#demons run chapter 16

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 16: New Moon

Summary:  We turn to Spade Kingdom as history is made and Zogratis siblings are doing their best to be there for one another in these confusing times. The new regime under Queen Ciel of Spade knocks on the frontier of Clover Kingdom, looking for what was once theirs. Jayce keeps the secrets of the Wizard King as he struggles to shoulder the burden of all the work he was left behind with. Fuegoleon embarks on a project that will change his life. Yami and William finish up their insignias to present to Julius when a little girl walks in and throws them in for a loop. A nurse in a far away land wonders why this stranger brings her an impending sense of doom.

Notes: 

- Check the notes at the end after reading! They are super important and provide explanations for some stuff. Science or reminding yall of plot points mentioned in previous chapters. - No NSFW - 5.7 k words

“Do you think he is dead?”

Zenon Zogratis kept quiet.

“I mean he has to be if we suddenly came out of the…haze.”

Yesterday, three siblings were planning a strategy for the next battle to push into Clover Kingdom in Dante Zogratis’s office but then, the hold over them just vanished. The malice that motivated them to scorch this kingdom to the ground just…disappeared. There was an hour of panic and existential crisis then Dante went catatonic. Vanica Zogratis stayed quiet in thought for once while Zenon sprung into action. He pulled back all troops and locked up those he knew weren’t just simply listening to orders but actually wanted to hurt people. He lugged Vanica around to use force where it was needed and Dante joined soon after, with a new resolve glimmering in his eyes.

“He fucked with our heads I get that, but why make us forget Aika? I didn’t matter what we remembered or not—”

“That was a different spell.”

Vanica and Dante looked at Zenon with furrowed brows.

“How do you know that?”

“Do I need to explain magic sensing to you two?” He asked quietly as he turned to look at the snowfall. The streets were blanketed in a soft layer of white and people were daring to step outside again. He felt like he was hearing music for the first time again as a miscellaneous group of kids and adults sang songs of home and about flying and being free.

The cathedral in the capital opened its doors once again and a sweet chorus sang. And the whole city sang with them, out loud, under their breaths, and in their hearts.

Across my memory

“Then why did we forget her?”

“It’s not only us, Vanica.” Dante sat next to Vanica with his hands clasped together. “I heard some of the guards and former classmates of hers talking about them suddenly remembering her all at the same time. Some are theorising that she must have hidden her existence for some reason and that she died so the spell must have disappeared with her.”

“That seems most likely, yes.”

“But why at the same time as our brother’s brainwashing?”

Vanica gasped.

“You don’t think?”

“They must have found one another and fought and both died at the same time.”

“But that means Julius should have also died and we would have received news by now if Clover Kingdom’s Wizard King is dead.”

“Not necessarily,” Zenon interjected, slowly pacing back and forth in front of his siblings. “If Lucius died, Julius wouldn’t die just because they share the same body.”

“Isn’t that the basis of them sharing the same body and Lucius choosing to keep Julius alive?”

“I don’t know why Lucius kept Julius alive but I know for a fact that while they ‘share the same body’ their bodies are not the same. Julius had a papercut and when he switched with Lucius, the cut was gone.”

“You noticed that? How?”

“He spent most of the time in Lucius and Julius’s lap so I’m not surprised,” Vanica teased, scooching closer to Dante’s side as he wrapped an arm around her.

Zenon froze when fond memories hit him.

Far away, long ago.

Julius would laugh as he would tickle little Zenon, revelling in his squirms and giggles and then abruptly switch with Lucius so he could experience it first hand too. Zenon would stop slowly when he realised that the hands stopped and they were a bit colder, fingers a bit longer as they laid on his head. He would stare up at his older brother, confused and be met with dark hair and an impassive face and he would hug Lucius anyways, hoping that it would make him happy just as it would make Julius happy.

Glowing as dim an ember,

Things my heart used to know.

Zenon never knew if it worked, but even if it did, it didn’t matter because here he was, far into his adult life, with a reputation as a psychopath and a tyrant, believing that he was serving his country.

All because of him.

Things it yearns to remember.

They were now under house arrest as Queen Ciel assumed the Spade throne, trying to get the domestic and international matters in order.

A knock sounded on his bedroom door and it swung open without giving them a chance to reply.

“I have a message from Queen Ciel.”

Speak of the Devil. Ironic.

“She requests that the most sensible sibling, Zenon Zogratis, come help her figure out some of the paperwork and other matters.”

“Did she throw in that insult too?” Vanica drawled.

And a song someone sings.

“No, I did,” the messenger smirked as she looked at their anti-magic bracelets.

“Whatever, but believe it or not, we actually did the paperwork and the planning and the decisions together ,” Dante lied. “So you would need all three of us to be of any use.”

Zenon went with it, nodding as the messenger looked at him for confirmation. Dante and Vanica would hate to feel left out and he would rather not deal with the whining when he would come back.

“Alright,” the messenger’s magic whizzed through the air, tying them together, tethered to her. “Follow me.”

Zenon sighed as his two older siblings giggled conspiratorially, and they marched to their uncertain futures.

Once upon a December.

Sister Lily sang a song she had been hearing since last night, wafting from the West, where she heard just this afternoon, was liberated from the Zogratis siblings. She smiled.

Hage laid still at the frontier, the Demon Skull casting a shadow as the Sun set in the West and Sister Lily prayed to the Goddess for the people of Spade. She prayed that they may live free again and smile at the same Moon and stars as her.

Asta and Yuno, the oldest children at the church, bounded around the tree where she sat. While Asta chased him in good-natured fun, Yuno had a determined look on his face.

Sister Lily touched her cheek and sighed.

Ever since that day when Yuno was supposed to give a letter to the Mayor and Asta followed him, they both came back, looking extremely beat up. Yuno hadn’t shed a single tear since that day. When asked why, he said he decided to never cry because he needed to be strong if he wanted to be Wizard King.

She didn’t know what to say except support him in his dream. When Asta said the same thing, she felt sad. As much as he was a strong kid with his heart in the right place, she couldn’t encourage him because when he realises that it is completely out of his reach, he will despair.

She could not lie to him like that.

“Sister Lily! Can you hear that?”

A stampede slightly shook the ground and she quickly hid the two kids behind her legs as she looked at the Grand Magic Zone past the forest in worry.

She could see some firelit torches shining between the trees and smoke. It wasn’t an army. It was neither fast nor big but it was a sizable group of people making their way over.

Sister Lily fiddled with the keystone in her pocket given by their new neighbours. Raymond and Lydia said they were retired Magic Knights and were willing to help if need be. She hesitated though. What if it was nothing?

When the first line of men broke through the tree line, she activated the keystone. She wasn’t taking my chances.

The group made their way to her, the only person in sight.

As they got closer, she could see their clothes a bit more clearly. They were men and women of the Spade Kingdom with their fur-lined cloaks and heavy chains keeping them together. These were soldiers.

Sister Lily’s heart raced as she silently prayed for Raymond and Lydia to come quicker.

Jayce stumbled and braced himself against the cold stone wall. Ever since that day he had been plagued by uncomfortable dreams, sometimes edging on the nightmarish side. He could feel himself getting sick with the lack of proper sleep. The dreams, he feared, were not really dreams but memories. Memories of Julius Novachrono. They were not all of his memories, just the disturbing parts of his childhood in Spade Kingdom.

It came to him as a surprise that he was not from around here but he was not the one to judge. Jayce was also not from around here, but from the neighbouring Diamond Kingdom.

Diamond kingdom where many of his sealed sigils exist.

Every seal, every oath, every promise, all sorts of magic broke down in that room that day.

Between visiting Evan, studying, doing Miss Aika’s paperwork as her proxy, and redoing the broken seals not only in Diamond Kingdom but all over the world: in dungeons, caves, under the sea, in uncharted forests and territories but he had some people as capable at sealing magic help him out in various regions. Jayce was so grateful that he only had to execute the final runes of some of them.

Regardless, it was safe to say that with no proper sleep or food for two weeks, he was haggard as all hell and felt it in his soul. He was understandably afraid to even look at himself in the mirror.

“Yo!”

Jayce turned around, not even bothering to hide his exhaustion.

“Mister Arthur,” he looked past the man and saw the Magic Knight Captains following him. That’s strange but Arthur often was. “And Co.”

Fuegoleon waved in greeting as Arthur peeled him off the wall and supported his weight on him. Jayce shook his hand gingerly once he was close enough.

“Congrats on Captainship again, Fuego. It looks good on you.”

“Thank you, Jayce. But weeks of no sleep does not look good on you.”

He laughed hoarsely.

“How is the paper Miss Aika assigned coming along?” The Captains gathered around them, failing to hide their eagerness to listen. Fuegoleon has been working on an idea that Miss Aika had given to him as a present for becoming Captain. She had not even sat down with him and properly congratulated him but simply sent him a letter and a package of books for him to read and research. Books about fire magic, mundane sciences such as chemistry and physics, electricity and magnetism, a rare book about Time Magic by an unnamed author, and for some reason, spirituality and transcendence through magic that is entirely theoretical and never been achieved before. At least on public record. She gave him such an assignment as a gift.

“Well,” Fuegoleon sighed. “I finally have a title for it.”

“I didn’t know you were working on a paper,” Jien sidled up to him, poking in the side light-heartedly, but inwardly, he was dying of curiosity. Fuegoleon is undoubtedly very smart but he had never heard of the man doing any sort of research or writing a paper. “What is it about?”

“‘Reversibility of Entropy through the Attribute of Fire: An Expansion on Laplace’s Demon.’ That’s the title.” Fuegoleon bore a slight frown as he said it.

“Reversibility of Entropy…” Jien tapped his chin as he searched his memory. “People with the Fire attribute did try that before but research has shown that entropy cannot be perfectly reverse engineered unless…” His eyes widened as realisation struck him. “Unless you can use Time Magic!”

Jayce grinned as the fog lifted from his head. Miss Aika was crazy.

“She is trying to teach you Time Magic!” He exclaimed.

Fuegoleon nodded grimly.

“It didn’t make sense why she would do that but after that day…” She was using him as an experiment essentially, to see how people can develop Time Magic through fire.

“Why would she try to teach you Time Magic?” Nozel raised a curious brow. There was something they were not telling about that day two weeks ago when the Captain’s meeting happened.

Fuegoleon looked to Jayce who nodded.

“Because, Miss Aika, like Sir Julius, also uses Time Magic.”

Nozel and the rest of the Captains were silent for a second, then burst into noise.

“What?!” Nozel hissed.

“Is it a weaker version of Time Magic or?”

“There is a reason why there is no record of Time Magic ever.”

“Yes, even Sir Julius’s ability to wield it is a historical moment but everyone knows it’s strange.”

“Mhm. Even his grimoire looks strange.”

“Well, we hide it from the general public because it’s a tactical advantage but we also don’t want negative attention from foreigners overseas. They would want to use it for all sorts of things.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jayce exclaimed, holding his head, taking his time to put together a coherent sentence. Everyone quieted down and looked at him.

“There is no record of Time Magic? Ever?”

“Weaker forms of it had existed before but not to the extent Sir Julius has. Wielding it is believed to be forbidden.” Charlotte offered.

“Why?”

Everyone looked away, uncomfortable with the question posed. Jayce was confused. Why the sudden awkward atmosphere?

Nozel squared his shoulders and spoke up.

“Because a long time ago, the Time Devil, Astaroth had declared when he was summoned that Time Magic will never be wielded by anyone because it’s too much power in any human’s hands.”

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon snarled.

“Hold on. Why is everyone on the edge about this?”

Arthur sighed. “Because in the Clover Kingdom, knowing about devils, forbidden magic and stuff is taboo.”

“That’s the issue? Haven’t all of you maimed and tortured before?”

“I mean yer right but you don’t have to say the quiet part out loud,” The tall, lanky Captain with blades on his forearms harrumphed.

“Then y’all can relax a little bit. So you’re telling me that it’s a little suspicious that they both happened to have Time Magic, both know each other, are born on the same day, share the same blood type, and are a little in love?”

“I don’t buy into that hanky panky superstition stuff,” Gueldere began “but same day, same blood type, and same magic that is supposedly forbidden?” He shook his head. “That sounds awfully suspicious to me.”

“Yeah, just like you,” Jack nudged him in a thinly veiled insult.

“It’s not superstition.” Fuegoleon said as his frown deepened. “In a world of magic, it is an indication of important events.”

“Shouldn’t we all be moving along,” Arthur dramatically waved down the hall. “To the study to meet with your Master that you are oh-so-suspicious of?”

“Well, you don’t think that with your two thousand years of knowledge, it’s a little suspicious? Has there really never been any Time Mages as long as you have lived?”

“Wait, he’s two thousand years old?” A Captain whispered to another.

“No, there have been no Time Mages but there are now and yes it is a significant event and as for the coincidence, extraordinary individuals have extraordinary backgrounds,” Arthur explained in one breath. “There is no conspiracy, there is nothing. Don’t go poking your heads where it doesn’t belong now if we can please move along.”

Fuegoleon looked like he wanted to say more but he kept quiet. He could ask after the meeting.

“Can you walk?” Arthur whispered to Jayce, his arm tightening around his waist.

“I don’t know,” Jayce murmured. Just as quickly as he regained his energy, he lost it again. His body felt heavier and his stomach turned. The older man just sighed and picked him up.

“Where are you headed?”

Jayce didn’t even care to be embarrassed to be carried at his grown age. He was far too tired for it. The last time he saw Arthur, they might have been like cats picking fights for seemingly no apparent reason, but next time they see each other, they always go back to normal. That was simply their dynamic. He laid his head on the man’s chest and sighed,

“The study. The armchairs look really comfy.”

“What a coincidence, we’re headed to the same place.”

Jayce was swimming in and out of consciousness. He just wanted some sleep.

“Mmm.”

Sukehiro Yami brought his painting up to sunlight to see the pencil sketch beneath the painting. The Black Bulls insignia is coming along very nicely. He even used his expensive metallic gold paint for the accent colour, and in his humble opinion, it definitely catches one’s eye.

He looked at William Vangeance’s draft of his own squad’s insignia from the corner of his eye. Yami didn’t know much about the guy except that his Qi was all strange and wrong from the handful of times he worked with him. And today, he found out he was also shit at drawing.

Yami was making all sorts of faces but he most probably can’t even see because peripheral vision is blocked by that ugly mask of his. He had always wondered why he would wear that mask knowing that a good bit of his vision was blocked.

But each to their own, I guess.

His fingers itched to reach for a cig but he refrained considering that he was sitting in a lavish study, stuffed floor to ceiling in books on top of books. Julius may actually get mad for once if he waved a lit one near his books. He’ll be considerate for once.

Only for Julius though.

Yami and William froze when the doors to the study creaked open. They turned expectantly for the Wizard King and Captains to walk in but to their surprise, it was a little girl with long blonde hair who invited herself in. She carried some art supplies under her arm and closed the door quietly behind her.

She toddled over to the coffee table the Captains-to-be were hunching over and made herself comfortable on the floor and table-space opposite to them.

“You guys mind if I use this table?”

“Not at all,” William assured her instinctively but he was still unsure who she was or if she could even be in here.

“Thanks.”

They just stared at her as she kneeled on the floor and spread her supplies out on the table. It looked like she had already finished lining her sketch and just got to colouring. She stuck her tongue out as she concentrated. What felt like forever passed as they stared at her but it had only been a minute.

The little girl sighed as she set her pencil down, exasperated.

“Have you two never seen a kid or something?”

“Where are your parents, kid?” Yami blurted before William could.

“I think it’s more polite to ask someone their name first but okay.” She picked her colour pencil up and continued filling in between the lines. “My mom is on a work trip and my dad is also working.”

“What’s your name, young lady?” William asked, slightly embarrassed. He doesn’t see many kids around except maybe on missions or errands in populated areas. He can’t think of anyone at the Magic Knight headquarters who may have a kid. In his field, everyone would almost instantly know if anyone at work had a kid.

“My name is Holly. Thank you for asking, Cool Mask Guy.”

Yami stifled a laugh at William’s shock. Almost everyone thought that mask of his was tacky but that kid’s quick and honest compliment must’ve been nice.

“Why thank you, Holly.” He smiled. “Do you know anyone in this building?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not some random kid that wandered into the Magic Knight Headquarters.”

William laughed.

“That’s good! Do you like my mask, Holly?”

“Mhm.” She looked up to take a closer look at it. “It looks good in an ironic way.”

It was Yami’s turn to laugh.

“Haha, thank you,” William covered his mouth as he chuckled. “My name is William, by the way. William Vangeance.”

“Cool name too.”

Holly turned and looked expectantly at Yami.

“Yami Sukehiro.”

“Is that first name, last name or last name, first name?”

“Huh?”

“‘Cause I know in the East you say last name, first name.”

He huffed in amusement. No one had ever realised that before.

“Just call me Yami.”

“Nice to meet you, Yami.”

The three fell into companionable silence after acquainting themselves. After a while, Yami had finished his drawing and sat back to stare at the sealing. Holly got bored of colouring for a bit so she started a new drawing, using the two men in front of her as models. William looked up from his sketching and smiled when he saw that she was drawing them, and she was especially being careful with the way she drew his mask.

“Want to know a cool fact about my mask, Holly?”

“Sure!” She chirped. She seemed to be warming up to them.

“The Wizard King was the one who made this for me when I was younger and he made different sizes of it as I grew older.”

Yami listened indifferently. He didn’t know that but that sounds like something Julius would do. He’s got a soft spot for kids.

Instead of amazement, William was met with a warm smile.

“Yeah. Julius is cool like that.”

“You’re on a first name basis with the Wizard King?” William asked, in half confusion and amusement.

Holly went back to her drawing causally as she said, “Yeah. I think I can be since he’s smooching my mom.”

Yami’s head snapped to her, nearly giving himself whiplash.

Blonde hair, light purple eyes, working dad.

“Are you Julius’s secret love child?”

Holly looked up at him in shock and fell back laughing.

William and Yami just stared at her helplessly. If she was his kid, they felt a little betrayed because Julius hasn't told them a single thing about his life even though they have both known him since they were children. He was so charismatic that most people forget to inquire about him or his family. But even when they did, he had always dodged the question. He did let it slip once that he had a sister but no one dared to make any jokes about it. One guy tried it. He tried to make a poorly constructed joke about becoming Julius’s brother-in-law and everyone in the vicinity who heard the joke saw Julius’s face and found out first hand how terrifying he can be.

“I don’t think his secret love child would be hanging around the building where he works!” Holly guffawed, clutching her stomach. She slowly came to as she wiped tears away, feeling a little bad for the men she left in suspense.

“He’s just courting my mom. I think it’s really cute.”

Yami and William shared a look. Wow. They both sat back in shock.

“Why do y’all look like that?”

“Well, we’ve never heard of our Captain—well, not captain anymore but, we’ve never heard of him courting anyone,” William explained.

“He looks pretty good for his age. And he’s really nice and cool. Why couldn’t he get a date before?”

Yami could not stop laughing at that.

“It’s because I didn’t want to.”

Holly leapt to her feet at the familiar voice of her mother’s lover. He stepped out of the mini passage between his office and study and smiled warmly at them, the corners of his lips reaching his tired eyes.

“Julilus!”

William and Yami stood up at his arrival, the latter man wiping tears as he spluttered with laughter.

“Holly!”

Holly ran and jumped up into Julius’s arms and hugged him tight. He buried his face in her shoulder as he felt oddly emotional. He suddenly missed the days when his wards were younger and now they’re about to become Captains, he missed the memories of his childhood, hugging his younger siblings. He was at his wits end about his past coming back to him but he had to be composed. He was doing his best not to think about Aika because he was losing his peace of mind every time he did. It was a little hard not to when he was hugging her daughter but he has been through harder things in life. He can do this.

Julius pulled back with a sniffle and gave Holly a watery smile when she furrowed her brows at him in concern.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered.

He had to be fine. He was the Wizard King.

Julius turned his attention to Yami and William.

“Congratulations you two,” Holly stayed close to him, resting on his hip, propped up on his arm. “Chairman Kira has finally approved your Captainship.”

“You knew he would,” Yami smirked, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword and his right brought up to his chest in a Three-Clover Salute. William mirrored him with a polite smile. Julius did know he would. His foresight was a blessing.

“We would be honoured to dedicate our grimoires to you, Sir,” they declared in unison.

Julius beamed with pride. He was so, so proud of how far they have come. Two scraggly little boys who had no dependable adults in their lives; he was glad they had grown to not only depend but look up to him and followed his path to become a Magic Knight and then a Captain. He wanted to peer into the future but he refrained. He was sure one of the two would follow his footsteps to become Wizard King as well.

Julius absolutely refused to let them be pawns in Lucius’s game, raised to be lambs for slaughter.

A young woman, a nurse, wiped down her patient. The man lying in bed was tall with dark, dark hair with purple eyes. Well, purple eye. His other eye was covered with an eye patch for her and everyone else’s safety because it thrummed with ominous mana. Everyone felt like they should avoid it and it was no problem because it doesn’t seem to be causing him any issues.

Purple eyes were common, especially where she was from. In her culture, people believed that it was a sign of great potential; for magic or for life. Mainly for magic though. She lived in a Grand Magic Zone after all.

It was a region called Bain, snowy and white. Only specks of colour were the dark wood and leaves of evergreen trees and plants. It was fine by her though because it was not like she could leave. Her people have adapted to survive in the snowy Grand Magic Zone and have a lot of mana but they cannot survive outside of it because there was so little mana everywhere else. Because of the environment, they also had light skin and even lighter hair to absorb energy from what little sunlight they received. Warm blood, almost literal fire, coursing through their veins, which also makes Fire Magic common amongst them.

So the dark hair was somewhat of a rare sight. The man was clearly not from around here.

They do have adventurers and travelers that pass through their Grand Magic Zone but even then it was kind of rare for this dark of hair.

If she was being honest, she was jealous. She wished she had dark hair. She wished she could be an adventurer and see the world. She heard there are places in the world that are just fantastically green all over or even blue. She wished she was from a place where she wouldn’t have this light hair.

Hyperfixation on his hair aside, the young woman massaged her patient’s calves with her Fire Magic, keeping them warm and blood flowing faster as she eased her mana into the flesh.

Most people’s mana just get overwhelmed after a few days of staying in this region but after a week of staying here, his mana which was depleted before, was actually replenishing at the same rate as natives here. Healers have concluded that he was from another Grand Magic Region and was allowed to stay.

“Listen if I just place the pillow over his face,” her partner whispered in induced madness. “It will open up one more bed for us in the ward. These travelers keep taking up spots that us native folks desperately need!”

She just sighed. This clinic was only for outsiders to use specifically so they don’t take up beds and medical attention away from the natives. But she didn’t even bother correcting them because the homicidal behaviour was due to her patient’s unique mana as a Forbidden Magic user.

She had exposure to forbidden magic before so she was fine but her partner wasn’t. Usually they wouldn’t be in this room but they were a bit short staffed today so they had to step in.

“Okay, Mier. Time for you to step out.” She pushed them out with only a bit of resistance but to her shock, they swiftly side stepped her. Mier grabbed a glass bottle near them, broke it against the wall and lunged at her patient.

She could only watch in horror as her body didn’t move.

Mier threw themselves against the prone man but when they fell on top of him, they fell on the bed.

The man disappeared.

“Sad to see someone lose their sanity like that.”

The young nurse jumped when a voice spoke beside her. She pressed her back against the wall as she looked up in fear at the tall man. Her patient had woken up.

He raised his hands and backed off.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She stayed quiet and breathed deeply when anxiety threatened to clog her mind. But in that brief moment of silence, Mier threw themself again at her patient but the man held them at an arm's length and flicked them between their eyes, hard enough to knock them out.

They went slack and the man caught them before they fell to the ground.

“Sorry, I don’t want him to hurt me so I had to do that.”

“Them,” she corrected him reflexively. But she regretted it because she might’ve made the situation worse. He was definitely toying with her but she didn’t want to incur his wrath.

“Sorry, I didn’t want them to hurt me so I had to do that,” the man smoothly corrected himself as he placed Mier onto the bed he was previously in.

She relaxed. Wow. He took it really well and corrected himself immediately. That told her a lot about his character.

“What’s your name…Miss?” She nodded as she conjured up a shaky smile.

“Gwynevere.”

“Like the Princess of Sunlight?” He asked with a charming smile.

She blushed as she looked at his feet. He was trying to make her feel at ease and she appreciated that.

“Yes.” She was the Princess of Sunlight but he didn’t need to know that. “What’s your name? We…we couldn’t ID you.”

“I have a few names but one that is most known in this area is ‘Sarkany?’” He asked and looked at her to see if that rang any bells. She stared at him blankly. It didn’t.

“Could you go talk to your supervisor about it and maybe bring me some clothes, Gwynevere?”

That’s right. He was standing barefoot and naked in his hospital gown and she should probably let someone know he had woken up.

“I will be right back then.”

He nodded with a polite smile and she walked out without turning her back to him.

He was quick and not lethargic at all meaning he must have been awake for a while but he seems relatively harmless for now. She needed to be careful regardless.

Gwynevere went and explained the situation to the Head Healer. He tsked when she told him what happened to Mier.

“These outsiders will put their hands on anybody, I swear.” She explained to him that Mier was trying to kill the patient but he didn’t care. “Did he tell you his name?” “He said the name ‘Sarkany’ should be familiar.”

The Head Healer grew pale when she said his name. Maybe it did mean something then and she just didn’t know.

“Okay, Okay,” he hastily put his coat on. “Get the man what he wants and treat him as if he were our own.”

Gwynevere grabbed onto his sleeve as he turned away to supposedly go see the man.

“Wait, sir. Who is he?”

“I’m so surprised you don’t know but you are out here from that castle of yours to learn about us common folk and the world anyways so know this: That man is Atropos Tolliver and he is Eidolon’s best agent. He is very strong and not someone to mess with.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. She did know about Eidolon but not about Atropos Tolliver. She could tell he was strong and it made sense.

She brought some loose, brown pants, white shirt and a long strip of cloth to tie around his waist while her supervisor spoke to the man she was assuming.

She neared the door and she heard voices talk.

“No, no. Mier may have had trouble but Miss Gwynevere was the perfect caretaker.”

“Thank you, thank you! I’m glad to hear that her training has paid off. I am so sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier, Sir. You didn’t make your portrait public so I hope you understand…”

“Absolutely. Please don’t treat me any differently and contact the guild for the expenses. They should pay it in full.”

Gwyn walked in and felt strange when their eyes turned to her. She handed his clothes to him and stepped back as she looked at the floor.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly and she felt her ears burn.

Later after he checked out, he stopped her as she passed by him.

She craned her neck up to look at him in his one eye.

“I studied Medicine when I was your age.” Gwyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “You demonstrated excellent use of mundane and magic techniques in your physiotherapy for me. Well done.”

“How long were you awake?”

“Long enough. I apologise if that makes you uncomfortable.”

She shook her head.

“No, I was just wondering…You’re welcome. I was just doing my job.”

He patted her on the head as he walked out.

Gwyn stared at his back and wondered if she would ever see him again. Why did she feel that way? She didn’t know. Her heart was beating fast and it was in her throat. That man was scary for reasons she knew, but she wondered about what she didn’t know. The red cloak he borrowed billowed in the wind and the door snapped shut behind him.

That was not the last time she would see him.

Notes:

- In the first scene, the song “Once Upon a December” from Anastasia is playing and the lyrics are displayed in the scene.

- Next chapter, how will the former Wizard King and his wife deal with the uninvited guests? How will Julius and the Captains react when they see Yami and William’s squad insignias? When will Gwyn see Atropos again?

- As you could’ve guessed by now, Atropos is Aika. Aika having transformation magic and it being limited to her being a man was referenced in earlier chapters with Aika’s conversations with Julius.

- Sarkany was also a code name used for her in this region of the world. It’s the name that Sven, the assassin, used when he came to kill Aika.

- Julius is suffering right now but we don’t get to see the depth of it until the next chapter.

- What is Fuegoleon working on? You can ask me all about it on my tumblr or find out in chapter 17 or 18.

- Laplace’s demon is an old idea of determinism in Newtonian days that basically says that if you know the past, you could explain the present and if you know the present, you could predict the future with equations and such. When we’re talking about the future, we’re talking about the movement of objects and particles and such. This idea of determinism in science was cast aside when scientists realised that the world has random components and forces in it that cannot be predicted and this is the science of chaos. A part of why determinism in science doesn’t work is because the entropy of the universe, the disorder of particles as they expand, is very chaotic and unpredictable after a certain extent. So you cannot reverse entropy, physically or mathematically.

- So, Fuegoleon is trying to use his understanding of fire and heat to reverse entropy but that would mean using Time Magic. But it doesn’t have to be time magic specifically, but it can be time magic as a magic form. Magic forms are basically sub classes of the attributes in Black Clover. For example, trap magic even though Zora has Ash Magic, transformation magic when Julius has time magic, memory magic even though Ralph has fire magic, etc.

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Masterlist

Genre: Horror ish au, paranormal au, hurt/comfort, slow burn, romance, psychic au, friends to lovers, Mystery, BTS ot7 x reader

Rating: 18+: Keep that in mind as this is at its core a paranormal/heavy theme rooted in history and myth, and some things are emotionally disturbing or spooky (so be prepared for potential gore/violence or scary elements). Read at your own discretion as I will only be putting trigger warnings for things that can pose severe safety risks to those affected. All else, like I said it is a spooky and mystery au.

