blurts out the morals and meanings of his koans almost immediately. But then in the Season 4 episode, 'The Better Man,' the Master shows that he may have origins further West.

So in that episode Triana, Doctor Orpheus' daughter, enters her closet and unexpectedly encounters the Master. We have established before that only Orpheus can enter the Master's realm. The Master of course was expecting her and has assumed a form to deliver a parable. In the form of an adult Dean Venture, the Master reveals that Dean is an artificially produced clone, insists that his genes are therefore polluted, and expresses profound disgust at the fact that Dean is uncircumcised. He outright tells Triana to leave the Venture Compound to live with her mother and claim her birthright as her mother's pupil.

To me, all this feels very unlike something a Tibetan Tantric Master would say. All this talk of bloodlines, foreskins and abominations makes me suspect that the Master is actually Yahweh, the God of the Old Testament, in one of his burning bush moods. Now, in any other show, the existence of God Almighty living in a character's wardrobe might be more of a big deal. You could certainly build an entire series around that exact premise. But it is perfectly consistent for The Venture Bros. to present the ultimate authority of the Universe as a funny side character who appears in four episodes and has only a small bearing on the plot. That's all in a day's work for The Venture Bros., a show that shares Rusty's deep-rooted skepticism of any and all authority figures and the structures that support them.

For example, we meet the President of the United States on one occasion and he is a crass, childish buffoon who spouts out reheated Clinton jokes. That's fairly run-of-the-mill, but the secret agent characters of The Venture Bros. often invoke the Secret President. We never meet Secret President, and the character who is most likely to have encountered them in person, General Timothy Treister, talks about Secret President in the tone of voice a 13 year old would use to brag about their girlfriend in Canada. As it is, we're given no reason why there should be a Secret President or what function they serve, except to give spies something to brag about. In the United States of The Venture Bros., the fake President is an idiot and the real President doesn't do anything.

The pattern repeats: the diabolical Guild of Calamitous Intent, which dominates the world of professional villany, is governed by a board of shadowy figures who, once we get to know them, are all either has-beens or senile and I've of them is literally a clown. Their leader, The Sovereign, appears either as an intimidating floating head like The Wizard of Oz or as David Bowie, though we learn later he is just a shapeshifter who takes the form of David Bowie because he wants to be cool. The Guild goes through a few changes of management throughout the series, but it doesn't really matter who is at the top - the whole operation is run by two admin goofuses who are perfectly content to prop up a desk and pee in bottles.

Even when we meet the Illuminati, the chosen powerful few who work behind the scenes to keep the torch of civilisation alive by managing technological progress, they turn out to be a VR simulation designed to allow intelligence agencies to hoard the best gizmos for themselves.

When Doctor Orpheus detects the presence of a malicious evil so great that he nearly suffers a panic attack - Doctor Orpheus, who routinely travels to Hell and back without too much trouble - an unholy entity that turns out to be a vintage AI built by Rusty's father, this unspeakable Satan is easily distracted by a roll of old videotape projected onto her camera.

This is a world where it is rubber masks all the way down. Anybody who presents themselves as an authority is invariably mistaken. Doomsday devices are easily defused, or revealed to have never been anything of the sort. Secret are kept by braggarts, heroes are hollow, crowns are held by those who couldn't find a chair when the music stopped, and power is a ball that is always fumbled. So why wouldn't God Almighty live in a teenager's closet, licking his balls, obsessing over foreskins, while the world muddled along without Him?

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 21: Body Horror

Spirit Possession

2432 Words; Coleverlord, pre-canon

TW for injury, emotional abuse

AO3 ver

Cole drifted.

Dance school had been… Cole still enjoyed dancing, despite the growing distance between him and his father. He did enjoy dancing, he really did—

(“Didn’t you see the way he was staring? He’s totally a creep.” Whispers from other students, having to find his own table at lunch;

“Young man, you need to work harder if you want to keep your scholarship.” The only class he had anything less than an A in was his B in history; the scholarship wasn’t that strict.

“You’re dragging our quartet down.”

“Ugh, why does he have to be here?”

“Professor, I can’t work with my partner. Can I switch?”

“Sorry, all the roles have been filled. Now run along, you’re interrupting rehearsal.”

“Freak.”

“Creep.”

“There’s something wrong with him.”)

It was everything else about school that Cole couldn’t stand. Not that it was anything new; he knew the effect he had on other people, but—

Go west, Vessel.

Yeah. That. So Cole left Marty Oppenheimer’s, threw away the scholarship and left. Nobody had stopped him, either. He considered going home, to the garden he couldn’t stand and the bedroom where the shadows shushed all his worries and the studio he could dance in as much as he wanted when his father wasn’t home—

But the way his father had shipped him out to Marty Oppenheimer’s was clue enough. Cole wasn’t stupid, he knew that the spiders crawling under his skull made other people uneasy. He knew he and his father had grown distant because of that—and because of his mother’s death, which had only upset his father further. Cole hadn’t been stupid enough to believe people would treat him like anything other than a monster since he was nine and sitting in his bedroom, hair still damp from the pond—

So Cole drifted. It said to go west, and Cole was vaguely meandering in that direction, which It hadn’t complained about so the slow pace was probably fine. He passed through some towns on the way, met a few people—

(Always leave by the next sunrise, that was the rule. Linger any longer, and the ants marching under his skin would start to give people fits. Best to keep moving.)

