#lmfao these face freezes kill me

[zomboivex]

Leo, bbg, what HAPPENED!?

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

☾ Summary: For as long as you can remember, your village has been relatively normal. But when people begin to turn up dead right after a group of newcomers arrive, pieces of your past start to fall into place, and something feels familiar - particularly the quiet man who can't take his eyes off of you.

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Fantasy violence, light depections of murder and animal attacks, mentions of gore, discussions about community displacement and violence, Yoongi is an asshole, animal attacks, depictions of blood, tbh reader and Namjoon don’t know each other THAT well when they fuck so idk, implied protecting from a far but not in a stalker way, explicit language, intense sequences of fear and anxiety, reader is attacked by a wolf, there is a mention of animals being hurt/killed but not in explicit details, dead bodies, arson, sexually explicit content invluding vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, a little bit of mention of fluids but not really. 

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

☾ A/N: I wish I could explain to you how this got to be so long. I wrote it over several weeks and each day I picked it back up, I just kept adding dialogue and scenery and setting. Like half of this isn’t even Namjoon and reader reacting - what was I doing? I wish I knew! I hope you like my spin on Red Riding Hood anyway! I tried to do this in a way that it doesn’t seem creepy that Namjoon was silently looking out for reader but like… I could understand if someone finds it creepy I am so sorry lmfao.  I did read through this to edit but I 100% missed stuff because I'm a rougher editor and this is unbeta'd.

☾ A/N 2: This is a Red Riding Hood Retelling that is similar in vibe to the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

 Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Father always said not to go into the woods at night. Like him, though, the woods have always called to you, feeling like a second home. You’ve never been able to explain it, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

It’s a little chilly outside, the first breath of harvest air nipping at your skin. In a few weeks, it will be freezing outside, forcing you into cloaks and furs. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet as you slip through the small yard and toward the tree line. Your house already sits at the edge of the village, the dark trees stretching high above the rooftops. Soon the trees will be dusted in snow, but for now, they sway gently in the autumn breeze, turned silver by the moonlight. 

You’ve always loved the woods. The sounds of the crickets singing and rabbits dashing underfoot are calming, the smell of sticky pine and fresh air invigorating. You especially love them at night, hidden beneath boughs and walking through the shafts of moonlight that slip through the trees. 

The best part is that you don’t feel so alone out here. There is a feeling you cannot place each time you enter the woods, like you’re a little closer to discovering yourself. You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a little girl, hungry for finding whatever it is that drives you out here. 

Hands tucked into your pockets, you walk the same route you always follow. It isn’t deep into the woods - you aren’t silly enough to believe you’re safe alone in the dark - but it’s enough of a walk to clear your head. 

Howls echo up into the night, a wolf pack on their hunt. The sound of them makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

The wolves don’t come very close to the village anymore since the vicious wolf hunts when you were barely old enough to remember them. The relationship between the men of your home and the wolves in the wood is violent, a chill cooling your skin every time they’re mentioned by one of your neighbors. 

A terrible howl splits the night. You feel your body go cold with fear, warmth leaching out of you as you press yourself against a tree, heart in your throat. The sound is something like a howl laced with utter anguish, chilling you down to the marrow. It tapers off into a whimper before falling silent again. 

Pressed against the tree, you wait. Your heart is beating so harshly that it feels like you might vomit in fear. Soft whimpering drifts on the wind. You hold your breath and strain your ears. It almost sounds like an injured dog.

It tugs at your heartstrings. You bite your lip, weighing your options. The noise sounded like it came from the south a little off of your path and toward the ravine that splits the part of the woods that is relatively safe from the deeper part where the animals are more lethal and more frequent. You could easily find your way back if you made it to the ravine, and as the whimpering vanishes entirely, you can’t help but imagine an animal in pain. 

The most difficult part about working with Dr. Kim at the veterinary clinic is always the animals that he can’t fix. You’ve held the hands of loved ones who couldn’t save their aging dogs, and you’ve hushed lame horses as Dr. Kim prepared draughts to send them to sleep and then to death. 

Pivoting, you turn and march toward the initial sound. It may perhaps be the single worst idea you’ve ever had, but you suddenly don’t care. You’ve worked with Dr. Kim enough to know how to triage animal wounds, and the thought of leaving something alone and suffering replaces any sort of fear you originally had. 

You’re careful not to lose your footing as the ground slopes steadily as you get closer to the ravines and canyons of the south side. Leaves shift underneath your feet as you go. It feels overly loud in a forest that is suddenly so quiet, only filled with the softest sound of labored breathing.

A small dip in the ground catches you off guard. You gasp, a scream stuck in your throat as you lose your footing and slide down the slope, your back and ass hitting the ground hard as you slide, leaves hissing underneath you. You scramble to grab a hold of something, but the hill isn’t very high and you hit the bottom of it quickly.

Heart pounding, you lay in the damp leaves for a second, panting, hand pressed to your heart as it rattles under your palm. Just as the fear settles down, a growl makes your blood run cold. Slowly, you begin to turn your face toward the left. You realize you’ve slid down a dell, and a few yards from you is a large, shivering form covered in fur.

You blink. Once. Twice. You realize that the large mound of fur is a creature - a wolf. It lays on the ground shaking, a ride of jet black hair standing up on its spine, hackles raised. The wolf’s ears are pinned back and its yellow eyes are wild, nearly consumed by the dark pupils drinking you in. Its teeth are bared, foam and drool lining pink gums as it snares, nose twitching. 

It’s the biggest wolf you’ve ever seen. You can’t move. You can only stare at it, wondering why it continues to snarl and stare at you, but not move. Your eyes rove its trembling form from maw to tail, and you realize its front leg is wet and held at an odd angle.

“Oh,” you gasp, realizing that the wolf’s foot is stuck in a claw trap. “I���m so sorry. I… can I help you?”

The wolf stops growling for a moment as if it understands. You stare with wide eyes, not daring to move as it assesses you. It leans toward you and sniffs, the sound of snuffing loud in the silence of the dell. For a few moments, you just watch as the beast regards you. 

Then, it chuffs and looks at its own foot, whining. You sit up slowly in amazement. The creature watches you with what you can only describe as a caution. You get up carefully and make your way toward the wolf. It watches your every movement. It can surely smell your fear as you get a few feet away, crouching down with your hands held out to let it know you’re not going to cause harm. 

You pause, waiting for permission to examine the wolf’s foot. It gazes at you and for a moment, you lose yourself in that burning, golden gaze. The wolf’s eyes are so human that it’s hard to see it as a simple beast. There is something alive and intelligent there.

As if sensing that you’re waiting for the all-clear, the wolf chuffs and lowers its head toward its foot, gesturing. You smile a little at that, marveling at the communication skills. Carefully, you look at the trap around the wolf’s foot. It’s a metal contraption that is pressure-engaged, with metal teeth. You cringe seeing the red on matted fur and metal.

“You must have stepped on the pressure plate,” you tell the wolf, though it probably doesn’t understand. You gesture to the round plate at the center of the trap. “It would have been in a circle and when stepped on, snapped closed like jaws.”

The wolf whines and bows its head. You wince. “They’re really strong,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think I can pull it apart all the way, but I might be able to open it enough just for a moment for you to pull out your leg. Can you do that?” 

A huff. Somehow, you think if it could, the wolf might roll its eyes. Your mouth twitches in an almost smile as you get onto your knees, wiping sweaty hands on your pants. This close to the beast, you realize just how large it is. 

“This is going to hurt,” you insist. “Please… Please don’t bite me, okay? I want to help you.” 

The wolf lowers its head until it's lying on the ground, gold eyes watching you. Its muscles are tense and the hair along the ridge of its back is still standing, afraid and alert. 

“Okay. I’m just… I’m just going to touch the trap and try to get a grip first, okay?” The wolf doesn’t answer. It blinks at you, waiting. Licking your lips, you whisper, more to yourself than anything, “Okay, I can do this.”

Slowly, you reach out toward the wolf’s injured foot. You flick your gaze over to the wolf looking for a reaction. It just watches you, though you feel tension. The metal is wicked cold to the touch. You hiss and the creature flinches a little, a whistle-whine escaping its nose. You mutter an apology, fingers pressing to the ridges of the cold metal. 

It’s slippery with blood. You chew on your lip, prodding your finger in the space between the metal teeth on the edges where it’s not clamped around the wolf’s paw. You wiggle your finger a little, testing the strength of the closed jaws of the trap. It doesn’t budge and you curse. 