Y/n Wörner left the Wörner Hotel and Estate nearly 5 years ago in an attempt to run away from a family argument that put a firm divide between her and her parents. She was managing fine, for the most part -save for the constant existential crisis of what she should do with herself and her life. That was until an invitation for the 150th anniversary of their family hotel ended up shoved in her mailbox on Thursday morning, and for no rational reason she found herself running back; unable to stop the pull to return home to her family and friends who live on the grounds. Once she arrives, however, it becomes inarguably apparent that things are very wrong. The ghosts of her long past family who were once friendly, are now vengeful and violent. Her friends are divided by secrets, mystery, and fear- changed in tandem with the ghosts she used to love. She has to relearn how to balance who she knew her friends as children, and who they have become in the recent years as a result of the darkness that threatens to drown them in its wake. She knows that something is threatening her home and her friends, but she doesn't know what. And if there's one thing about Y/n Wörner, it's that she's not a quitter. No ghost or demon will stop her from getting the answers she needs- even if it means they have to try and kill her before she gets to them. Because what does she have to lose?

_________________________________________

Main story,

Chapter 1 - 2/16/2025

Chapter 2- 2/19/2025

Chapter 3- 2/22/2025

Chapter 4- 2/24/2025

Chapter 5- 3/1/2025

Chapter 6- 3/10/2025

Chapter 7- 3/15/2025

Chapter 8 - 3/20/2025

Chapter 9 - 3/28/25

Chapter 10 - 4/6/2025

Chapter 11 - 4/11/2025

Chapter 12 -4/21/2025

Chapter 13- 4/27/2025

Chapter 14 -5/4/2025

Chapter 15 - 5/16/2025

Chapter 16 - 5/23/2025

Chapter 17 - 5/30/2025

Chapter 18 -6/7/2025

Chapter 19 -6/21/2025

Chapter 20 -6/30/2025

Chapter 21 -7/5/2025

_________________________________________

Pieces of Red String for you to Follow if you Dare...

Namjoon Character Moodboard

Seokjin Character Moodboard

Yoongi Character Moodboard

Hoseok Character Moodboard

Jimin Character Moodboard

Taehyung Character Moodboard

Jungkook Character Moodboard

Pinterest Boards

Family Tree of Y/n Wörner

(new) Historical Archives of the Wörner's (Part 1)

Photos of rough outline of the estate (not hotel)

Morse code clues, chapters 7 and up: x x x x x x x x x

?

Find chapter and character playlists here:

Spotify

Youtube music

_________________________________________

P.S: to avoid spoilers, I use a spoiler tag on asks for new readers to avoid if they want to.

Do not repost anywhere or steal my writing/story. Thx.

Obvious disclaimer: this is just fiction and not actually about the bts members, they are simply face cards and names here. Enjoy, love you lots.

[demon-at-peace]

hi, so i generally don't like demon twins, like it's fanfiction, but relationships don't work like that, they aren't brothers. Even if they separated at age 6, 7 or even 8.

because you don't remember stuff. You remember a teacher making you cry, the friends you have. With the terrible dynamic portrayed in most of the fics, both of them would likely only hold on to the bad memories. I'm also between 16-18 and it's like that for me.

I was thinking about it, and why don't they have a terrible relationship in these? it makes more sense then suddenly being brothers. Often we see a cruel Damian, with a neglected Danny in flashbacks. And even more common is Danny and Damian dueling to the death to decide and heir.

Logically then the hate would be one sided, Danny would hate Damian, but Damian wouldn't hate Danny. And Damian (after apologies and treating Danny better) he would expect to be forgiven. He was just a kid, he didn't understand surely Danny can see that.

Danny would see someone who tried to kill him, who betrayed him, who left him to die, and of course he'd hate Damian. but a even cooler response would be fear, he was a kid and trauma exists.And normally these start like that, before they smooth it out in a chapter or 2.

but that's not how it works. I think Danny would avoid Damian he'd snap at him, and on principle he'd dislike the bats, I can see him heading to crime alley because they don't patrol there only to meet Jason and panic.

And Damian would chase him, it's his brother, he has a second chance, and the bats would too. And it would end up terribly. Danny runs and hates them so much and avoids them. they also might remind him of Maddie and Jack or Skuller and lead to panic attacks.

So Danny runs for a year, and the Bats regret their actions. they were rash. They lost a brother, they still search, sifting through reports, looking into people, checking data bases for fake ID's.

Danny is paranoid, he's still quips, still a hero, but he has a mask, he changes his speech patterns, he changes his name entirely. He changes his style to be more like Sams, he looks almost unrecognizable. And he's still scared, and on rare instances he still wakes up with dreams from when Damain stabbed him.

of course to make it worse he could become an established part of the JL a couple years or so after he leaves Gotham. so he's finally settling down finally has friends, and he avoids the Bats. No one in the JL know why Danny hates them, why he's skittish, why he looks at them with so much fear.

Oh misunderstandings! please, have them think Bruce hurt Danny, but he's the worst around Robin. Have Jon try to convince Danny that Robin is nice and all Danny can see when he offers to spar is the duel!

So while I personally don't enjoy this in general this is a concept I would read avidly, though this principle would likely be a heart wrenching angst fic now that I think about it. Anyhow thanks for reading my rant.

i'm sure there is overlap on this idea out there, and I had zero intention to plagiarize anything, please let me know too.

edit: apparently there is a fic like this, and all credits go to the author, thanks to the commenter who told me or I wouldn’t have known,

it’s called Broken Bonds https://archiveofourown.org/works/54372952/chapters/137720050

hi found another by stroke of luck

it's called counting constellations

thanks :)

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 16 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You needed to rein in your anger for now. Jinwoo needed to defeat Baran as quickly as possible to obtain the ingredients necessary to cure his mother. Even though he might not yet know whether it would work, you did. The future you knew was enough to justify setting aside… whatever this was for the time being.

It was clear that Jinwoo wanted your support; otherwise, he would have already gone to the Demon Castle. You should have convinced him to go solo. According to the story, he’d be fine. Your interference might bring troublesome consequences, yet you wanted to help him—perhaps selfishly this time.

You still blamed yourself for what happened to his mother. You knew her eternal slumber was meant to drive Jinwoo to grow stronger. But you had the power to prevent it, to cure her, and yet—

At one point, you unconsciously began to feel that helping him was a way of making amends—for your helplessness, for things out of your control. Not just his mother [Why do you blame yourself?] but also for not arriving sooner from the garden. For being too late to save his father, even if the system might have stopped you anyway. You could have tried. Yet you were too late [it’s not your fault]. Too late to save his father. Too late to help the people devastated by Kamish.

[It was out of your control.]

---

The garden was as serene as ever, a tranquil oasis filled with blooming flowers and butterflies flitting through the air. The soft hum of nature provided a soothing backdrop, yet the tension inside you was anything but calm. You sat at your usual spot by the gazebo, sipping tea from a delicate cup, waiting for him to arrive via the invitation you’d sent with your butterflies.

When Jinwoo stepped into your domain, the portal sealed behind him.

Was it just you, or did he look more haggard than usual? Was it because of your… disagreement? He shouldn’t care that much about you. You needed to be sure of that. Otherwise… you didn’t know what would happen to this story.

"(Name), I'm sorry—" Jinwoo began, his voice tentative, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

"Sit," you said simply, taking another sip of tea. Your tone was measured, calm, but there was no room for argument.

To his credit—or perhaps his detriment—Jinwoo sat immediately, like an obedient dog, responding to its master’s command.

You laughed, and he flinched, thinking he’d done something wrong again. But you laughed because of the irony. Here sat the soon-to-be strongest man in the world, obeying you like a lost puppy. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, feel exhilarated, uneasy, or all of the above.

It was both endearing and unsettling.

You needed to address this situation—quickly.

But for now, Jinwoo needed to focus.

"Let’s set that aside for now," you said, waving off his attempt at an apology. You noticed him opening his mouth again, perhaps to protest, but one sharp look from you silenced him effectively. Lovely.

At least he listens when it matters.

"You need to return to the Demon Castle to gather the final material for crafting the Holy Water of Life, correct?"

"Y-yeah," Jinwoo stammered, caught off guard by your directness.

"Then why are you still here?" Your voice held a firm edge. Why hadn’t he already gone? He didn’t need you for this, not really.

"I—" Jinwoo faltered, the words dying in his throat. He was going to ask you to accompany him, but why? Why didn’t he use this time to leave, to step away from your anger? He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but leaving without resolving things with you felt… wrong.

Running away from this felt wrong.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. The tea in your cup swirled as you tilted it slightly, your thoughts as restless as the liquid. "I’ll help you," you said at last, the words measured but sincere. "Though I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be. Just give me time to prepare.”

He clearly hadn’t expected that. “You don’t have to—”

"I don’t," you interjected, cutting him off once more. Your gaze softened as you set the teacup down and folded your hands on the table. "But I want to. Let’s just leave it at that."

Oh.

Jinwoo felt an odd sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of the past, back when he was weakest. When he didn’t know anything about his mysterious benefactor. When he didn’t know you.

Thank you. He wanted to say it, but it didn’t feel like enough. It never did.

You took his silence as agreement, your lips curving into a faint smile despite yourself.

---

The silence stretched on, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Jinwoo fidgeted slightly.

“I—” Jinwoo hesitated. Should he bring up that dinner? No. It wasn’t the right time, not when you were setting your fight aside for his sake.

“Hm?” you prompted.

“…Can you train Tusk?” Jinwoo blurted out, summoning the High Orc Shaman before he could stop himself. The towering figure of Tusk knelt immediately, his glowing eyes filled with both reverence and curiosity as he regarded you, and… confused by his nervous master.

You arched a brow, eyeing the orc, setting down your teacup with a soft clink.

Jinwoo scratched the back of his neck. “He’s good at casting spells—” He winced at his poor wording. “I… I thought he could learn a thing or two from you—”

You moved, and Jinwoo stiffened. Standing from your seat, you approached the kneeling Tusk, your footsteps soft against the gazebo’s stone floor. Tusk, to his credit, remained perfectly still, though his glowing eyes followed your every move.

Reaching out, you placed a hand gently atop his head, patting him lightly.

The orc blinked. Jinwoo blinked.

"Alright," you said simply.

You smiled—a genuine smile that Jinwoo hadn’t seen in days.

It was meant for Tusk, sure, but his shadows were an extension of himself. And Jinwoo… Jinwoo clung to that small glimmer of hope.

---

“Enchanting equipment?” you asked, your voice cool and composed.

“Yes.” Jinwoo nodded, carefully pulling two items from his inventory. “A few days ago, I bought some gear in preparation to return to the Demon Castle.” He handed you the wind-attribute robe and the nameless ring imbued with a water-attribute.

You regarded the items with a practiced eye, fingers grazing the surface of the robe before both pieces floated midair, enveloped in your signature silver aura. Jinwoo watched as your shoulders relaxed, your eyes fluttering closed.

His gaze remained fixed as your butterflies began to swirl, seamlessly merging with your aura as they danced around the equipment. Your hair swayed gently with the magical currents, and for a moment, Jinwoo was captivated.

The light flared momentarily before dispersing, the butterflies scattering back into the garden. The robe and ring floated down gently into your open hand. Without a word, you handed them back to Jinwoo.

Out of curiosity, he activated the system to inspect their stats, and his eyes widened in shock. The equipment’s overall defense had tripled. Not doubled—tripled!

The robe’s magic resistance and affinity were leagues beyond its original state, and the ring now pulsed with latent power, its water attribute refined into something far more potent. Even the overall quality of the items had improved dramatically.

“You’re… you’re really amazing,” Jinwoo said, awe dripping from his tone as he examined the equipment.

You hummed in acknowledgment, though your focus had already shifted to your butterflies, idly letting them land on your fingers and shoulders.

You still weren’t looking at him.

Oh right. Jinwoo’s expression faltered as the realization hit. You were still giving him the silent treatment.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jinwoo’s reaction—his head tilted down, his shoulders slightly slumped, his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked like a dejected puppy, an image made even more comical by his flickering gaze, which kept darting to you as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

Your butterflies noticed, fluttering inquisitively toward Jinwoo before retreating back to you. Jinwoo’s shadows, peeking through the faint dark mist at his feet, mimicked the butterflies with exaggerated shrugs, clearly as lost as he was about what to do.

You didn’t react.

---

Yeesh.

Jinho shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, glancing between the two of you as the car sped down the road. The silence inside was suffocating—not quite as unbearable as the last time he’d seen the two of you together, but still tense enough to make him itch for some form of normalcy.

His Unnie sat by the window, her head resting lightly against the glass, staring at the passing scenery. She hadn’t said a word since they left. His Hyung, seated in the opposite side of the passenger seat from her, occasionally flicked his gaze toward her, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before his focus returned to the road.

The tension was palpable.

Jinwoo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Were you able to sleep well?” he asked, addressing Jinho.

“Yes, Hyung-nim. Unnie is really a great host!” Jinho replied, his tone overly chipper as he tried to ease the atmosphere.

For the briefest of moments, he caught the smallest of smiles gracing your lips. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. Before he could even process it, your expression returned to its usual steady, composed look.

The silence resumed.

This time, it was Jinho who cleared his throat awkwardly. “By the way, what business do you two have at the World Tower this early?”

“We’ll be going,” Jinwoo answered curtly.

Your gaze flickered to Jinho, and you added, “Take care of my shop in my absence, okay, Jinho?”

“Wait, what—?” Before Jinho could even finish his sentence, both of you were gone.

Jinho blinked, staring at the now-empty car. “Huh?” he muttered to himself, still processing the abrupt departure.

He sighed, leaning back in the seat. “Well… at least the tension’s gone now…”

---

“As we practiced, Tusk!” Your voice carried across the battlefield, clear and commanding.

Jinwoo stood at a safe distance, watching as the shadow of the high orc shaman obeyed your order, prepared to unleash a spell. Tusk raised the Orb of Avarice high, the artifact shimmering as it expanded to match his increased size.

“Fire!”

The command was punctuated by a deafening explosion of power. The beam tore through the battlefield, obliterating every demon in its path, only leaving a charred crater. The heat from the explosion rippled outward, stirring dust and debris, carrying with it the echoes of decimation.

Jinwoo whistled in appreciation, folding his arms as he observed the carnage. Behind him, his shadows shifted, and your butterflies fluttered in synchronized patterns, as if admiring the display.

Meanwhile, you floated upward, your butterflies swirling protectively around you. Once you reached Tusk’s massive head, you landed lightly, patting the shaman’s forehead.

“Well done!” you praised, your voice warm. A neon blue butterfly followed your gesture, landing on Tusk’s—well, tusk.

The shadow rumbled in satisfaction, his massive shoulders relaxing as he basked in the praise. Jinwoo couldn’t help but chuckle

Yeah, he thought, a small smirk tugging at his lips, leaving Tusk’s training to her was definitely the right call.

---

“Say, can your butterflies level up?” Jinwoo began as his dagger sliced cleanly through a demon, sending the dark creature crumpling to the ground. “Like my shadows?”

You were a short distance away, directing a volley of butterflies toward a cluster of demons. The faint hum of system constant notifications rang in Jinwoo’s mind as both your forces and his defeated demons across the floor in the coordinated teams.

“Yes, they can,” you replied, casting a spell that sent silvery light streaking toward Jinwoo. His health bar filled rapidly, minor scratches on his arms close up. A boost in mana regeneration and overall speed left him feeling reinvigorated as he flexed his fingers.

“They gain power differently, though,” you continued, spinning your scepter once to clear some demons encroaching on your position. “Instead of receiving direct experience points from defeating enemies, they grow stronger by feeding on lifeforce. It’s a continuous process, and it takes significantly more time.”

Jinwoo hummed, parrying a claw strike from a nearby demon. He glanced back at you as you effortlessly destroyed another group with a volley of silver projectiles.

You nodded. “They also have ranks similar to your shadows, but the system referred to them as stages of metamorphosis. Egg, Larva, Pupa, and Adult. Their forms change at each stage. Sometimes they grow larger, sometimes their colors or wing patterns shift, and so on. The last time I maxed them out, though, the ‘Adult’ stage was locked, so my strongest children remained in the ‘Pupa’ stage.”

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly, avoiding a beam of light that zipped past where his head had been moments before. The shot hit its mark, incinerating a line of demons behind him. He didn’t bother turning to check the scorched corpses. His focus stayed on you.

Your scepter glimmered in your hand, its tip still smoking faintly from the spell. You ran a hand down its length, your expression calm and calculated as more demons circled you and him.

“To ascend to the next stage, each butterfly requires specific ascension materials. The materials differ depending on the field I want them to excel in—whether it’s devouring, illusions, healing, or something else entirely,” you continued. Your voice was steady, even as you broke into a sprint straight toward him.

Jinwoo remained perfectly composed, lowering one hand, bracing himself. Without hesitation, you plant your foot in his palm, and he used his strength to propel you into the air. The dagger held in his other hand slashed cleanly through the demon hot on your heels.

Midair, you spun gracefully, casting multiple magic circles that hovered around you like constellations. Beams of concentrated light erupted from them, carving through the horde of demons surrounding Jinwoo with pinpoint accuracy. The spells struck true, decimating the creatures while leaving Jinwoo untouched in the center.

You landed gracefully, the silver aura around you dispersing as your butterflies fluttered back to various parts of the battlefield, supporting Jinwoo’s soldiers.

“It was something I gave the system feedback about. It’s why your shadows only need your permission to rank up.” You brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“A single Larva-stage butterfly is more than equal to an entire kaleidoscope of its siblings still in the Egg stage. And that comparison holds for the higher stages as well.”

Jinwoo’s eyes followed the graceful movements of your butterflies, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So… when do you get to name them?” he asked casually, flicking the blood from his blade.

You turned to him sharply, your expression almost scandalized. “My children are living, sentient beings, Jinwoo. I name them as I see fit.”

Jinwoo smirked. “You’re telling me you memorize all their names? From the look of it, you’ve got hundreds—no, thousands of them.” He chuckled, expecting you to roll your eyes or laugh.

Instead, you looked at him blankly, reply just as flat, “Yes.”

Jinwoo opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. After a second, he closed it again and shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Of course, you do,” he murmured, bemused. Honestly, he should’ve expected that. It was just so you.

A voice echoed in your mind, soft and respectful.

My Lady, Sir Jinwoo’s shadows have located the entry permit. We can now ascend to the next floor.

“Red informed me that Igris’ team found the entry permit,” you relayed to Jinwoo.

He raised a brow. “Red?”

“The child who always hovers to my right,” you said, and as if on cue, Red fluttered down to your shoulder. You patted her wings lightly, murmuring, “Well done.”

Igris materialized behind Jinwoo, confirming the butterfly’s report with a respectful nod.

Jinwoo made a mental note to ask you more about your telepathic connection and the mechanics of how your butterflies were born. For now, it was time to ascend.

“Let’s move.”

Together, you ascended to the 80th floor.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [18/11/2024] -

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Blackbird masterlist

Summary

1880: Blackbird, Dakota territory is a lawless frontier town. Progress is coming, but for now, whiskey is poured, whores are run and anyone who has a disagreement can settle it with a revolver. Then Samuel Wesson comes to town and to your joint, the Cathouse. He's kind but mysterious, a man with a dark past. He befriends you, the local madam, in his attempt to find his place in Blackbird. Only Sam’s six foot four of righteous trouble, and you have anything but friendly feelings for him. But the past isn’t past, and soon Sam’s shadows follow him to town – his brother, his old crew and with them, the cold injustice of the open road.

Content warnings can be found on the individual chapters, but here are some general ones: prostitution, reference to underage prostitution, guns, demonic possession, bodily harm, fire, strong language, explicit sexual content, cowboys & whores, whiskey, LOTS of whiskey, tears, betrayal, found family, love.

Chapters

Chapter 1 - 1880: Blackbird, Dakota territory Chapter 2 - The Cathouse Chapter 3 - Cain Chapter 4 - Sold under sin Chapter 5 - Advances, none miraculous Chapter 6 - I am not the fine man you take me for Chapter 7 - Arrival (July 12) Chapter 8 - Fallen from grace (July 19) Chapter 9 - Hell or high water (July 26) Chapter 10 - The demon (August 2) Chapter 11 - Upright men wanted (August 9) Chapter 12 - The white devil (August 16) Chapter 13 - More of hell than I care to know (August 23) Chapter 14 - Pain and damage (August 30) Chapter 15 - The sound of thunder (September 6) Chapter 16 - Tell your god to ready for blood (September 13) Chapter 17 - Are you gonna cowboy up or just lie there and bleed? (September 20) Epilogue (September 20)

*There are several chapter titles and references in this fic that are taken from or inspired by Deadwood, one of my favorite shows of all time. Credit for those goes to David Milch and all other writers this amazing show had.

The town's name, and thus the fic's title, is based on the Tash Sultana song, "Blackbird."

Welcome to fuckin' Blackbird! Can be combative!

[yoongle--boongle--pie]

Pechsträhne Masterlist

MOVED ACCOUNTS!

Find updated account @yoongleboonglepie

This masterlist will not be updated moving forward. Please refer to new account!

Love Y'all!

Genre: Horror au, paranormal au, hurt/comfort, slow burn, romance, psychic au, friends to lovers, Mystery, BTS ot7 x reader

Rating: 18+: Keep that in mind as this is at its core a paranormal/heavy theme rooted in history and myth, and some things are emotionally disturbing or spooky. Read at your own discretion as I will only be putting trigger warnings for things that can pose severe safety risks to those affected. All else, like I said it is a spooky and mystery au.

Y/n Wörner left the Wörner Hotel and Estate nearly 5 years ago in an attempt to run away from a family argument that put a firm divide between her and her parents. She was managing fine, for the most part -save for the constant existential crisis of what she should do with herself and her life. That was until an invitation for the 150th anniversary of their family hotel ended up shoved in her mailbox on Thursday morning, and for no rational reason she found herself running back; unable to stop the pull to return home to her family and friends who live on the grounds. Once she arrives, however, it becomes inarguably apparent that things are very wrong. The ghosts of her long past family who were once friendly, are now vengeful and violent. Her friends are divided by secrets, mystery, and fear- changed in tandem with the ghosts she used to love. She has to relearn how to balance who she knew her friends as children, and who they have become in the recent years as a result of the darkness that threatens to drown them in its wake. She knows that something is threatening her home and her friends, but she doesn't know what. And if there's one thing about Y/n Wörner, it's that she's not a quitter. No ghost or demon will stop her from getting the answers she needs- even if it means they have to try and kill her before she gets to them. Because what does she have to lose?

_________________________________________

Main story,

Chapter 1 - 2/16/2025

Chapter 2- 2/19/2025

Chapter 3- 2/22/2025

Chapter 4- 2/24/2025

Chapter 5- 3/1/2025

Chapter 6- 3/10/2025

Chapter 7- 3/15/2025

Chapter 8 - 3/20/2025

Chapter 9 - 3/28/25

Chapter 10 - 4/6/2025

_________________________________________

Pieces of Red String for you to Follow if you Dare...

Namjoon Character Moodboard

Seokjin Character Moodboard

Yoongi Character Moodboard

Hoseok Character Moodboard

Jimin Character Moodboard

Taehyung Character Moodboard

Jungkook Character Moodboard

Pinterest Boards

?

Historical Archives and Notes of Y/n Wörner

Photos of rough outline of the estate (not hotel)

Morse code clues, chapters 7 and up: x x x x

?

Find chapter playlists here:

Spotify

Youtube music

_________________________________________

Do not repost anywhere or steal my writing. Thx.

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon a Dream - Chapter 7 (Lucifer X Reader) (Alastor X Reader)

My Masterlist

In a sleeping beauty-inspired AU, a curse is placed over you when you strike up a deal with Heaven to protect baby Charlie, causing you to lose your memory. You remember nothing once the curse takes over; not your marriage with Lucifer, not the family you had with the two of them, nothing. So when a strange smiling demon offers you a place to stay when you can't remember where 'home' is, you take him up on his offer. 

(WARNINGS)

Gendered terms used (mom, good girl, wife) but otherwise gender neutral pronouns used

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

(CHAPTER WARNINGS)

Relationship coercion/manipulation

Possessiveness and jealousy in relationships

BUCKLE UP THIS ONE'S A DOOZY. I would apologize for it being so long, but I'm so not sorry lol. The angst will be rectified in the next chapters I prommy :)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (You are here), Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17

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He was humming a tune under his breath, his larger-than-life shadow following ominously behind him, pressed against the floor. His mind was clear, controlled. Pieces were falling into place before him, a chess game he was meticulously calculating every move for. Two steps ahead of everyone else. A dance where he owned the dancefloor. Everyone else mere pawns pulled by his strings. And them? Well…they were making things far more…complicated, but he was nothing if not patient and persistent. He just needed to gain more control.

He continued walking the halls of his little 3-D chess game, his smile growing sinister as he passed their old room. Now a vacant shell, as it had been before they had ever arrived. All of their personal things had now found their way to his room, bit by bit they were slowly taking over his space. “Making it ours,” They had said. Adorable. 

Suddenly he stopped mid-step, face twisting in concentration and mild irritation. His shadow traveled up the wall next to him as his ears began to twitch aggressively. 

“Just listen to me, dad!” She was on the verge of yelling, a scream bubbling up on the back of her words. He moved closer, melding into the shadows against the walls. “I don’t care what led up to this, just…help me fix it. Something’s really wrong here.” She continued. He was now right outside the doorframe to her room, back pressed up against the wall. “Come see what’s happened to them. You’ll change your mind. I know you want mom back just as much as I do.” Her voice turned melancholy, as if she were reminiscing about the past. His smile split into a scowl. “I’ll see you soon then. And…and thanks, dad.” She let out a sigh. 

“See you soon?” He bit his tongue, sucking on the metallic crimson that filled his mouth as he narrowed his eyes; infuriated. He slammed the bottom of his cane against the floor in aggravation before stalking off down the hallway. With you aimed in his crosshairs. He would have to move his plan along quicker if he was bound to show up. His hand was being forced. He would have to act fast. 

He needed you thoroughly captivated.

“Well, we have an hour until he gets here.” She stammered out to the group. Nervousness coated her words. She had been jittery all morning; you still couldn’t figure out why. 

“Okay, people! Lucifer is on his way. So we are going to get this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Vámonos!” Vaggie shouted, startling half of the gathered residents into motion. Husk ended up spilling the majority of his coffee onto himself from the shock and you rushed to grab a nearby rag to help him clean up while everyone else busied themselves around the two of you. They were constantly running back and forth around you, scurrying around to complete the tasks Vaggie wanted done in time. But you stayed calm in the middle of the madness, helping your friend with the now-forming stubborn stains in his fur and clothes. 

“Unnecessary, but I appreciate it, dollface.” He mumbled out as you dabbed at his bowtie. 

“Don’t mention it.” You merely said as you continued, not even looking up from your work. Despite the intensifying fuzzy static causing a painful ringing in your ears. 

“Darling! Be a dear and come help me with this, would you? I’m afraid it requires your delicate touch.” You heard him before you felt him, an overwhelming staticky buzz blaring right next to your face as he spoke. A rough hand grabbed your forearm, claws digging into your skin as it yanked you away from Husk. You dropped the rag to the floor in the process. 

“Alastor! Wha-“ Annoyance was on the tip of your tongue, but the words never made it out. Your back was slammed against a wall, the air being forced out of your lungs from the impact. He cut your forced exhale off short as he crashed his lips into yours, greedily swallowing your puffs of air as if it could fill his own set of lungs. 

He had pulled you into the shadows, a secluded corner far away from the main portion of the hotel’s lobby tucked behind the grand staircase. A darkened area that hid the two of you from the view of everyone else, giving himself enough privacy to let his usual nonchalant façade down. 

He was done indulging in these games you seemed to insist on playing with him. Not when there was so much on the line now, with Lucifer arriving any minute. 

His hands found the sides of your face, cradling your head within his grasp as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing into yours as he pushed you further against the wall. You became caged in between the plaster behind you and the demon currently towering over you. You clutched at his coat as his tongue pushed its way into your mouth. The pointed tip of it just barely flicking past your teeth; teasing you, causing a meager muffled whine to eek out of the back of your throat. You couldn’t help it. This outburst had been unexpected, yes, but he left you craving more. He always left you craving for more. Your sounds set his lips twisting upwards into a satisfied smirk. When he tried to pull away you unconsciously followed him, leaning towards him in an attempt to halt his retreat. Your back was halfway off the wall, the majority of your weight now shifted onto him, before he stopped you with a quick nip on your bottom lip. The sudden sting of pain made you squeak as you finally pulled away. Though you stayed clinging on to his shoulders. 

His arms snaked their way to around your waist, not letting you go far as he pulled you in impossibly closer to his chest. “You are mine, ma chérie. Don’t ever forget that.” He was looking down his nose at you, the shadows around the two of you making his eyes glow with a dangerous shade of red. 

A look of confusion flashed across your face but you quickly squashed it down. He was starting to act so…different, recently. “I haven’t, Al. Promise. You really think I would replace you? With who? No one else here can even compete with you.”