—but he didn’t really settle. Not that he could; It would yell at him to get moving again. So Cole kept moving, kept going even when it got hard—he’d been doing that since he was little, he supposed. He kept going when his mother stopped seeing him as her son, kept going when his friends all drifted away, when his father drifted away. Left Marty Oppenheimer’s at Its urging, and just kept going

and going

and going.

Can’t be a good son, can’t be a dancer. Is there anything I can be?

You are my Vessel, and that is all you will need to be.

Cole snorted, bringing the hammer down to strike the nail. The sun was high in the sky, and the fence before him needed to be fixed. He liked working with his hands; there was something so satisfying about the physical labor. It helped that he was often rewarded with food. So Cole worked, taking off the old pickets and hammering in the new.

The hours passed, and before long Cole was being called away from the completed fence for dinner. He took his meal out to the front step, away from awkward table conversations and away from people he had yet to unnerve. He ate in silence, termites crawling along under his skin and shadows dancing at his feet.

“You can come eat with the rest of us, you know.” Cole turned back to look at the girl at the door—her name was Rose, he was pretty sure, and she was the daughter of the couple that lived here. “My folks don’t bite.” There was hospitality in her voice, invitation in the way she looked at him.

“I’m fine. Sunset’s nice.” Cole deflected. “Thank you for the meal.” He added.

Rose stared at him. The termites under his skin started biting at his bones, shadows creeping towards the door. Rose frowned, grip on the doorframe tightening before she retreated back into the house without a word.

Cole turned back to his meal. All the isopods in his brain all curled up, and his shoulders hunched slightly. He set his plate down where they could find it.

He was gone by the time it was dark.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole drifted.

Mountain towns were interesting. His hometown wasn’t really near any big mountains, though he’d seen them on the occasional school field trip or family outing. His mother had loved the mountains; she and his father used to jokingly argue about moving to her hometown out in the mountains. They couldn’t have those arguments anymore, though, and Cole was no longer around to hear them anyway.

Cole was staring up at a particularly large mountain, now, the peak so high it touched the clouds. His mother used to tell him so many stories about mountains…

“I bet I could climb that.” Cole commented. His mother used to go rock climbing all the time before he was born, and after—though she had never been able to take him with her. The wasps under his skin agreed—and hadn’t It said something about “power over the earth” or something like that, once? It wasn’t like Cole would die if he fucked up and fell—

Vessel.

Cole had learned a lot about living off the land since leaving Marty Oppenheimer’s. So he’d probably be fine.

Vessel, do not climb that mountain.

“Why not?” Cole was already starting up the foothills, jogging along the incline towards a rock face that looked a little more climbable than the others.

There is something among those mountains.

Cole paused. He’d… never felt the spiders pulling back, before. “Are you… scared?” The thought was almost laughable; the shadow in his brain never got scared. The shadow in his brain did the scaring, not the other way around. “I thought you were the Great Calamity that Stalks the Night and Turns All Hearts to Rot.” He added, pulling up one of the more pretentious names It liked to use.

It is not… that.

Somehow, the shadow sounded shifty. Usually it was more direct with Cole.

It is simply something powerful. I fear for your safety, Vessel.

Cole’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed the first handhold he saw. “I thought you said I had nothing to fear.” but you. He hauled himself up onto a small cliff, where there was an incline he could climb more easily. The wasps in his chest buzzed angrily, but Cole pushed past it and kept going. After a moment, the shadows at the corners of his vision thinned, the spider settling back into Its corner. Cole kept climbing, half-forgotten memories of his mother’s stories filtering through his head.

When he was six, she’d taken him to a place full of special rock climbing walls with those colored handholds. He could hardly remember it, now, the memory lost to a haze of cobwebs, like every other memory of the time his mother still loved him. He didn’t try to chase the memory—he wouldn’t put it past the shadow to try and bury it harder. It had never liked Cole’s mother—and she hadn’t liked It, either. Cole had been a casualty of the crossfire.

Cole was pretty high up, now, having scrambled up a more sheer rock face with surprising speed. He actually wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so far without falling—though he could certainly feel the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself higher, higher, higher—

Vessel.

“Oh, what now?” Cole groaned. He got that he was beholden to the shadow, he understood that—but what was so wrong with climbing a mountain? It wasn’t like a dragon was just going to show up out of nowhere—It would have said something if that was the case.

House centipede legs scrabbled against his spine.

If you won’t listen to my words, then—

A spider crawling on his brain, tugging at threads—

Cole’s hand opened of its own accord, palm pushing against the stone to

throw

his body back

away

from the

rock

so that he was free falling, limbs locked up by so many coiling worms. The world spun slowly around him, the mountain rising up at incredible speed as Cole went down, down, down—

The impact knocked the air from his lungs with a sickening crunch. Pain slammed him like a wall of tiny needles, crackling his spine and snapping bones. Cole wheezed, feeling so much like a smear of human paste upon the ground. The world was spinning—was he getting dizzy? It was hard to breathe.