Sweat beads on the back of your neck, freezing in the cool air. You lift your other hand, very carefully trying to find a good grip on either side of the jaws to pry them open. The movement jostles the trap a little, the wolf snarling in pain. You flinch and rip your hands away, looking at it. Gold eyes burn and the wolf huffs, as though telling you to be more careful.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I’m nervous and it’s hard to get a grip on it.” The wolf snorts. You glare at it. “I’m sorry, do you want to do this instead?” Your only answer is a rumble as it looks the other direction. “That’s what I thought.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the metal. Anyone a little stronger and older could probably pull it open. Seokjin for sure could - even Hoseok who is as old as you are, but plenty stronger. You try not to think about how weak you are, and instead wiggle your fingers through the gaps in the teeth.

The cool metal stings your hands. It’s not a great grip and your fingers are placed in bad positioning due to the teeth of the trap. Taking in a big breath, you try to pull the metal jaws apart. 

Nothing happens and you let your breath out, panting lightly as you stop trying to pull. The wolf flicks its tale but makes no other sound. With the way you’re gripping the jaws, you realize that pulling it apart is going to be difficult. It would rely on your forearms to peel the metal jaws backward… But if you were to push down and push apart, you could use your body weight as an extra boost. It would be pushing the jaws apart from above instead of trying to pry them apart with sheer strength.

Leaning high on your knees, you position yourself straight over the trap, your weight settling in on your forearms. You take another deep breath and this time when you pull, you push your weight down on the trap. For a second, it seems like it’s not going to give. You hiss through your teeth, muscles clenching, fingers burning as your skin presses against the metal as hard as you can stand it.

Then, the jaw opens a little. You grind your teeth harder, the ache in your arms growing as you push as hard as you can. Your forearms are trembling. You feel the vein throbbing in your neck and forehead. Just when you think you’re going to fail, the jaws give way again. You growl, feeling a surge of energy go through you at the small victory and you shove your body weight down on it hard. The springs creak a little and open more.

Little by little, the trap opens up. Your vision pulses red as you pant, strength waning. And then it’s like you hit the let-off point of the contraption, pushing it enough that the rest of the way it just falls open. You let go of the trap and the wolf yanks its leg from it. It now lies open and bloody as you collapse on the ground next to it, breathing hard, breath misting the air. 

Your heart beats in your ears, pulse thrumming in your neck wildly. For a second, you forget all about the wolf. You laugh up to the dark trees, a giddy feeling shooting through you. You did it, even though you didn’t think you would be able to. 

A dark presence alerts you. Slowly, you turn your head to face the wolf. It’s standing almost above you, looking more imposing than it did before. You swallow hard, mouth going dry as it blinks down at you. It favors the injured leg, but stands nonetheless, watching you. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper, limbs trembling not only with exhaustion but fear. 

The wolf doesn’t kill you at all. Instead, it leans its head down and presses its cold, wet nose to your arm. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute. Then the beast chuffs, making you peak at it. When you meet its gold eyes, you get the sense it is vaguely amused.

“Oh,” you breathe, relief sagging your aching body. “Cool. You’re not going to kill me.”

Standing, you realize that the wolf is still taller than you. You tilt your head upward, staring. There’s no way this is a normal creature, but you don’t know what else it could possibly be. You recall the legends of werewolves and dire wolves told by the men of your town, but you’re unsure if those are real. 

“Let’s take care of this,” you mutter, grabbing a branch and jamming it into the pressure plate of the trap. It snaps shut with a loud clang, snapping the branch, but otherwise ineffective now that it’s re-sprung. The wolf flinches and whines at the sound, no doubt remembering the feeling of the instrument on its leg. “Sorry.” 

Silence stretches out over the woods, the night growing deeper and cooler. You shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you turn to the wolf, which watches you keenly. 

“Will you be okay?” the question comes out as a whisper. The wolf huffs and steps forward, pressing its snout to your head. It’s cold and wet, making you shiver as it snuffs against your skin. “Good. I um - should start climbing this hill.”

It swivels its head and turns, waiting. You grin, realizing it will accompany you back up, at least. Though injured, the wolf is able to walk with three legs, the wounded leg lifted off the ground. Its gait is awkward and hobbled, but the two of you make it up the hill together, your breathing labored. 

At the top, moonlight shines through the trees and you both pause. A series of howls goes up in the night, startling you. The wolf looks up, ears twitching as it tilts its head, listening. Slowly, it turns to look at you, gold eyes sparkling. 

“I guess you have to go, huh?” it bows its head once. “Stay safe, okay?” 

The wolf steps forward. Presses its muzzle into your temple and huffs, making you grin. You smell pine and bergamot, pleasant and calming. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Slowly, the wolf clambours off, vanishing into the dark woods, leaving you to hurry home yourself. 

-

“Wear this at all times for protection, especially in the forest,” you murmur, holding the neatly scrawled note. You frown and look down at the fine cloak folded on the dresser. It had appeared overnight as if by magic, a funny feeling flipping your stomach. “Where did you come from?”

The cloak, of course, has no answer. You lift your hand to feel it, breathing out a dreamy sigh. The inside is lined with soft bear fur. Outside is some of the finest cloth you’ve ever seen, gentle but sturdy to the touch and dyed the most delicious shade of scarlet. 

Carefully, you lift the cloak. It’s a little big for your size, but not unwearable. You slip it over your sleeping gown, loving the way the material ripples like blood over your shoulders, the fur lining keeping you warm. It smells like pine and bergamot, making you pause. 

Certainly, a wolf did not bring you a cloak. Still, the timing is quite odd. You don’t know who else could possibly make a cloak so fine in the village, and the smell… you shake your head. A wolf did not bring you a cloak, but it did seem perhaps you had a secret admirer. 

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Boo!” You scream and drop the collection of logs in your hands, whirling around. Hoseok bursts into laughter, doubling over as he slaps his hands against his knees, hot breath misting the air. “You should see your face!”

“You rotten bastard!” You growl, picking up a log and throwing it at him. It doesn’t hit him, but he jumps away from it anyway, careful not to let it drop on his toes. “That isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!” You crouch down and start picking up the timber. Hoseok at least has the decency to help you, starting with the log you threw at him. “There was another animal attack last night, in case you didn’t know.” 

That makes him pause. “There was?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching the last log and standing. “So stop lurking around corners and scaring me. It isn’t funny.” 

“Well, an animal isn’t going to attack you in the village. Unless you’re talking about Mingyu’s fiancee, anyway. That one is feral indeed.” 

You level Hoseok with a look and he gives you a grin. His nose and ears are red from the cold - and maybe a little guilt for scaring you - and he offers to take the timber from your arms. You let him, shoveling it over to him and marching around the front of your house. 

Wind howls between the houses, ripping at the ends of your red cloak. It catches your hood, throwing it up over your head as you shiver and tuck your hands into the fur lining. A shiver rattles up your spine as you kick the snow from your boots and rush inside, Hoseok quick on your heels. 

“So what happened?” Hoseok asks, following you to your room. 

“The Matheson Family,” you mumble. “They were attacked. San went down to collect new saddles his father ordered and found them slaughtered - their hounds too.” 

“They have hunting hounds - what the hell can kill those?”

“Perhaps it’s the wolves again. Dr. Kim was going with the city council to investigate.” 

Hoseok sighs. “The timing isn’t good. It’s about time the traders arrived. What if they bypass us entirely if the road is too dangerous?”

It’s a thought that has been plaguing everyone in the village. Because of the remote location on the north side of the woods, your small spec on the map relies on traders at the beginning of every winter for things that you’ll need to make it through: salt, extra grain and fruits, tools too advanced and large for the local smithy, repairs on houses and wagons. 

Arrival times of traders fluctuate every year. Sometimes there’s a cold snap, burying roads in heavy snow that are unnavigable. Other times, there is unrest in the woods when a rogue band of thieves gets the idea to rob travelers and hide in the woods until the city council sends a team of men to deal with it. 

Now, though, it’s getting into the late period of their arrival. The entire village holds its breath waiting for them, people looking out the open gates down the snowy road hoping to see a courier come ahead to announce the arrival of wagons and troupes of people. 

“Do you really think it’s wolves?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard of wolf attacks like this since…” 

Hoseok winces. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “It’s not like I remember that time, much less remember my dad.” 

It’s true. Early memories of your childhood are murky at best. You remember being happy and loving your dad. You remember a period of fear and general uneasiness in the town, wolf attacks rampant and frequent. There had been plenty of men and women who died during that period, including your father.

That was a long time ago, though. For the most part, life in your small village is uninteresting. Some winters are harder than others, like the current season, but you’ve always managed to get by. 

“Do you remember much of that time period?” you ask him quietly. 