He hummed, internally mulling over your response. You stared up at him as his eyes roamed over your face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. When he found none, both relieved and satisfied, he leaned down again, this time gently pressing his lips to yours. You sighed contently into the kiss. His forehead found yours once he pulled away, your eyes so close you swore you could see your own reflection in his. But there was a hint of something else lingering behind those constricted black irises. Tiny slivers that gleamed with an unholy green fog, only visible if you dared to look close enough. A warning shined back at you, despite his loving smile. 

“You may make as many friends as you’d like here, darling, but do take note that I am a very selfish man. And you, my dear,” One of his hands crawled up your body to the base of your neck, slotting itself around your throat gently as he began to drag the tip of one of his clawed fingers down the side of your jaw. “Are my precious little doe. No one else’s.”

He had given himself the ability to cut off your breathing with but one small flex of his fingers. A motion that would require little to no effort. He had the capacity to kill you in a second’s notice. Snap your neck like a toothpick. Feast on what was left of your carcass like a midday snack. But yet he was being as gentle as a fawn. Caressing you as if you were made of glass; as if he were afraid of shattering you within his fingers. This demon, the one whom all seemed to fear the very sight of. Truly his words had to have been true, you really did have to be special to him in some way or another, for him to give you such favoritism. He made you feel things you didn’t know how to describe; his odd, yet loving, actions stirred up your emotions. Your heart swelled, your insides churned, and there was an ache forming in your soul that it seemed only he could fill. 

You felt wanted. Seen. Adored. In his own, strange, way. 

It made you recall something. A memory of these feelings. No name or face to put them to, those were unfortunately still lost to the unrelenting fog of your broken mind, but there was a descriptor; these emotions were familiar territory. You had felt this way before. 

Love.

It seemed to fit almost perfectly. An overconfident smile crept its way onto your lips. Alastor raised a brow at your sudden change of demeanor, his own smile faltering ever so slightly. You had caught him off guard. But he was quick to recover his self-control. 

“I’ll always be yours, my Deer.” You whispered up to him, smile still stuck on your face. You dragged one of your hands down his chest, slowly, trailing your nails against the fabric of his coat along the way, until your palm came to rest on top of his dead heart. His eyes followed your movements with precision, flicking back to meet your gaze with a questioning stare once your hand came to a stop. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.” You continued, giving the left side of his chest a little pat with your fingertips for emphasis. 

His smile exploded at your words. It stretched his face inhumanly, a vivid green glow echoing around the corners of his mouth as his eyes lit up with a flare of red light. He released your neck from his hold, shifted your body weight in his arms so that he could dip you down slightly, and dove for your lips in such quick succession that it had you dizzy. You instinctively yelped and clutched onto the lapels of his coat as he tilted you backwards. His face had come to an abrupt stop mere centimeters in front of yours, in the motion of giving you a kiss but halting just before he made contact. The way you clung onto him, so precariously unbalanced over the ground, made a smirk crawl over his face. He would never let you fall, never even think about dropping you, but that didn't mean he couldn’t revel in the amusement of letting you assume that he could. 

Once your initial shock passed and your gaze shifted back to him he finished out his original intent, gently pressing his lips to yours in a soft and sweet kiss. A featherlight touch that allowed you to truly savor the way his morning coffee seemed to always stick with him. 

His breath tickled your face as he placed another barely-there kiss on the very tip of your nose. 

“Good girl.”

The minutes ticked down. Charlie was getting worse by the second. She was currently pacing by the front door, waiting, while everyone else sat around and watched. There was not a speck of patience to be found inside the whole hotel at that moment. 

Alastor had insisted you sit with him, practically pulling you into his lap when you tried to merely sit next to him. You didn’t mind, easily getting comfortable leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped around your hips. You were getting used to ignoring the strange looks from the others by now, anyway. 

Exactly an hour from since Charlie had announced he would be visiting, a knock rang out against the wood of the front door. When she opened it he nearly barreled inside. 

“Charlie!” He exclaimed with extra excitement, charging right into the poor girl as he wrapped his arms around her with enough force to squeeze the air out of her. 

“It’s, uh, good to see you too, dad.” She sputtered out with what little breath she had left in between his death-grip hug. 

A small smile emerged onto your face at the sight of the little family reunion. He seemed so happy to see his daughter again, you couldn’t help but feel his overwhelming joy seep vicariously through you. It somehow felt normal, sharing this blissful moment with a devil you had just met. 

A dull stinging pain, however, stole your attention away from the family duo. You winced, trying to ignore it, but the longer you focused on Lucifer and Charlie the more intense it became. When the low growling static began to ring in your ears you knew simply trying to ignore it had been the wrong choice. 

His claws dug more aggressively into your hips as he gave them a tight squeeze, forcing a high-pitched squeak to squirm its way out of your throat. You swiftly cast a warning gaze back towards the demon behind you, but he had cracked the most innocent smile he could muster. All eyes in the room were now on the two of you. A deep crimson flushed through your face. 

You cleared your throat. “Sorry, I…thought I saw something.” You smiled sheepishly, hoping the group’s knowledge of your fragile mental state would pass for a good enough excuse for your outburst. 

“Anyyyway…Dad! Look at this lovely parlor!” Charlie seemed to brush the incident off, redirecting the attention off of you. You were abundantly grateful, letting out a small sigh as everyone was now focused on Charlie and her father again. Though you swore you could still catch one set of eyes occasionally staring at you. One pair of yellow snake eyes, flicking to you with a concerned look every now and then between conversations. 

But you had little time to dwell on who or who wasn’t still worried about you after your little scene. Once Charlie and the rest of the group had turned their backs to the two of you, your smile began to sour into a scowl. You twisted at your waist to face Alastor, who still held a look of pure innocence, though his eyes weren’t even focused on you. When you followed his malice-filled gaze you saw that it led right to the king, and when you caught Lucifer's eyes flickering back to you once more, you felt the familiar sting impale your hips yet again. His hands had latched on with a vice-like death grip, puncturing your skin with his claws, but you didn’t yelp this time; instead lightly thwacking Alastor on the chest to get him to let go, or at the very least to loosen his hold. 

Lucifer had caught your little display of mild annoyance, his eyes widening as he watched you raise a hand to the Radio Demon himself. Without any consequence. He had merely let it happen. Alastor delighted in the way the king’s face dropped into shock, all while you were none the wiser to their little stare-off. 

If Lucifer didn’t know that you were something to him before, he sure as hell did now. Alastor’s face twisted in pure sastitic pride, a layer of possessive anger hidden beneath his face-splitting smile, a taunt to anyone around to just dare to challenge what was his. 

Your brow furrowed in confusion at his sudden darkening, but yet elated, mood. 

Was he…jealous?

When introductions started, they inadvertently began with Charlie’s pet cat and goats. 

You immediately tuned out your surroundings, your eyes going to focus on the devil in front of you as he followed Charlie around, despite Alastor’s obvious dejections to him. You couldn’t seem to help it, his presence stirred something inside of you; deep inside of you. Like a long-forgotten box buried in the back of the attic space of your mind. Locked and covered in a layer of immovable dust. 

The sight of him made your insides itch. And you had no idea how to even begin to scratch it. 

But you were forcibly removed from your contemplations when you saw Charlie point at you, the family duo standing right in front of you. “…and this, dad, is…Ducki.” She choked on your name, crinkling her nose as if the word felt wrong in her mouth. He was staring at you. Practically through you. Big yellow snake eyes blown wide, but void of all emotion. So different than the looks he had been giving you when he had first arrived. 

Your skin began to crawl underneath his petrifying gaze. 

“Um…hi there, your majesty.” Your whole body was turning shy. Nervous beyond anything you had felt since waking up in that strange palace. 

“Ducki, was it?” He asked coldly, the warmth that had flowed through him as he had talked with Charlie now gone. Completely vanished. You simply nodded in response. He seemed to want to end the conversation there, words failing him as he continued to pierce you with his stare. But Charlie was quick to nudge him in the shoulder, breaking him from whatever trance he seemed to be stuck in. He reached out a gloved hand towards you, timidly, not quite sure if you would take it. But you did, despite the warning of growling static that resounded from behind you. Lucifer’s hand felt warm in your own. Oddly familiar, comforting in a way that you couldn’t entirely figure out why. He shook yours gently, pulling away far sooner than you honestly cared for. The sudden absence of his touch left a burning sensation on your skin and a growing headache in the back of your skull. “Nice to be meeting you.” He merely said before walking away with Charlie to continue her little tour. Though he had to forcibly tear his eyes away from yours as he did so. 

“Yeah.” Was all you managed to whisper under your breath. You had known him for less than thirteen minutes and he had already managed to set your skin alight and stir your mind around like a ship lost in a storm. He felt so…familiar. You hated the fact that you just couldn’t remember why. What piece of the puzzle were you missing?

“Dear.” You heard him whisper into your ear, his voice scratchy with a heavy overlay of feedback crackling. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Yes, Alastor?” 

“Do remember our little conversation from earlier. I trust this new addition of our rather insignificantly small king does not change our agreements, hm?” He leaned forward, encircling his arms around your torso and clasping his hands together as he rested his chin on top of your shoulder; effectively trapping you in his hold. 

Your recently electric thoughts about Lucifer had made you forget about earlier, but that didn’t make what you had said then any less true now. You scoffed. “Of course not, Al. It’s just someone new to talk to, that’s all. I’m just intrigued by making a new friend here. We talked about that too, don’t forget.” You relaxed back into his chest, melding your two bodies together. His hold tightened around you as you did so. 

He hummed in response, satisfied enough with your answer. But his smile became tight-lipped. You had hesitated.

You had only excused yourself for a moment, needing a break from Lucifer’s constant stares, but apparently it was just enough time for Alastor and Lucifer to get into a very heated fight. You weren’t sure who had started it, it was too hard to tell by this point, but they were quite literally at each others’ throats by the time you walked in. 

“Well, sadly for you, there appear to be times a husband simply turns out to be a dud, no matter the strength of his angelic prowess. Perhaps you simply couldn’t satisfy, so she chose better.” Alastor was sitting at Husk’s bar, legs crossed one over the other and head resting in his palm as his elbow propped it up against the bar’s tabletop. He was fuming, angry shadows looming threateningly behind him, but it seemed you were the only one who could tell. His smug smile gave away no hints of his concealed rage otherwise. 

Lucifer was standing in front of him, still a few feet shorter than Alastor even when the demon was sitting down. He, on the other hand, was not attempting to hide his growing fury whatsoever. Flames practically poured from his mouth as he spoke. His eyes had filled with red, leaving nothing but yellow irises and his black snake-like pupils. “Oh, please. Like anyone would choose a mere busboy over the chef!” He threw his arms outward towards Alastor’s direction for emphasis, his nose scrunching up in disgust. You recoiled at the sight of the two of them arguing. It felt…wrong, to see the two of them upset. Especially Lucifer. It didn’t scare you, he didn’t scare you, neither of them did. But it made your heart hurt in ways you couldn’t recognize.

“Butt out of something that isn’t yours anymore.” Alastor leaned forward, maliciously grinning from ear to ear. 

Lucifer’s face dropped for a split second, but his initial shock was quickly replaced with twice as much anger as there had been before. He pointed an accusing finger at Alastor. “Not yours? I started this! You tacky piece of-!”

But his act of aggression, along with the argument as a whole, was abruptly brought to a grinding halt as the front door of the hotel flew open. 

“I’m here!” A shrill voice called out in a singsong voice. “It’s me! Alastor! It’s me, Mimzy! I’m finally here!” Everyone’s eyes went wide at the sudden intrusion. You looked to Alastor once you heard his name being called out, but he was just as surprised as everyone else. It wasn’t long before a short and chubby little demon came bouncing into the foyer, her blonde bob swaying along with her layered fringe dress. 

“Mimzy!” Alastor was the first to regain his composure, hopping up off of the barstool to greet the new guest. Any remnants of the argument were wiped off of his face within seconds, his usual charming smile now adorning his features. 

“Aw, how nice! So you two know each other?” Charlie chimed in, also trying to defuse the aftermath of the situation between her father and Alastor. 

“Oh yeah, we go way back. Ran in the same circles when we were alive. You know this one used to frequent the club where I used ta perform!” Mimzy answered, clicking her heels in a dance as she mentioned her performances. “He’s the only one I knew who could pound whiskey like a sailor then keep up with me on the dance floor!”

Despite the images of the fight still fresh in your mind, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Alastor at a club. Somehow it just didn’t seem right. Though you had to admit, it did sound rather nice. Being able to see him let loose and relax, enjoy the freedom and carefreeness of an open dancefloor. 

“Oh, quite a talent this gal, ha ha. You should have seen her in her hay-day.” He responded, a fond smile creeping onto his face. Perhaps your imagination had been right. From what you had learned, he missed the human world quite a bit. Maybe this was another part of those cherished memories he had. 

Mimzy took offense to that, immediately claiming that she still possessed her best moves from her human life. Though she didn’t seem to care much about Alastor’s comment after she finally spotted Lucifer from across the room. Her attention instantly shifted to the king, causing a small panic to visibly stir through him. She was making him uncomfortable. And for some reason or another, it made you bristle with animosity. An instinct inside of you screamed to protect him. Him? Odd. Why would you feel the need to protect the king of Hell himself? 

Charlie sensed your sudden hostility and butted into the conversation, redirecting her father away from the group for a tour of her hotel. Unfortunately, Alastor also suggested that he tag along; not wanting to let Lucifer leave his sight for even a second. Not when he was so…unpredictable. Maybe if he provoked him just enough he’d leave and never come back. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about this insufferable *fool* ruining everything.

“I’m sure Charlie can handle showing me arou-“ Lucifer tried to argue, tugging his daughter along by the wrist, trying to outrun the demon hot on their tails. 

His height was his enemy when competing with Alastor’s lanky legs. He caught up with them within an instant. “Nonsense! We started the hotel together, and we’ll show it off together. Right, Charlie?” He proclaimed cheerily. 

She had no choice but to agree.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You called out to Alastor as the three of them started off down the hallway. He had never left your side willingly before. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, ma chérie.” He nodded towards you as he flashed his sharp teeth, giving you a look that told you this was not a time to argue. But his face softened when he saw how pathetically sad you looked. Like a kicked puppy. Which he considered usually amusing, but not when it was you, and not when it had been him making you feel that way. It tore at his chest in a way he didn’t like. So he quickly switched on his charming smile and threw you a wink before turning to walk away. He hoped it was enough to soothe your hurt feelings. For now, at least. He could fix the rest later. And deal with these exasperating emotions that you were coaxing out of him like rising bile. 

You were left in the parlor with the rest of the residents. And Mimzy. Whom you were starting to dislike. 

“Husker, dear pussy cat, pour a girl another, would ya?”

Scratch that, you definitely disliked her. 

The bartender grumbled under his breath but did as he was asked. Though he gave her a stern “fuck you” when she tried to thank him. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who had bothersome feelings towards this narcissistic dancer. Nevertheless, you were civil, and so was Husk. For the most part. 

“So uh, you an’ Alastor, are like…what? Friends?” Angel spoke up, breaking the silence that overlaid the occasional sip and clink of glass. Your skin bristled at the question. Honestly you were as curious as Angel, but you were worried to learn about the truth. You couldn’t remember ever being worried about a man before, but the way Alastor made you feel safe after what had happened to you, and the way Mimzy had seemed to cozy up to him due to their past…was being around Alastor so much starting to rub off on you?

“Well that’s your word, not mine,” She giggled. You scoffed angrily. No one apparently noticed. “But I think it fits. Why? Surprised?” 

“I just didn’ think he had any of those, ya know, ‘sides the thing he’s got goin’ with Ducki. He’s been here a while an’ is still a big creepy mystery. What’s his deal? I don’t think Ducki’s been able to get any dirt on him, have ya, sugar?” Angel continued, gesturing wildly with all four of his arms as he spoke. 

Your mind was boiling with smoking hot coals of jealousy with the way Mimzy was talking about Alastor, but you smothered them for the time being. This was more important. Angel was right. What did you really know about the demon whose bed you had been sleeping in for the last few weeks? Whose arms you snuggled into every night? 

Mimzy had known him since before he had died. She had inside information you just couldn’t pass up on, no matter how much you wanted to throw her out of the hotel and never see her cooing around your Alastor again. 

“No, Angie…” You turned to Mimzy, letting out a sigh as you asked the burning question on the tip of your tongue. “What’s he like? Before he arrived here, I mean.”

“Well…” She started, setting her glass down. Her face twisted with maniacal glee as she started to recount what she knew. “You probably heard the stories…”

You burst into his room, slamming open the door so hard it reverberated off of the wall and swung back in your face before you stuck out a hand and smacked the offending piece of wood so that it banged against the wall a second time and stayed there for good as you held it in place. 

“How many?!” You screamed. 

You had caught him off guard. He was sitting on his bed, one of the books he had bought for you in his lap. His ears jumped up at your sudden intrusion and his eyes went wide with surprise. 

You hadn’t seen him since before Mimzy had showed up earlier. Before you had learned the truth from the little club dancer. You had avoided him the entire rest of the day, despite his attempts at trying to follow you around the hotel. You refused to speak to him, to even look at him, until you could get your thoughts straight and your emotions under control. 

Your feelings were far from under control, but your thoughts were as straight as a line. You knew what you wanted to say to that goddamn smiling face and he was going to listen whether he wanted to or not. 

He recovered from his surprise fairly quickly, setting your book down and developing a cold exterior, his smile a threatening crescent across his face. The room began to buzz with a low staticky hum around your feet. “How many what, my dear?”

You stomped into his room and threw the door shut behind you. It thudded into the doorframe so hard that his mounted antlers resting against the wall began to shake and teeter in its spot. Angry tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could even get the words out. “How many souls are in your possession, Al?!” You spat at him. 

He cocked his head to the side at an awkward angle, his neck cracking loudly as he did so. His eyes narrowed as his smile stretched across his face. “My, what a strange question.”

He was staring at you like a predator; trying to imitate you. But he had stopped scaring you a long time ago. You scoffed at his statement, throwing your hands up into the air in exasperation. “Do you take me for a fucking fool?!” You cried and screamed out. “How long did you plan on keeping the fact that you’re a goddamn overlord from me?!” You were almost in his face now, standing in front of him by the bed. Blocking his only exit from this conversation. His unbroken casualness was doing nothing but pissing you off even more. Your heart was shattering in front of him and he was acting as if you were merely talking about the weather. 

He apparently had enough, though, when you took another demanding step closer to him. He disappeared for a split second, leaving nothing but a mass of inky black shadows in the space he had once occupied on his bed, before he reappeared and forced himself into what little space there was between you and the edge of the bed. The sudden appearance of his body sent you stumbling backwards in order to make room for him where there had been none. But you caught your balance before you ended up on the floor. 

“Oh come now, you’re better than that.” He said amusingly, a dark chuckle hiding under his breath. He was mere inches from you, a snarl set twisting into his smile. “We’re in Hell, you fool.” He gestured with a hand as the room darkened with suffocating blackness. The static vibration around your body grew volatile as wispy shadow creatures started to swirl around the walls behind him; his eyes gleaming with a wicked red glow. “Power survives, while the rest end up in the slaughter.” 

Your jaw fell slack as you watched the sight unfold in front of you. Tears streamed down your face now with earnestness. You did little to stop them. 

Mimzy had been right. He was heartless. Satan, how you had been fooled. 

A choked sob wracked your body as the realization hit you. He recoiled at the sound. Though he tried to hide it. His menacing smile wavered ever so slightly, but he was quick to catch it before it fell completely. 

“I thought I loved you, you smiling freak.”

The shadows behind him vanished at your words. Like your one sentence had chased them away. The static buzz around your feet gave way to silence as his face fell flat; besides his ever-present smile. Gone was the threatening glare and the terrifying presence. In what little time he had known you he had never heard you so soft-spoken. And so…heartbroken. Love? Is that what this nauseous emotion was that you were making him feel? Lord, he hadn’t heard that word in decades. 

But you didn’t notice, or just didn’t care, that his demeanor had suddenly changed after your statement. You took the opportunity to turn around and flee for the door out of his room, hand covering your mouth the entire way to stifle the many more cries that wanted to escape. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you defeated. 

You barely had your hand on the door handle when you felt his clawed fingers on your shoulder. It was the most gentle grip you had ever felt him use; like he was scared to touch you. As if you were a frightened animal that would flee at a moment’s notice if the predator got too close. 

“Wait, chérie, where do you think you’re going?” His voice was flit with worry. Something new you had never heard from him. You stopped and turned your head only because he had spoken without his radio filter overlaying his words. Was this that serious to him? Or was it just another trick? Either way, it made your heart ache. You wanted to stay, ask him to talk to you more with that voice, the way it sounded so crisp and clean, his accent no longer lost underneath the usual static. But you couldn’t. Everything hurt too much to be around him. It hurt to even look at him. 

You whipped your head back to face the door, fresh tears stinging your eyes as you squeezed them shut. “Anywhere but here. Preferably as far away from you as possible.” You flung the door open and walked out as swiftly as you could, only stopping for a second once you were sure you were out of his reach. “And don’t try to come find me, Alastor.” You spat. Then you sped off down the hallway, arms hugging yourself as you silently cried new tears. 

He did as he was told; left standing alone in the doorway of his room. Watching as you disappeared down the hall. His brilliant plans, and this newfound feeling of love you had taught him about, crumbling around his feet and slipping right through his fingers. 

“...fuck.”

To be continued in Chapter 8...

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[takaraphoenix]

June Updating Schedule

June is Pride Month and I am once again participating in the Pride Month Bingo that me and @kimmycup are hosting over at @writersmonth - so all fics in June are going to be prompt fills!

06/02: Smartass Sugar Student (Steter), Prompt: rainbow

Law student Stiles being courted by his rich professor Peter, who is a werewolf and loves to spend money on his hopefully soon-to-be-mate.

06/04: Finding Mieczysław Gajos (Stetopher), Prompt: soulmates

Everyone is born with their soulmate's name on their wrist. But it's the name given to one at birth... and because the sheriff missed Stiles' birth, Claudia's father was feeling vindictive when filling out the birth certificate, so technically, Stiles' last name isn't even Stilinski and Chris and Peter have no clue that Stiles is their soulmate when they first meet.

06/07: Emissary of the Hale Pack (Stetopher), Chapter 2

Dalia Hale decided to keep Stiles, so now Stiles has to figure out what to do with himself. Quite literally so, because his nine year old self is living in that town too and two Stileses were going to be suspicious on the long run.

06/09: The Beautiful Boy in the Biker Bar (Stetopher), Prompt: safe

This one's for @maybehappylittlerobot for being wonderful and feeding me with so many edits and saying GIMME when I mentioned the biker bar AU. So. Have the biker bar AU. Stiles meets a guy at a bar but the guy is giving him very uncomfortable vibes and when he tries to get out of the interaction, a really hot silver fox biker walks up to him, wraps an arm around his waist, calls him sugar and pretends to be his boyfriend, effectively chasing the creep away and frying Stiles' brain in the process. Turns out the hot silver fox and his husband own the bar.

06/11: One Hale of a Problem (Stargent), Prompt: fresh start

To get a fresh start, Chris and his daughter move to Beacon Hills after her mother dies during a hunt. Allison quickly makes friends at school, among them... Stiles Hale, son of the Hale Pack's Left Hand Peter, Right Hand Claudia and the sheriff of the town. The wrongest person for Chris to fall for, really.

06/14: A Spark into a Flame (Stetopher), Chapter 4

Stiles has to tell his dad about everything that had happened in the past months and the fact that he joined a werewolf pack and accidentally made them his flame. He also has to talk to said werewolf pack about that. Which are both excellent ways of avoiding to talk to either Peter or Chris about their attraction to him.

06/16: The Demon Wolf's Gentlemen's Club (Stalion), Prompt: gay club

Deucalion runs a gentlemen's club, where werewolves can meet willing, human partners. Nobody ever caught his attention at his club before though, not until Ethan's boyfriend Danny drags along the most intriguing boy Deucalion ever met.

06/18: Mutual Understanding (Sterek), Prompt: nature/green

The Hale Pack has to face the Darach together and Stiles grows more into his magic, under Peter's mentorship. Also Peter might or might not be flirting with Stiles' dad, which Stiles and Derek find equally disturbing.

06/21: The Alpha Pack's Spark (Stetalion), Chapter 4

Boyd, Erica and Stiles are getting to know the Alpha Pack better, while Deucalion and his pack start their investigation into the situation with the Hale Pack and the Argents.

06/23: Eagerly Eighteen (Stetopher), Prompt: (found) family

Stiles has been in a secret relationship with Chris and Peter for about a year and he's turning eighteen soon. On the one hand, he is eager for it, on the other hand, he's dreading it. What if Chris and Peter didn't actually want to tell anyone? They both had daughters who were Stiles' age. Maybe the only reason their relationship had worked for so long was because it only existed behind closed doors.

06/25: The Stilinski Pack (Steter), Prompt: red/life

No Hale Fire, the Hale Pack lives. But when Stiles is sixteen, a foreign, feral Alpha attacks the town and tears through the school. Stiles, Isaac, Boyd and Erica get turned by the Alpha. Peter, as the Hale Pack's Left Hand, is sent to take out the threat, but Stiles already did all the research, taught himself and beats Peter to it and kills the Alpha who turned him, making Stiles Alpha to his own pack.

06/28: Little Red and the Black Fox (Stetopher), Chapter 7

Stiles, in his vigilante persona as the Black Fox, gets into trouble and runs into Chris and Peter's team, who save him. Maybe Scott, Malia, Kira and Lydia aren't wrong, maybe Stiles does need backup. Maybe a team of vigilantes with a similarly aligned moral compass as his would be the solution...?

06/30: The New Photographer (Stargent), Prompt: flag

My first Neckz 'n Throats Starget fic!! Chris used to work at his family's hunting magazine but after his divorce from Victoria, he wants to spite the Argents... and starts working at a werewolf soft porn magazine. Stiles, the star model, quickly steals his heart.

[boinin]

Blue Lock volume cover analysis

An examination of unusual features and chains among the 31 volumes released to date. Subject to revision.

Like this? Want to reference these points in your own analysis on Reddit, YouTube, wherever? Go ahead! A shout out to this post is appreciated. Straight up plagiarism isn’t.

Volume 8: Mikage Reo

Reo's chains are noticeably shaded green. Guess whose eyes glow green when they're fired up...

In addition, @thyandrawrites has a theory that Reo ties/reties his hair up as a way to maintain emotional composure. The volume covers tend to represent the character's personality or struggles in some sense. If so, this is an early nod to the emotional trials Reo endures during the series.

Volume 10: Tokmitsu Aoshi

No chain weirdness here, but Tokimitsu is surrounded by black gunk in his cover. This may be a visualisation of his anxiety and the way he copes with it: running at speed and bulldozing through his opponents.

Volume 11: Ego Jinpachi

Ego's cover depicts him totally immobilised by the four chains bound to his neck. To date, no other character has been more restrained by the chains. This likely represents that Ego's fate is utterly dependent on the outcome of Blue Lock. His cover also suggests that Blue Lock (and football) consume Ego's life.

Volume 12: Shidou Ryuusei

Shidou's chains have a blue glow, much like Sendou's in volume 27. This glow is far closer to Shidou's collar however. It could imply that Blue Lock is the beginning of Shidou's pursuit of football.

He's also depicted with demon wings. The collar or chains don't impede his movement significantly, unlike other characters. In addition to portraying his incredible physicality, this could also visually represent how Blue Lock has failed to subdue Shidou.

Volume 16: Oliver Aiku

Aiku's chains are wrapped tightly around his arm and he's pulling them taut. The chains themselves appear rusted and cracked, most notably on his collar. This could represent Aiku's relationship with football. He grew jaded with being a striker in high school. Becoming a defender, then the match against Blue Lock, revitalised his enthusiasm. Hence, the chain is holding fast: he's just as ensnared by football (and Blue Lock) as the others.

Volume 17: Itoshi Sae

Sae and his chains are bathed in radiant gold light, which is associated with both divinity and wealth. His chains crumble in one place, and remain barely intact. I offer two interpretations for this. Firstly: unlike the others, Blue Lock does not have a strong impact on Sae—his success as a footballer is completely independent of it.

Secondly: if we take the chain to represent Sae's footballing career, the crumbling chain could allude to a time when football negatively impacted him. Perhaps whatever happened in Madrid? But he came back stronger, as the rest of his chains appear even more golden.

Volume 18: Teieri Anri

Anri is the only character depicted without chains or a collar. While working with Ego is a prison sentence in its own right, the artwork suggests that her ambition and future isn't connected to the outcome of Blue Lock. It can also be interpreted as a nod to the hierarchy within Blue Lock. Anri is Ego's boss and thus, she is free while he is constrained. However...

Zoom in on the reflection on her phone screen. It appears to reflect a wide grin—which can only be one person's. Taking into account her passivity in chapter 247, this detail positions Anri as Ego's accomplice: willing to do his bidding, no matter how amoral.