Get up.

Cole whined, as much as his aching chest would allow. He sounded—and felt—like a popped balloon slowly deflating. Not that the shadow cared how Cole felt.

Get up.

“Cuh.” Ohhhhh, Cole’s head hurt. His everything hurt. “Can’t.” How was he supposed to move? He’d just fallen several stories off a mountain!

Get up.

Cole couldn’t move his legs, his shoulders were agony—he couldn’t do it! He knew It knew that, so why—

Get. Up.

I can’t! What was Cole supposed to do? It had thrown him off a mountain! His vision blurred, and didn’t unblur—was he dying? The world was still spinning. His head hurt.

Get up!

Shadows crowded Cole’s vision. Violet light erupted from somewhere in his chest, so many ants marching around under his skin and laying down new threads—

A scream ripped from Cole’s throat as his broken bones started to knit themselves back together, legs and arms realigning in seconds. His chest heaved, seeming to split open for a moment before he could suddenly breathe again. Violet threads raced through his flesh hot enough to burn, knitting it all back together and forcing Cole up until he was standing on knees that threatened to buckle at any second.

Cole felt like he should probably be mad. But he mostly felt shaky and uncertain. Worms dug into his stomach, squirming up his chest at the spider’s direction.

You couldn’t get up on your own.

“Yeah.” Cole grit out. “I noticed.” He stumbled forwards, hands shaking. His bag swung at his side—his bag. Cole nearly tore it open, checking—okay, yeah, he’d need to replace more than half of this. That was what he got for landing on it, he supposed.

I can and will put you back together, Vessel. No matter how broken you get.

“Then why are you scared?” Why would the shadow be so bothered by something in the mountains if it could just put Cole back together?

It is not easy.

That… might have been the first weakness It had ever admitted to.

But the lesson was not so you could act recklessly, Vessel.

Well, then it wasn’t exactly a good lesson, because that the first thing he got from it. The spider in his brain bit down, tiny fangs digging in under his skull.

It was a demonstration. You could not get up on your own.

A frame is nothing without the picture behind it.

You are nothing without me, Vessel.

You would do well to remember that.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole drifted.

He drifted mostly westward, but he was still in the mountains, so he couldn’t go straight west. The shadow had been… not exactly quiet, since throwing him off the mountain, but It hadn’t bothered him as much. It had even brought back that old lullaby It used to comfort Cole when he was little. It wasn’t really an apology, but—

Well, it wasn’t like Cole could be mad at It, anyway. He was getting better at this rock climbing thing—it was honestly pretty fun! It was like a dance, him and the mountain moving in tandem to lift him higher and higher.

…he missed dancing. He missed watching his parents dance late at night.

Cole missed a lot of things he could never have again, really.

Cole was really high up, today—he’d gone straight for the peak of this mountain, and had just breached the clouds. The shadow had grumbled, but otherwise let him go, probably sensing the same weird pull that Cole felt.

With a grunt, Cole pulled himself up and over the edge to rest on the very summit—

There was an old man at the top of the mountain.

And old man… drinking tea. “Hello there.”

The spider skittered as far back as it could go, the shadows disappearing entirely. No ants squirmed under Cole’s skin, no worms in his stomach or wasps in his chest, no isopods crawling along his bones. It was all still there, but—It was clearly trying to hide. Which…

This is what It had been afraid of? This old man?

“Um.” Cole greeted, not entirely sure what to say. “How did you—”

That is a dragon, Vessel. Tread carefully.

The old man—dragon—hummed. “Maybe that is a question for me to ask.” He said. “But first: why do you climb the mountain?”

“Because I wanted to.” Because I’ll come out okay even if I fall. “It’s like a dance,” The words were spilling from Cole’s lips, “Me and the mountain, working together. And I like dancing, but I couldn’t stay at that school and continue to learn when everybody hated me—” He swallowed. “I guess I just wanted an escape. From everyone.” He couldn’t say that he wanted to be alone, because he was never truly alone. But he wasn’t lying about wanting space from other people—what was the point in hanging around them anyway, if the shadow was just going to freak them out?

The dragon-who-looked-like-an-old-man nodded. “It is easy to feel discouraged when we are alienated by our peers.” He agreed. “If you knew that they would like you, would you go back?”

“They wouldn’t.” Cole grumbled. “And I can’t go back.”

“I see.” The old-man-maybe-dragon nodded. “You are someone who keeps moving forwards, then.”

Cole felt just a little bit too seen. “Is that good or bad?” He asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Shadows crept around his feet.

“Yes… and no.” The old dragon answered, which wasn’t an answer at all. “Being able to move forwards is an admirable thing,” he explained, “but sometimes one must look back at where they’ve come from. You cannot appreciate the mountain’s height without looking to the valleys below.”

“O…kay?” Ugh, this wasn’t making any sense, and the spiders under his skull were getting agitated. “Why did you climb the mountain, then?”

The old-man-who-didn’t-look-like-a-dragon smiled into his teacup. “Why, to meet you, Cole.”