“Not really. Just that everyone was afraid. It was a really harsh winter and it drove wolves down from the mountains. I remember it being strange.”

“Strange how?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head, trying to encapsulate the thread of memory you have. Of feeling the tremor of fear in the air, the cold feeling of dread… like something violent was in the village. Something wrong.

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

The talk of wolves makes you think about your wolf. Your lips curve at the memory of how gentle the wolf was, the somber eyes, and the smell of pine and bergamot. 

It would be a lie to say you had not gone out to the woods several times since that night to try and find the beast again. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve always had a feeling he’s there somewhere. Watching. Waiting. 

“Either way,” Hoseok sighs. “Dad seems worried this winter will be like that time. He’s been doing a lot of will and testament papers at the office. He works late every night and is gone early in the morning.” 

“Really?”

“Want to hear what Mr. Hillshire is leaving for his kids?” Hoseok leans forward, conspiratorial. “You won’t believe it.” 

-

The bell over the door rings as someone enters the salon of Dr. Kim’s veterinary practice, drawing your attention. You straighten when you see San walk in.

“Hi, San,” you greet. “Here to pick up Maple?” 

“Yeah, is that alright? Mom is busy at the shop.” 

“Of course.” You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirts and gesture behind you with your thumb. “I’ll go fetch her. Dr. Kim is on an errand but she’s ready to go.” 

The back of the building with the kennels is quiet. The Choi family cat and two other sleeping dogs are the only occupants of the practice, making it an easy day. Maple is dozing in her kennel, chirping in protest when you open the cage and scoop her into a carrier. She’s a lazy thing, a calico with pretty eyes and a newly stitched ear. 

Carefully you carry her up front. San is standing patiently in the lobby, hands behind his back as he looks around nervously. You raise your brows as you come around the counter, handing over the carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look nervous. It’s just me and the Lowells’ hounds back here.” 

“Oh, yes.” His ears blush pink as he accepts the carrier and steps back. “Just a nervous energy in general. I have been since um…”

Oh. You had forgotten that it was San who discovered the Matheson family disemboweled by some kind of animal. The constable had thought that maybe it was a pack of wolves but was concerned by how big the claw marks and destruction were. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

“That you had to see that, I guess? It must have been terrifying.”

“A little,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “I walked the path to the Mathesons all the time. I don’t ever recall seeing something that could… do that.”

“Was it that awful?” 

He nods. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I go on hunting parties. We’ve seen the leftovers from bears and wolves. This was something worse. It felt like…” He shakes his head and looks up at you. “It felt angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. I know that doesn’t make sense. It was probably just a beast coming down from the mountain because it was starving. You know how harsh winters are.” 

You hum in agreement. 

San dismisses himself, thanking you again for helping with the family cat and throwing a wave over his shoulder. You return it half-heartedly, already distracted with thoughts of what the animal attacks could mean.

You think about your wolf and how kind and intelligent it was. You don’t remember ever feeling a sense of impending doom like you do now, a heaviness to the air as you stand idly behind the counter. 

Dr. Kim's return startles you at the counter. You press your hands flat against the top of the desk, leaning up on your tiptoes as you see his son Seokjin enter behind him. Your heart flutters a little at the sight, still overwhelmed by his handsome face. 

Seokjin is tall and broad, with dark hair and a beautiful face. His sharp eyes find you and he gives you a half smile, though there seems to be something on his mind as he follows his father into the backroom, Dr. Kim barely saying hello as he goes, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

The two of them disappear and you watch the door swing shut behind them. Curious, you trail around the counter and softly walk over to the door, pulling it open a smidge.

It’s difficult to pick up on their words, but you can hear Dr. Kim’s timbre speaking in low tones from somewhere in the backroom. You hold your breath and wedge the door open a little more, pressing your ear toward the gap between the frame and the door. 

“... again. They’re going to want to start hunting parties again soon.”

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

“... brought it on themselves… it’s time to make things right.” 

Behind you, the bell rings at the door. You gasp, letting go of the door to the back room and spin around, heart hammering in your chest. Hoseok stands at the door, raising his brows in question. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, suddenly angry that he’s startled you and ruined your sleuthing.

“I promised your mom I would walk home with you at the end of your shift, remember? Dangerous out there.” 

You blink and look out the window, realizing that the heavy gray of evening is setting over the road. You hadn’t realized it was so late. 

Nodding, you grab your cloak in a hurry. You pop your head into the back room, both Seokjin and Dr. Kim looking at you as you do. “I’m leaving for the evening, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you for watching the place while I was gone. Tomorrow we have to make a house call to the Marrow farm. Lame horse.”

Seokjin frowns. “Do you think that is wise?” Dr. Kim looks at his son under heavy brows. “With the current conditions.” 

“We’ll be fine.” Something passes between them, son and father locked in a heated gaze. You stand there awkwardly, glancing between the two.

Seokjin breaks his stare from his father and flashes you a grin. “You have someone to walk you home?”

“Yeah, Hoseok is here.” You hug the cloak tighter to your chest and Seokjin’s eyes drop to it. An unreadable expression passes his face before he nods. “Have a good evening!”

“You too.”

Leaving them behind, you head to where Hoseok waits for you, examining drawings of animal skeletons and anatomy. You pull your cloak on, feeling safe and warm under the red material. Hoseok looks up at you, thrusting his thumb at one of the drawings of a horse. “I don’t look like that, right?” 

-

The red cloak tied around you wicks the sweat from the back of your neck. Your fingers work quickly as you tie it, knowing you’re already late to meeting Dr. Kim. Thankfully, you don’t make a habit of being late and you’re sure he won’t mind too much.

Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Images of wolves, blood and mist. Echoes of howling, screaming and thunder. Now as you hurry out of your home and into the wicked wind of winter, you cannot shake a sense of premonition.

Dr. Kim is already on the doorstep when you arrive at the veterinary office, a heavy coat on his shoulders and a bag of tools in his hand. He nods when he sees you and comes down the steps, turning toward the south exit of the village. 

Neither of you speak. Beyond the fact that you don’t think you’d be able to hear Dr. Kim over the howling wind, it doesn’t feel like the kind of trip that requires speaking. The evergreens on either side of the road loom over you, bows heavy with snow. Every so often, a branch cracks with the weight of frozen icicles, making you flinch with the sound.

It feels like you’re being watched. Every so often, you swivel your head this way and that, glancing at the trees. The trunks are too close together and the branches to tangle to see beyond them on either side of the road. Still, your skin tingles from something beyond the cold, you just don’t know what. 

The Marrow farm is only a little over a mile from the main village, but the snow covered roads make it slow going. As you near the edge of where their acres begin, your boots are already heavy with melted slush and your calves and thighs burn from dragging your feet through the path. 

Perhaps it was not a good day to do a house call. 

Passing white-covered gates, you’re thankful that at least the wind has died down as the morning turns into midday. The sun is hidden by clouds, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. The Marrow farm is made up of three buildings: the small house in front, the large barn to the back left where they keep their animals, and a giant silo for grains. 

As you near the house, a loud banging reaches you. Both you and Dr. Kim pause, listening as the sound carries on the wind. It doesn’t sound like hammering, but rather like a door slamming over and over again. 

“Barn door?” you suggest, looking up at Dr. Kim. His dark eyes look at the house, expression grim. “But why would they let it slam relentlessly?” 

“Keep your wits about you,” he murmurs, ignoring your question. “Go to the main house. I’ll go round to the barn. Perhaps they’ve forgotten the appointment.”

No smoke comes from the chimney. No snow is cleared from the footpath to the door. The shutters are closed, which makes sense to keep the cold out. As you approach the steps leading up to the porch, you note that none of the hounds are baying. The Marrow’s have several bloodhounds, all of which keep noisy providence around the threshold of the door. 

Spine tingling, you lift your hand and knock. There’s no answer. You strain your ears, leaning forward for any hint that the Marrow’s or one of their two sons are coming to the door. Not even the dogs alert them of your presence. 

You think about San finding the Mathesons butchered and your stomach drops. You knock again, knuckles stinging with cold as they rap harshly against the wooden door. Tucking your hand back into your cloak, you wait. 

Nothing comes. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door and twist the handle. It opens easily, swinging inward to a cold, empty home. Inside, the air is still and dead. Behind you, the breeze brushes the edges of your cloak and the hood on your head. 

Silence hangs. Licking your lips, you lift a foot. It hands over the threshold, fear making you pause. There is nothing inside the home, and yet you find that you’re utterly terrified of stepping inside. Your stomach knots and for a few moments, you just stand there with your foot in the air, staring with unseeing eyes into the dark interior. 