Volume 19: Michael Kaiser

Kaiser's collar and chains are made of glass, through which his blue rose tattoo is visible. As chapter 243 told us, a blue rose represents the impossible to Kaiser. Glass chains suggests that his ego or ties to football are fragile, and could be broken easily. Symbolically, glass can also represent transparency. As a character, Kaiser is upfront about his talent and desires. Nobody is in doubt about his footballing mantra or his intent to undermine Isagi.

Volume 20: Alexis Ness

Ness's chains are entwined with blue rose brambles, all but for a short length to the top right of the image. While Ness came to love football independently, seeing it as magical, the rose brambles show that his connection to football is now inseparable from his devotion to Kaiser. It also reflects that Ness would not be a professional footballer without Kaiser, as per chapter 242/243.

Volume 24: Hiori Yo

Hiori is the only character shown holding the end of his chain, which is secured by a football-shaped weight. This suggests that Hiori himself is the one in control of his career, rather than external forces. Football is a burden to him, albeit something he can carry. Therefore, Hiori is not ensnared by the chains (or Blue Lock) to the same extent as other characters. Appropriate for a character guaranteed to succeed as a footballer, but who ultimately may not choose to pursue it.

Volume 25: Niko Ikki

Niko's volume cover is hilarious. I'll leave the explaining to Tomo-tan, who lays out the humour and genius of Niko's cover in this great Reddit post.

Volume 26: Don Lorenzo

Members of the New Generation World XI have no chill when it comes to their covers, and Don Lorenzo is no exception. His collar shows bite marks, as though chewed through. Gold teeth are good for more than caramel popcorn, apparently.

Lorenzo's chains are accompanied by what looks like electricity. This suggests that football reanimated Lorenzo from near death, as per chapter 216. It's a visual nod to his playstyle, which resembles the incessant pursuit of a zombie. Guess we can call him Snuffy's Monster.

Volume 27: Sendou Shuuto

A blue glow appears on Sendou’s chains, halted from travelling further by his fist. This may represent the threat Blue Lock poses to Sendou's footballing career. He's already been kicked as the striker of the national team; now in the Neo Egoist League, he must battle for a place on the new U20 line-up. No easy feat, as his sweaty face implies.

Another detail worth mentioning is that the trajectory of one of Sendou's chains appear to align with the chain Aiku's pulling in his cover. This similarity, and the fact that they're both holding their chains, may be interpreted as a nod to their status as former U20 teammates—likely the only ones that will make the new team, going off the latest NEL auction table.

Volume 29: Nanase Nijiro

Debated adding him, but eh—I wrote up Reo's cover. Nanase's illustration (incl. the chains) is shaded green… similar to Rin's eyes and aura colour. His chain jerks right and left in a nod to his ambidexterity.

Volume 30: Tsurugi Zantetsu

Another gag cover on par with Niko's, albeit less clever (intentionally?). Zantetsu's chain is made of shapes you'd associate with a toddler's learning shapes toy.

Volume 31: Charles Chevalier

Charles's cover is a double whammy. He gets two colours like Aiku, reflecting his capricious nature. Gold and metallic are representative of his high worth. The background spirals are a definite nod to the Cheshire Cat, a character Charles states he likes in an end of volume character profile.

The chains are shaped like the devil emojis that appear in Charles's dialogue. The chains also feature two materials: an alternating light and dark metal with no evident pattern. This perhaps represents the way his passes are hit or miss, or the way he decides who to send passes to on a whim.

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Hey I saw that you had a tumblr and that we could ask questions about Fuego’s project

Chapter 16 was honestly really cool for setting up a lot of situations. It had a lot of unexpected stuff that makes me really excited for future chapters🔥

I like how you made a big change to canon because if it’s no longer the dark triad that’s the problem, then what would future problems be? I also like how the past wizard king is still relevant and comes back. And man I like the complex relationships you write. Jayce and Arthur may fight but they know that at the end of the day that they’re still on the same team and have each others back.

I really liked the interactions between the captains even tho it was very little, it gave us some subtle ideas about their personalities and dynamics. But uh oh they know Aika has time magic now I wonder what that’s gonna lead to.

You write the relationships between characters so well and true to canon but also give us more than just canon shows us so good job🔥❤️

Also, it’s so much like Aika to just give out an assignment instead of saying congratulations but I hope she’ll at least praise him for a job well done when he’s done😂

So what is he doing tho? I read into the concepts that you elaborated in your end notes and damn my head hurt.

ANON AAAAAAAA YOU ARE SO SWEET YOU PRAISE ME TOO MUCH

I really do love writing the complex relationships between characters and especially the canon ones because they are all outstanding individuals and we deserve to see how they shine even more through each other. When they say friendship is magic i really wanna show that so thank you anon!!

So Fuegoleon's project.

Yeah it is a doozy but I guess I'll try to give you more context and elaborate more.

So my idea of giving Fuegoleon a project came from my frustration that he didn't really have a spirit dive form yet or any sort of magic awakening

I am also a big fan of Fire Force and science and I loooooved how it showed the versatility of fire and it's role in science because it plays a big role in literally everything.

Black Clover has also shown the potential to be flexible in its magic despite having strict attributes through the various magic forms that people develop like Julius devloping transformation magic, zora using trap magic, ralph using memory magic, and magna using soul chain deathmatch.

Fire as a concept and physical medium has both spiritual and scientific aspects to it and Fuegoleon absolutely deserves to wield some of its cooler aspects besides an oversized lizard.

Fuegoleon's paper title is "Reversibility of Entropy through the Attribute of Fire: An Expansion on Laplace’s Demon."

Let me elaborate on the terms used.

The scientific term IRL is actually the "Irreversibility of Entropy." Entropy is basically how chaotic and random the world is. A solid state object has less entropy than a liquid state object and a liquid state object has less entropy than gaseous state objects. Basically gas is one of the more chaotic states an object can be. In real life science, you cannot physically reverse engineer some processes in the world because some phenomenon disperse in such random unpredictable ways.

Fire requires fuel, oxygen and heat. Once you create a fire and then extinguish it, you cannot bring back the original flame without using new materials and you cannot certainly bring back the materials used to create it in the first place. We currently don't have any processes that can do that because it is physically and theoretically impossible unless you reverse time.

Fuegoleon's job here is to bring back the fire created and extinguished by mana. He can do it using his fire magic but he would easily fall into just recreating the fire instead of reverse engineering it. So spoiler for future chapters, but he would essentially seal his fire attribute but still be able to use mana and use his familiarity with fire to bring back fire that was once there in a certain space.

It's basically a really elaborate science/mana experiment that tests just how much he knows fire as a magic form and also as a non-magic phenomenon.

Laplace's Demon is the concept that if you knew the past and present variable in any sciency phenomenon, you could predict the future of it. And that if you knew it's present and future variables, you could predict it's past. And this has proven to be untrue in our world because there is just a lot of randomness so you can't accurately predict anything but in a world of magic, it can be done because the people in it can physically interact with and move things in a way that we can't.

But yeah, I'm sorry for including nerdy topics in my fic but im also not sorry cus it's my fic 😝

Thank you for reading and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it!

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 16

BTS OT7 x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlists-Spotify

Word Count Approx: 25k

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This one is A LOT. Grab a snack, a drink and hunker down. This chapter was almost 30k before I decided to chop stuff for the next chapter...........yeah. Anyways, looking forward to hearing from y'all what you think! My wife hasn't left me alone about this one lol Good luck!

Cw: A barely detailed description of dead bodies of children that might be upsetting to some. Read at your own discretion.

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recap

Y/n cried out when both of the woman’s hands latched into her sides, pushing her further and further back into the room and away from Jungkook. It hurt–burned when it shouldn’t. Seared where she had no body. 

“Never send a man to finish-” 

Y/n saw her chance, and took it. While the fiery woman had her mouth stretched around her words, she shoved the gun into the baking heat of her mouth and closed her eyes, squeezing the trigger without hesitation. 

Teeth clattered against teeth, and every joint in her body rattled from the kickback of the revolver. The flaming woman shrieked, the collision of bullet and molten stone shaking both the room and Y/n’s skull. Steam and black blood spurt from where her head used to be, the top half completely obliterated like a cracked open geode whose center was boiling black lava and shattered rock. 

Her burnt arms of stone clawed at the place where her head once was, screaming profanities and raking her blue hot fingers across the opening, hooking them into the edge with a cry. She pried out the bullet from the pool of black blood, its metal eliciting more steam from where it touched her fingers. On the backside of the cylinder was thin smear of gray and black in the shape of a finger that glowed a defiant shimmering gold through the smattering of black tar and rock debris–the same place Namjoon had run his own digits on before they had left the room. 

“You bitch!” The woman gargled around a scream, throwing the bullet to the ground where it promptly vanished. 

She swung her clawed hands out infront of her in a blind rage to snag into Y/n’s chest, who dodged each swipe with staggering steps and a surprised yelp. Y/n fumbled with the revolver, shakily pulling the hammer back to load her next shot as she leaped and lunged out of reach.  

The demon suddenly jerked backwards, her back arched and the remnants of her jaw falling open with a deafening howl.  She brough her hands up in a frantic grab for her shoulders, spinning in a directionless whirlwind away from Y/n towards the stairs. Sergeant fired a second blow, blasting her left arm from her torso to soar across the room and clatter to the ground a few yards away.

When her back turned to Y/n, she was able to see the glint of the dagger handle embedded in her shoulder blades in the red light from the emergency lights. Jungkook followed after her, fingers curling around the handle and wrenching it from her spine only to strike it back down into her shoulder. The blow forced the woman down to the floor, and with one final screech, she crumbled into dust and smoke. The only sign that she had been there was the lingering odor of campfire and burnt flesh, and the bubbling puddle of steaming black goo near the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh my god…” Y/n broke the fearful silence between them, gulping down a shaky breath, “We just killed a ghost.” 

“For now.” Sergeant ground out the first thing his weathered voice had spoken since he had joined them. “The dead can return.” 

Jungkook bent down to pinch the dagger from the churning liquid, shaking it clean. “Then let’s get out of here.” 

“I second that.” Jimin grappled with the awkwardly shaped printer in his arms, the hat still precariously placed in the center. “Let’s grab Namjoon and get the hell out of here.” He tossed one regretful look to what remained of the blasted electrical panel, scrunching his nose in pity. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this tomorrow…” 

“Don’t.” Y/n took quick steps towards the stairs ignoring the pump of adrenaline that made her feel shaky and light headed. “Just come into work and lie. That was always my go when something was above my pay grade.” 

“There’s cameras.” Jimin moaned, rushing to follow the sound of her voice, stepping right through Jungkook on his way. The two of them shivered simultaneously at the collision, Jimin going as far as to shake his head as if ridding it of invisible spiderwebs. “Gross! Who was that?”

“Me, asshole!” Jungkook shot back, lips pulled down in a small frown and face equally as disturbed. 

Jimin spun back to face the sound of his voice, clearly offended. “Woah woah woah–No need to take your attitude out on me! I know where you sleep!” 

“We’ve lived together for almost twenty years now, of course you know where I sleep.” Jungkook rolled his eyes at the older man. 

“Exactly.  All the more reason to respect me.” Jimin chastised with a click of his tongue. “You don’t want to start a war you can’t handle.” 

Jungkook’s white eyes shot up to fix Jimin with a challenging stare, his lips curling up ever so slightly at the challenge. “Who says I can’t handle it?” 

Jimin scoffed, moving the printer to rest on his hip like one would hold a baby. “You may have powers of your own, but remember I have ears all over the place–I’ll catch wind of whatever it is. So be nice to me please.” 

“And I can see everything–even when you lie or hide things from me.” Jungkook took long strides towards the stairs, his fingers reacting on instinct and curling around Y/n’s to tug her along with him. “Don’t start something you can’t handle.” 

It’s almost as if Y/n could see little red devil horns spiraling out of the top of Jimin’s head in tandem with the impish grin that curved his mouth up. “Oh you’re so on.” 

“Guys!” Y/n raised her voice, pointing towards the spot where the woman had crumbled, the puddle beginning to slither towards where the disembodied arm had crumbled. “We need to run!” 

“Right.” Jimin flushed, grabbing the printer more securely and taking off up the stairs. 

Jungkook pulled the two of them up the stairs quicker than Jimin, running through him with quiet breathless giggles, pulling a cry of outrage from him. 

“Oh you’re so in for it!” Jimin cried out, taking the stairs two at a time after them. 

The three of them made it to the top at nearly the same time, with Sergeant holding up the rear with his gun at the ready. Y/n couldn’t help the giddiness that pooled in her belly. She had helped kill her first ghost–replaying the way the demon that had attacked Jimin screamed as she fell to the ground with sick satisfaction. 

Y/n leapt into the air mid run with a maniacal cackle, spinning with joy. “I can’t believe I helped kill a ghost. This is the best thing that’s happened to me in the past five years!” 

“Don’t get too comfortable with this.” Jungkook chastised from next her. 

“Let her celebrate a victory!” Jimin laughed, rounding the corner into the main room before skidding to a halt. “Holy hell!” Y/n didn’t stop in time, running through him and stopping a foot ahead of him to shiver at the intrusion. “Will you two stop that!” 

Y/n disregarded his outburst, too preoccupied with the scene in front of her. Three spirits moved about the exhibits, all three of them surprisingly recognizable. 

The one furthest from her near the exit she immediately recognized as Hadwin, looking the same as when he had tried to kill her: bowler had perched on the crown of his head and the webs of rot cascading down from his eyes towards his neck. In the center of the room limped her great aunt Dorothea, one of her legs dragging behind her and bent at an awkward angle and teeth bared like an animal on the hunt. The last spirit had Y/n’s blood running cold: it was Margeret, her Oma, pacing the mouth of the hall towards Jimin's office with that same horridly massive frown stuck on her mouth.

“I can see them…” Jimin’s awe was barely audible, but loud enough for her to hear. Y/n backed into the hall to avoid being seen, directing the rest of them to do so and tossing a quiet command to Jimin to follow.

Y/n steadied herself with a deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed while the oxygen ran through her nose and into her lungs. She thought of her Oma as she remembered her: loving, kind, and steadfast–if only a tad bit strict. She thought of her warm smiles and the feel of her bony hands as they pressed over hers while they rolled sugar cookie dough to cut into whatever shapes she desired. 

This monstrous frown didn’t belong there. That wasn’t her grandmother, and it would never be. 

Y/n snapped her eyes back open with her exhale, cocking the hammer of the gun and holding her arms out in proper form. She slid her gaze over to Jungkook, meeting his marbled eyes with a raise of her eyebrow. “Take two?”

He stared back at her, stoic and motionless, scanning her face for a moment with a tick of his jaw. He blinked, and let the corner of his lip turn up ever so slightly. “Take two.” 

Jimin craned his neck forward towards them, waving a hand in front of him with an expectant look on his features. “A friendly reminder I can’t see you. What’s the plan?” He hiss across the hall from them.

“I have a gun, he has a knife. The plan is pretty self explanatory.” Y/n looked back at Sergeant, and nodded. “You ready?” 

Sergeant nodded, giving them a thumbs up. “Blow ‘em to pieces, Dreikäsehoch.” 

That was all she needed, and with one final nod to Jungkook, they rounded the corner in a crouch, advancing on their first target: Dorothea. 

“I guess we are going now.” Jimin whispered through his teeth, tossing his next words down to the printer. “They never tell me anything.” He followed behind them, having enough sense to stay low behind them. 

Y/n gestured to Dorothea who passed just along the other side of the exhibit with her chin, and pointed to Jungkook. “You have her?” 

“I mean yes–but where are you going?” Jungkook glowered at her. “Don’t do anything reckless.” 

“And here I thought you were beginning to trust me.” Y/n bit back a groan. “I have unfinished business to attend to. I'll help with Margaret when I’m done.” 

Y/n hurried behind the next few exhibits, stopping behind each one until she was closer to the entrance. Then she shot up to her feet, waving her hands over her head as a distraction. “Over here you stupid oaf!” 

All three spirits jerked their heads in her direction, erupting into a chorus of snarls and growls. 

“That’s it!” Y/n turned to the front, Hadwin already barreling towards her in a way that felt all too familiar. Jungkook and Sergeant leapt from behind where they were hidden, cornering Dorothea and taking her out with one swing of blade and one shot from the rifle. 

“Sorry great aunt Dot…” Y/n made a face as she disintegrated, spinning to face Hadwin who was only a few yards away. “You on the other hand–I would apologize but I don’t really have it in me.” 

Hadwin’s chest spasmed with a condescending bellow of laughter. “Apologize for what? Serving your head on a silver platter?” 

“No. I’m here to pay it forward.” Y/n aimed the muzzle of the gun at his chest as he lunged forward. “Karma is a bitch to bitter old men!” 

She was more prepared for the kickback this time, digging her heels into the ground and embracing the way her arms buzzed from the aftershocks. Hadwin careened back, his hands coming up to grab for the hole in his chest that grew in size with each passing second, spreading outwards and seeping a golden ridged puddle of black until he was no more. 

Yeah, this was something Y/n could get used to. 

“And I’ll be waiting when you come back!” Y/n shouted at the place where he had once stood, hightailing it back towards Jungkook, grabbing his hand with a newfound pep in her step and lugging him towards her Oma. 

“I can do it for you if you can’t.” Jungkook rocked from foot to foot, knife in a backwards grip in his fist as they started a stand off with her Oma–or she should say the tarnished image of her. 

Y/n shook her head, eyes tracking the hollow sobs and scratching hisses Margaret spilled from her face-splitting frown as she stalked back and forth in front of the entrance, blocking the way from Jimin’s office. “I’ll be fine–I’m going to be living off the high of getting Hadwin for at least a week. Whoever gets the chance, take it.”

“You would betray your Oma like that? Entlein please just come with me. I’ll show you everything you want to know–you just have to come with me!” Margaret weeped, hands stretching out for Y/n in a desperate plea. 

Y/n shook her head, a growl bubbling up from her throat. “You aren’t my Oma anymore. Don’t you dare speak to me like you are. If you want to run your mouth, the least you could do is say something meaningful.” 

Margaret fell to her knees, hands clasped in front of her. “I can tell you where the boy is–I know.” 

Y/n took a step forward, inching closer to her. “Then say it. No one is stopping you.” 

Margaret jumped forward, wailing with her hands outstretched towards Y/n, snagging one of her legs and pulling them out from under Y/n. The two of them toppled onto each other–Margaret fighting for a grip on the gun and Y/n kicking her away, digging the palms of her hand into the flesh of her cheeks that were so stiff they felt as thought made of rubber.

“Just come with me Y/n, it doesn’t hurt. You will be better off here!” Margaret panted out, her hand closing around the handle of the revolver and forcing the barrel towards Y/n’s chest–even with Y/n pushing back as hard as she could.  

“Y/n get down!” Jungkook shouted, falling to his knees behind her Oma and gripping her chin in one hand. Y/n knew she had said she’d be fine, but she still covered her eyes when Jungkook brought the edge of the blade to Margaret's neck. 

“Try and find peace, Oma Wörner.” Jungkook mumbled, his words gentle despite his heavy breathing and her grandmother’s grunts as she fought to free herself. Margaret’s pitiful sounds were cut short with the strike of metal sliding against skin, and with one last shuddering exhale, the weight on Y/n’s legs lifted. 

Y/n uncovered her eyes, and accepted the hand Sergeant offered her to lift herself up. She scanned the main room for any further movement or sound, but found none, just her and their team. 

Jungkook shook the blade of any residue and pocketed it, throwing her a worried look. “You okay?” He asked, moving to take a stern step towards her before recoiling back again. Y/n could tell it took everything in him not to smother her with his concern and run from the building as fast as they could. And she appreciated the restraint. 

Y/n nodded, swallowing sharply and turning to regard Jimin, who sat with his arms cradling the printer and the flashlight squeezed in his hands. “You okay Jimin?” 

“Yeah.” Jimin shuddered, one hand rubbing at his ear with a wince. “I think one of my ear drums might’ve ruptured from all of the gun fire though.”

The four of them (well, five if you count the printer that housed Bear) took down the red lit hall towards Jimin’s office, a strange storm of emotions hanging over them: weary, yet victorious. 

Jimin and Sergeant entered first, opening the door and letting it hang open for Y/n and Jungkook to follow in behind them. Jimin took charge, directing Namjoon to begin waking them up and plopping the printer on the table. 

Y/n and Jungkook lingered at the door, and she spared a glance up at him to find him already looking down at her with furrowed brows, his lip pulled into his mouth to suck on his piercing in thought. Y/n sighed, preparing herself for his scolding and lining up her own defenses in her mind. They must’ve both had the same idea, their rushed explanations layering over one another.

“Jungkook can we not–” 

“You did great out there. I’m…” Jungkook smacked his lips together, before his face twisted with repulsion, gagging around nothing. “Oh god–that’s awful!” 

Y/n erupted into a fit of giggles, watching this great and powerful reaper fret over the strong and pungent taste of Namjoon’s tincture–he was still her Jungkook after all. 

“I wasn’t lying!” Y/n smacked a hand over her mouth as the flavor erupted onto her own tongue. “Ugh!”  Y/n scrunched her face in, letting her mouth hang open to hopefully ease the flavor away. 

Jungkook pointed to her, a rare full sized grin pulling his cheeks up with a laugh of his own that was punctuated with the occasional disgusted cough. 

That was the last image she had–Jungkook’s blindly beautiful smile and creased eyes–before she was launched into the dark abyss of nothing. The sound carried through her mind giving her something to focus on as the feeling of regaining her body returned.

She felt her lips bend upwards into a smile before she could open her eyes. 

God, she loved that sound. 

_________________________________________

Y/n awoke to her hands still encased in Jungkook’s even though he had roused first, and his now brown eyes patiently watching over her body until she stirred awake. Bitterness still swept her mouth in waves, and she swallowed a few times to try and get rid of it. The room around them bustled with commotion, Namjoon and Jimin were rushing around the low-lit room in all directions to put away as much of their belongings back into the tote bag as they could fit. 

In a juxtaposition to the frenzy that surrounded them, Jungkook lifted one hand and brought his fingertips up to graze the skin of her cheek tenderly, his face smoothed over with something hidden that threatened to escape in his glimmering eyes and the soft rest of his cheek against his arm. He was just looking at her, studying each swallow, the slow blink of her lids, and the rise and fall of her chest. 

“Hi.” He mumbled against his arm, squeezing her fingers between his own. “Welcome to the land of the living.” 

Y/n slowly tested the movement of her limbs, looking around at the flurry of uncoordinated movement of Namjoon snuffing the candles out nearby, and Jimin wrestling her odd assortment of weapons into the bag with quiet curses and a hushed conversation with an unseen partner.

“We need to hurry. Like Sergeant said, they won’t stay gone long. The lady from the basement could be back any minute–she’s pretty strong.” Jungkook continued, dropping his hand from her cheek to rest between them. 

Y/n hummed, hoisting herself into a seated position. “Give me a second–I just need to recollect myself.” 

Jungkook sat up, peering at her sideways with eyes unmoving. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready.” He stretched his legs out and rotated his body to help Namjoon collect the last of the candles. 

“Jimin has already caught me up for the most part.” Namjoon threw a weary glance towards the printer on the table. “Let’s hope it worked.” 

“Let’s hope.” Y/n rubbed at her eyes, and shook the heavy cloud of fatigue from her shoulders, catching the shiny metal of the revolver dropping from Jimin’s hands into the tote bag. “Joon–I wanted to ask you–did you do something to the bullets while we were gone?” Y/n recalled the way the back of the bullet shined gold, how the hole in Hadwin’s chest was rimmed with the same color. 

“Huh?” He dropped one of the candles, Jungkook’s hand coming out to save it from hitting the floor. “Oh, the revolver.” He cleared his throat as a fresh pink tint coated his cheeks. “Kind of yeah. I wanted to try and see if I could anoint them, but all I had was ashes from the incense. If I used any of Yoongi’s oils it would tarnish the metal, so I just put some strong intention into it and hoped for the best.” 

Y/n pulled herself onto her knees to face him. “Well whatever you did worked–made them glow and saved my ass twice.” 

Namjoon smiled bashfully down towards the blanket’s edge as he started to fold it. “It’s the least I could do. I can’t do much while you guys are in there.” 

Jungkook grumbled, swatting Namjoon’s hands away from the wrinkled folded edge and pushing him out of the way. “Don’t. Let me fold it please.” 

Namjoon held his hands up in surrender, backing away from the blanket and standing to help Jimin with whatever else he could. Jungkook gave her a blank stare, and politely shooed her away from the blanket with his hands so he could fold the rest of the blanket just right. 

With everything packed away, and the printer back in Jimin’s hands they made it back to the car in one piece, all of them squeezing into it with a shared sigh of relief. They had Bear–hat still placed on top of course–tucked into the middle seat between her and Jungkook, seat belt strapped over the front to keep him securely in place.

Jungkook kept to his side of the car, pressing his side against the door while the car wound up the bend. Jimin flicked on the turn signal, tilting the wheel to turn onto the driveway when Jungkook piped up from her side. 

“You can let me out here.” 

He was already unlatching the car door, the overhead lights blaring down at them before the car had come to a complete stop. His sneakers met the gravel with a crunch, and he didn’t spare a glance to any of them as he dropped down.

“Are you alright?” Y/n turned in her seat just in time for him to shut the door without any answer. 

Y/n stared at his slowly retreating figure, watching his hands pull his hood up over his head to block out the slow drizzle from the slow descent of gray clouds that hung low with evening rain. The car continued after him, the headlights lighting up the path before them and the back of Jungkook’s black hoodie. 

So much for whatever improvements she had thought they made today, Y/n rested her forehead against the window, her breath fogging up the surface. Namjoon looked back at her through the rearview mirror, and sucked on the back of his teeth with a disapproving shake of his head. 

“I’ll get out here too. We weren’t supposed to be on your date anyways–I’ll check in on him.” Namjoon added the last part with an apologetic quirk of his lips to the side. 

Jimin threw them a worried glance, but stopped the car anyways next to Jungkook who kept his head down and out of sight from the windows. Namjoon stepped from the Jeep and joined Jungkook with a nod, using the tips of his fingers to push his door shut to block out the start of their conversation from Y/n’s prying ears.  

The car stayed in park as the rain picked up speed. Jimin tapped his fingers against the wheel, eyes staring off down the road while he pulled his lower lip into his mouth to press his teeth into the surface of it.  

“You know…” He starts, flicking on the windshield wipers to clear the view of the two men wandering back to the front door. “We did say we were going somewhere. We might as well make it believable.” Jimin looked back at her over the seat. 

Y/n pursed her lips, looking down at her wringing hands. “What do you have in mind?” 

“Ice cream?” 

Y/n couldn’t say no to that–her eyes lighting enough of an answer for Jimin to turn the car around back down the winding road. Thankfully they didn’t have to go all the way into town, or else they wouldn’t have made it to any shop before they closed for a Monday evening. They were saved by a small mom and pop’s ice cream parlor they used to frequent as children, nestled at the bottom of the hill right off the main road that they would take back into town. As the trees filtered past, she smiled, envisioning the horde of them racing down the hill for ice cream with Jungkook’s dad leading the way, locked in his own race against her father for who would pay for the lot of them. 

Jimin was a gentleman as always (when he wasn’t being a little devil that was), insisted she stay out of the rain while he ordered for them. His back disappeared into the store, the shop owner’s face lighting up with recognition at his entrance. Jimin was jokingly referred to as his favorite past employee from his teen years working part time there with Yoongi and Jin. The owner was a burly man named Cecil, wrinkled and spotted with age with his once auburn and curly hair now faded to gray. He splayed his hands out over the counter–no doubt trying to offer Jimin more dessert than he needed for a discount. She watched Jimin offer him the most heart melting smile while shaking his head with a bellowing laugh, declining his discounts as they usually had to. (A gift he repeatedly tried to offer for their huge household single handedly funding their shop every summer). While Cecil’s back was turned, Jimin’s nimble fingers feathered through his wallet to pull out a hefty wad of change and deposit it into the tip jar by the register. Her lungs contracted tightly, cutting off her ability to breathe normally when he looked back to check on her, catching her staring and shooting her a quick wink with a finger pressed to his lips before engaging Cecil in further discussion. 

While idly watching Cecil scoop ice cream and man the blender, she moved to the front seat, letting her thoughts drift to Jungkook and his recent onset of hot and cold behavior as she cycled through the plethora of emotions from her day. She brought her thumb up to nibble on, sifting through the previous weekend to pinpoint just what she could have possibly done to trigger it. It only happened with her, and the way he had been arguing with her today made her think she had to have done something. She just wished he would say what it was. 

Rain pelted the windows now, blurring the gloomy dusk trees and rolling hills that surrounded her. Y/n heaved another sigh, and shook her head of thoughts of Jungkook–she was spending time with Jimin, and it would be rude to have her thoughts carried away and distant when he was kind enough to take her away from everything for a sweet treat. 

“Ugh. Why are men so confusing?” Y/n mumbled to herself, picking lint from her shirt. “I feel like this should all be easier than it is.” A whirring sound wheezed out from the machine behind her, so quiet she almost thought she had imagined it. She spun in her seat, eyeing the printer behind her with a squint, staring intently at the tiny printer screen that was dark and unlit. 