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹📸 Photos and Videos from Al-Shifa Medical Complex where the Israeli occupation army bombarded the hospital, destroying most of its buildings and the surrounding neighborhood, while hundreds of corpses of field executed Palestinians litter the grounds of medical complex, some handcuffed, while others were run over by occupation tanks and armored vehicles.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏥💥 🚨

HUNDREDS OF BODIES LITTER AL-SHIFA MEDICAL COMPLEX AFTER ISRAELI WITHDRAWAL, HOSPITAL DESTROYED ON DAY 178 OF ZIONIST GENOCIDE IN GAZA

On the 178th day of "Israel's" ongoing war of genocide in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of six new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 63 Palestinians, mostly women and children, while another 94 civilians have been wounded over the previous 24-hours.

In likely the most horrific episode of Israel's genocidal war, the bodies of hundreds of Palestinians were found littering Al-Shifa Medical Complex, in the al-Rimal neighborhood of Gaza City, which itself has been nearly completely destroyed and is now fully out-of-service.

Photos and videos began to emerge after the Zionist occupation army withdrew from the hospital for a second time, previously leaving the hospital intact, but this time the hospital was found scorched from the bombs dropped on the various buildings of the complex, with large burnt holes in the main building where occupation artillery pounded the complex, leaving only the skeletal remains of the main building and hundreds of corpses rotting around the hospital grounds.

Reports from the area state that the IOF withdrew from Al-Shifa Medical Complex early on Monday morning, moving towards the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, south of the hospital, in the southeast of Gaza City.

With dozens upon dozens of rotting Palestinian corpses left lying around the Hospital's grounds, a picture of horrific crimes emerged as a result of the Israeli occupation forces's field executions, along with the purposeful destruction of the temporary cemeteries dug on the hospital grounds to house the bodies of the countless dead killed at, or having arrived to, Al-Shifa. IOF bulldozers dug up the cemeteries and dumped the bodies randomly around the grounds of the complex where they sat rotting.

Witnesses and civil defense crews told local reporters that the occupation army destroyed or burned down many of the homes and buildings from the surrounding Al-Rimal neighborhood, which included thousands of residential units, and leaving nearly complete destruction of the hospital's auxiliary buildings.

Medical sources also mentioned that it was too difficult to count the number of dead from Al-Shifa due to the Zionist forces having crushed and run over with tanks and armored vehicles the countless corpses littering the hospital's grounds.

Sources also said that all those who previously made appeals to the international community to help those being held at Al-Shifa were found killed by the Zionist occupation army, while the bodies of murdered Palestinians wearing handcuffs were also found, making it clear that extrajudicial executions took place at the complex.

For two weeks, the Zionist army besieged Al-Shifa Medical Complex, launching a massive military operation in the area, while killing, wounding and kidnapping hundreds of patients, displaced civilians and medical staff.

According to the Israeli Army Radio, the Israeli occupation forces killed at least 200 Palestinians in the vicinity of Al-Shifa Hospital and wounded hundreds of others, while the Zionist army also arrested another 500 Palestinians, and detained for investigation an additional 900 others.

Elsewhere, the horror show continued with intense occupation airstrikes, much of which targeted the central Gaza Strip, but also hammered the south and north of the enclave.

In one war crime, Zionist warplanes bombed a civilian vehicle in the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the martyrdom of two Palestinians, and wounding several others.

In another atrocity, IOF fighter jets bombarded civilians in a group at the Beach Camp, located to the west of Gaza City, killing two people and wounding around 10 others.

Similarly, Zionist aircraft bombed a residential building in the Al-Daraj neighborhood of Gaza City, killing and wounding several civilians.

In continued mass-destruction, the occupation army went on with ground operations in the western sections of Khan Yunis, in the south of the Gaza Strip, while occupation air forces bombarded homes and buildings in the east of Khan Yunis.

Zionist warplanes also bombed a large group of civilians on the streets of Bani Suhaila, to the northeast of Khan Yunis, in the south-central Gaza Strip, killing at least 11 civilians, while at the same time, paramedic crews were able transport the bodies of five Palestinians recovered from the western sections of the Khan Yunis governate.

Israeli occupation artillery forces also shelled a recently built residential building in the City of Prisoners, having already destroyed 22 of the town's 24 buildings.

In yet another atrocity, Zionist fighter jets bombed the Abu Aoun family home in the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, martyring at least 6 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

The casualty count from yesterday's occupation bombing of civilian tents near the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, was revised upwards today, bringing the total number of casualties to 19, with four martyrs and another 15 wounded from the indiscriminate strike.

As a result of "Israel's ongoing war of genocide in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll has now been revised upwards, with no less than 32'845 Palestinians killed, upwards of 25'000 of which being among women and children according to the United States Pentagon, while an additional 75'392 civilians have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning on October 7th, 2023.

#source1

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#videosource

#photosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[rocketbirdie]

A New School Hunter's Guide to Old School Monster Hunter: What to Expect

World and Rise have come and gone. These are the games that introduced you to Monster Hunter. But now that you've completed every goal you set out to achieve, there's a big 2025 sized hole in your hunting heart where Wilds may one day be. "In the meantime, why not catch up on the old MH games?" you think to yourself, blissfully unaware of the hell that you are about to subject yourself to.