You step into the room and pause. Nothing happens. The air inside the home is stale, like the doors and windows have not been opened for a few days. The cold is bone deep, clinging to the undisturbed air. You scan the room for any sign of life, but see nothing that stirs. 

Everything looks lived in. There are knitted blankets tossed across the backs of old arm chairs, boots by the door, unlaced and soft with age. Mugs have been turned upside down and placed on a towel near the basin for drying, and there are dice on the kitchen table. 

Navigating slowly, you move to the hall with bedrooms. Doors hang open, revealing unmade beds and clothes on the floor. Here too, the air feels undisturbed. You hear the breeze outside and the soft creak of the house, but nothing else makes a sound, save for the loud beating of your own heart. 

Shivering, you make your way to the front of the home. Something foul hangs in the air and you want to be rid of the feeling, quickening your steps to leave through the front door and-

Fear stabs deep into your stomach when you see the wolf standing in the doorway. It stands half in the home, half out, only the front two paws over the threshold. The beast barely fits in the door frame, wide as two men standing side by side and tall as a horse. 

You don’t move. It stares at you with bright, burning eyes. Its fur is dark, though there is a jagged ring of light fur around the right, front paw. You swear you smell pine and bergamot. Something nudges at the back of your mind as the two of you stand off - and it clicks into place.

“You,” you breathe. “You’re the wolf I helped!” 

For a moment, the bright yellow eyes stare at you. They’re unreadable, and yet… emotive. Intelligent. Understanding. The wolf dips its snout in a nod. 

“What are you doing here? Where are the Marrows?” 

The wolf’s ears flicker. Slowly, it backs out of the house. Throwing caution to the wind, you rush after him, nearly tripping over a wolfskin rug in the home.

Outside, the wolf stands below the porch. You step on the porch and pull up short, heart racing as you see the pack of wolves standing in front of the home.

The wolves are a variety of colors and sizes. You dare not move your head, but you scan them with your eyes, drinking in the different creatures. The only thing that they have in common is that they are freakishly large. 

Your wolf - for in your mind he’s yours - stands in front of you. He growls, hair on his spine raising as he regards the other wolves. There’s a silent standoff of sorts, the wolf you saved facing the others. You cannot understand their body language, but the air seems charged. 

The smell of smoke is in the air. You don’t dare look for the source, too afraid to do anything to disrupt the standoff. Breathing in deeply, you think you smell cedar. Oil. Something else that you can’t identify. 

Footsteps crunch the snow. You whip your head to the side, a warning on your tongue as Dr. Kim rounds the house, a haunted expression on his face. He stops abruptly, looking at the display in front of him behind frosted glasses. He says nothing - does nothing but glance between you, the wolf in front of you, and the others. 

Finally, one of the other wolves chuffs and shakes, dispelling snow. It has an all white coat and intense, dark eyes that look at you with… annoyance, if wolves can look annoyed. It turns to leave and the others follow - all five of them - as the white wolf leads them at a loping trot toward the silo and the woods beyond.

Your wolf turns to peer at you, ears flicking before it breaks off into a run, trailing after its pack to leave you and Dr. Kim standing in silence, watching them go. 

Slowly, you turn to Dr. Kim. He scrutinizes you, eyes squinted. “Where did you get that cloak?” 

You look down at the rich, red cloth. “I… well it just appeared, one day when I was younger. I don’t know.”

He regards you suspiciously. “I see. Come. We must leave right away.”

Dr. Kim begins walking at a fast pace back toward town, clutching his tool case. “Wait! Where are the Morrows?” 

Instead of answering, Dr. Kim continues on. You scramble after him, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. The wind picks up and you smell a fire again, making you turn back as you try to catch up. You almost stumble over your feet, eyebrows shooting up as you see orange flames consuming the barn. 

“Dr. Kim!”

Again, he says nothing. You stop and stare, watching as the fire eats away at the barn. The smoke burns black. Fueled by oil, you think. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dr. Kim’s retreating back and wonder what exactly it is that he’s done. 

“Did you set that fire?” you demand, chasing him. He gives you a withering look. “What is going on?”

“Speak nothing of this,” he snaps. “We arrived here to make a housecall and discovered that the barn was on fire. We suspect that Mr. Marrow was burning to melt the snow around the barn and that the barn caught. The Marrow family died inside trying to put out the fire.”

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

“Did they kill the Marrows?” His jaw works but he doesn’t answer. “Did they kill the Mathesons?” 

“This village has a complicated history,” he says finally. He pulls his coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to stay out of it. Say nothing of the wolves and stay away from them. You’ll make it through winter.”

-

Two weeks pass, the secret heavy on your tongue. You work with Dr. Kim as though nothing happened, and when people ask about the Marrow farm, you recite vague details. You don’t know why you do it but… the image of the wolf - your wolf - floats in your mind each time you spit out the lie. 

Thoughts plague you as Hoseok lounges on the porch of the office that belongs to Hoseok’s father, who acts as the town’s scribe and legal affairs recorder. A sudden warm day has brought everyone outdoors, lounging on their porches and trying to take advantage of the melting snow around the buildings. The streets are muddy and murky as kids run by, feet splashing. 

A group of men prowl around the outskirts of the village. Sun shines through the slats of the overhang in front of the inn, warming where you lean on the porch railing. Hoseok rattles on about gossip he’s heard from his mother’s tea parties and his father’s work on will and testaments with the growing fear of death in the village. 

“Plagues, serial killings, blood feuds and animal attacks,” Hoseok sighs, staring up at the ceiling where he lies. “Good for father’s business. Bad for my cramping hand trying to help him.” 

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally, thoughts lost as you stare out into the street with unseeing eyes.

Shouts make you flinch. You stand rod straight, gripping the railing as you look for the source of the disruption. Hoseok stands up immediately, joining you at the railing as the pair of you lean to look toward the entrance to the town. 

At first, you think that it’s about another wolf attack. People rush into the street, looking toward the commotion. Then you see it. Gleeful cheers spring up to the buildings closest to the town’s entrance as the first few traders enter the road. Your heart soars when you see donkeys pulling a cart behind them, followed by more people carrying packs and towing small carts. 

“The traders!” You breathe, feeling a sigh of relief sweep through you. “They’ve made it!” 

Excitement ripples through the village. People come flocking from the buildings to welcome cart after cart full of people. Some traders tow full carriages with riders at the front, the shutters on their carriages tied shut, hiding their wares inside. 

Hoseok lounges back down, letting out a sigh of relief. You feel the same, leaning on the railing again to watch as the carts are towed down the road, pulling down different streets to set up shop and find accommodations. 

Most of the traders look vaguely familiar to you - you see the Robin’s with their cloth cart and Morty with his towering carriage of unusual wares and charms. The Yang twins set off small, popping fireworks from the back of their cart, making the children squeal. 

Something catches your eye. “There are more traders than usual,” you tell Hoseok, frowning as your eyes settle on the large men who walk among the carts, all of whom wear weapons belts and look from side to side as they walk. “I think they’re warriors, Hoseok.”

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

“No really, there are several men with blades at the hip and bows on the back. They look… guarded.”

He tilts his head, eyeing where your eyes flit from person to person. “Perhaps the road is as hard as we suspected this year.” 

You hum in agreement, watching as the caravans stop and unload, the muddy streets filling with people and chatter and bubbling with excitement. It feels like the bubble of anxiety looming over the town has popped - at least temporarily - relieving the pressure that had been building with every passing day. 

Leaning against the rail, you’re content to observe. All manner of people and things are pulled from carts. Vendors start setting up right away, people forming lines for ingredients, cloth, and wares. The largest line of all is for weapons and metal tools, Old Man Heo barely has time to park his cart before the men of the village ask how much for iron arrowheads and blades. 

A shiver goes through you as your eyes sweep back toward the town entrance where more people pour in. Fewer caravans come through - now it’s just people with pack mules or bags over their shoulders. 

The hairs on your arm stand up when you see him. Wind lifts the edge of your cloak, making it flutter around you. You watch as he walks down the main street with the other travelers, eyes flicking around as he drinks in the buildings and the crowd of villagers coming to welcome the traders. 

As though he senses your staring, his head snaps to you. You feel frozen to the spot, your fingers tightening on the rail as you meet his eyes. They’re unfathomably dark and yet… a tingle of familiarity slithers up your spine. 

He stares at you in turn. You’re sure he’s looking at you, paused near the cart he stands next to, dark gaze focused on where you stand on the porch. 

You’ve never seen him.  You’re sure of it. You’d remember a handsome face like that anywhere. His long, dark hair is pushed back from his face, revealing a sharp jawline, a strong nose, and intense eyes. His lips are red from the cold - pretty against tan skin.