Y/n was jolted back to reality when Jimin tapped on the glass of the driver's side door with a grin, juggling three different ice cream cups in his hands. He gestured with his chin to the door, and Y/n lurched into action to save him from the torrential downpour, popping the handle and giving it a shove with her fingertips. 

He slid into his seat with murmured thanks, passing the desserts into her hands so he could pull the door closed behind him, shaking out the water from his hair wiping his hands off on his damp jeans. Y/n counted the cups, tucking her milkshake between her thighs and handing Jimin his signature caramel concoction, leaving her with one extra dish of vanilla with sprinkles. 

“Did you have trouble deciding, or was that one of his complimentary offerings?” Y/n chuckled, holding the dish up between them. 

Jimin paused his ministrations, examining the dish in her hands before smiling. “Neither. It’s for our guest.” He lifted it from her fingers and reached into the back seat, placing it on top of the lifeless printer next to the hat while using the other hand to tuck a small red plastic spoon from his pocket into the top. “There we go. Now we all have a treat.” 

He sat back into his seat, and excitedly snatched his dish from her hands. “Bon appétit.”

Y/n watched him dig into his overly sweet sundae, while casually sipping on her drink, tucking one leg beneath her to face him. They chatted idly, keeping the discussion on his graduation ceremony, and the time he got to spend with the Kim’s–the rain a backtrack to their lighthearted discussion after what most certainly wasn’t a light hearted evening. She wanted nothing more than to listen to every detail with as much attention as he gave her, but something kept orbiting her brain and stealing all of her focus out from beneath her feet. 

The way her heart beat picked up each time he looked at her over his ice cream when she answered a question, or her cheeks heating up when he’d laugh at his own story or something she said. The way she just wanted to reach over and grab his hand like he had on their date to the park the week prior. Her brain tormented her each time his mouth opened to speak, imagining the way his lips felt against her cheek when they brushed against it when he had dropped her off.  

The air felt stifling, but Jimin didn’t seem to notice. If anything he seemed relaxed as ever, making shame bubble in her stomach at how she was probably ruining the mood, or even that she was the one acting weird to him like Jungkook had been doing to her–and she couldn’t stand that thought. She wanted to–needed to be honest. 

“Jimin?” Y/n swirled the thick red straw round her half empty drink, feeling the dessert already settle heavily in her stomach. 

“Hmm?” He dropped his spoon into his now empty cup, stuffing a used napkin in it and discarding it into his cup holder. 

Y/n averted his eyes, perfectly okay watching her partially melted beverage whirl around. “Can I be honest about something?” 

Jimin’s demeanor shifted into something serious, shifting his weight to face her with a furrowed brow, eyes melting into pits of worry. “Of course, is everything okay? Did you need to talk about what happened today?” 

Y/n couldn’t take the way he looked at her–it only made the urge to grab a hold of him and bring him closer stronger and harder to ignore. The plastic cup in her hands bent beneath the force it took to keep her hands to herself. 

“Everything is okay. And if I’m being honest, I’m getting a bit too used to all of that craziness.” Y/n chuckled nervously, moving one of her hands to grip at the fabric of her pants. “I just…I need to get something off of my chest.” She finally snuck a glance at him, and wished she hadn’t. 

His eyes raked over her face with so much gentleness, it had her wanting to vomit for what she was about to put on him. She was about to tell him that she let everything he considered second nature–affection and selflessness–had led her to betray their friendship. Because she couldn’t stop herself from seeing it as more than friendly, even if that’s how he meant it. And that was her fault. 

But she couldn’t lie to him. 

“Go ahead.” He urged softly, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. 

“I don’t know where to start, it just feels like there’s so many layers and I don’t want to say it wrong.” Y/n fretted, wrenching her eyes back to her milkshake that threatened to spill onto her legs with the pressure she held it with.

Jimin swallowed thickly, peeling her fingers from the cup and moving it into the other empty cup holder to save it from her punishment. “Then just say the first thing that comes to mind. You know I won’t judge you for whatever it is.” 

“You say that now…” Y/n’s voice fizzled out, her hands rubbing the tops of her thighs anxiously. 

“I won’t,” Jimin offered her firm reassurance, and she could feel his stare boring into the side of her head. 

“I…” Y/n’s mouth felt dry, and she worried her dessert might make a second appearance with the tsunami of nerves that pummeled her insides. Y/n gripped the fabric of her pants in her fists, turning to face him for what could be the last time like this–relaxed and free of worry. Normal.

“I really want to kiss you.” 

Jimin looked as still as a statue, his mouth frozen partially open and his eyes wide in their restless state of movement. 

“And it freaks me out.” Y/n continued, letting her mouth run before her brain could catch it. “It scares me because I don’t know if you feel the same way or if I’m just reading too much into who you are. But I was talking with Namjoon and after being away for so long–I don’t think I ever saw you as just a friend. I think I always felt this way and that was my normal. My normal was being with you.” Y/n could feel her jaw tremble, and her hands shake with pent up emotion–something that always happened when she pushed herself into vulnerable territory. And she decided to just lay it all out in front of him, wanting to be as honest as possible. “I’m not going to lie to you either. I’m having confusing thoughts about Jungkook in the same way, but I’m still trying to figure those out. I just can’t lie to myself anymore, and I can’t lie to you. I just needed to finally say it.” 

She finally clamped her mouth shut, the reality of what she had done settling into her like ice water pouring down her spine and running through each vertebrae. There was no taking this back–this was forever. 

“Y/n, I’m also going to be honest.” One of his hands crossed the distance between them, weaving his fingers through hers and resting it on her thigh. “I thought I made it pretty obvious that I was interested in you as more than a friend.” 

Y/n blanched, now it was her turn to look at him like a deer in the headlights. “What?”

Jimin fought a smile from crawling up his face, and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “Yeah. I just thought you knew and that’s why you agreed to go on that date with me last week. I don’t just get anybody pretty dresses and flowers, or take them on romantic outings.”

“But you–” Y/n stuttered, blinking rapidly at him, “ –why didn’t you say so? Why didn’t you say something while on the date?” 

“I didn’t think I necessarily had to–I thought my actions made it pretty clear!” His eyes crinkled, and he brought his other hand up to stifle his laughter. “You really are oblivious, huh?” 

“Shut up!” Y/n whined, dropping his hands and crossing her arms over her chest. “I take back what I said then.” 

“No, no, wait!” Jimin rushed to choke back his giggles and grabbed for her hand again. “It’s cute.” 

“Whatever.” Y/n felt her face steam from embarrassment, but on the inside her heart was doing flips in her chest, her body finally catching up to just what this meant. 

After a few beats, she felt Jimin tug lightly on their intertwined hands in a call for attention. “Y/n?” 

She met his eyes again, and everything around them seemed to stop. The rain sounded distant, as if on another plane entirely, and her ice cream was long forgotten. All she could see was him.

“Yeah?” Y/n’s voice shook and her hand that was connected to his began to sweat. 

“Do you still want to kiss me?” 

The question hung between them as if written on a little note card tacked to the string of a balloon: weightless as it bounced from one side to the other–dangling there as an open invitation without any pressure to grab it. Without thinking, her response spilled out between them sounding as breathless as she felt. 

“Yes.” 

That was all Jimin needed to hear, his free hand sliding up her shoulder to rest on the back of her neck, guiding her closer at a pace slow enough to still give her the option to change her mind if she wanted to. Their foreheads pressed against each other, his nose bumping affectionately against her own–the familiar gesture holding a whole new meaning. But before she could let herself give in she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching them for any signs of doubt. 

“And you’re okay that I’m still figuring out how I feel about Jungkook?” 

Jimin nodded, his hand skimming the skin of her cheek to hold onto the side of her face, letting his thumb drag lazy lines across her bottom lip. “I am. I trust you to tell me when you figure them out, then we go from there.” 

“Promise?” Y/n stared pointedly at him, but she could feel the last of her resolve slipping as he drifted closer, his thumb moving from her lip to her cheek to steer her forward and her eyes closing on command. 

“Promise.” 

He slotted his mouth over hers tenderly, tasting of caramel and vanilla. She released her hold on his hand to bring both of hers up to the back of his neck, pulling him in impossibly closer–but it still didn’t feel close enough. 

His lead was soft, a gentle display of devotion pouring from his touch with every short intake of breath–every push and pull of his lips against hers. And she melted, her heart and mind no better off from the cup of rainbow studded ice cream left unattended in the back seat. Contrary to what she would have expected, her heart didn’t race nearly as fast, and her hands didn’t shake. If anything her mind and body slowed down to match the rhythm of his mouth against hers: languid and lax. Like this was how it was supposed to be. 

Her fingers inched up to fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck, and shifted in her seat to sit on her folded knees in an effort to lessen the gap between them. He grabbed for her waist, pressing small circles into the skin there through her thin shirt. His head tilted further to the side, moving his lips with an ounce more force–but not as much as she craved. The palm of her hand made its way down the back of his neck to plant itself on his shoulder, squeezing the cotton of his shirt in her fist in a silent plea to come closer–to kiss her harder. 

An electronic clicking noise tore them apart, both their heads whipping towards the backseat to find the source. A square blue light illuminated the backseat from the printer screen whirring to life on its own accord, a string of letters dancing across the screen that blinked in and out of focus.

‘LOADING…’

‘LOADING…’

‘ON’

Y/n struggled to catch her breath, falling back into her seat and sliding down to hide herself from her embarrassment. In her jumbled mess of thoughts she had completely forgotten that her great uncle was still in fact in the printer in the backseat, bearing witness to their romantic revelations. 

Jimin chuckled nervously, biting his lip and turning to regard the printer in the back with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry.” 

From within the machine, the print head surfed from one end of the printer to the other, chirping out a series of clicks and ticks as it went. The sheet feeder jerked to life in search of paper to send through–obviously finding none–for they hadn’t had a chance to find any yet. 

“Shit! We should really head back and figure out how to get him out.” Y/n grappled for her buckle, missing the latch a few times before her unsteady hands managed to shove it in. “Then we can make a solid plan.” 

“Sounds good.” Jimin sang, unable to stop the grin that had overtaken his face since they had separated. The car shook to life beneath them, and the printer’s gears started to slow already into a much slower rhythm of movement. It got out one last beep for good measure, then Bear let its screen fade back to gray. 

Her fingers pried the pop down mirror open to make sure she didn’t look too disheveled, taking extra time to tap at her cheeks and blow out a few deep breaths before they arrived at home. 

Jimin cast her a fleeting glance, and weaseled his hand across the console to loosely grasp for hers. “You look pretty as always, don’t worry too much about it.” 

Y/n snapped the mirror shut with a whine. “Don’t make it worse!” His compliments already making her unbearably hot face unfathomably warmer.

“Can’t help it–it's the honest truth.” 

 Y/n pressed her cheek into the window, unable to fight a dreamy smile and a mellow sigh. The weight of the unknown with Jimin had been completely lifted from her chest–which surprisingly (and she’d never tell Namjoon this and give him the satisfaction of being right) helped her focus on what she wanted to without spiraling out. One of the stressors was removed from her plate to make room for the rest, and for once she felt like she was hitting the ground running on two steady feet. 

_________________________________________

“I swear it lit up. It even made a shit ton of noises to boot.” 

Y/n caught the doubtful sideways glances Jungkook and Namjoon gave each other as she turned to face them, both of them sagged with fatigue from the day. The four of them crammed into Jimin’s room with the printer now plugged in on his desk, but it had yet to turn on. 

“I can attest to it.” Jimin raised one of his hands up, from where they were stuffed into his pockets as he leant up against his dresser. 

“I believe you both. It’s just…” Namjoon leant forward, tapping the top of the printer with his index finger. “It isn’t doing that now. Were you guys doing anything to trigger it?” 

“No!” Y/n squeaked, sounding undoubtedly scandalized and her eyes widening on instinct–a poor cover up on her part. 

Jimin sucked his lips in to keep from laughing. “I did give him ice cream as an offering. Maybe he needs more?” 

Jungkook raised a pointed eyebrow, unable to decide who to look at with eyes that prodded over them to sniff out anything suspicious–though he seemed to be feeling a bit better since he had spent more time with Namjoon, as he hadn’t tried to argue with her once since they returned.

 Namjoon raised both eyebrows and pursed his lips, flashing Y/n a knowing look that said ‘you’re so telling me tomorrow’ before speaking. “I can try and find something in one of my books that might help. I just don’t want to go poking around too much when your mom is home and the others are out and about tonight.” 

Y/n pursed her lips and let her eyes float unfocused around the room as she pondered all of her memories of Bear that she had. Most of her memories were food related, or of his eccentric stories and scheming games he’d lead with the children. She deflated at the realization that she didn’t have that many memories of much else that was about him and not his stories. 

Her eyes finished their journey, landing on Jungkook with a sudden idea flickering to life. 

“Kook, do you think you could try and like…use your abilities to call him out? Maybe just enough to make sure he’s okay.” Y/n kept her tone neutral, nervous to tip him off into whatever funk he’d just gotten out of.

Jungkook breathed through his nose, his pointer finger and thumb coming up to fiddle with his lip piercing. “I guess I can try.” He rose from the edge of Jimin’s bed and crossed the room in only a couple strides, standing in front of the printer with an apprehensive shift from foot to foot. 

His right hand came up to hover over the printer with eyes like inky black pools. He brought his hand down to rest on the top, his palm skimming the plastic cover. He stilled, keeping his fingers splayed over the middle in waiting. Jungkook grimaced, and the printer screen lit up for a few seconds before fading again to an empty grid.

“He needs more.” Jungkook stated plainly, moving his hand away and shaking it out. 

“More? Food kind of worked, but not for long. Jimin,” Y/n addressed him next, “have you been able to find anything about him that could help? Anything like what you figured out with Clay?” 

Jimin shrugged apologetically. “Not really. His history is pretty censored.” 

Y/n wrinkled her nose and turned back to the printer, filing through her memories of the past, and what she knew of the present. She recalled what Jimin had shared earlier this afternoon about the conclusion he had come to regarding the spirits: that offerings can be used for good and bad, one just has to find what they like the most. 

Perhaps the answer was staring right in front of her–Bear loved stories–especially telling them. Maybe if they could work together…

Jungkook started to lift his hand from the top of the machine, but Y/n slapped her hand over his to stop it from moving. “Wait! I have an idea.” 

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that today…” Namjoon grumbled, though his complaints held no heat.

“Let’s try something together. Follow my lead?” Her voice raised at the end in a question, but she was already keeping a steady pressure on the back of Jungkook’s hand. 

He didn’t pull his hand away, so Y/n took that as a good sign.

She let her eyes close, and envisioned the vines sprouting outwards from within, weaving into the printer below her hand and coiling around each nook and cranny she could. She released a shuddering breath from her mouth, and felt the distant pulse of electrical current tingling up the tendrils and into her chest. 

“Call for him.” Y/n whispered to Jungkook, her brow pinching in focus to keep hold of the feeling of Bear. 

Jungkook straightened up and spoke with more purpose, even the hair on Y/n’s arms stood up with his command. “Bear Wörner, come to me.” 

The tingling sensation intensified, spreading up Y/n’s real limbs and prickling at her skin. Y/n let her lips part around her next controlled breath, speaking lightly. “Tell me a story, Bear. Show me what you’d like us to give you.” A pause, lengthy and heavy before she continued–she knew the risk she was about to take. “I’ll let you in if you need to use me.” 

The man next to her tensed, his voice laced with worry. “Y/n–” 

“Bear?” Patti crept through the door of the study, peeking her dark head of hair around the corner. 

Bear didn’t hear her at first, the weeping of the violin from the bow that he slid across its strings blocking out all sounds of the outside world. It was moments like this–him and the violin on a lovely spring day with the windows open–that he wanted to walk to his mother and thank her for stuffing him into lessons in the first place, and pushing him to play consistently whenever he would drag his feet. Her excuse was that it created balance in one's genius, a point he never bothered to argue. 

Patti tiptoed across the threshold, sliding the doors closed behind her quietly, as to not disturb him. The romantic yet haunting motifs of Schubert's Serenata draped the room like velvet, and she tucked herself into the corner of the sofa to wait for the end, swaying softly to the melody. 

Bear abruptly stopped mid phrase to repeat the section he had just played–one–no two, perhaps three times before letting his hand holding the bow drop to his side to recenter himself with a tense sigh. 

“It sounds lovely.” 

Bear turned sharply at the sound of her voice, hands clenching the instrument for dear life to save it from tumbling to the floor to its demise. For a split second, something strong flared in his chest–irritation? Fear? Anger? He couldn’t tell. But as quick as it came, it vanished. Replaced by something all the more dangerous. 

“Thank you.” He nodded, distracting himself from her presence by loosening the hairs on the bow to prepare it for storage. 

Patti wrung her hands in her lap where they would disappear and reappear in the flaring fabric of her vibrantly colored dress. “I really like that one. It’s one of my favorites of the songs you play.”

I know that, Bear thought to himself as he laid the body of the violin into the case with delicate hands, swathing it with the protective cloth. But he dared not say it. He spared her a glance and a teensy smile, tipping the lid closed and snapping the latches. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” 

The air was heavy, bowed with the weight of what sat unspoken between them. 

“I always wanted to learn.” Patti cleared her throat, and smoothed the edge of her already straightened dress down twice. “I never got around to it though.” 

Bear’s fingers stilled over the latches, daring to look at her directly. His mouth opened and closed, undecided on what to say next. He knew he didn’t deserve to speak to her, not to mention be alone with her after what he had done. 

It was unforgivable. 

Patti let out a few awkward and breathy laughs, shaking her head in embarrassment. “That wasn’t relevant. I’m sorry.” She stood, coughing lightly into her fist. “It’s a silly thought anyways. I’m much too busy with preparing Johan for graduation, and taking care of everything here–” 

“Do you want to try it?” Bear didn’t know what he was thinking asking such a question. He never seemed to learn from his mistakes, stumbling headfirst into the next. 

“Oh! No–I don’t want to be a bother.” She hurried back towards the door, smoothing the skirt of her dress another two times like an uncontrollable tick. 

“That could never be true.” Bear assured, nimble fingers unlocking the case and guiding the lid open. “If you want to, I don’t mind.” 

Her feet came to a slow stop, her hands clenched into fretful fists and her eyes glinting with hope. “Are you sure?” 

Bear nodded, swallowing down any thoughts of something more, lifting the instrument back into his hands. “I insist.” 

Patti came to his side with trepid steps across the carpet, being sure to keep a bit of distance between them. Bear instructed her how to hold the instrument, positioning her hands to support the neck on the base of her index finger, and her chin to rest snug against the chin rest. 

It was easy to ignore the close proximity between them, or the way she looked up at him through her lashes with something dangerous if he focused on relaying to her names of the strings, and how to pluck them while keeping her other in first position. Even as their fingertips brushed when he would reposition them, or when he had to stand just a bit closer to help her maintain proper form with his arm all but around her.

To his mercy, she too eventually lost herself in their impromptu beginner lesson, and Bear’s heart swelled each time she did something relatively correct and would look at him with such  shining joy in her eyes. 

Bear was a well traveled man, and cherished all of the miraculous structures, gardens, and artistic masterpieces he had seen; all of the rolling hillsides or massive rocky ocean cliffs and snowy mountain tops. But the way she looked when she was radiating such a glow that smothered all else, curving her lips and wrinkling her eyes without the space for even the prettiest daisies or the most pristine roses to compete, outran all of the other wonders the world had to offer by a mile. 

“Bear, have you seen–oh.” Duane slammed open the office door, stopping in his tracks at the scene before him. His eyes were weighed down with exhaustion, a pluming cigarette perched between his lips. 

“Bear is teaching me how to play the violin! Isn’t that lovely?” Patti called over to him, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. 

“That’s–that’s nice dear.” Duane pinched the cigarette from his lips and blew the smoke out from the corner of his mouth. “I was just looking for you to let you know that I am headed out for the evening. Youngho and the piano man are headed into town to get some fresh air and I’m going to join them.” His broad hand snatched his thin coat from the coat rack in the study, shrugging it onto his shoulders. 

Patti’s face dropped, the excitement that had previously been present sucked away, leaving her voice timid and empty. “What about Johan? We had plans tonight to get his suit tailored and you said you’d be there?” 

“Hon, I’m doing my best alright? I just need some air.” Duane took the cigarette from his mouth to place a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Don’t wait up for me.” 

Duane swept from the room as quickly as he came, sliding the door closed behind him. The sound of the front door clicking shut finalizing his departure. 

Patti let the violin droop in her hand, her fingers unable to sit still on the strings, and her eyes glazed and distant. Bear could see the accumulation of liquid on her lower lash line, and fought the urge to throttle his brother for the umpteenth time this week. But he knew rage would only serve himself and would not benefit Patti in the moment. 

Bear cleared his throat and faced her again. “Do you want to keep going?” 

Patti blinked, swallowing hard, her eyes turning down towards the floor as she lowered the violin from her shoulder and into his awaiting hands. “No–it’s–I should really be going. I have a lot to prepare.” She coughed a few more times into the crook of her elbow, lifting the instrument back into his hands. Her feet moved listlessly back towards the door, already making her leave.

“Patti–” Bear dropped the violin back into the case, not bothering to close it in a rush to encircle his fingers around her wrist. “ –Why don’t we play for a bit longer, and then I can help you with whatever it is you have on your plate.” 

She froze, her body going rigid at his touch. 

He hadn’t touched her willingly since he had kissed her only days before. 

Patti pivoted to face him, glancing towards the open instrument case and back to his pleading eyes. Something in the way she looked at him shifted, becoming more resolute than shy. She stormed across the floor to the other side of the desk and flicked on the small radio there, turning up the dial and letting the timbre of Paul Anka fill up the vast space.

“I actually do need your help with something, Bear.” She avoided looking at him as she rounded the corner of the wooden table to stop in front of him. 

“What is it?” Bear took a precautionary step back, giving her a once over. 

Patti looked up at him with determination, one of her hands coming up to caress over her cheek that Duane had kissed, before giving it a harsh wipe with a scowl.  “I need you to kiss me again. I want to feel it from someone who means it.” 

Bear knew he should say no. Every rational cell in his brain screamed at him to turn away and walk out of the study with a polite declination and a kind smile to take a short walk. To put as much distance between them as possible. But Bear always got himself into trouble–especially when it looked to him with the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. 

And so he kissed her fervently, walking her back towards the desk until he had her pressed against the cherry wood. Not just because it was what he wanted, but because it was what she deserved. 

She deserved to be loved–to be touched like it meant something. Because she meant everything to him. 

Y/n teetered forwards, the echoing sound of the violin and the fuzzy guitar from the vision still parading around her skull with the lingering sparks of electricity that ebbed down her arms slowly. 

Jungkook wrenched his hand from beneath hers on the printer to grab a hold of her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake and a hissed “Enough!” 

She turned on unsteady feet, stumbling towards Jimin’s bed where she had discarded her phone earlier. Her eyes blinked as though moving through molasses, and her fingers clumsily swiped for her music app to find the song she was looking for. 

Schubert’s melodramatic intro of strings had barely lilted for more than a few seconds before the printer roared to life, the outlet showering a quick burst of sparks and the small square screen flashing with an array of different colors. 

“Call on him Jungkook…” Y/n barely managed to get her words out, flopping onto Jimin’s bed with an exhausted sigh. She felt like she had been run over by a truck. 

Jungkook did as he was told, and a sheet of paper flew through the machine and out the front  decorated with a short line of fresh ink. 

What’s your plan, Entlein? 

Hopeful it eventually involves getting me out of here so we can talk about what is going on :P 

P.S. Privacy is a wonderful thing. Eye for an eye. 

Y/n fought a flush from rising into her cheeks–horrified to know that he truly had been forced to witness her and Jimin, but honestly she was too bone tired to care. “The plan is risky–but I really think it could work.” Y/n managed to sit herself up, using Namjoon’s shoulder to lean her weight on, which he gladly supplied. 

Another slip of paper ran through the printer. 

My favorite kind. 

“It involves using productive distractions while one of us sneaks into my parents office–two birds with one stone. The only thing I haven’t been able to get around in my head is the cameras my mother installed in the front area of the house.” Y/n kept it short and sweet, hoping Namjoon would sense her want to just close her eyes and face plant onto Jimin’s soft comforter and take over for her. She wouldn’t have the energy to fight Jungkook over it right now. 

There was a pause, followed by a series of pops and crackles from the back of the printer that made the cord twitch from the machine down to the wall. The sputtering sounds disappeared into the wallpaper, before returning in the form of static from the speakers of the antique radio that kicked to life. Y/n jumped closer to Namjoon with a yelp as the lights around Jimin’s room flickered off a handful of times, unable to decide if it wanted to leave them in darkness or bless them with light. 

Jimin’s lamp stopped pulsing, and from the radio speakers, a man’s voice carried through–distant and fuzzy much like the singer she had heard moments ago, but still rich and spirited. 

“I can take care of the cameras. Let’s talk about the details of getting Yoongi back and get this show on the road, shall we? We don’t move forward until every man is accounted for. Nobody left behind.” 

_________________________________________

[Morning Glory 🌼 added Jimin 🤗✨ to The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers]

[Morning Glory 🌼 set nickname to Jimin👂👻]

[Morning Glory 🌼]: I left Bear plugged in my room with some classical music this morning so he is all good to go. Is everyone else just about ready? 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: (also important–bear said that there was too much interference on channel 6 so he moved us to channel 7 for the radios). 

[Joon🌱] : Got it. I’m just going to the bathroom and then I’m headed to the dining room. 

[Jimin: 👂👻]: I’ve got everything set and ready to go here. Historical building is closed for some mysterious technical malfunction 🤔 so the team is off and there's no visitors– means no reason to sneak around.

 [Jimin: 👂👻]: Radio locked and loaded! 🫡

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Awesome. I’m ready for you to come grab me whenever Jungkook. 

[Jungkook ⚫⚫ 🔪]: 👍

It was 10:41am. Jungkook needed to be here to grab her in less than four minutes so they could make it to the house in time for their mission to commence. 

All of the prior evening was spent hashing out the details for their mission today, leaving no stone unturned in terms of planning. That morning Jimin and Namjoon had woken up at the ass crack of dawn to set the stage, leaving an inconspicuous bag of occult items under one of the tables in the Estate’s ballroom, and to dig out their old walkie-talkie sets from the play room and leave them on their door mats as soon as her father finished his last round for the night. Which, according to the walkie-talkie shoved into her work overall pockets, had been a success, meaning that their plan was in full swing. 

The plan was simple (more or less): by 10am, everyone else in the house would be gone for work or asleep, leaving the Estate safe from prying eyes until 11:30 when Jimin shared that Taehyung usually wakes up on a Tuesday.

When the clock strikes 10:45, Bear will cut all cameras for as long as he can hold them. 

At precisely the same time, Jimin would use the keys to enter into the basement archives of the historical building with herb bundles and black salt to cleanse and block off the space for future access, as well as dig around for anything that was hidden or missing and report it back to the rest of them via walkie-talkie. 

At 10:48, Namjoon was set to go into the basement and dig around their childhood totes for one specific yellow and white dress with embroidered flowers, and bring it up to the ballroom to complete a summoning ritual for Ani. They don’t even know if the ritual would work, but what they do know is it will surely piss them off.

By 10:50, Y/n and Jungkook will approach her parents office, but only one would enter–and it wasn’t going to be Y/n. 

Even though they had toyed with the idea of entering using the Paralrealm, Jungkook staunchly resisted sending Y/n in without being able to watch over her, and the other very apparent fatal flaw for that plan would be their inability to touch and move physical objects consistently–so the journey would be useless the moment they were faced with a simple drawer or cupboard. Thus, the only way they were able to get Jungkook to agree to the plan was if he were to be the one entering the office in case there were any aggressive spirits set to keep watch.

Y/n was set to enter the doors directly across the hall from the office and stay in the ballroom until Namjoon found the dress and returned. Alone. With the only protection being the flashlight, a meager circle of table salt to hold her over, and a bundle of rosemary in her pocket for easy access. 

The ultimate distraction. 

They weren’t going in completely blind–the three soldiers had been divided amongst them to ensure nobody was entirely alone. Tree with Jimin, Arrow with Namjoon, and Sergeant divided between Jungkook and Y/n to parole the hallway between them and keep watch in case anything went south. 

Simple, Y/n blew out a breath to quell the building swell of anxiety that pricked at the back of her throat with waves of nausea. Her body taut, and her foot shaking back and forth to try and keep up with the speed of her heartbeat from her spot on a stool in the front room of the greenhouse. She tried to sell herself the lie that she was just scared for her friends, fussing about their safety over and over again in her mind until she thought she might turn blue. But at the core of it, she couldn’t hide from her own enemy from within her chest that spread ice through her veins and dug its claws into her lungs, making her feel dizzy. 

Fear had its hold on her, and she couldn’t shake it. Not with the experience with the mimic still fresh in her mind from only days prior, or the guest house. Not when she had faced a fiery creature from hell that night before, saved from the terror by the fumes of adrenaline. Or when she had seen Hadwin’s face again, the foul stench of death and rot riddling her night with more nightmares than just the one about the beast from the kitchen that refused to let her move on.