Below the cut is a SUPER LONG and very dramatic post, intended for new-ish Monster Hunter players who are bored of being good at the game, and want to remember what AGONY feels like— but would rather not jump in 100% blind like I did, doomed to hilarious suffering.

Note: This post mainly refers to MHGU, but much of it applies to older MH games as well. I came from Rise, and have not played World. If I made any incorrect assumptions about games I haven't played, apologies in advance. Let me know if I made any glaring mistakes.

Also, feel free to reblog and add any more info that I missed! I am but one mortal hunter, after all.

Table of Contents, because I wasn't kidding when I said this is a super long post:

Preparing for a Quest

GATHERING TAKES FOREVER

Paintballs, and other things that aren't in the newer games for a very good reason

When the monster attacks you

When you attack the monster

Armor Skills (AAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!! AAAAAAAHHAGHHAAHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!)

The Desire Sensor (You Will Grind.)

No but really, you'd better have ~30 minutes set aside if you're planning on reading this whole thing in one sitting. Enjoy!

1. Preparing for a Quest

Many of the conveniences of the modern quest hub layout are nowhere to be found in old school MH games. Sure, you've got an overpriced shop, a smithy, and a quest handler all in one spot. And if you're lucky, maybe even a place to eat before the hunt. But if you want to change your equipment, save the game, or entrust your cat with an overseas trade deal, you'll likely have to do it somewhere else. And that means loading screens.

I'm telling you now, get used to the loading screens. Make sure you know what you want to do and where you need to do it, before you sit there and wait. Our spoiled Gen 5 asses are so accustomed to seamless transitions; the load times are not unreasonable, but the sheer number of interruptions will make you feel like a rabid animal gnawing at the bars of a wire cage. You'll get used to it. <- That's a phrase you're going to see a LOT in this post.

Go to your house to pick out your weapon and armor, and feast your eyes upon the horror: all of the equipment is haphazardly thrown into one box. There are no separate storage spaces for individual weapon types, meaning your sweet precious baby angel, the hammer, has to share menu real estate with the fucking light bowgun (UGH).

You cannot sort armor by head, chest, arms, etc. Want to see how your armor skills are looking? Close the box. Open the start menu. Navigate to "status," then flip through a page or two of normal, healthy stats. Find the armor skills page. Black out for a split second. Feel your heart rate spike, then immediately close out the armor skills, and decide that it's not important right now, and that you'll figure it out later.

Get your items in order. Set an item loadout if you can. Money is tight, and that won't be changing any time soon, so keep an eye on your zenny while you're shopping and smithing. Excess bones and ore are a decent source of cash if you're desperate.

I know I probably don't have to say it, but EAT! Eat something before the hunt! It increases your health and stamina bar and may grant you temporary skills. Some skills are exclusive to food, and can't be acquired via armor or decorations, so try out as many foods as you can. You'll be able to make more dishes using ingredients that you obtain as side quest rewards.

Before you set out on your quest, make absolutely certain that you have everything you might need. This is EXTREMELY important. The main camp is pretty much just there for show. (And for delivering eggs, but that's beside the point.) You cannot change your equipment or refill your items AT ALL once you're out there. If you forgot to eat, too bad, sucks to be you. And whatever weapon you bring is the only one you'll be using for that entire quest.

Alright, time to hunt! Talk to the quest handler, no, not that npc, no, that's not her either- ahem. Talk to the quest handler, aaaand yippee. 1 Star is all gathering quests. Well, at least they'll go by quickly!

2. GATHERING TAKES FOREVER

The first thing you'll notice on your first gathering quest in old school MH is that you slowly. Gather. One. Item. At a time. Maybe two if you're really striking it rich. Please for the love of all that is good, hold down the gathering button. Save yourself some time. Don't be an idiot like I was for more hours than I'm willing to admit.

YOU NEED TO GATHER. You need to gather so much, all the time, constantly. If you're not actively in combat, you should be gathering. If you're not gathering, then you should be moving to another gathering spot in order to gather more stuff. Bring a gathering palico. Hell, bring two. They are The Best type of palico, it doesn't even come close. There is no moment when you should not gather.

I can't stress this enough. Old school MH games will not just shower you with free items. Quest rewards are often pitiful, and it's safe to assume that the trader won't have what you need. Yes, gathering is slow and boring. But that's exactly why you need to weave it into every beat of downtime that the game gives you. GATHER, always. You'll thank yourself later.

You will need pickaxes to mine, and bug nets to catch bugs. These take up precious inventory space, but are well worth bringing to regular locales. If you want to fish and actually obtain something worthwhile (PLESIOTH), then you'll need to craft bait or bring some with you. And if the crafting recipes aren't listed anywhere in game, then gog help you.

There is a chance that crafting will just... not work. It'll consume the materials but spit out garbage instead of what you wanted to make. The odds of this happening can be mitigated by bringing a crafting book with you on your quest, which you can buy from a shop. But that book will take up space in your already miserably small inventory, assuming you brought sensible things along too, like potions. And a map.

Unless you have the locale memorized, you won't know where you are without the map item. In Low Rank, a map is courteously provided in the main camp's rations box, along with some field meds and food. (Don't get used to this kind of generosity. It'll be gone in High Rank and beyond.) Now that you have a map, you'll be able to see where all of the gathering spots are.......... right? RIGHT?????