He’s tall. Taller than most men in the village and broad, with strong shoulders and thick arms, though it’s hard to tell underneath his tunic. Like the other hardy men accompanying traders, he has a weapons belt snug around his waist and the bulk of his frame implies that he knows how to use them. 

The man doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth begins to tilt in what you think might be the start of a smile when Hoseok sits up abruptly, startling you. You break eye contact, looking at Hoseok who bites into an apple, offering you one. 

“You frightened me,” you snap, a little irritated at being distracted. When you glance back up at the man, his attention is elsewhere. 

“What were you staring at anyway?” he asks, crunching bits of apple. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, eyes on the flexing back of the man as he helps unload a wagon near the inn. Something niggles at the back of your mind. I know you. “Nothing at all.” 

“Want to visit the vendors later when they’re all set up? I would love to get some spiced wine and listen to Marla’s stories tonight.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “Let’s do just that.” 

-

Every minute that passes by feels like an eternity. Incurable energy simmers under the surface as you wait for the day to fade to evening. You clean the entire house, you collect wood from outside, you dress and then change into something else, and you ultimately end up pacing back and forth in your room while you wait for Hoseok to arrive. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the mystery man you had seen earlier. His handsome face swims in your memory. The clear image of his face is accompanied by some feeling you cannot identify, something that almost feels like nostalgia. How can you feel nostalgia for someone you don’t know? 

Hoseok finally arrives, letting himself into your house cheerily. The brief respite from winter is already bleeding away, the wind carrying a painful promise as it lifts your hood outside. The traders, it seems, arrived at the perfect time, the cloudy sky promising snow in the morning once more. 

Energy sizzles in the air. It’s as though the momentary fear of the wolf attacks is momentarily forgotten with the arrival of the vendors and travelers. The noise echoes from every street, torches, and fires lighting up the alleyways and down as people hang lamps in the windows and carts string up tea lights. 

Though you’re nervous, you are temporarily distracted as Hoseok pulls you through a tangle of carts toward Sal’s Sweets. Your stomach grumbles when you catch the scent of melting sugar and sweet confections, joining the line at Hoseok’s side to pick up hot, sticky sweets. 

With hot, sweet rolls drizzled in honey in hand, you and Hoseok explore the vendor carts. It is an explosion of color and lights, glittering jewelry hanging from displays, hot meats sizzling in pants over fires, the flash of powder and light as the Yang twins set off more fireworks, and the smell of spices as you pass by herb carts and tents. 

Everywhere you go, you see the men from before, looming near carts with weapons and steely expressions. But not even the eerie sight of them can bring down the spirits of the villagers, kids running with new kites and jars full of fireflies. 

As you stand in line with Hoseok who wants new inkwells, you listen to passing chatter. From what you gather, it was a hard trip this way on the caravans this year. The winter was just as harsh on the road as it was in the village, and the traders' voices become quiet when they talk about thieves and monsters in the woods.

You exchange a glance with Hoseok and he nods. Wolves. 

Wordlessly, you wait as Hoseok points out the inks that he wants. You begin to crane your neck, looking for the familiar stranger that you had seen before. The square is crowded and packed tight with people, making it nearly impossible to make out much beyond a few feet in front of you.

You spot Dr. Kim walking next to Seokjin, both of their heads bowed as they speak to one another. You narrow your eyes, remembering the way Dr. Kim had silenced you at the Marrow farm. You watch them as they head toward the road that the veterinary practice is on, pausing as a man pushes off the wall to join them.

It’s him you realize. You recognize the broad shoulders and the dark hair as he turns his back to you, walking with the Kims down the road. You don’t even have to think twice.

“Hey,” you tug Hoseok’s sleeve. “I’m going to go see Dr. Kim about something really quick. I’ll meet you at the inn?”

“Sure.” He frowns. “Is it safe to go alone?”

“With all of these people?” You’re already backing away and shrugging. “Definitely.” 

Without waiting for Hoseok to respond, you turn on your heel and rush into the crowd. The bodies of people immediately swallow you. The sound and sights and smells become a blur as you push through the crowd, shouldering people aside. You get some nasty looks from the force at which you move, but they immediately forget you as more people press in.

Less people pass you by as you walk up the street, pulling your cloak in tight. The lights in front of the building are off. You creep up the stairs and try the handle, finding it locked. It doesn’t matter, you sneak around the back of the building to the rear entrance and press your ear to the door. When you hear nothing, you try the handle and it twists.

Victorious, you open the door and slide through. The hallway is narrow with four doors on the right leading to examination rooms and two doors on the left. The first door leads to the kennel area where you hear voices. The second leads to the front lobby and desk.

The front lobby is the safest option, lest you get caught eavesdropping in the hallway when they leave. Carefully, you creep by the door, holding your breath and praying the floor doesn’t creak. Your heart pounds as you inch past the door, hearing deep voices on the other side as you go by. 

Clearing the door, you hurry into the lobby and to the door behind the desk that leads to the kennels. Crouching down low to hide yourself from anyone walking by the windows, you carefully pull the door open, unwilling to open it any further than the width of your index finger. Pressing your ear to the open gap, you listen.

“We talked about discretion,” Dr. Kim says, his voice frustrated. “This isn’t discretion. This is harassment and fear-mongering.”

“I told you,” a deep, smooth voice answers. You assume it must belong to the stranger and you shiver, eyes fluttering as the sound of it washes over you. “It isn’t my decision to make. I do not lead. Yoongi made it very clear how he wishes to proceed.” 

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

You frown. Alpha? You’re familiar with the concept of alphas in packs of dogs and herding animals, but you don’t know what that has to do with people or who Yoongi is. 

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

You think Dr. Kim means the hunting for the wolves. It makes sense now that the traders are in town and they can stock up on weapons. 

“As is the way of things,” the stranger answers with a sigh. “You know why Yoongi has chosen this path.”

“Is revenge worth it?”

“Perhaps your kind do not understand.” The stranger’s voice hardens. You wonder what he means by your kind. “You have one foot in the forest, one in the village.” 

“We understand, but we’re also not reckless.” Charged quiet hangs in the air. You hold your breath, your heart thundering in your chest, waiting for the sound of footsteps at the end of a conversation. “Why are you here, Namjoon? You came alone.”

Namjoon. The name washes over you, a warm feeling like the first spray of summer rain. It must be the stranger's name. 

Namjoon answers, “There is… a protected here. But I still fear for them. Yoongi and the others are angry - I wish to further keep them from harm.”

A frown twists your mouth. This Namjoon is here to protect someone from Yoongi. You wonder what this has to do with Dr. Kim. Could… Perhaps someone is using the wolves as tools? You’ve certainly seen a hunter train wolves or wolfhounds before, though it’s a dangerous business. 

Dr. Kim sighs. “That is the only saving grace of you being here, I’m afraid. Seokjin and I cannot help you. Not without exposing ourselves. I’ve already done what I can.”

“You have my greatest thanks for that. You and yours will always be safe. And not just because of your blood.”

Shuffling makes you lean away from the door immediately. You slowly drop it back in place before crawling over to the desk and hiding under it, straining your hearing as the footsteps go into the back hall and out of the back door. You remain there long after you hear the back door shut, waiting just in case they’re still outside.

When you’re sure they’ve gone, you crawl out from underneath the desk and hurry into the hall and out the back door. The alley is empty when you stick your head out, sagging with relief. You hurry out and close the door behind you, spinning around and-

“You know, most people who don’t want to be seen don’t sneak around in a red cloak.”

The man - Namjoon - looms over you, looking down at you with an amused expression. Your scream is cut off when he winces and cups your mouth with his hand. “Well don’t scream! You’ll summon Giho and Seokjin back this way. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Namjoon waits for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod, signifying that you won’t scream for help. Maybe it’s silly, but you trust him not to hurt you. At the least, he is there to protect someone in the village, so he doesn’t seem like he’s there for nefarious reasons.

When he drops his hands, you press yourself against the door, trying to put a little distance between you. Namjoon’s presence is demanding, a tickle prickling at the base of your spine as you look up at him, mystified. 

He’s so beautiful. Up close, you can make out his features far better than earlier that day. His eyes are dark and framed by beautiful, silken lashes. His nose is broad and his jaw is sharp. A dimple appears when he gives you a lopsided grin, dark eyes sizing you up.

The same sense of familiarity from earlier comes back to you, and though you’ve never seen his face before, you swear you know him. Warmth radiates from him, the delicate smell of pine and bergamot reaching you. He feels like… yours. Like some part of him completes you. It is the strangest feeling. 