To fall asleep she had to play music on her phone at a volume so low only she could hear it through where she muffled it beneath her pillow, pressing her ear directly to the source. Her mind had played tricks on her throughout the night, startling her awake with phantom smells of smoke and ash only for her to find no indication that either were present.  It was like things were starting to catch up with her, and she hated it. As if her vulnerability with Jimin left her edges too soft and easy to puncture–an avalanche of bullshit threatening to spill through and take a hold of her.  

Before she left her room that morning she had to triple check that the necklace Yoongi had gifted her was still around her neck and the bracelet Jungkook had made them was still on her wrist (which felt unnecessary because those were two things she practically never took off these days). Even now, her other hand came up to spin one of the peony seeds on the elastic band around in circles to slow her breathing.

Another minute had passed. Three minutes until Jungkook needed to be here. 

It just wasn’t in the cards for her to slow down and process any of it. They needed to at least try and get more information on Yoongi–who knows what could happen if they waited too long. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and her fingers fumbled to pull it out before the first vibration finished–praying it was Jungkook telling her that he was close–he had called off of work for the day anyways, and shouldn’t have gone far. 

Instead, it was a private message from Jimin, lighting up her screen and giving her even just a few seconds to distract herself from what was to come. 

[Jimin 🤗✨]: I believe in you first and foremost, so please don’t get defensive when I say this:  but  p l e a s e  make sure to stay safe today–and don’t be afraid to call for Jungkook or Sergeant if you feel like it’s too much for you to handle on your own. We would rather have you and have to reconvene than have something go awry. It doesn't make you weak to need help.

[Jimin 🤗✨]: Plus you need to be here for our next date, I can’t have you missing that 😉 

[Jimin 🤗✨]: I will check in once I’ve secured the archives. You got this my love. 

Y/n reread the last line as many times as her eyes could manage to run from one end of the screen to the other, using it like a lifeline until Jungkook’s knuckles rapped on the glass door of the greenhouse. She was ripping the door open in a blink of an eye, joining him on the stoop and shutting it securely behind her before taking him in. 

He was rigid, obviously uncomfortable with what was about to conspire–his nose constantly twitching and his lips pressed in a firm line. Y/n didn’t care if he was going to have another attitude today, or if he was angry with her for the plan–her instincts moved her arm on its own accord, tangling their fingers together and clasping down tightly. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Y/n bounced in place to shake herself steady, and started the two of them down the path towards the estate with Jungkook’s eyes still locked on their intertwined hands. 

 “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question, yet the observation didn’t clamber down on her with as much grit as she expected. If anything, his tone was actually quite soft. He craned his neck to peer at her from her profile. “And tired.” 

Y/n slowed her canter down from a forceful march to just below a speed walk, keeping her eyes down on the ground in front of them. “Of course I am. Everyone is taking a big risk today, and I’m struggling to sleep because of–” Y/n cut herself off, snapping her mouth closed to keep from exposing herself. 

“Because of what?” Jungkook sniffed, taking on a more suspicious edge. “Is someone bothering you? Does Namjoon need to check your wards again?”

“The wards are fine I think. Just–” The walkie-talkie in Y/n’s pocket beeped, signaling an incoming message. “Just don’t worry about it.” Y/n muttered dismissively, yanking out the walkie-talkie and holding it up between them. She couldn’t stand the way he still looked at her with something akin to worry. Nobody should be worrying about her right now when Yoongi was probably going through something ten times worse.

“This is BW giving you a one minute warning. Over.” 

“Copy that, over.” Jimin’s melodic tone cut through the speaker next. 

Jungkook and Y/n halted on the path just along the side of the estate and out of view of the cameras, and she brought the receiver to her lips. “Jungkook, Sergeant, and I are waiting at our first checkpoint.” 

“You’re forgetting something, over.” Jimin chuckled from across the line. 

Y/n knit her brows, and ran through her mental checklist while looking up to Jungkook for help. “What am I forgetting?” Y/n whispered urgently up to him, her stomach dropping at the thought of messing up already before anything had even begun. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes and grabbed the walkie-talkie from her hand, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk. “Y/n, Sergeant and I are waiting at our first checkpoint, over.”  He enunciated the last word while looking directly into Y/n’s eyes, his brown ones daring to carry the ghost of humor in them. 

“Thank you, over~” Jimin sang through the other line, and Y/n could practically see the little shit eating grin on his face. What a dork, she shook her head with warm cheeks. 

“I’m in the dining room, at the ready.” Namjoon called through next. 

The walkie-talkie beeped again, a dramatic sigh rattling the speakers. “I guess everyone here is an amateur, over.” Jimin dragged out the last word, his voice overly sweet.

“Sorry Jimin, over.” Namjoon’s reply lacked the exaggerated length, but made up for it with an insurmountable amount of sass.

“Ten seconds kids, stay focused. BW, over.” 

None of them chose to interrupt the gentle hum of the station, all of them in separate locations scattered about the property but connected through a shared rise of suspense. Y/n counted down the seconds in her head, transfixed on the little camera that overlooked the front steps and the little red dot that signified its ever watching eye was still open. Sounds of children shrieking in the distance on the hotel playground, the rustle of  the trees surrounding them, and the constant of Jungkook’s hand kept her grounded enough to remember to breathe–something the burn in her lungs told her she must’ve forgotten how to do. 

Three seconds, Y/n gulped, squeezing Jungkook’s hand with a force that had her own shaking from over exertion. Her eyes burned from keeping them open for so long, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. 

“Cameras are deactivated. Stay in touch and stay safe. Good luck. BW over.” 

Just like that, the red dot she was drilling her eyes into vanished–and so it began. Jungkook and Y/n sped around the railing and up the stairs, pushing through the door to stop in the foyer. 

It was still within the house–unsettlingly so. The thud of the front door closing could’ve been as loud as a gunshot to the bleak and quiet home.  Her skin erupted with goosebumps, responding to the unnerving feeling of being watched from all sides with no source to visibly pinpoint. There was not a single creak of the floorboards, or drip of faucet from any direction–she couldn’t even hear the birds from outside or the children from the playground. The air was crisp with chill, wrapping her in its fist like ocean waves–but not the good kind that runs over the tops of your feet from the shore–the kind that only exists miles out into the open sea, and holds you suspended over a vast unknown that light can’t penetrate until your body gives out from exhaustion to drift into the ominous depths below.

“It doesn’t feel very good in here.” Y/n commented as she inspected all corners of the room. 

Jungkook stiffened at her side, keeping his voice low. “I don’t see anyone.” 

“Not a single spirit?” Y/n tried to get a feel of the room with her mind, struggling to find any signal or disturbance. “Has that ever happened?” She took a miniscule step closer to his side, using him as a lifeboat in the home that felt like anything but. 

“No. There’s always someone around.” 

Namjoon exited the dining room to meet them in the foyer, looking equally as serious with his flashlight preemptively turned on, and a backpack over his shoulder. Y/n’s heart jumped into her throat, everything was starting to feel all too real and not at all simple. 

She lurched forwards, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “Joon–if something tries to come for you just turn around and get somewhere safe, okay?” 

He placed his hands on her shoulder blades and squeezed. “I know. Same goes for you.” 

Y/n saw stars with how hard she squeezed her eyes shut, mustering all of the will she had to keep them safe into the mental picture of a golden glowing flower, its pollen sparkling like glitter. With a hold of my arms, keep them safe from harm. She repeated her prayer for their safety like a mantra in her head until satisfied with it, and opened her eyes. 

Both of her hands yanked on his head and pulled his cheek to her mouth to plant a powerful kiss on his cheek, her brain imagining that there was a little golden mark where her lips had pressed. She repeated a new mantra with just as much passion.

With the press of my kiss, every shot they make shall miss. 

Namjoon’s eyes widened into saucers, and his neck flushed red as she pulled away to stare at the spot with determination. “What was that for?” 

“It was to keep you safe. Hold on, I’m putting more energy into it until you leave.” Y/n could feel her senses slipping into madness, because what made her believe that something as simple as a hug and a kiss could do anything? Yet still she persisted in putting more energy into it–she needed to do something to make herself feel sane. 

Namjoon sucked on his cheek as he looked down at her, jaw ticking from side to side pensively. His phone alarm buzzed between them notifying him that it was his turn, and before he swiped it away, he bent down to press a superficial kiss to her forehead while untangling from her hold. “For your protection too.” 

Y/n could see how brightly his ears burned from behind as he approached the door to the basement, only sparing them one final nod before wrenching it open and taking the steps one at a time with heavy creaks. 

It felt surreal to imagine what Jimin was doing at the moment–if anyone had taken his bait and flocked to him by now and that’s why it was so empty. She hadn’t gotten to see him yet this morning to offer him anything…

“We need to get you set up in the ballroom.” Jungkook grabbed her wrist and lugged her down the hall with quick strides. Y/n’s heart rate skyrocketed, her mind tearing her apart in a fight to stay brave. She was the one that had suggested this after all, which left her with really no other choice than to follow through–she wasn’t a quitter. 

Jungkook pressed the handle down to the door, swinging them into the ballroom and beelining towards the table in the back left corner. Jungkook dropped to his knees with clenched teeth, removing the cylindrical container of salt and popping the tab open with his thumb. He gripped her shoulder and situated her so she would be in the direct line of sight from the open door, shaking the salt into a thick circle around her feet, and passing her the bundle of herb and a lighter. He meant business, each movement precise and sharp, and his brow angled downwards in a way that made him look angry. 

“It’s my turn.” Jungkook rose to his feet, but made no move to leave. He balled his fists at his sides, and walked backwards towards the door–each step looking more painful for him than the last. When he had completed half of his journey Y/n realized she hadn’t given him anything to protect himself (not that he necessarily needed it but it helped soothe her conscience if she could). 

“Wait–come here!” She waved him over eagerly.

“Do you want to stop?” Jungkook approached, already bending down to preemptively start cleaning up the salt.

Y/n gripped the seams on his shoulders and pulled him upright, shaking her head vigorously. “No. I forgot something.” She looked into his eyes that looked back at her with a cloudy expression as she asked her next question. “Would you feel more comfortable with a hug or a kiss?” 

Jungkook paled, the undertone of irritation that had hung over him like a rain cloud parting for just a moment to let her catch a glimpse of him that had become rare once more: guileless and soft. “What?” 

“Like I did with Joon.” She explained, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. “If you wouldn’t feel comfortable with either, that's fine too. It just makes me feel better–like I’m doing something for you guys in return.”

Jungkook didn’t blink as he brewed his answer, taking as much care to think it over as if she had asked him to solve an algebraic equation. He then gulped with a shrug. “Whatever makes you feel better.” 

Y/n left the ring of white, and slithered her arms around his shoulders to hold him close just like she had done with Namjoon. She spoke her incantation out loud into his ear, hoping it helped make her look less strange. “With a hold of my arms, keep them safe from harm.” She clutched him tighter, putting all she had into willing the statement true. “With the press of my kiss, every shot they make shall miss.” She withdrew her chin from his shoulder, pausing to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek, letting it linger there for perhaps a second too long before pulling away. 

She could feel his heart pounding from where he was pressed against her chest, and she quickly unlatched from his shoulders and stepped back into the circle of salt to give him some space. She had no right to hold on any longer if it made him uncomfortable.

“I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” Y/n reassured him, though it was intended more to comfort herself in that moment. Her senses were already pinging in all directions like a sonar, turning up empty handed with each sweep of the dull room. The only light drifting down from the drizzly skies above the glass ceiling casting a cool filter over the otherwise golden ball room. If it was so empty why’d it feel so dense? 

“You need to start now, Jungkook.” Y/n shoved her chin in the direction of the door, trying to protect her own resolve. “It’s only for like 10 minutes max.” 

His brown eyes disappeared into pools of black, tracing down her body and back to her eyes looking torn. “But you’re scared.” 

“I am. But I know you’ll come back for me.” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, and shifted her weight around on her feet. “Now go.” 

Jungkook exhaled sharply from his nose, a barely audible groan falling from his lips as he took off in a jog out the double doors and into the hall. Y/n didn’t take her eyes off of the back of his head as he knelt down in front of the door to pick the lock in seconds–a skill he had learned during their many games of spy as a kid that finally came in handy. He shouldered himself into the door and retreated within, only snippets of red wallpaper and brown bookshelves visible from the few inch wide crack he left open. 

Y/n’s breath shuddered out of her lungs, and her limbs began to lose feeling from both the cold that stuck to her skin and the trepidation building in her belly. Each inhale whistled in her own ears, and her eyes rapidly moved about the room–the walls, the floor, the ceiling–each paneled doorway and each second story window into the hall. 

Panic warped her vision, making her feel unsteady and untrusting of each flicker of black she thought she saw peeking down from the windows or zipping past the glass of the doors. Appropriate it would be to also blame her lack of sleep, which she vehemently cursed herself for.  

One of the glass panels behind her ‘clinked’, and she whirled to face it with a sudden intake of breath, but her eyes couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary in front of or behind the glass. 

Seconds transformed into minutes. Each one spotted with the smallest of noises–a tap of a glass, a single scuffle of a shoe on the tile, a sway of a curtain that could be easily dismissed as a breeze from the air vents. Nothing major that should frighten her the way it was. 

The walkie-talkie beeped from her pocket, and Jimin’s voice carried through–chopped and interrupted by rushes of static. 

“I’m all good. I...few boxes…everyone? Over.” 

Y/n’s hand clamped over her mouth at the sudden noise, and she unclipped it from her pocket and brought it up to her ear. 

“Can you repeat that? You’re breaking up, over.” Y/n had the receiver nearly pressed against her lips, subconsciously making herself appear smaller by tucking her arms against her side. However the radio made an error sound, signaling that the button hadn’t been pressed hard enough to catch her voice.

Jimin’s next attempt was completely unintelligible, diced vowels and consonants with no particular meaning. Y/n huffed, and fiddled with the antennae to see if that helped. 

“Come on you stupid piece of shit…” She smacked it against her palm a few times, giving it a good old whack like she used to do as a kid. 

The ballroom door that Jungkook had left open hovered a few inches to the left, bouncing off the wall lightly with a bubbling croak of a hinge that garnered her full attention. Y/n swallowed thickly, the sound echoing in her own ears, and lowered the radio down to her side. 

“Sergeant?” Y/n squeaked, leaning to the side to see out into the hall. 

“...Basement…found something…shortly…”  Namjoon’s crackly voice came through from her side from the now forgotten radio.

A chill ran down her spine, settling into her bones and spreading outwards. Her teeth chattered against each other, and her breaths fell short and shallow. She didn’t know what was looming, but she knew it was there. Waiting with an open mouth and open arms for her to fall right into. 

Wet bare feet smacked across the tile, leaving puddles with each step until they stopped in the center of the ballroom to Y/n’s left a few yards away from her. 

Another tap on the closed door behind her that Y/n jumped to look towards, rummaging in her pocket for the flashlight and flicking it on towards the door, bathing it in light. Nothing visibly changed, but the tapping ceased. Y/n turned to cast the glow towards where the footsteps had stopped, adding a quick dash of light from wall to wall for good measure. 

Every muscle in her body was trapped against her will and holding her mind hostage–the voice inside it screaming at her to do something–to call for Jungkook or to light the bundle in her pocket. Terror had its unrelenting hold on her, even though she technically had nothing yet to see to elicit such a reaction. Still she felt frozen in time with a throat so tight it burned. 

The walkie-talkie fuzzed through again, still struggling to keep up with the discussion between Namjoon and Jimin. There were a few words she had been able to decipher, and it's amazing how a phrase so short can wreak such havoc on the body. 

“....sounds good Y/n. Check…after…over.”

Y/n knew with the utmost certainty that she had not offered anything of value to their discussion. She couldn’t even hear their conversation let alone add anything to it. Sweat made her hands slippery as she bent to place the flashlight between her feet with the beam still pointed into the room where she had heard the last noise. Y/n unclipped the walkie-talkie and frantically tried to get it to work. 

“Whatever you heard wasn’t me! I haven’t said anything!” Y/n grew panicked, and smacked the side of the machine a few more times. “Guys don’t listen to whatever they said!” 

The error message came through again, earning it another smack and a frustrated scream.

“Jungkook?” Y/n raised her voice an octave, knowing he should very well hear her from within the office. 

Y/n squatted down to grab the flashlight, but stopped in her tracks half way down when something out of place snubbed her all of her attention. 

Her circle of salt had been disturbed. A long thin stripe wiped away, resembling how a finger would swipe frosting from the side of a cake. Then she watched as another formed in front of her eyes, trailing a new streak through the white granules little by little until it had made it a clear little path. Y/n moved as quick as she could, yanking the rosemary from her pocket and the lighter from the other, clicking the ignition over and over again, each attempt failing to catch. 

“Jungkook!” Y/n cried out desperately, the bundle losing debris from how much her hands trembled to hold it up the lighter in hopes of catching even the teensiest of sparks. Whatever was in here made her feel fear she hadn’t felt in a long time–the kind that had her yearning to call for her mother, and beg her to come home so she could hide in her room. The fear that made her feel small and powerless. 

Y/n used the toe of her shoe to spread the salt back into a circle hoping that’d be enough until Jungkook returned, and weighed the pros and cons of dashing to the bag to grab the back up lighter and back to the circle. It would make her feel exponentially better to light the herbs–and perhaps it would clear up the energy enough for her to get a proper message through. 

After what felt like the millionth failed attempt Y/n just tossed the lighter across the ballroom with a shout. In a split decision, she took the bundle and crushed it in her palm, tossing leaves up into the air like confetti to rain down over her head, then taking some and smearing it across the radio. 

It appeared to work for the time being, their messages coming through clearer than before. 

“I’m headed up to the terrace now, Y/n. I’ll meet you guys there, over.” Namjoon chimed in, sounding breathless. 

Y/n pressed the button so hard the springs groaned beneath the pressure. “No! Don’t go there–That wasn’t me!” She spun on her heel to locate the bag Jungkook had discarded nearby. “Please dear god hear me! Don’t go–” 

The walkie-talkie clattered to the floor, knocked from her hand by the body she whirled right into. 

A woman stood flush against her, cold wet hands holding Y/n’s wrists in an iron grip. Her face was shrouded by her hair that bushed and draped over her features, her dress was much too old fashioned to be anyone from her family–renaissance inspired and singed at the edges from old kisses of flame and smeared with soot. 

She did not speak, only gasping out strangled rattles of air from an open mouth. 

“Jungkook!” Y/n screamed as loud as she could, struggling to wrench her wrists from the woman’s hold. Why wasn’t he answering? Had something gotten to him too? 

One of the spirit’s hands clamped down over her mouth, pressing their palm that tasted of dirt and rotting fish against her lips and making her gag. Tears welled in Y/n’s eyes, spilling over the edges and onto the back of the woman’s hands, and she shook her head in a futile effort to remove the pressure from her mouth. 

The spirit released her other wrist, and grabbed the back of her neck to smash their foreheads together with a hiss that died out after a few prolonged seconds. She gargled sounds out from her plum purple lips, guttural grunts and squawks from the back of her throat as her fingers gripped down to the scalp to press their skulls together in a painful chokehold. 

Y/n’s eyes rolled back into her head and her knees buckled out from beneath her, the ground rushing forth at an alarming speed. Her hands caught her fall, but the woman didn’t give up; she fell to her knees to stay in Y/n’s line of sight so she could look at nothing else but her horrid mouth that stretched open around each noise, pressing Y/n’s head in between both hands and applying excruciating pressure to both sides. 

“No…” Y/n sobbed, a familiar tugging sensation starting behind her eyes that she knew all too well. Y/n fought to pull to give in, fingers digging into the tile below her and her body quaking. 

The spirit let out a shrieking cry, showing her gray gums that cradled no teeth in them, and Y/n’s vision flickered to black despite her eyes being wide open. 

“No…Stop please…” Y/n blindly searched for the flashlight–for a handful of salt to throw–anything. 

Something foreign moved within her, curling inwards and latching onto her subconscious. It sent sharp waves of pain through her chest, an unseen fist gripping her morning glories by the roots and slashing them down to nothing. Her head felt on the brink of explosion, no doubt from her double head injury and the pressure the woman squeezed it with. It burned, ached, and cut deep into her nerves and she felt her hands give out and the cold tile meet the skin of her cheek. Y/n writhed, her nerves firing off in succession and she cried out in agony from a weapon she could not see. This was a pain she couldn’t take–she couldn’t handle it. She was going to let them down for real this time.

 Her consciousness flickered, her body shivering and weak. 

Then it stopped.

The woman who was there one moment, was gone the next. However with her departure her physical control did not improve: the room still spun, and Y/n’s vision was left in a complete state of disarray–blobs of color and outlines of too many shadows. She was so, so tired. The battle was coming to an end, her eyelids heavy as if injected with cement.

“Nap time Ente!” Matilda’s giggles bounced around her from all sides, a horrid sound that brought forth the throb of grief. More voices joined in, a sickening chorus of condescending laughter. 

“No gun, no fun, I’m afraid you can’t run. Without your reaper, You’re quite the Weeper!” Clay’s laughter howled from above her, barely stopping so he could speak again. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. We have been much too kind. Have fun with my cousin, she doesn’t show mercy–and she’s got more blood on her hands than most of us do. Spilling yours will be not more than child's play to one as well versed in death as she.” Clay tutted from somewhere above her, and he worked up a glob of saliva and spat it down onto the floor next to her. 

From the dropped walkie-talkie she heard Namjoon’s voice urgently calling out to them for help, his words morphing into screams that scraped at her ears and made them ring. He cried for help, the sounds growing louder and louder until they swallowed her whole–then they cut to static. And Namjoon was heard no more. 

Her body shuddered with silent cries, fingers splayed out towards the blurry shape of the door in hopes Jungkook would come through again at the last second. Y/n couldn’t fight it any longer no matter how hopelessly she tried, her body succumbing to sleep, and the world fading to black. 

_________________________________________

Y/n blinked the darkness away, and she was back to where she was before–the walkie-talkie clasped in her hand and her feet planted on the ground. The flashlight was still posed beneath her feet to coat the back corner of the room in warm light, contrasting the dim and gloomy atmosphere of the room.  

There was a dull pounding in her head, and her cheek felt cold to the touch as she brought her fingertips up to graze it as if in a trance. Her heart raced against her ribs from the horror she had faced only seconds before–but all other signs of its occurrence were gone. 

The salt circle was undisturbed, the line completely intact with no indication anyone had swiped their fingers through it. Rosemary leaves were littering the screen of the radio and stuck to the sweat on her skin from when she had crushed the bundle, the herbal aroma filling her nostrils and pulling forth memories of Namjoon–

Y/n raised the radio to her mouth, lips poised to spill out her worries into and eyes welling with tears at the echoing sound of Namjoon’s screams. On cue, the walkie-talkie chirped to life in her hands with an incoming transmission.

“I’m headed up to the terrace now, Y/n. I’ll meet you guys there, over.” Namjoon chimed in, as breathless as when he had said it the first time. 

“No! Don’t go up there!” Y/n felt wetness track down her cheeks with the monumental wave of relief she felt to hear his voice. 

The screen lit up with a response. “What? You just said–” 

“I haven’t said a single word! Something happened–I don’t know how to explain it. Do not go up there, come to the ballroom please believe me!” Y/n blubbered her words into the receiver, despising how desperate she sounded, though it felt appropriate at the moment. She had no idea what awaited him on the terrace, and she couldn’t push aside the mental images of someone pushing him off the edge of it and the way his screams had cut off. “I called for help so many times and no one heard me– and then you–” Her voice broke with a hiccup. “Please just someone get here.” 

“I’m coming back to the house, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Jimin responded immediately, his signal ending. 

“I’m on my way down now.” Namjoon

Y/n heard someone approaching from behind her, and her brain locked all of her muscles up against her will–petrified to turn around and find the woman from before standing against her again. 

“What happened?” Jungkook’s voice demanded from behind her, sounding livid. 

“Thank god!” Furious or not, the sound of his voice was like the call of an angel to her weary ears. She spun to address him, stepping one foot out of the circle to meet him halfway. “I called for–” She yanked her foot back into the circle of salt for the ballroom was empty, and the office door was still cracked like he had left it. Y/n shook her head in disbelief, icy terror building within her again. 

Unnerving silence hovered around her, it felt too thick to be real–too muffling to be natural. Everything felt wrong.

 What the fuck had that woman done to her? 

“Jungkook!” Y/n called out again, putting as much force into it as she could. Still, no head of dark curly hair came around the door, and no movement filtered from the other side of the door. She brought her arms up and waved them frantically over her head, yelling out for her next target. 

“Sergeant! If you can hear me, please get Jungkook!”  

She repeated the motion twice, but no more than that. If the spirits were still lurking about (or worse, new ones with fresh energy) she didn’t want to keep shouting out her exact location. Or worse, draw them in for Jimin and Namjoon to run into. Whatever had happened was something Y/n couldn’t even begin to understand–but what she did know is that it left her shattered and rushing to collect herself before anyone else could poke at the sores it left behind.

The door to the office opened in a flash, Jungkook dashing across the hallway and onto the squeaking tile of the floor in an instant, coming to a firm stop directly in front of her with wild black eyes. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you call for me?” he scolded, rapidly approaching her side. 

Y/n wanted to fall right into him, and to be whisked away from the room somewhere safe–but something had her stopping. How did she know this was him? With Clay being back on the property, how did she know it was real this time and they weren’t playing some stupid trick on her? Her trust in reality began to falter, the ground beneath her feet even lost its reputation as a solid force to hold her up. Everything she saw, and everything she touched was now on trial–guilty until proven innocent. 

She choked back a sob, pointing at him with a trembling hand and taking a cowering step away from him. “Tell me something only you would know.” 

Jungkook looked taken aback, bewilderment melting down to concern. “Huh?” 

“You heard what I said. Tell me something only you would know…” Y/n dropped to a crouch, fisting a mixture of fallen rosemary and salt to throw at a moment’s notice. 

He pressed his lips together with creased brows, inspecting every inch of her from head to toe more than once. His tongue poked out to lick his lips, and Y/n could see the gears turning in his head. “The croton plant in your room is for me, because it’s a spiritual protector. You showed it to me after you first got it, and you yelled at me when I tried to touch it because it’s toxic.” Jungkook took a hesitant step closer to the circle with his hands now raised up, mimicking how one would approach a wounded animal. “Is that good enough?” 

Y/n turned the antidote over in her mind, scouring it for any loopholes that a spirit could’ve weaseled into for the information. But each one her brain tried to come up with was clear: her door had been closed, and they were in her heavily warded room when the conversation had occurred–and they hadn’t discussed it anytime since. This had to be Jungkook.

“Where were you? I called for you so many times and you didn’t hear me!” Y/n wiped at the flow of tears from her cheeks that she couldn’t stop, falling to her knees with a heaving gasp. She groaned, overflowing with resentment for herself at her own inability to reign herself in. Jungkook stepped into the circle and positioned his hands under her arms, and helped hoist her to her feet. 

“I didn’t hear anything.” His voice was so small–so fragile it made her nauseated with shame at how quickly she had yelled at him. He used his hands on her arms to help steady her. 

The moment she was back on her feet she fell into him, gripping onto him as her lifeline against the dark and dreary room. “Just don’t go back yet–we can finish the mission I just need–” 

One of the hands that bunched his shirt was yanked back in front of them, Jungkook holding it up between them to inspect the skin. 

“Where’s the bracelet I made you?” He asked sharply, though Y/n knew he wasn’t angry with her she still felt the slap of his fury. Something she had never struggled with distinguishing before. 

“I don’t know, I had it on a moment ago–I never go anywhere without it.” Y/n hastily twirled about to look along the floor to see if it had fallen off when the woman had grabbed her, but saw no trace of it. Impulsively her fingers shot up to wrap around the smooth stone pendant from Yoongi, only brushing across open air and empty skin. 

Y/n felt the urge to cry more, looking up at him in what she imagined was the most humbling expression–humiliated by how her face must’ve crumpled in an effort to subdue it.  “My necklace is gone too.” 

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, each breath didn’t satisfy the hunger for air. So she took in another, and another until each inhale clipped into the next. That was the only thing she had left from Yoongi besides the dried bouquet above her bed–but the necklace was a gift he had given of his own free will–a silent apology and an offer of protection from the incident in the bathroom with Hadwin. And the bracelet Jungkook had put special care to craft for them–one of a kind–gone. Her emotions felt out of control and her mind raced, like every emotional wound had been rubbed raw and left to oxidize. 

Something had happened to her and she had no evidence to show that it did. No wound to bandage or bruise to ice. The missing bracelet and necklace were the only tangible differences. Her puddle of a brain didn’t offer any substantial proof that it even had happened at all. 

“Hey.” Jungkook brought his long hands up to cradle her face, and he dipped down to her level. His thumbs soothed gentle circles on her cheekbones, and his lips were left open in search of what to say next. He settled on something short and to the point. “You’re okay.” 

Any other time Y/n would have laughed, and taken turns with Namjoon to poke fun at his lack of good verbal communication while making sure to acknowledge and appreciate the innocence behind his affection. This time they were enough. She didn’t think she would be able to sit through anything more than that without wanting to run and hide in a corner to save face. 

There was no reason to comfort her when nothing had happened.  