WRONG. If you want to know where the spots are, you'll have to find them and then dedicate some real-life human brain memory space for that info. In some games, the gathering spots are obvious, with a big question mark that pops up when you can interact with them. In older games... uh... ha. Haha...... yeah. Good luck.

On the bright side, at least the map is good for keeping yourself safe. Y'know, because of the titular monsters. You can see the monsters on the map......... right?

Okay I'm gonna cut straight to the chase.

3. Paintballs, and other things that aren't in the newer games for a very good reason

Craft a pretty pink paintball with a paintberry and a sap plant. Equip it in your item scroll bar, and press that sexy item use button to throw it at a monster. Voila! A pink dot appears on your map. This (and psychoserum) allows you to see the monster's location.

Get into the habit of bringing multiple paintballs with you on every quest. You will miss a few throws. Also, the effect wears off after a few minutes, meaning you'll have to find the monster and hit it with another paintball again in order to keep it on the map. Be mindful of flying wyverns, who are aggravatingly hard to follow without a paintball. That includes some unexpected honorable mentions, for example Mizutsune, Zinogre, and Rajang, who can just... fly to the opposite side of the map. Yeah, I know. Don't ask.

So Zinogre has just taken to the skies. Now's a great opportunity to sharpen your weapon! If you remembered whetstones, that is. They're not an infinite resource, and they're not just automatically in your inventory. You'll have to go out of your way to obtain them and bring them with you on your hunts.

Likewise, I mentioned earlier that you need pickaxes and bug nets for gathering their respective items. What I didn't tell you is that they too are a finite resource. Pickaxes and bug nets can and will break, and you'll have to buy or craft new ones. If you're planning on doing a lot of gathering, eat for skills that reduce the likelihood of your tools breaking. It makes a huge difference.

Pay attention to what locale the quest takes place in. Some locales are hot, like Dunes and... *shudders* Volcanic Hollow. Bring cool drinks with you to hot locales, or else you'll take passive heat damage. Trust me, you do not want to be on fire the whole time you're running away from (and whiffing your attacks on) Uragaan. Ask me how I know that.

Similarly, cold locales will ruin your stamina bar over time. Hot drinks protect you from this stamina drain. Some locales, like Desert, have both hot and cold areas. Which is annoying because the drinks cancel each other out. Keep this in mind.

Don't be lured into a false sense of comfort just because you didn't forget your cool drinks. Because once you get into High Rank, there's a pretty good chance that you won't spawn at the main camp when you start a quest. One day, you will spawn right into a pool of lava, directly in a monster's line of sight, with zero time to prepare. It's okay to be a total chicken and run away screaming. After all, it is a monster, and it will attack you.

4. When the monster attacks you

I almost guarantee that your first old school hunt will leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Not bitter enough to make you instantly hate the game, but just enough to make you want to put the controller down and go outside and maybe even interact with other human beings, which is just as tragic.

Want to get some practice in with your weapon before the hunt? Well, too bad bucko, there's no training area. There may be a so-called "training quest," in which an npc barfs tutorial text onto your boots and then pits you against a real monster in an inescapable arena fight to the death, which is hilarious if you think about the in-game universe implications. Anyway. If you want to learn the in and outs of your weapon, then you'll have to do it the old fashioned way: get out there and get your ass kicked.

Great news! Getting your ass kicked is cheap, easy, and quick. Monsters' attacks will hit you like a cement truck packed with explosives speeding towards a steel wall. Even dumb little attacks like tail slaps and nibbles will take a CHUNK out of your health bar. Good thing you brought potions!

Terrible news! You are extremely vulnerable for several seconds while consuming healing items. Whether you like it or not, you will stand there in place, unable to move at all, glug, then flex your strong beautiful arms for the whole world to admire. And if the monster turns its attention towards you while you're doing this, there is nothing you can do but watch in despair as all of the health you just regained AND then some, gets torn away from you in an instant.

Don't wait until the fights get tough in order to prioritize learning monster's attack patterns. Even early on, only heal when you know for certain that it's safe to do so. Remember, it's okay to run away like a little wuss to put distance between yourself and the monster so you can use your items in peace. Hell, leave the area altogether if you have to. That being said, don't let the fight get too close to the edges of the area. Loading zones always get the last laugh.

Sooo.... hitboxes. They suck. They're bigger than they look, and they're present for longer than they should be. And some attacks have little to no tell or wind-up animation. Some monsters are just a vile conglomeration of both of these problems. (here's looking at you, Yian "You Mother Fucking Son of a Bitch" Garuga). Sigh... you'll get used to it.

If you came from Rise, getting knocked down by an attack will feel EXCRUCIATING. There is no fast way to fling yourself back onto your feet after taking a big hit. You will lie there, recoiling in pain, seething for way longer than you want— and you may even like it after a few hundred hours. Hang in there.

If a strong attack sends you flying into a wall, you'll very likely get stunned. Getting stunned is the single most dangerous thing that can happen, far worse than poison or waterblight or what have you. You can escape stun significantly faster by mashing buttons and wiggling the control stick. And I guess you could also bring the Stun Res skill, but... we'll, um, come back to that later.