“You okay, Red?” he asks, tone earnest. You furrow your brows at the term and he grins - genuine and warm. “Your cloak. It’s a very bright red. Pretty, though.”

“Thank you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

Namjoon takes a few steps back from you. You suddenly regret saying something as his warmth vanishes, replaced by the cool wind. “Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Why didn’t you alert Dr. Kim if you knew I was snooping.”

“You don’t seem to be a threat. Plus, he’s a bit of a grouch. It didn’t seem worth it to hear him chastise a pretty girl.”

You flush. “How do you know the Kims?”

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Just because I’m not chastising you for listening to our private conversation doesn’t mean I’m going to divulge the details of said private conversation.”

You divert your gaze, feeling flushed. He has a point, but if he’s put out by your line of questioning or your eavesdropping, he doesn’t show it. “Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s go back to the square. I need a drink and it’s dangerous to walk around right now.”

“Because of the wolves?”

He stares at you. “Because it’s dark and there are a bunch of strangers in your town, and you’re a woman alone. In the dark.”

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

His grin spreads and his dimple deepens. Your stomach flutters. You’re not unaffected by him, a little dizzy and nervous when he sticks out a hand. “Namjoon. I’m a part of the Kim family.”

“Like… Dr. Kim?” you ask, reaching out your hand and giving him your name.

“We’re related, in a way. Pretty name. I think I’ll stick with Red, though.”

Namjoon takes off walking. For a second, you just stand and stare at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back. You lick your lips, heart pounding. You cannot shake the sense of something peculiar about him, something familiar. He’s a Kim - perhaps you know him.

Determined to find out, you take off after him, scurrying to catch up. You fall into step with him and look up to find him smirking down at you before focusing back on the growing noise and lights of the main square. 

“Have you been here before?” you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. He shakes his head and you frown. “I feel like I know you.”

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

Namjoon turns to you, arching a brow. “A face like mine, huh?” 

Multiple fire pits dot the streets, groups of people clustered around them to keep warm as the chill seeps back into the village. The inn is bustling with people, the door propped open with a chair as people walk in and out with platters of food and tankards in hand. Multiple villagers have pulled out tables and chairs from their homes, setting them up in the street. 

It feels good. The air hums with euphoria and the promise of better days ahead, like suddenly there are not several families mourning their loved ones. The atmosphere reminds you of a festival, and you suppose it kind of is a festival. 

The smell of burning fat and ale hits your nose as you walk into the inn. Voices roar over one another and the workers are busy behind the bar. A fireplace crackles in the far corner where you spot Hoseok guarding an extra chair. 

“I fear this is where we part ways,” Namjoon announces over the din of voices. “Try not to do any more eavesdropping tonight.” You hesitate, wanting to protest. There are a million burning questions you have for him. He must see it in your face, because he smiles and says, “We’ll run into one another again. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

You were actually, and you know he knows by his smirk. “Goodnight, Red.”

You watch Namjoon go. He moves toward where the innkeeper stands at a podium looking over reservations, blending into the crowd. Just before he reaches the podium he glances over his shoulder at you, catching you watching. He shoots you a grin and you scowl, pivoting on your heel to charge toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok raises his eyebrows when he sees you storm over to him and yank the chair out from the table, sitting down in a huff. Without a word, you snatch his tankard of ale and take several, cold gulps before setting it on the table, letting it wash through you. 

“Who was that you came in with? And then stormed over here after speaking to?”

“Some relative of the Kims,” you mutter. “I find him very… frustrating.”

“He’s very handsome.”

You glare at Hoseok and see the beginning of a wicked smile. “And frustrating.” 

He lifts his cup, shrugging. “Cheers to being frustrating.”

-

A scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You lurch up from bed, head spinning as you try to gather your wits about you. Blankets tangle your limbs as you try to peel them from sweaty skin. Another scream makes you stumble out of bed, the world tilting on its axis as your body tries to catch up with your sudden lucidity. 

In the main room of your home, your mother is stumbling through the kitchen too, lighting a candle and grabbing a holder. You feel relief as you realize the screaming isn’t coming from your home, but your neighbor’s.

Together, you and your mother rush out into the cold in nightgowns, not bothering with shoes or coats. The cold is bitter, immediately stinging your skin as the Liang family joins you in running to the Hutch family home where it sounds like Mrs. Hutch is screaming like a wild animal in her house. 

“It’s Leanne,” your mother breathes, words turning to steam in the air. 

“Come on,” you urge, pulling your mother as you go, driven by the shrieks.

The front door hangs open as Mr. Liang enters the home first, an ax in hand. It occurs to you that neither you nor your mother have weapons, but Mrs. Hutch has always been kind to your mother, making the both of you charge into the darkness of her home empty-handed.

A metallic tang hits you immediately. You recoil, recognizing the stench of blood immediately. Villagers spill into the home behind you, alerted to the wailing coming from the bedroom. With torches and candles in hand, you spot the red on the dark wood floor in the hallway. 

Mr. Liang stands in the doorway of the bedroom, staring with a haunted gaze at what he sees there. Your mother pushes through the people in the home to look over his shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasps. 

“Oh Leanne,” she murmurs in horror, shoving by Mr. Liang.

You don’t go to the room. The smell and the weeping coming from the bedroom give you an inkling of what lay inside. You stand in the living room as people fill the hall, gasping and murmuring. Someone shouts to wake the constable. 

“Why?” Mrs. Hutch screams in her room, the despair in her voice rattling your bones. “Why?”

“His throat has been cut,” someone murmurs from the hall. “Murdered in bed.” 

Murdered? That throws you for a loop. You had assumed somehow it was an animal attack but… you shiver. Murder is different. 

Mr. Liang begins shooing people out of the house. You slink out into the cold and hurry to your own home, bare feet freezing in the cold, wet earth. Your mother stays with Mrs. Hutch, leaving you alone.

The dark presses in on you, every creak of a floorboard making you jump. The shadows seem menacing now and you’re quick to find and light a candle, orange light flooding the home. 

Cloth and candle in hand, you return to your room to wipe the cold mud from your feet, skin still burning from the frigid air. Voices carry in from outside, the entire town waking and gathering as the shock of murder ripples through the streets, a stone in a pond.

With sleep nowhere near possible for the remainder of the night, you get dressed. You pull on thick woolen pants, a tunic, and multiple socks, sticking your feet in your boots. Your cloak goes next, fastening it around your throat as you look out your bedroom window. 

Your home sits at an angle in a row of houses that circle the village like a ring. You can see the wall of the home next to you, and a sliver of the backyard as well. It’s that tiny space in the backyard that catches your eye, watching as someone moves from the edge of the home out of sight. 

Heart in your throat, you grab a candle and run outside. The crowd in front of the Hutch’s has grown, but you ignore them, skirting around your house to the alleyway between you and your neighbor. Nothing catches your eye as you run to the backyard, swiveling as you search in the darkness for the shadow you saw. 

The wind howls, drowning out the voices in the street. The treeline behind the houses is dark. You squint your eyes and lift the candle in your hand, the flame barely flickering as the wind makes the trees sway. There is nothing in the darkness and you begin to turn when you see a shadow in the tree line. 

It’s barely there - perhaps a trick of the light, even. You take a step forward, boots crunching in the snow. A gust of wind makes your cloak snap at your ankles, candle going out and leaving you without a source of light. You had not realized how dark it was without it, the shadow vanishing from your line of sight. 

Fear nestles in the pit of your stomach. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as your limbs lock, realizing how stupid it was to come outside if there was a killer among the trees. Soft snow crunches somewhere close to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your chin to your chest as panic makes you shut down, unable to move and-

“Red.”

Namjoon’s voice makes you spin around. He holds a torch level with his head, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. For a moment, he looks lupine and terrifying, your heart nearly stuttering to a halt. 

Then his face twists in concern. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Kim sent me over to check on you. No one answered the door so I came around back.”

“Why?”

Namjoon seems confused. “Why did I come around back or why did he send me?”

“Both.”

“I could see the light of your candle and because a murder has just happened.”

You relax a little at the logic in his answer. Snow begins to fall from the sky. You look up at the moonless black,  thick clouds floating as the bits of snow drift on the breeze. You shiver and look back to the trees, seeing nothing but tightly packed pines. Still, there is an instinctual sense of trepidation that sits heavy in your gut.

“Come on,” Namjoon says gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes home.” 

Reluctantly, you follow Namjoon. Eyeing him, you realize he is dressed differently than previously that night. Now, he’s in black breeches and a black linen shirt. The weapons belt is gone and he’s without a coat. 