“Yeah.” Y/n nodded, swallowing her next sob with a few quick shuddering breaths. She needed to be okay because they weren’t finished yet, and she wasn’t going to go through whatever that was and leave empty handed. Just as the words left her mouth Namjoon wheeled around the corner, his backpack hanging off one shoulder with the large zipper pocket bulging with his freshly dug up treasures. 

Oh fuck, here it comes again–the sound of Namjoon’s electronic screaming piercing her ears from the memory (if she should even call it that) shattering her resolve and clamping her hands over her ears to stop it. 

“What happened?” Namjoon slid across the floor to their huddle, letting the backpack tumble to the floor next to them to pry her hands from her ears. “Did you guys find out who was on the walkie?” 

“The walkie?” Jungkook shucked the radio from her pocket, turning it over in his hands like if he looked hard enough he would be able to see into it. “What happened with the walkie?” 

Y/n grabbed Namjoon’s shoulders and engulfed him in a hug. “No we haven’t. Thank whatever deity exists, you're okay.” She pushed him back by the shoulders and peered up at him to check for any injury. “Nobody hurt you right?” 

Namjoon adamantly shook his head. “Something definitely tried to stop me–but Arrow fought like hell. We can debrief later though.” He made a face, and shrugged off his flannel to fall over her shoulders. “You’re freezing.”

“We need to keep going.” Y/n pulled the fabric tightly around her shoulders to greedily suck up the warmth from it, and turned to pose her next question to Jungkook. “Did you find anything yet?” 

“I took pictures of anything suspicious I could find.” Jungkook shifted his longing glance back to the open office door.

Y/n pulled on her most convincing facade of confidence she could muster. “If you need to go back in then go ahead, Namjoon and I will continue step two of his plan.” 

“No… I can’t dig around too much without disturbing stuff on their desk. I found a few things though.” Jungkook dismissed her offer with a firm shake of her head–a sign that if she pushed further it would no doubt lead to another argument, and she didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for that yet. 

“Then we should probably head somewhere safe and lay low for a bit. We most definitely pissed things off…” Namjoon put both hands on his hips, teething at the inside of his cheek. “We’ve taken enough risks, and it sounds like we’ve had some wins today–let’s not push our luck.” 

He pulled on his authoritative demeanor, and fixed her with a pointed look that challenged her to fight it–not far off from how he had looked at her in the green house when he was teaching her how to wrap bundles. Y/n’s heart sank, for now it was two against one for continuing on with the rest of their plan that for all things considered had been a success from how they spoke. 

“We can go upstairs.” Y/n yielded, shrinking away from both of their unbending stares. 

They flowed into quick action, Jungkook sweeping up the salt into a dustpan from the hall closet and discarding it into the trash while the other two trailed after him like nervous children hiding behind a parent. While they waited, Namjoon made sure to update Jimin and Bear of their plans, the latter signing off to conserve energy until later in the evening with a five minute warning on the camera’s. 

With the ballroom looking good as new, all three of them shuffled in a line up the stairs and down the hall, hackles raised and hearts pounding despite having yet to see anything out of sorts. It was all too quiet. Jungkook even looked perturbed, eyes flying this way and that with nothing to land on. 

Something wasn’t right. 

The three of them moved in a wordless stupor–at least Y/n did–bumbling down the hall with minds building more suspense than their surroundings did. So it was no wonder that they all jumped a foot into the air and scurried into each other like frightened rats when Taehyung’s door swung open as they approached. Jungkook moved himself in front to put distance between them and the sudden intruder, his shoulders dropping when he registered who it was. 

Y/n watched a full range of emotions flush through Taehyung’s system. Eyes outlined in deep purple bags widening in surprise, his mouth starting its journey to a smile that instantaneously dropped when he spotted something that had his spine straightening and his hand gripping the door. The longer he looked at them, the more on edge he became. 

“H-hey.” Y/n awkwardly waved at him. 

Taehyung stuck his back flush to the wall and started to shuffle away from them. “Good morning.” 

Jungkook held his hand out to him for their usual shake in greeting, and Taehyung jumped away and out of reach, both hands darting behind his back. “Sorry. I have a cold and don’t want to share it.” He gave one last unease flicker from Y/n to his door, before sliding past them and down the hall. “I need to go.” 

They all watched him stumble past Jimin who was just rounding the corner from the landing, sharing a baffled look between the four of them when Taehyung uncharacteristically flinched away from his friend and scampered down the stairs. Y/n took to vocalizing what they all must’ve been thinking–because if Yoongi wasn’t here to do it–someone had to. 

“What the fuck was that about?”  

_________________________________________

Her bedroom door closed behind them, and before she could even blink Jimin had his arms engulfing her, wheeling the two of them towards her bed. He guided her down to sit at the edge and squatted down in front of her with a soothing run of his hand on her cheek. 

“What happened? You sounded really shaken up back there.” Jimin maneuvered his face to look at her each time she tried to hide from his imploring eyes. 

“Nothing.” Y/n’s lackluster answer surprised even herself, her eyes widening marginally like they did when she tried too hard to force a lie. 

Jungkook made a noise in the back of his throat from her desk chair, eyes narrowed to slits in her direction. “That’s a lie.” 

“No it isn’t.” Y/n shook her head, wiping any residual sweat from her palms onto her thighs. 

“Are you kidding?” His eyes widened at the sheer audacity of her response. “Don’t lie. I know when you do. I saw you in the ballroom.” 

“Now let’s not argue.” Jimin’s hand dropped from her cheek to lay over her hand, addressing Jungkook this time. “Let’s just let everyone take a second to breathe.” 

Jungkook crossed his arms with a huff, and leant back in her desk chair with arms folded. “Fine.” 

“Did you find anything noteworthy in the archives?” Namjoon plopped next to her on the bed with a sigh, his expression reading as something different entirely to Y/n: Take a breather and then it’s your turn.

Y/n rolled her eyes, letting them stray forwards to avoid all of them for the moment. Her breath hitched as they landed on her bathroom door. 

It was closed and she hadn’t left it that way.

“I did. We will all have to go down there together…” Jimin launched off into an animated retelling of his side of things, rambling off about a few of the missing boxes being found, and the nasty spirits Tree had to fend off–though none of them got close enough to do any harm. It seemed that they kept the same arms length distance from him as they had at the estate. His fingers played idly with hers as he spoke, his touch and his words doing little to keep her mind from straying back to the plank of old glossy wood that separated them from her bathroom. 

Because her bathroom door was closed. And it shouldn’t be. 

“Did you find all of the missing boxes or just some?” Namjoon inquired, taking notice of her far off look and her leg that grew restless against him. 

Jimin quirked his mouth to the side with mild disappointment. “Not all of them, no. I found some of the ones I had been going through that Mindy had taken. But there’s a few I still haven't found.” 

Y/n stared daggers into the closed door. What if something was behind it? What if she opened the door and that woman from the ballroom was waiting for her–a trap to lure unsuspecting prey such as herself into a state of vulnerability, waiting in the shadows for the best time to strike.

“Like what?” It was Jungkook who asked this time, his tone tense and impatient. His black eyes never left her face, scrutinizing every shift of muscle and whatever unseen changes he could sense. He knew–he always knew. 

Jimin’s answer faded to nothing but noise, drowned out by the circling thoughts of what lay in waiting on the other side of her bathroom door for her. Perhaps it was Hadwin, large bulbous hands outstretched and hungry for revenge from when she shot him–or even Duane–broad shouldered with muscles glistening and exposed from the disintegrating sheets of skin that hung from his body. Y/n’s hands twitched beneath Jimin’s–she needed to open the door. If she opened it, it meant they couldn’t hide. 

“Which one did you say was still missing? Candida?” Namjoon’s even words rumbled next to her, mooring her back into the conversation. He had procured a notebook from his backpack, writing down details that Jimin shared. 

A shadow darted beneath her bathroom door, flickering towards the back of the room and away from the entrance. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look away from the door to check if anyone else had seen it. If they had, why hadn’t Jungkook said anything yet? Could it have just been a trick of the light? Y/n leveled her eyes to the crack, watching for the next flutter of movement from beyond it.  

“Besides Adelaide obviously–Candida and Lisolotte.” Jimin answered swiftly. 

The dark mass came again, at a much more leisurely pace this time. It took its time approaching the door of the bathroom and stopped just behind it, its movements unbothered and natural–like it belonged there. The hairs on the back of Y/n’s neck stood to attention, but she couldn’t spare a glance to Jungkook for fear of what the shadow may do if she were to look away. 

Namjoon scratched at his head through his beanie. “Can you refresh my memory? Were they the sisters or–” 

The shadow zipped away from the door and Y/n jumped up to follow it, rising so fast that Jimin toppled backwards onto the floor with a shout. She stepped over him in a rapid dash to the door–twisting the knob and wrenching it open to face whoever it was that had intruded upon her bathroom.

Drips splattered into the basin of her sink, running in tiny rivulets from the sides of the bowl down into the drain and ticking like a metronome. Her shower curtain was as crumpled just as it had been when she had left it that morning. There wasn’t a single towel, blob of lotion, or speck of dust out of place–even the roll of toilet paper she had knocked off the shelf on her way out that morning and had forgotten to right was lying listlessly in the middle of the dark room. It was just her bathroom in its normal shades of dated yellow and muted greens, dreary from the overcast light of the window.  

Jimin had scrambled to his feet to follow her, using her door to stop himself from colliding into her. “What is it? Are you going to be sick?” 

She heard her office chair creak–Jungkook must not be far behind. 

Good, she thought to herself. He will surely find whoever–

“You’re upset again. Why?” Jungkook articulated, growing tired of her avoidance. Yet he didn’t give any inclination that he could sense anything was amuck in her bathroom–which is what she would have hoped would have happened.

Y/n ignored him, ripping open her shower curtain to check the shower for anything that could’ve slithered behind it. When she found nothing there, she dropped to her knees to check below the tub, arm stretching out to feel around for whatever she could find. 

When her search came up bare, she took one last long look around the room. “Something has to be…” She clambered to her feet, checking the inside of her tub again. “It was…” 

“What was?” Jimin came up behind her, carefully slotting his fingers into her own. 

Y/n felt embarrassment burn at her throat, and her stomach swirl with unease. She had been sure she had seen something, and they wouldn’t have just left–that wasn’t like them. Above all, and in the most unexplainable way, she felt disappointment at finding nothing of the ordinary waiting for her. As if having some spirit to point a finger at, something memorable and familiar to go up against would offer explanation to her experience in the ballroom, and to make her feel less like she had chickened out of her own plan like a coward for something that might not have even happened.  

“I don’t know.” Y/n finally admitted, letting Jimin herd the two of them past a shifting Jungkook back towards her bed. 

Jungkook gave the bathroom a once over and shrugged, grabbing the door knob to pull the door shut behind him. Seeing the opening grow slimmer and slimmer brought back the tingling sensation on the back of her neck and she yelped, ripping her hand from Jimin’s and running back over to the door to brace her palms against it. 

“Don’t!” Y/n’s command came out much louder than she had intended, startling them both. She closed her eyes, and gulped down a few deep breaths before meeting his gaze again. “The bathroom door stays open.” 

He didn’t understand–of course he didn’t–but he could see how much it bothered her. So with a slow nod, he let his hand slide off the knob and stepped back to her desk chair, leaving the bathroom door open like she had asked. 

They all looked at her with varying degrees of confusion and worry. Y/n kicked herself for her outburst, walking back to join Namjoon and Jimin on the edge of her mattress, sandwiched between the two of them. She couldn’t understand why none of them had seen it–it was right there…It must be the sleep deprivation, and her frazzled mind from the…slip up in the ballroom.

“What about you Jungkook? What did you find?” Namjoon took the attention off of her, offering it up to Jungkook. Though she knew the strangeness of her previous actions had just earned her a ticket to the one man show called ‘we-will-talk-about-this-later’, starring the one and only Namjoon Kim. The only threat that man could ever make towards her was one of tea and vulnerable conversations, but he wielded it often.

Jungkook unsheathed his phone with a hum, clearly not interested in taking his eyes off of her just yet after the scene she had caused. He unlocked the home screen and began to scroll through some of the snapshots of her parent’s office he had taken. 

All of them were struck with reverence at what they had to offer. 

The beautifully ornate decorated wallpaper, a vibrant shade of ruby with faint swirling patterns–was now shredded in multiple spots and completely missing in others. Cascading claw marks striped away by countless swipes more fitting of one desperate to escape a high security prison, not an office. The ceiling was splattered in a concoction of shades of browns and wine, and the floor was padded with cheap throw rugs to cover deep scratches embedded into the hardwood. 

The next photo was of a pile of trash bags in the second section of the office where the billiards table was located, their mouths open having yet to be tied up and disposed of. Overhead pictures of their contents revealed broken glass and splintered picture frames, tattered curtains and blood stained dress shirts. Another showed discarded papers–legal documents, quick handed ink sketches, and paperwork for her brother’s new boarding school by the looks of it–filled out and stamped with her fathers signature. The last bag was much lumpier than the rest–bulging out of the sides with the awkward shapes of what was shoved into it. The contents were just as strange: tufts of white fluff, slats of chipped wood and and fabric dotted in purple flowers–

Y/n’s entire body shivered, and her mind went blank. She would recognize that bedding anywhere. The same bedspread and pillow her mother had so adamantly pushed her to get rid of. 

Pieces of her sister’s bed were broken up and stuffed into this trash bag, and stored on top of the billiards table one floor away from her. A bed that was supposed to be discarded in a dumpster over a decade prior. 

“There’s more.” Jungkook swallowed roughly, showing them another photo of a drawer he had pulled open to show its contents without touching them. On the top of the pile was a collection of  wrinkled receipts Jungkook had propped open to capture. 

Two were for the local hospital: One for a pharmacy pick up of hydrocodone, and another for a surgery consultation with any distinguishable dates scratched out with a dying pen. The third receipt was for a plane ticket–purchased on the previous Sunday afternoon and scheduled for Monday–but all flyer information had been similarly scribbled out. 

“Please tell me you looked for more information about this plane ticket…” Y/n looked up at him with gravity. 

“I did. I went back to check.” Jungkook slid to the next photo of the second trash bag from before, a torn piece of paper in his hands held up for the camera to see. 

It was boarding information for a flight from the Philadelphia international airport to Daegu South Korea with the designated passenger named Yoongi Min–time of boarding at 5:47am yesterday morning. 

And it was a one way ticket. 

Y/n had her phone out and in her hand before she could even register what she was doing, sifting through her contacts until she found Mrs. Min’s number, tapping on the call icon and pressing the speaker button. She’d pay the fee for an international call–she didn’t care. 

“What are you doing!” Namjoon hissed at her in a whisper, looking at her with evident panic. 

“If he is going to South Korea, his parents have to know about it.” Y/n whispered back, covered the microphone with her hand. “That’s literally where they are right now!” 

Jimin bit his lip, waving one hand about frantically in front of her “What if they are in on everything? What are you even going to–” 

“Y/n? What is this?” Hyewon, Yoongi’s mother answers the phone, sounding weathered. 

“H-hi Mrs. Min…I just wanted to check in on…things.” Y/n let out a few nervous chuckles. “Yeah. So how are you?” 

Namjoon smacked his palm to his forehead with a solemn shake, and Jimin just about keeled over. 

“We are doing well. Weather is nice here this time of year.” Her words took on a more suspicious edge, clearly just as perceiving as her son. “You never call. There must be some other reason for calling at such an hour, hmm?” 

“I…” Y/n looked to her cohorts for help, but they all gave her vague gestures and noncommittal flicks of their hands, mouthing variants of  ‘hang up!’ over to her. Y/n cleared her throat and pushed forth, disregarding their discomfort. “Actually Mrs. Min, there is a reason I called.” She shifted, unsure whether to just be honest or to continue lying–she decided on the riskier option. “I’m worried about Yoongi. He just disappeared, and I wanted to see if you knew where he was and if he’s okay.”

The line went quiet, a dense fuzz taking place where her voice once had. Y/n heard the distinct sound of whispering on the line just out of reach, a hushed discussion between Hyewon and someone undisclosed. After some deliberation, the phone picked up her voice clearly. 

“I don’t understand what you mean.”  She spoke like someone who knew exactly what she meant. 

“Mrs. Min, I’m sorry if this comes off as impolite–but I know he is in Daegu. I know he is there. Please I need to–I need to know that he is okay…” Y/n begged, her voice nearly giving out by the end. “Please.” 

Hyewon retracted again, letting the line buzz with inactivity. There were more whispers, Y/n barely managing to pick up that they were speaking in Korean before they stopped. 

“Don’t call me again. It’s late–the three of us have had a long day and need to rest. Goodnight Y/n.” 

“Wait!” Y/n’s efforts were futile, for the line had already closed. “Great…” Y/n dropped the phone into her lap and hid her face in her hands to stifle her groan. “Now what?” 

Namjoon shifted, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a squeeze with a small smile. “That was good news Y/n.” 

“What about that was good?” Her head jerked up to look at his deepening dimples.

“She said three of us. If it was just her and his dad she would’ve just said we.” Namjoon’s shoulders sagged with a heaving exhale. 

“Oh my god…” Y/n collapsed back onto her bed with an overwhelming sense of relief, tears blurring her vision. “He’s okay!” 

The entire room felt the combined weight that was removed from their shoulders. While it didn’t answer any questions as to why he was there–they knew he was alive and with his parents, most likely meaning he was out of harm's way for the time being. 

“Thank heavens.” Jimin flopped back next to her, their arms touching. “I’ve about had it with the last second trips this weekend.”

“Tell me about it.” Namjoon flopped next to them, making the bed shake. “First the guest house, then you, then Yoongi?” He shook his head with a laugh. “After all of this is in order, I’m going to need a month-long vacation somewhere far away from here.” 

“Sign me up for that.” Y/n raised her hand up into the air. 

Jimin giggled next to her. “I’ve heard Malta is lovely. Good food and great atmosphere–beaches too.” 

“Sounds good enough for me.” Y/n let herself laugh with him, feeling borderline delirious with the endorphin rush from just knowing he’s okay. Jungkook shuffled over to the side of the bed, staring down at them anxiously, shifting his weight around with his hands in his pockets. Y/n looked up at him, finding his hesitance endearing. “Get in here you big jerk.” Y/n pat at the empty spot above them. “Namjoon still has to give us his report anyways.” 

“Right.” Namjoon rolled over the edge to grab for his backpack. “Well besides some ghost knocking over a few shelves and chasing me back up the stairs–I’m alright.” He forced the zipper open over a rectangular object, and pulled it out. “I found a couple things that might help.” He held up an 8x10 old tattered frame, the picture splotched with aged and water damaged and the glass cracked. “This was one of the items that was thrown at me as I was leaving.” 

Y/n took it from his hands and inspected the couple in the photo. It was of a man and woman, her face turned from the camera and towards a hefty canvas with a brush poised in stained fingers. Her composition wasn’t fully developed, but the large round shapes building from paint and stroke looked familiar, like she had seen the finished product somewhere before. And perhaps she had, it wasn’t unheard of for some of the art and decor around the home to have been created or procured by a member of the house. 

Over her shoulder was a man with dark rounded eyes, and an all too familiar angled ridge of his brow, pointing along the canvas with his mouth open to offer earnest words. The tips of his fingers were stained with the same paint as hers. 

“That’s my great grandfather.” Jungkook pointed at the man, mirroring the same crease that she had noted. “He had an English name.”

“What was it?” Y/n asked, handing him the photo. 

Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t know. I was never into the family history stuff as much as everyone else was.”

 “John.” Jimin scoffed and grabbed for the picture. “He went by John sometimes when he first immigrated. Literally the most basic name for anyone here to remember.”  

“Well not everyone can be a historian.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, willingly passing the photo to him. 

“I think the term archivist is a bit more fitting for my job title.” Jimin replied with playful haughtiness. “Address me correctly.” 

“Okay Indiana Jones.” 

“That’s an archeologist.” Jimin twisted his neck to look up at him. “I said archivist.” 

Jungkook sniffed, and passively rubbed at the tip of his nose to hide a small smile . “Same thing.” 

Jimin plastered a grin on his face, and his eye twitched with his deep breath. “I’ll be sure to keep this discussion in mind when I’m preparing my first attack…”

“Anyways.” Namjoon butt in, reprimanding the two younger men with a glare. “This was thrown at me from the back room that I had already searched. And while I may not have all of those psychic sensitivities you guys have, I think that is a sign it means something.” 

Y/n propped her cheek on Jimin’s shoulder to keep gazing at the photo, her question squashed around the smush of her cheek against the meat of his bicep. “Do you recognize who that is?” 

Jimin hummed, immediately shifting back into a more serious tone. “If that’s John–and he doesn’t look to be any older than his early twenties–it has to be someone from around the mid 1920s, maybe pushing the early 1930s…”  Jimin rubbed his thumb under his bottom lip. “Her hair is dark, but because it’s pulled up and the camera quality isn’t advanced enough to capture any texture, that could be just about anyone.” He pulled the image merely inches from his face, leaving no grain or pixel unturned. 

“While you look at that, I’ll keep going.” Namjoon unfurled the small white dress from his backpack, shaking out dust from the skirt. “Here it is–in all its glory.” 

Jimin flickered his gaze to the dress, his eyes lighting up in recognition, “That’s the one!”

“Was it where I said it would be?” Y/n asked, the smell of old linen and dust filling her with a sense of nostalgia. She ran her fingers over the edge of the dress, remembering how it felt to wear it as a kid. Jungkook's hand came up next to hers, running the embroidered flowers through his fingers, the side of his hand running into hers every so often–not that she minded. 

“Just about yeah. The only thing is the tote was absolutely ransacked. I had to dig through two of them–one of them didn’t even have the lid all the way on.” Namjoon shook his head, and passed her the dress. “It was–” 

“Ah ha!” Jimin jumped up from the bed, his face alight with recognition. “I got it!” 

Jungkook made a noise of surprise from the back of his throat, his fingers hesitating over her shoulder to grab for her. “What is it?” Y/n was the first to ask, eyeing the way he gleefully held the photo out for them to see. 

Jimin pressed his pointer finger to a spot on the photo that was warped from the spidery cracks in the class. “You see this?” The three still reclined on the bed all wore a similarly lost expression, and offered no guesses. Jimin shook his head and took a step closer, thrusting the picture into their faces for them to huddle around. “That! The door!” 

Y/n inspected the barely visible door frame in the background beneath his finger dubiously, feeling Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s faces hover against hers on either side with squinting eyes. “I guess…That is a door frame for sure.” 

Jimin deadpanned down at her, giving her thigh a light smack in jest, the skin stinging at the contact. “Yes–but that scratch in the frame,” he tapped it with his finger, and Y/n managed to see the miniscule stripe of gray on the wood next to John, “That is from Heidi and Inga from when they had fencing lessons with Adelaide. Heidi wrote about how it happened when the two of them were playing a game of chase with the blades–” He paused at the face Y/n made, holding a hand out to placate her disapproval. “It was a different time. They did all kinds of dangerous things back then. But it had been Inga who had gotten sword stuck in the doorway of her younger sister’s nursery!” 

Jimin said it like it was groundbreaking information, but the three of them stayed blinking up at him from below, unphased. 

“Which changes things because…?” Namjoon urged him to elaborate. 

“Because that would mean this was Candida and Alain’s room during our estimated timeframe. So we can deduce that this photo is of John and Candida!” The excitement that gleamed in his irises made her feel warmth bloom in her chest, and she wished she could kiss the smile that lit up his face–the only reason she didn’t was the audience they’d have if she did. 

The printer lit up, the mechanisms inside chugging along to drag ink onto the paper’s surface. The page floated down from the plate and onto the floor for Namjoon to peel off her rug, and his eyes flew from left to right, reading the message allowed. 

“Don’t say her name too much. She is a monster that brings nothing but evil with her.” 

Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat, dread pouring through her system for the answer of a question she has yet to ask. “What did she do?” 

Jimin stepped over to the printer, kneeling in front of it. “Do you know why they hid all of her information away? They wiped everything about her from the historical society.” The printer chuffed out a much longer message, another sheet running through the system and falling into Jimin’s awaiting hands. 

“She died when I was very young, so I can not give you much. They have always hid the story away–in part because I was young, and because they didn’t want word to spread outside of those in the house. 

Rumor has it she killed her children in their beds, and then she stabbed her husband through the heart with a kitchen knife when he tried to stop her. 

Whether or not she killed herself too is unclear. My mother always said that she must have, but my father always hinted that she didn’t, and died somewhere else under different circumstances. 

Stay away from her if you can. She is one of the most rotten of the bunch.”

The men around her erupted into urgent discussion, but Y/n couldn’t focus on anything other than what Clay had said to her in the ballroom. 

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you. We have been much too kind. Have fun with my cousin, she doesn’t show mercy–and she’s got more blood on her hands than most of us do. Spilling yours will be not more than child's play to one as well versed in death as she.”

Y/n knew from the hours she spent bent over the family tree that Candida was one of his cousins, and if what Bear said was true–she was royally fucked. 

Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn to the mirror in the corner of her room that clipped  parts of her bed and desk into its reflection, watching the back of Jimin’s head move as he asked a books worth of questions that the printer couldn’t even dream of keeping up with, or the way Jungkook was looking at her from behind with a knowing look. Everything looked normal, absolutely simple and ordinary. 

Everything except for the woman stood over Y/n’s shoulder, looking down at her like she had in the ballroom only this time with a visible face. Gaunt and youthful, she speared through Y/n with eyes that were still fully intact. Their surfaces wider and more bulging than necessary, with glowing rose gold irises swimming with malice and restrained hostility all pinpointed on Y/n. 

Y/n considered fleeing back into the bathroom to take Jimin up on his suggestion of getting sick, her stomach flipping and her intestines twisting within her abdomen.  Because if Jungkook could see her he most definitely would have said something. Which meant he couldn’t. Which meant she was on her own.

“Guys.” Y/n elevated her voice over the commotion, the woman’s golden eyes blinked to Y/n’s, daring her to say more with silent threats of violence and who knows what. The printer stopped moving, and Jimin snapped his mouth closed at once at her grave tone. “I think I need to tell you what happened in the ballroom.”

_________________________________________

March 24th, 1930. 

Some say that it is an overstatement to say that when faced with the atrocities that mankind is capable of, one feels like dying. I would say that does not even begin to scratch the surface of what it feels like. 

I clutch a hand to my ribs to keep my heart where it should be, and my other to my mouth to stifle the screams that would do me no good to set free. I found her in her room this morning when I had begun my rounds of waking the children up for their lessons, with her father cold and blue and unbreathing at the door, discarded like waste, or a pile of weeks old soiled laundry on the stoop.

The carpet will have to be removed. There is no scrubbing to be done that would possibly sop up so much blood and horror from its fibers. If it were me, this entire house need be gutted and rebuilt. It is now stained red with this memory. 

Her mother had the body clutched to her breast with the knife still in her hands that had crusted over with black and burgundy blood–of whom it belonged, I could not tell. While I consider myself a brave and valiant woman, I could not bring myself over Alain’s lifeless corpse, no matter how diligently Candida begged me to come to her aid. I could already see the discolored fabric of Madeline’s nightgown that had shifted completely from white to crimson, and the violet ring around her neck that had fallen back from her mothers bosom when she reached her filthy hands towards me. I could not see anymore. 

I left them there, running for the boys to flock them away from laying a curious eye over the scene before they could be haunted by it the way I will be for all of eternity. Youngho that poor boy–caught the tiniest snippet of red and burst into tears, and I am unaware of what Seonggi might have seen when I ushered him by after waking his father.

John, Leon, and Elijio had all arrived by the time I had taken my leave. As did most of the men of the house.

Whereas typically I despise the unnecessary attributes people ascribe to daily tasks, categorizing them into lines for men and women to fall into; I am ashamed to say that this morning, that was a man’s job to deal with. Not mine. Yet, like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, I will be the one to handle it–whatever it may take. 

I wish they would have never let it get this far. We all knew it would only grow. 

So long as I am alive, I will let it grow no longer. 

Adelaide Wörner. 

Hoseok eyed the torn-out page from the journal that lay on his dashboard, displaying itself atop a pile of others just like it tucked neatly into the flap of a thick folder. The engine rumbled beneath his seat, doing little to ease the agonizing ache that had settled into his lower back and hips from sitting all day. He let his head fall back against the headrest, peering off into the midnight tree line that was hardly visible this time of night from where he had parked in front of the estate. 

His fingers tapped a rhythm in time with the song he had pulsing on the radio, offering him a moment of his own, free from chatty passengers or bitchy guests. He kept his hands off the folder–he had no interest in its contents–not really. He just needed to finish out his agreement, and then he’d be free. 

With a frustrated sigh, he yanked the car keys from the ignition, slipping his long finger through the key ring and twirling it about to relieve his pent up energy. The yellow glow of the headlights clicked off in an instant, letting the darkness from the night close in on him and hide the words from his eyes he didn’t care to read again. Finally, from the far-off edge of the tree line, he watched Y/n and Jin step over the overgrown brush from the trail to the guest house, the two of them climbing the front steps without so much as a spare glance to him. 

He kicked himself for not joining in this time, but he knew better than to let himself get too close. While he was instructed to report whatever he could find out, they never told him he had to go searching for it. Hopefully after this weekend, he wouldn’t need to stay away anymore–he could just go back to spending time with everyone and pretend nothing had even changed. 