WATCH OUT for pin attacks! You may very suddenly get snapped up and chewed apart like a dog toy, and it will be very bad for your health. That's why you should keep your pockets lined with literal shit. Chuck a dung bomb to escape a pin attack before the monster finishes ripping you to shreds. Dung bombs may also convince an unwanted monster to leave the area, which is great for when you'd rather not fight Gravios and Shogun Ceanataur at the same time. Which is all the time.

5. When you attack the monster

Your favorite weapon is not what you remember it being. Moves are missing, or mapped to completely different buttons. "How tf do I vault? Why won't my kinsect go where I want?? Stop shooting pheromone pellets!!!" whines the insect glaive main. "What do you mean there's no shoulder tackle?? How do I get to TCS faster????" cries the greatsword player. "Oh, ok, nothing's really changed," says the SnS main. It's a travesty, I tell you.

All of your movement is clunky. Attack timing is off. New school muscle memory is going to get you carted a lot. But hands down, the absolute most traumatizing thing is that there is no backwards dodge roll. You can dodge left, right, and forward, but never back. As a hunting horn main myself, I can assure you, this is a fate worse than hell. They say you never know love until you've loved and lost. You loved the backwards dodge roll, and soon, you'll know it.

And it gets even funnier if you play lance or gunlance— you can kiss your forward hop goodbye. Need to close the gap? Turn around, aim your squishy butt cheeks at the monster, and hop backwards towards it, expending absurd amounts of stamina in the process. Otherwise, walk slowly and threateningly towards it like the apex predator you are. Oh, and don't bother blocking attacks. It takes too much stamina, inflicts an abysmal knockback, and half of the time, you'll just get hit anyway. Guard and Guard Up are 100% necessary if you plan on using that shield. Good luck obtaining those skills, sucker.

The charge blade is somehow simultaneously more complicated and way easier to play than its modern iterations. The opposite is true of the switch axe, imo. Blunt weapons are stronger, but there's something a bit off about the way they feel. The longsword is the longsword. And as for the bowguns, I wouldn't be able to tell you, because I know better than that.

It doesn't matter what weapon you pick, because either way, you are going to develop a highly concerning dash juice dependency.

Take advantage of every tool the game provides. The usual stuff like barrel bombs, traps, and ballistae are indispensably helpful. But there are other familiar mechanics that are way more useful in old school MH than they are in newer games. That includes invading monsters (DEVILJHO!!), who will indiscriminately attack you AND the monster you're hunting, inadvertently aiding your hunt without you needing to wyvern ride or seek out a turf war. Jump off of ledges to rack up mounting damage in gen 4 games, which may reward you with a free knockdown (if you can mash fast enough)!

Monster's movements are janky, and this is in your favor. Get good at "head sniping" the monster as they turn around in 90 degree increments. Don't get greedy during small opportunities. Remember, monsters can go from t-posing, straight to crushing you to death, with zero wind-up animation.

There are no damage numbers when you land a hit. This may spoil the instant gratification factor of the game for a while. If you're a greatsword main, you will suffer from withdrawals due to Big Number Addiction. But over time you'll realize that it's actually fantastic, because now you're less obsessed with landing the super big awesome attack on the ultra weak spot for maximum damage. Instead, you'll find yourself savoring every little hit you manage to land. It'll be better for your cardiovascular health in the long run.

That's a good analogy for the entire new school to old school pipeline: it sucks A LOT for a long time, then gets really, really good later on once you get over the "Gen 5 stages of grief." Listen, you will have an abusive relationship with this game. It took me 80 HOURS before I could actually say with confidence that I liked MHGU more than I disliked it. Not that I loved it, but merely that I didn't hate it. 80 real life hours. That's... probably not good, but whatever.

There is one thing that I don't think I'll ever learn to love, though. And that's...

6. Armor Skills (AAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!! AAAAAAAHHAGHHAAHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!)

Face it. You will never, ever, ever be as powerful as you are in World or Rise. You will not have your maxxed out attack and affinity boosting skills plus the comfy stuff like Flinch Free and Stun Res all at the same time. Not in Low Rank, not in High Rank, and not quite in G Rank either. Here's why.

Skills have tiers as usual. But now, they also have thresholds. For example, you want the skill Speed Eating +1, then you'll need 10 points in the Eating skill. If you're even one point short, then the skill will not activate. But Speed Eating +1 doesn't increase your potion glugging speed... if you want that to happen, then you'll need to add 5 more points, for a total of 15, to activate Speed Eating +2. This is true for every skill, and is way easier said than done.

Some skills will feel nerfed big time, like Handicraft. You'll almost never see purple sharpness without Handicraft +2. On the other hand, Crit Draw is a one tier skill that gives you a flat 100% affinity boost on every draw attack. Which is absolutely busted.

Wearing a single piece of armor will provide a few points towards a given skill. If the armor has slots, then you can slot in decorations to increase the points as well. Slot "sizes" are weird and inconsistent, and the decos themselves typically only add 1 or 2 points per skill. Considering the fact that the average skill takes 10 points to activate, and the average full armor set has maaaybe around 7 slots to work with, decos are not going to be your primary source of skill activation.