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

It’s the only answer that he gives you as you walk back into the street which is filled with people and torches. In the distance, you hear the baying of hounds. It chills you, goosebumps exploding up and down your arms as you watch a cluster of firelights gather far off down the road. 

“The constable is leading a manhunt. They’ll come to question us too.” 

Wordlessly you gesture for Namjoon to join you inside of your home. He closes the door firmly behind you and strides to the fireplace, using the torch to coax the simmering logs to a full flame. Cedar pops as he adds the torch to the fire, orange embers drifting up the chimney. 

Rubbing your hands together, you offer him tea and he accepts with a soft smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks around the only place you’ve ever called home. Suddenly shy of your less-than-luxurious surroundings, you clear your throat and gesture to one of the mismatched armchairs by the fire as you grab a kettle.

Namjoon hardly fits in the chair. You press your lips to keep from laughing, which feels inappropriate with a man dead just a few yards away. With careful hands, you hang the kettle next to the fire, the flame close enough to heat the water as you scurry back to the kitchen and fill tea bags with herbs. 

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

“I do.” You grab the jar, popping the top. “Are you in great pain, Mr. Kim?”

“Call me Namjoon. Mr. Kim feels far too formal.”

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

Namjoon certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger. You cast him a sidelong glance as you say it, looking for his reaction. He turns his head from the fire, meeting your gaze head-on. His lips curve in a secret smile, making your nerves dance.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Is it? You wonder. You’re not so sure. 

Instead of asking him, you bring the mugs with bags of tea over to where he sits, handing him one. Steam rises from the spout of the teapot. With a thick towel, you lift it off of the hanger. Namjoon holds out his cup and lets you pour carefully into his mug, the smell of yarrow and mint wafting toward you. After pouring your own cup, you set the kettle down and sit across from him.

Your cold hands leech the warmth from the mug. You settle comfortably in the chair, relaxing and inhaling the chamomile in your cup. After a few moments of silence, you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with Namjoon, though you’ve only known him for a few short hours. 

“Why have you come to the village?” 

Namjoon watches the fire as he answers, “You were eavesdropping at the veterinary office. I’m sure you heard me.” You look down at your steaming cup and Namjoon chuckles, raspy and deep. It’s a nice sound.

“You said there was a ‘protected’ here. And something about a Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s face darkens at the mention of Yoongi. You chew on your lip, worried you’ve pushed him too far before you’ve even started to ask him real questions. His jaw works as he contemplates what you’ve said, sipping the tea a little. 

“A protected just means someone under protection by my family,” Namjoon says finally. “My extended family is… large. We are a very close group and we consider those in our community blood.”

“It is… not always like that here.”

“Your mother assists Mrs. Hutch, though. That seems like family, in a way.”

“Mrs. Hutch is kind. Not everyone is.” 

Namjoon nods. “It is not like that where I am from. We bear the sins of our neighbors and we share the responsibility of keeping everyone safe.”

“That must be nice.” You sip your tea and scald your tongue, hissing and setting the cup down. Namjoon leans forward as though to help you, alarm on his face. “Tea is too hot. I don’t know how you drink it.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

“So you said. How are you related to Dr. Kim?” 

“He’s my uncle. He’s my father’s brother. His wife was best friends with my mom.” 

“Oh.” You blink in surprise. “She passed away when I was very young. She… died the same winter as my father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Namjoon frowns and cocks his head. “What did your father do?” 

“He was a hunter.”

One of the logs pops in the fireplace, making you flinch. You give a nervous laugh and glance at Namjoon, who has gone stone-still. The firelight dances on his face as he peers at you. Your smile falters a little at the gravity you find there. 

“He only hunted fowl and deer,” you find yourself explaining. You don’t know why you say it, only that suddenly that feels important. “He didn’t like to hunt bigger game or predators. Mother says that he believed they were best left alone and that a true hunter knows his betters when he sees them.”

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

“I don’t know. He died in an animal attack when I was very young.” 

“You must resent the woods.”

“Not at all. I think…” You bite your bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that he wouldn’t blame the animals. The woods are their home. My mother says he was always very adamant about that. They don’t usually attack villagers, though.”

“Usually?”

“There are animal attacks happening. I’m sure Dr. Kim told you…?”

“Ah, yes. You think they’re without reason?”

“Perhaps hunger? I don’t know. It does not happen often.” 

“Wolves are not known to hunt people.” Namjoon’s fingers drum against his mug, a steady tap. He seems thoughtful as he regards you. “They’re intelligent creatures and their packs are important to them. They take the threat to their land and their family seriously.” 

“Like your family?”

He laughs. “Like my family.” Namjoon sips his tea again. “This land used to belong to several packs of wolves, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes, until settlers drove them out. Not that long ago there were hunting parties for sport. They slaughtered entire packs, destroying bloodlines and nearly wiping out the wolves here entirely.”

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re incredibly important to the ecosystem here. And I guess I always agreed with my dad. I don’t remember him much, but I like to remember that he was good at heart.”

Namjoon hums but says nothing else. You sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Namjoon’s presence is steady, keeping out the cold and the fear just beyond the door. You wonder how he does that by just sitting in a chair, or how it feels so natural. 

Outside, the world begins to turn gray. You yawn as exhaustion begins to set in and you feel yourself sagging. Eyes burning, you rub them with the back of your hands, blinking a few times to fight the explosion of colors in your vision. 

“You can sleep,” Namjoon says softly from where he sits. You glance at him. “You can trust me.”

A hint of pine and bergamot drift toward you, making you drowsy. Namjoon grabs a blanket from the back of his chair and stands up, bringing it to you. He takes your mug and you watch him with sleepy, round eyes as he places the blanket over you.

“Sleep.” His voice is soft, distant. “I will be here.”

Your eyes flutter shut and you drift to sleep, remembering the warm sound of his voice. It… reminds you of your wolf.

-

Gentle voices pull you from the clutches of sleep. You wake slowly, a cramp in your neck making you reluctant to get up. You smell the fire and the hint of pine and bergamot. You hear a low, raspy voice that you instantly recognize as Namjoon. 

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

“You must wake her,” a male voice says. You recognize it as Dr. Kim. “The constable is coming for questioning.”

“She’s already awake,” Namjoon answers, a smile in his voice. Your eyes snap open at being caught, meeting his dark gaze as he smirks from near your door. “See?”

You scowl at him. How did he know that? Sitting up and stretching, you appraise the two men lurking near your door. “Is my mother still with Mrs. Hutch?”

Dr. Kim nods and steps swiftly into the room around Namjoon. Namjoon reaches out a hand, catching Dr. Kim with his arm and stopping him from entering the room properly. You watch in puzzlement as there’s a silent exchange between the two of them, Namjoon’s face dark as Dr. Kim raises a brow. 

Then, Namjoon lets him go. You cock your head to the side, wondering what that’s about. Ignoring Namjoon, Dr. Kim approaches and says, “The constable will be here shortly. Say nothing about the farm.”

The farm. The memory of the wolves brings a chill to your arm, the smell of smoke and burning oil. The confusion and Dr. Kim’s refusal to answer your questions. 

“What is going on?” you demand, eyes flickering from Dr. Kim to Namjoon. “Animal attacks, murders, you covering up something at the barn. I’m being lied to.” 

“Say nothing about the farm,” Dr. Kim says again, voice firm. Namjoon makes a noise that startles you. It’s almost like a growl, your eyes going wide as he glares at Dr. Kim. “I told you this village has a complicated history. I’m looking after your safety.” 

Heavy footsteps sound on the porch. There’s a loud knock on the door, the constable announcing his presence on the other side. Namjoon opens the door for him, standing back to let him in. The constable looks him up and down with confusion before looking at you, a question in his eyes.

“They came to check on me,” you offer. The constable has known you since you were a child, it’s no wonder he’s confused at the presence of a stranger in your home. “How can I help you, constable?”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions about last night. Mr. Liang confirmed you were one of the first people to Hutch’s last night.”

Dr. Kim walks to your kitchen and busies himself making tea. Namjoon moves to sit in the chair across from you, his warm presence from the night before replaced with something mildly threatening. You cut him a look but his dark eyes are focused on the constable as though he’s a threat. 

The questions are easy enough. When did you wake up? Did you notice anyone around your home when you came home? Did you notice anyone outside? When did you come home? 

You leave out running into Namjoon behind your home. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to not draw attention to him. You also leave out the strange incident at the farm, glancing sideways at Dr. Kim when he brings you lemon tea. 