A laugh, cold and breathy tore from within. 

That was a joke. 

After a good ten minutes of sitting in the dark, the overhead lights flickered on, and the car beeped at him to let him know the passenger door had opened, the car shaking side to side as Jin dropped himself into the seat. 

“You have a good night? What took you so long to come back down?” Hoseok asked, not bothering to look up from the keys he swung around his finger.

“She slept most of the time. She’s still tired from everything. Then Joon was asking about where she was like he didn’t just see me take her to her room. He’s such a terrible liar.” Jin heaved a sighing breath, his eyes landing on the folder before picking it up to read it. “This again? I thought we already went over this?” 

Hoseok chuckled humorlessly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Jin shook the folder in his hands and gave Hoseok a sideways glance. “Are you going to be alright with this?” 

“What–like I have a say?” Hoseok shook his head incredulously with a voice laced in venom, swinging the keys about with more gusto, metal clanking against metal grating against his ear drums. 

Jin held his hands up in surrender, dropping the folder into his lap. “I was just checking in. I know it can be hard on you sometimes.” 

Hoseok stopped the swing of the keys with his palm, clenching them in his fist. He licked his lips to keep himself from saying something he shouldn’t–he knew his words weren’t safe with his friend, even if they were allies. Instead he schooled his features, jamming the keys in the ignition once more. “Let’s just go.” 

The car roared to life, and he flexed his fingers against the wheel at how second nature it felt to him now–sometimes he’d even find himself waking up from dreams with his hands turning non existent keys or gripping invisible steering wheels. And who would have he’d be here now, when he had always hated driving before it became a necessity. 

“You can trust me, you know. I’m still your friend.” Jin pushed, buckling his seatbelt. Hoseok refrained from responding, buckling his own seatbelt before Jin scolded him. 

Just then, Jin turned his cheek to glance towards the house, squinting towards small figures running along the backside of it. “We should go before they see us.” He tapped the glass as one of them stopped to peer over at them. 

“It’s fine.” Hoseok revved the engine, shifting the car into drive. “Let them see–let’s give them all another reason to hate me.” 

“Hoseok they don't–”

Hoseok lurched the car forward at a dangerous speed, silencing Jin with a shout from his own mouth. He didn’t have the patience to be coddled by him at the moment. While he had to give it to him that he did it from a well meaning place, it would do nothing but grind his gears further and further, adding oil to an already overused and balding cog on the train of thought that journeyed to self destruction. He wasn’t dumb. 

Jimin already hated him now. Which meant the rest probably weren't far behind. 

Once a few miles out with some of his pent up frustrations burnt out of his system, he gradually came to a legal speed (more or less) much to Jin’s relief. They only had a few miles left to reach their destination, and he just wanted to get the night over with. Of course, as kind as he always was, Jin couldn’t let them sit in silence–and it made Hoseok chuckle at the hypocrisy of his own disgruntled thought. That was usually his hat to wear: the annoying one that didn’t know when to shut up. 

“What happened with you at lunch? You almost blew our cover.” Jin clicked open the glove compartment, pulling out a small black flask and a rosary from the bottom where he had stashed it one of the previous nights. 

Hoseok did a double take, caught off guard by his question. “What do you mean?” 

Jin furrowed his brows, his lips pressing into a small frown. “At lunch. With Y/n.” 

Hoseok looked intensely at Jin, being sure to over-articulate himself for further emphasis. 

“Jin–I was never at lunch today.” 

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Next chaper

Dreikäsehoch: A teasing (sometimes condescending) term of endearment for young children.

taglist: @kokoandkookie @rkive-joonie @singdancedreampray @erescheese

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 16: On the Run

Story Summary: What would happen if the Crystal Gems had settled down in a place other than Beach City, a little backwoods town just west of weird…? What if, upon coming to Gravity Falls for the summer, Dipper and Mabel were to befriend Steven and Connie? What kind of magical, mysterious adventures would they have? And, how would they fare against the combined threats of merciless Homeworld Gems and a certain triangular demon?

Find out what happens when Magic and Mystery meet in Universe Falls...

Chapter Summary: Steven, Dipper, and Amethyst try life on the road out. Meanwhile, Mabel, Connie, and Pearl desperately search the town in the hopes of finding the missing boys. “Whoa, how are they gonna get out of this one?” Steven gasped, his eyes glued to the newest No Home Boys novel. He turned the page, reading on past the suspenseful cliffhanger to get his answer. “Oh, that’s how!” “Aaaaand… it's done!” Mabel drew his attention away from the book, just as she put the last finishing touches on her latest sweater. “Here you go, Steven!” she proudly held it up for him to see. “What do you think?” “What do I think?” Steven echoed, stars in his eyes. “I think it’s amazing , Mabel! It’s got a star on it and everything!” He set his book aside and wasted no time slipping the pink sweater over his shirt. “Oh, wow! It’s a perfect fit!”  “My sweaters always are,” Mabel nodded, satisfied. “What do you think, bro-bro?” Despite their enthusiasm, Dipper showed no effort to share it. Instead, he kept his focus solely on the journal, burying his face in it to hide his unshakably fretful frown. “Uh… Dipper?” Steven tried again after a beat of stilted silence.  “Hm?” This time, he offered a response, though it wasn’t much of one.  “I asked you what you thought of the sweater I made for Steven,” Mabel huffed, motioning over to said sweater. 

Click the link to read more; all comments are appreciated! 

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Witte Solstice - Chapter 16

Cover art by @leespinoodle.

Fic written by me (enchantedchocolatebars) and @leespinoodle.

Summary: It's winter in the Boiling Isles, and Caleb prepares to celebrate the solstice with his wife, his friends… and hopefully, with Beardo Philip! Philip swears he'll never partake in the satanic holidays of those demonic witches. But when Caleb invites him over for the solstice… maybe he'll find himself making an exception.

Ao3 version

Enjoy!

While walking, Philip's eye caught something on the right corner, and he turned to look in that direction.

The scene he saw caused him to make an abrupt stop, with the brunette giving nothing but his full attention to it.

"Take this!" shouted gleefully a smaller witch with shoulder-length brown hair as he rushed up to an older witch who had his golden hair tied in a ponytail, throwing a snowball at him.

The ball of snow hit the witch square on the shoulder.

With a giggle, the little one took off running.

Grinning, the older witch reached down and began to ball up a snowball.

"Get back here, you!" the older witch chuckled as he chased after the smaller witch.

The two boys' laughter radiated throughout the chilly air.

Philip continued to observe both brothers, he assumed, have a good time together.

…

"Hey, Caleb!" Little Philip shouted.

"Hm?" the blonde teen turned away from the pile of snow he was shoveling.

The town of Gravesfield had been blessed with about a foot of snow after last night's snowstorm.

"Hey!" Caleb chuckled as he received two snowballs to the stomach.

With a giggle, Philip immediately took off running.

"You can't get me!" he teased in a sing-song tone, only to quickly be hit in the back with a snowball.

Giggling a second time, Philip took a light tumble into the fluffy snow.

"Alright, Philip, that's enough snow play for one day."

Philip turned his head to see his older brother beckoning him inside with a smile.

"Come inside. You'll get sick if you stay out too long. I'll prepare the furnace and some tea for us."

"Yes, Caleb!" Philip answered in obedience as he happily ran toward his big brother.

...

Philip felt his lips start to twitch in present day.

He almost wanted to smile.

Almost.

But of course, the Puritan remained detached and disinterested.

Hurling a huff of disgust at the two witch boys, the beardo continued on his way to his brother's home.

[yeslikethewizard]

【 A Cat Among Wolves - Ch. 16 Update!】

LINK: Chapter 16 - unfair systems FANDOM: The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System RATING: M, full tags and content warning on A03 PAIRINGS: Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu/Luo Binghe, One sided SQQ’s harem hopelessly in love with him

SUMMARY:

Shen Yuan never expected to be transmigrated—who DOES expect that sort of thing!? But here he is, in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way as some NPC demon child who is at the complete mercy of the cultivation world around him. When he runs into Luo Binghe it is like fate itself plucked him up and set Shen Yuan into the world to be with the Protagonist. Keep him safe. Make sure that Luo Binghe won’t ever have to be alone in the world.

But staying at Luo Binghe’s side will be easier said than done, even if his mysterious heritage lands him in the good graces of the Scum Villain, Shen Yuan is still a demon. One living in the middle of a cultivation sect. Not to mention that something—something darker and stronger than Shen Yuan—seems to be messing with the plot, and not changing things for the better. Like Shen Yuan didn’t already have enough on his plate to deal with.

EXCERPT:

“Is your shizun very strict?” Luo Binghe asks as he loads up his own plate, making sure not to take more than is polite. He remembers that Cui Yanmei had mentioned something like that when they were getting things for their rooms before. Gong Yang and He Mengyao share a look with one another. Ming Fan’s chest puffs out and he looks a little indignant.

“Super strict, with most people!” Ning Yingying says brightly as she sits down at their table. The boys all follow suit.

“He’s not terrible!” Ming Fan protests, “He merely does not suffer fools!”

“Most… um, most of the stories are exaggeration or rumor,” He Mengyao says quietly, wringing his hands. “But Luo-shidi should know to be on his best behavior around Shizun regardless of whether he is an outer disciple or not. He’ll punish anyone on the Peak if they break the rules, and he’s very protective of the shijie and shimei on the mountain too. If you want to be with girl you’ll have to make sure to politely ask him for permission to properly court her, or you might disappear in the middle of the night.”

“You’re making him sound like some kind of monster that eats children,” Ming Fan groans. He sits up straight and holds a finger up. “Listen here, Luo-shidi. Shizun can come across as impatient, mean and very stern. He cares very much about appearances and about propriety.”

“I see,” Luo Binghe says softly, wondering if he should be worried for his friend or not. Shen Yuan can tend to be mindful and say what he wants, regardless of who he speaks with. He tries to put his nerves for that aside.

“But! Shizun is the best,” Ming Fan says proudly. “He’s the most elegant and most intelligent Peak Lord. He has high standards for his Peak, because we are the scholars of the sect and strategists. There will be very little room for error, should we ever be on a battlefield or during a Night Hunt. For that reason, even if he is strict and puts a lot of pressure on us it is actually really quite useful.”

As Ming Fan speaks, Gong Yang rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Ming Fan doesn’t notice, and Luo Binghe hides his smile by taking a bite of his food. It is apparent that, regardless of whatever rumor or reputation Shen Qingqiu has on Qing Jing Peak, Ming Fan truly admires him. 

“He is very protective of us though,” Ning Yingying says, pointing first to herself and then gesturing toward a group of shijie that are sitting together a few tables away. “Outer disciple or not, Shizun looks after the young ladies here.Shao-shijie told this Yingying that a few years ago a young man had been caught peeping in the lady’s bath. Shizun was so angry that they thought he would kill him—Yue-shibo had to intervene to make sure that Shizun wasn’t the one who had the punishment whip that day. Ah—he did get kicked off the Peak though.”

“That’s the worst he does usually, is kick people off the Peak,” Gong Yang says with a sigh. “Cui-shijie says that since he became Peak Lord he’s dismissed more than twenty young lords from the Peak for some reason or another. When asked, he simply says that; ‘This master will not allow infection to fester upon this Qing Jing Peak’.”

As he quotes Shen Qingqiu he adopts a surprisingly regal bearing that is actually accurate to the cold man that Luo Binghe met earlier. Ming Fan looks utterly scandalized at this, but He Mengyao chokes on his food when he laughs. Ning Yingying kicks her feet back and forth under the table and smiles at Luo Binghe.

“Shizun can be very nice though! He has tea with this Yingying at least once every week. She’s sure that he will dote on Shen-shidi,” Ning Yingying giggles. “If anyone wants to court him they’ll have to politely ask Shizun too.”

[serensama]

I think we're getting low on onions again...

Chapter 16:

Lucanis gets a little jealous. Crackish.

Rated: T Word Count: 3.1k

Read on Ao3

Prompt 13 out of 25: Elek

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“Aww, isn’t that adorable?”

“Hmm?”

She was tapping her foot, waiting for him to answer her properly.

He didn’t even need to turn around to know that she had that insufferable, shit eating grin on her pretty face. Aimed at him. And deservedly so. It would have almost made sense for him to turn and see Spite right beside her, with the same stupid expression on his face, looking at him as if he were the world’s biggest idiot- and perhaps he was. Instead the demon was standing beside him, screaming into his ear about his biggest fuck up since believing that Illario was innocent at all.

“I told you, Luc, if you didn’t make it a little more obvious, that our darling leader wasn’t going to notice your sweet little hints. She’s almost as clueless as you are, that one,” Neve said, stepping beside him to watch the scene before them unfold, tutting her tongue in open disappointment at what was happening. “Seriously, you could have told her that the bag of salted water candies you ‘found in Antiva’ was specifically imported from Rivain from that particular seller she likes just because she mentioned it once-”

“I just so happened to need some spices from a vendor close by-”

“Or that the time you brought her a cup of tea when she was poorly was just because you wanted to look after her, and not because you were giving one to everyone in the lighthouse… though granted, it was nice to get some random tea delivered to me out of your commitment to your deception-”

“I was being nice!”

“Or… you know… above all this- you could have just said, yes Rook, I do have feelings for you- please don’t date someone else,” she said pointedly, motioning toward the couple in front of them, laughing and chatting as if they weren’t even there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Neve, Rook is allowed to be with anyone she wants… she-she’s… nothing is happening between us!” he stammered, his cheeks feeling warm. Spite stared at him with a sneer that looked like he had just smelled something that offended his delicate sensibilities. “What?! What’s the matter with you then, Spite?”

He shook his head and crossed his arms in disappointment.

You lie. To Wisp Woman. To yourself. To Rook. You smell of burnt hair and incense. Trying to cover what you have destroyed.

He really fucking hated when Spite made sense.

Lucanis chanced another look at Rook as her hand brushed Elek’s bicep a third time in the last few minutes, although she was a naturally touchy person, she hadn’t even been that open with him. Always careful where she put her hands on him, never assured or relaxed, as she seemed with the criminal or anyone else, really. He had tried not to care, not to notice, but it was hard when it appeared wherever they went, there was someone instantly taken with her. Whether it was that Veil Jumper that she had met when they first met Strife and Irelin, Talin? Talith? Whenever they passed the camp, he was always there with a new trinket or flower he’d think she’d enjoy, and each time she accepted it with a soft smile and a press of her hand on his arm or his cheek with heartfelt thanks that made him grit his teeth together.

There was also that shopkeeper in the Hall of Valor. Oh, he knew his name alright. Mateo. Running around in shorts so short that they looked like he had stolen them from Naera and squeezed himself into them. Rivaini’s and their ridiculous armour, he’d never understand it. He was definitely angling for something more when Rook haggled with him for a better price on some new enchanted gear for their team, telling her that he’d love to join her in the Hall, “for old times’ sake”. What did that even mean? Were they an item before? Was he asking to be an item again?

Then his own brethren. Teia, the consummate flirt he wasn’t surprised by, she was probably doing it to get under Viago’s skin after another one of their legendary tiffs- but Neri was a surprise. Neri bloody de Acutis. He was old enough to be his uncle, and he was still proving he had more charisma than he did. And she was responding to it! Always forcing a detour so she could stop and talk to Neri, asking for his advice on how to hold different types of daggers and to regale her with some stories of his previous contracts. He could have done that. He was really good with daggers, she knew that.

But the worst of all of them, the one that irked him like no other, was Elek Tavor, little Dock Town shit. The man talked too much and seemed to say nothing at all at the same time. It was like bearing witness to his cousin courting her, and he wanted to be ill. Elek was too slick, too easy to banter with when he had only met her, already forming inside jokes with Rook after saying two words with her. The Thread member seemed to understand her better in three brief meetings than in the months he had been with her. Lucanis was tempted to say it was unfair, that he was so close to making his move… but he knew how ridiculous it was. Unfair? Who cared? The man did what he couldn’t, and now he had a chance to make Rook happier than she had ever been since the whole ‘end of the world thing’ started. His plans to cook paella and churros for their dinner to thank her for everything she had done for him, to show her how he felt about her, went up in smoke.

The Crow wondered if it was possible to get a contract drawn up post murder if he didn’t request payment for it. Like a community-sanctioned killing. A public service. Lucanis grumbled at himself and threw another foul look at Neve’s way, who laughed heartily as she folded some papers she purchased for Bellara and tucked them into her coat. She clapped him on the shoulder with a kind but pitying look on her face, her lips quirking to the side in an apologetic smile.

“Listen, I know it’s hard, but sometimes the people we love move on, and we just have to be happy about it. There’s no rhyme or reason why they do it-”

“You literally stood there and told Rook that Elek wanted to show her a good time, Neve.”

“Sometimes people mishear things, and want to blame and lash out at their friends-”

“Neve.”

The detective smiled sincerely and squeezed his shoulder in hollow comfort. “I just wanted to see someone make a move. Not stuck in this… whatever thing you two have… I didn’t think she’d say yes! Who the hell in their right mind would say yes to Elek?” she snorted, shaking her head. Lucanis gave her a flat stare and pointed at Elek and Rook, still laughing with each other, the Thread even throwing an arm around her shoulder as he waved his free hand in the air, painting a scene for some tall tale no doubt.

Lucanis groaned and turned around, eyes scanning the headlines for anything that would capture his attention so his mind would not wander back to the illogical feeling of betrayal he felt. Rook owed him nothing. She had put her life on the line time and again for him, and he’d given her nothing back but the vaguest almost kiss in the pantry. Nothing at all like the romance novels he had read, where the protagonist would boldly exclaim their feelings to their love interest- even the world - and he couldn’t muster up the conviction to admit to himself that he wanted her. Wanted to be with her. How could someone like that ever think of themselves as worthy to be with someone like Rook? Who wore her heart on her sleeve and was never afraid of anything… even when she should have been.

Rook was also afraid.

Lucanis frowned at Spite who was poking at the floating newspapers around his head.

What do you mean?

Rook was afraid each time you didn't say the words. She thought she'd never hear them from you.

What words?

Who knows, the demon shrugged, moving on to follow some kids playing with a cat, hissing back at it when it bared its teeth at him. But she was waiting. Since coffee with Cousin Crow.

...And she doesn’t wait anymore?

No. Heard her saying that she knew. Where Lucanis stood. Didn’t need to wait for you anymore.

Lucanis wanted to crumple down and plant his face on the hard wooden table as hard as he could. The only thing stopping him was the idea of an unscrupulous journalist happening upon him and seeing the next day’s headline reading, “Demon of Vyrantium, sleeping on the job” - yeah, Illario would just love that.

A high-pitched squeal helped chase away his gloomy thoughts, and he turned to see Rook and Neve holding hands like schoolgirls, giddy over the confession from their crush. She looked so happy, her smile from ear to ear, a rosy flush on her cheeks, and her golden eyes sparkling like he hadn’t seen since… well. Since they had returned from their little escapade into his mind, he had thought…

He was mistaken.

Apparently, she had seen all she needed to, and it was enough for her to realise that he was not meant to be the one she was meant to be with. Lucanis was actually happy for her, proud even. It was the smart choice. The right choice. Especially when someone else could make her glow like she was the sunrise, dancing around in skin to spread her warmth to the mortals below. He gripped the pommel of his sword tightly. He was never going to get over this by waxing poetic over her when it was too late. Spite returned and stood by Rook’s side, the demon’s off-putting gaze locked onto her as she bobbed excitedly on her heels and communicated with Neve in shrill squeaks that seemingly only women and dogs could understand.

“Soooo, what do we think?” Neve asked, moving side to side whilst still holding onto Rook’s hands in a weird dance to coax information out of her. “Are we good with this development? Are we happy? Do we approve?”

Lucanis’ ears perked up against his will; he couldn’t stop listening now that he had heard the question. Rook chuckled quietly and nodded, her grin growing even wider than before. He had never seen her that way. It hurt, but in the best way possible. If he couldn’t be the one to make her shine that way, he was happy there was someone out there who could. Still, it would not stop him from gathering the rest of the team to pay this ass a visit. He’d ensure Elek knew that whilst the Threads may have protected Dock Town, nothing could protect him from them if he decided to break her heart. Maybe they’d bring Manfred along and tell him that the skeleton was that of Naera’s last ex- Oh! Taash and Emmrich could use that to threaten him together and continue their bonding.

A sudden bump into his shoulder stopped him spiralling into elaborate fantasies of what he could do to the little criminal if ever given the opportunity, and he locked eyes with Rook, standing right beside him, bright eyes sparkling up at him like the most precious yellow diamonds. He got it. He, more than anyone, understood why people flocked to be at her side and wanted to be close to her.

“Isn’t it great?” she smiled up at him, delighted and pure. He wanted nothing but to lean down and just kiss her on the forehead or pick her up and fly somewhere else- far away-

Yes. We could. Should. Let’s go to Rivain. Rook is happiest in Rivain. Or in the pantry.

The pantry?

“...Lucanis? Are you alright? Is Spite making fun of me?”

Spite would never! Rook is my favourite!

Lucanis shook his head and tried to smile comfortingly. “No, he’s literally saying you’re his favourite. You may have offended him by thinking badly of him.”

Rook frowned and turned around, talking to the air directly beside Spite, who was still grinning at her. “Oh no, Spite honey, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume or be mean-”

“He’s having the time of his life, don’t worry about him.”

Lucanis. Is. Envious. Of. Spite.

“Well, so long as he’s fine,” she said, still beaming up at him and making his stomach flip when it shouldn’t. “But isn’t this wonderful? I’m so happy!” He nodded absentmindedly, a strained expression passing his handsome features. Rook caught it, because of course she did, and grabbed his hands. “Hey… It’s going to be okay. I know it’s not ideal, and it’s not what I expected either… but honestly, I think it’s for the best, you know?” she said so earnestly it felt like a dagger was plunged right into his sternum and jiggled about for maximum damage.

“If you say so, Rook,” was all he could manage.

Rook sighed and bit her lip, concern flooding her eyes. “Is there any reason why it’s not a good idea? I mean, yeah, I get it. He’s not the most upstanding citizen out there, but he’s not an inherently bad man. He’s kind, he’s funny, and he’s handsome-”

“Aim higher, Rook. You know you can aim higher than a basic decent person, right?” he snapped at her, instantly regretting the words as they fell from his lips.

She took a step back, confused. Where the hell had that come from?

“I apologise. I am… merely tired, it seems.”

She didn’t buy it.

“It’s alright if you’re not okay with it, Lucanis, I don’t expect everyone to understand or approve. But Elek’s really a great-”

“I’m sorry, Rook. Truly. But I do not want to hear how the man who has no scruples in lying to innocent people is such a stand-up guy.”

“Oh, from someone who murders people for a living?” she snapped back, fists on her hips. “None of us is perfect, Lucanis. I’m a glorified thief, you’re an assassin, and Elek is… Elek. But I’m not going to cast the first stone here. If Bellara seems happy enough to give him a chance, then I will support them. He even took the time to walk me through his date plans with her just now, how sweet is that? But don’t worry, he knows if he messes up Neve and I will rip his balls off and sell them as dog chews for a copper each!”

Spite… am I having a stroke?

… I do not know what that is. Is it fun?

Fuck.

Lucanis thought over the words five times, and each time he came to the same conclusion. It was not Rook that the man was after, but their other happy, chatty, elven mage. He started laughing, laughing at himself and the incredulity of the scenario, his readiness to jump into the five stages of grief at the loss of a relationship that never was but still could be. Rook pressed her hand onto his forehead to check he wasn’t running a temperature, and it made him laugh even harder.

Rook is scared for you right now.

I’m going to kill you, Spite; you told me that she gave up on me, tired of waiting for me.

Did not. Said that she knew where you stood. Wasn’t waiting for you, because she knew you felt the same already. Finally.

… You couldn’t have elaborated that a little more?

Not Spite’s fault, Lucanis can’t understand. Stop assuming. Talk. Ask. Say the things you want to say. Besides. Wisp Woman was the tricky one this time.

He really. Really. Hated when Spite made sense.

Lucanis pulled her hand from his head and placed a kiss on the back of it as thanks for her concern, not missing the way her eyes widened at the action or how she couldn’t stop staring at his lips. “You are right, Rook. I should give him a chance. As you said- none of us are perfect-”

“Except me, of course,” Neve piped in, perched on the newspaper vendor’s table, watching the entire scene play out like her personal serial come to life.

“Of course, darling,” Rook agreed instantly. “No one else less than perfect could make that coaster hat look good.”

“For the last time, Rook, it’s not a bloody coaster-”

Lucanis stood between the two bickering women and chuckled to himself. All that time, he was worried about everyone catching her eye, but she had her sights firmly set on him. It was enough to get to a man’s head, if he were the type to let it. Patting the tabletop as he put his plan in order, he turned to face Rook, who was professing her undying fealty to a new religion they were planning, with Neve being the central deity of perfection. There would be a weekly diet of fried fish and poorly made tepid bean water for the masses-

“Say, Rook… I need to go to Treviso to pick up some items for dinner tonight. Just some seafood and maybe some chocolate-”

“You had me at chocolate, Dellamorte,” she quipped, hooking her arm into his playfully.

“Good to know,” he replied, in a voice he recognised as the same he used with her in the pantry.

She does too. She has some of her best memories in the pantry.

“Did you want to join us, Neve?” Rook asked, only to be pulled along by Lucanis, not bothering to wait for her response. Even though he was grateful for her intercession, it did not mean he wasn't still pissed off with her.

“Don’t you worry about me, Rook,” she chimed, amusement dripping from her tone. “I’ve got some things to work on here; I’ll meet you at the Lighthouse later.”

Wisp Woman is laughing at you, Lucanis.

She’s allowed to.

But she seems… happy for you. Are you happy, Lucanis?

Lucanis smiled, looking out at Rook from the corner of his eye. She was warm, bright and still holding onto his arm like she had always belonged there. They were off to Treviso to shop together, and for once, maybe he would understand what it would feel like for other people to look at him and feel envious because the woman they all wanted, was staring right back at him.

Yes, Spite. I am.

[lunareclipse-writes]

Here's something on the Remmick x male reader thing I've been working on

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🩸 Remmick x Male Reader – Chapter Titles & Descriptions

1. Ash in the Sunlight

A quiet day turns eerie when a bloody man collapses at your doorstep—his skin smoking under the sun. He begs to be let in. You say yes, not realizing what he is… not yet.

2. The Blood on His Hands

That night, you wake to the sound of dripping. Remmick stands in your hallway—healed, calm, soaked in blood. He doesn’t attack. He explains—but only a little. Just enough to terrify you.

3. Something Not Dead

The next day, he’s quiet. Not gone. He sleeps on your couch. You lock your door. But you also fold his bloody shirt. You’re not sure why.

4. The Rules of Monsters

He’s still here. You ask him questions. He gives you vague answers. You tell him stories you’ve heard—vampires that burn at dawn, demons from hell. He just laughs and says, “You read too much fiction.”

5. His Voice in the Walls

You start hearing him even when he’s not there. A creak of wood. A door closing. Sometimes your name. But when you look, there’s nothing.

6. Every Night Before Dawn

A pattern forms—he returns before sunrise, always bloody, always tired. You keep letting him in. And each time, he thanks you like you’ve saved his life.

7. The Edge of His Smile

He starts to flirt. Subtly. A look that lingers. A smirk at the way your breath catches. You pretend you don’t notice. You definitely notice.

8. Hunger and Manners

You watch him drink blood for the first time. It’s not from you. Not yet. But it unsettles something deep in you. Fear. Or fascination.

9. Cold Hands, Warm Clothes

You offer him clean clothes again. This time he asks if you want to undress him. You freeze. He smirks. Nothing happens. But something shifts.

10. Nightbloom

He brings you something—a flower that only blooms at night. Says it reminded him of you. You don’t know whether to be touched… or terrified.

11. Red Rain

You find him one night shaking, covered in blood that’s not his. You clean him up without a word. He falls asleep on your lap.

12. Biting Distance

You ask him if he’s ever wanted to feed on you. He goes silent. Then says, “Every night since I met you.” But he hasn’t. Not yet.

13. Sleepwalking With Vampires

You fall asleep on the couch. Wake up in his arms. He’s watching the sunrise from the shadows, eyes fixed on you. You pretend to stay asleep.

14. All the Things I Shouldn’t Want

You confess something—maybe that you don’t hate when he touches you. Maybe that you dream about him. He confesses back. The tension crackles.

15. Soft Throat, Sharp Teeth

It happens. Finally. Slow. Deep. Desperate. He feeds from you—and fucks you in the same breath. It’s not scary. It’s euphoric. It’s ruinous.

16. What He Took, What He Gave

The morning after. You ache, inside and out. He’s gentler than you expect. But he warns you—this changes everything.

17. To Burn and Be Held

You tell him you’re not afraid. He shows you how much he believes you. Not through words—but worship.

18. Our Kind of Hunger

You want it again. And again. You start to crave his bite. His hands. His mouth. But you wonder—how much of this is still yours?

19. Not Just Blood

He tells you things he’s never said. About the night he was turned. About why he ran. You listen, knowing now you’ve already chosen him.

20. Sunrise, Stay

The final chapter. You ask him to stay. Not just the night—but forever. And for the first time… he doesn’t run before sunrise.

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Masterlist