Now for another problem. Let's say you want an armor set that has just three skills: Status Attack +1, Constitution +1, and Stun Res +1. Pretty modest, right? Should be easy enough. Well would you look at that, High Rank Nerscylla's armor set gets you the first two, and because Stun Res decos are worth 2 points each, you can just slot the last skill in! Nerscylla's set has 5 slots, which is the exact number you need to get those 10 points in Stun Res.

Great! So you do just that. Except when you check your skill points, you discover that Stun Res has a whopping zero points.

Yeah, so... negative skills are a thing. Nerscylla's armor comes with -10 points in Stun Res, activating the "skill" Double Stun. Which as the name suggests, doubles the amount of time that you stay stunned, and I don't think I have to explain why that's bad. -10 plus 10 is zero. So much for that Halve Stun you wanted so bad.

Not all skills have equivalent negative skills, but many armor pieces and most decos will have negative points. The challenge of set building comes from having to carefully balance and calculate your skill points, to make sure you're not accidentally charging into battle against Agnaktor while at -20 Fire Res. It can be frustrating if you're like me, and you've got swiss cheese for brains and can't handle the math. Fear not, I've got something amazing for you.

Allow me to introduce you to your new favorite website, Kiranico. This website hosts Monster Hunter databases containing literally everything that the games don't tell you, or do really half-ass job of telling you. That includes weapon upgrades, material drop rates, monster hitzones and health pools, and most importantly, armor sets and their respective skills. Being able to view all of this info all in one place makes it SO much easier to theorycraft new equipment sets.

Kiranico will save you from so much grief. Bookmark it and cherish it like your firstborn child.

Alas, no amount of Kiranico homework will make it easier to obtain the materials you want. The Desire Sensor is real, and it demands sacrifice.

7. The Desire Sensor (You Will Grind.)

It's commonly said that the game can sense exactly what you're grinding for, and will go to un-fucking-believable odds to avoid giving you that which you need most. This is the alleged "Desire Sensor."

Now, don't get me wrong, the newer games have moments like this, too. Don't even get me started about the 46 tries that it took me to get ONE Golden Almudron Orb, out of the TWO that I needed in Rise.

But until you get better gear, a single old school monster could take you 15+ minutes. Especially if you're on your own. Monster's health pools are not well scaled for solo players, so chances are, hunts are going to take way longer than usual if you don't resign yourself to getting tripped by a cheater with a longsword. Couple this with some god awful drop rates plus the disheartening quest rewards, and you're in for a loooooooong grind.

I would say you'll get used to it, but honestly, you won't. You'll get sick of it. You'll be shaking Kiranico by the metaphorical shoulders, desperate for any little thing that might speed up the grind. You might even be tempted to pick up a bowgun. Such a lapse in sanity is frightening, but it will pass. Stay strong.

Take breaks from the grind every now and then, or at least have two different grinds that you can switch back and forth between when you get exhausted of one. Since there is no escaping the Desire Sensor, this is unfortunately the only advice I can offer.

Disclaimer: the Desire Sensor is, as far as I'm aware, not a real mechanic programmed into the games. But godDAMN if it doesn't feel real. As anecdotal evidence, here's a small sample of my own suffering. Materials I wanted, the amount of them I wanted, their drop rates, and the sheer number of attempts it took to complete my goal (yes, I kept count.):

Lightning Sac x8 (G Rank Khezu): 15% chance to carve. 18% chance as quest reward. 27% chance as part break reward. HUNTS: 22

Paddock Cream x1 (G Rank Tetsucabra/Zamtrios): 40% chance to obtain two as subquest reward. 25% shiny drop. 25% chance as capture reward. 14% chance as quest reward. HUNTS: 8. I mean, what the fuck.

Monster Broth x5 (High Rank Insectoid Small Monster): 20% chance to carve. 20% shiny drop. SLAIN: >70

Viscous Radiant Mucus x17 (G Rank Nakarkos) 40% chance to gather; multiple gathering opportunities. 18% chance to obtain at least one as quest reward. 18% chance to obtain at least one as subquest reward. 15% chance per tentacle broken to obtain two. HUNTS: 15 (IT'S A 30+ MINUTE FIGHT SOLO. FML)

Was it worth it? Hell yeah! Do I think we should go back to the way things were in the old games? Fuck no! 46 Almudrons haunt me in my wildest nightmares— but at least I didn't feel my hair getting longer playing Rise.

On the bright side, at least the Desire Sensor has a sense of humor, if that last Khezu was anything to go by. Shout out to carving three lightning sacs in a row.

Phew! That about wraps things up.

Don't let this post deter you from trying out a "hard" Monster Hunter game. I don't regret my old school experiences. They've made me a much more patient and observant player, which weirdly enough, has carried over into other series I play, too. I can't say the same about any other game I've played in my life, and that's just one of many reasons why Monster Hunter holds such a special place in my heart.

I hope that by sharing my wisdom, I've saved at least one overwhelmed player a whole lot of headache. The rest is up to you, fellow hunter. Take it slow, and have fun!

Oh, and one more thing: press the dodge button while climbing in order to climb faster. Learned that one by accident 200 hours in.