When the constable is finished, he eyes Dr. Kim. “Be at the station at four,” he instructs. “We’re splitting hunting parties. One to look for the culprit, the other to get rid of the damn wolves.” 

“The wolves were there first, you know?” Namjoon speaks up, looking at you and not the constable. “Have you ever tried figuring out what they want?”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Please ignore my nephew, constable. He likes to insert himself in conversations he doesn’t belong in. Come, let’s look over the hounds before you send them out tonight.”

Together, the constable and Dr. Kim shuffle out. Before he shuts the door, Dr. Kim levels the pair of you with a heavy gaze. You don’t know what that gaze means, but you know that something is going on in this village and that he and Namjoon seem to have some idea about it.

As soon as the door shuts, you turn to Namjoon and demand, “What is going on?”

He sighs. “Would you listen if I just said to wait it out?”

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

Namjoon hesitates and shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, unbelieving. “I really don’t know who did, Red.”

“Why are you really here? Why all the secrets?” 

“I told you, my family protects those who belong to their community.”

“What did you mean about asking what the wolves want?” 

“I told you last night. There were wolves long before this village existed. Seems to me that if the wolves are suddenly killing the townspeople, perhaps it’s because they want their land back. Or maybe they’re angry from years of being hunted.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with that, exactly. But… “Are you saying that the wolves are capable of revenge?”

Namjoon stands and gestures to your cloak. “How often do you wear that?”

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

His eyes lighten and he offers a half smile. “Good. Red is a lucky color.”

“Where are you going?”

He opens the door, cold wind hissing past the opening. “Your mom is coming. I’ll see you later, Red.”

Without another word, Namjoon slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind him. You stare after him, openmouthed and confused. As promised, you hear your mother come up the steps, light feet scuffing before she quickly lets herself in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

You offer to make your mother breakfast, happy to help as she dozes in the chair. It isn’t until later that you wonder how Namjoon had heard her coming at all.

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

A sense of unease slithers up your spine as you pull your cloak closer. The voice of the children playing the Little Lucy Game echoes down the street and you pause to watch as the little boy playing Lucy steals the rock from the middle of the circle and the little boy playing the wolf gets up to chase him. 

The other kids scream and giggle as the boys give chase, the sound of their laughter eerie in the cold gray of twilight. Shaking it off, you turn and duck your head as you walk up the steps to the Tall Tales Inn. 

Warmth and the scent of food greet you. It’s a thinner crowd than the day before but still more people than you’re used to without the traders in town. There is a clear divide in the dining room with traders on one side and townsfolk on the other, the murder quick to make the locals distrust the new people in their streets.

Tense conversations hum in the gold light. You navigate around tables until you find Hoseok sitting with Seokjin. The sight of Seokjin gives you pause. He seems to sense your presence, glancing up and meeting your questioning stare. He gives no reaction, though, turning his attention back to Hoseok who is murmuring quietly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jin,” you say by way of greeting. Hoseok gives you a look at your clipped tone. You ignore it, sitting down and leveling the older man with a stare, his father’s mysteriousness weighing on you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He narrows his eyes a fraction. “Just enjoying the company of friends.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

Grinding your teeth, you sit roughly. Hoseok just watches you, brows raised. You say nothing as you order a drink and a meal, picking at the splinters of the tabletop, eyeing Seokjin. If he’s put out by your rudeness he doesn’t show it, drinking heartily from his tankard and watching you with dark, even eyes. 

You know Seokjin knows whatever it is his father and Namjoon have been talking about. You yourself have not been able to work out what’s going on in the village, but you’re sure the Kims know. And if Dr. Kim asked you to lie to the constable… well perhaps Seokjin is leading him astray as well.

Hoseok pipes up, steering the conversation everywhere he can to avoid the tension building between you and Seokjin and the topics of murders. You participate as little as possible, mind trying to put together the puzzle pieces of the blooming mystery in your home. 

An uncomfortable thought starts to take root in your mind. Is it possible that the Kim family is behind the murders? Dr. Kim has plenty of weapons at his disposal, and they had been talking about revenge, and Dr. Kim had covered up what happened at the Marrow’s farm… but what did that have to do with wolves?

You’re not sure. But you do know that the Kims are purposefully hiding things, that there is a murderer somewhere in the town or near it, and that there is a sense of doom that you cannot shake, a dark itch like stinging nettle in your bones. 

Seokjin excuses himself to take an afternoon nap before his hunting party heads out for the evening. Your eyes track him as he goes. Seokjin certainly doesn’t seem evil, but there’s no telling what’s behind his pretty face. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, leaning over the table and whispering harshly. “You’re behaving rather odd.”

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

You turn and glare at him. “No, Hobi. Something is going on with the Kim family. I don’t know how to explain it.” You grip your cup tighter. “But I intend to figure it out.” 

Hoseok questions you about what that means. You keep your answers vague, not wanting to rope him into your plan. Too often as children did you lure Hoseok into trouble, and with how dangerous night is becoming in your town, you know it’s a bad idea to endanger him too.

T sun sets over the village. You stand at your bedroom window, watching through the frosty window as the sun turns the sky into a smear of blood. The clouds have cleared away just for this sanguine sunset. It makes your stomach turn, a sense of foreboding heavy in the air.

Still, it doesn’t deter you. Red fades to gray-blue and gray-blue fades to black. Wind rattles the glass in the window pane. Turning from the window, you find your thickest pair of pants and fur-lined tunic. The fabric feels scratchy on your skin.

Dressed, you look at your red cloak folded on the bed. Any other night you would take it with you. It has become your safety net, something that keeps you warm and keeps you safe. You cannot recall a day you haven’t worn it since it mysteriously showed up thirteen years ago, but tonight, you need obscurity.

Instead, you reach for an old, thick cloak that used to belong to your father. It's dark brown and worn at the edges, a little too big for you as the hem brushes the ground. It will serve its purpose in keeping you hidden in the dark of the woods, though. 

All you grab is a hunting knife that you don’t know how to use, a wax candle, and a solid piece of flint and sharp rock to light it with. The candle and flint are for emergencies only. You hope it won’t be so dark that you cannot see, but you’re unsure what the clouds are going to do.

Outside, the wind is sharp. Your nostrils burn as you breathe it in and duck away behind your house. No new snow has fallen during the day, which is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about dragging your boots and tiring your calves. It also helps that the sky is clear tonight, the moon a sliver of sharp light. 

Baying hounds echo through the village and the forest as the hunting dogs lead the men into the woods. You’re quick on your feet, dashing into the woods and heading north. You don’t want to run right into the hunting party, but you do want to find their burning torches and keep them in your line of sight.

They are easy to find, hovering like orange fireflies in the distance. Careful to make your way in the dark, you follow them. Your breath mists in front of you, hands shaking more from the adrenaline than the cold. 

The torches spread out. You chew on your lip, unsure which group would belong to Seokjin. You take a gamble, heading after the group closest to you. 

Everything feels too loud. Each snap of a branch under your foot and crunch of dry leaves feels like it’s going to give you away. Still, you’re good at sneaking for the most part, having spent plenty of time skulking through the village to take nightly strolls in the woods.

Voices carry to you. Through a system of running a few steps forward and dodging behind a tree, you manage to follow the men at a distance. You think that you hear the constable’s voice, which is a good sign. If he’s around, perhaps Seokjin is too.

The deeper you go into the forest, the colder it gets. The ground beneath your feet slopes. The evergreens are packed tighter here, needles tickling your hands as you keep your hands held out from your sides as you slide downward.

This is near where I saved that wolf, you think. 

It’s true. You recognize the slope of the land and the general area. You cannot tell if it’s exactly where you met the wolf, but it’s close enough that your senses tingle and your eyes sweep the land, expecting something to happen.

A sense of foreboding trails you as the men move deeper into the wood. You turn around and look for the other torches and see nothing but a dark, compact forest. Your stomach flips uncomfortably but you continue, unsure now if it’s safer to turn back or to keep going. 

Ahead, the group of men decide to take a break. The hounds sniff the area around them, pulling at the leashes as they go. Crouching low, you watch as the hounds go in circles, following the scent of something that seems to confuse them. 

The men take long droughts of water, making you wish you’d thought of that. Mouth dry and hands cold, you huddle against a tree, bark digging into your back. 

A few minutes pace by. You close your eyes, resting your head against the tree, breathing cold air in deeply. You don’t know what you expect the group to lead you to, only that you-

Something snaps behind you. Your eyes fly open and your limbs lock. Heart beating like a steady drum, you hold your breath and strain your eyes. For a moment, there’s nothing but the dim voices of the men taking a break. You think it’s nothing until you hear something again, a gentle susurration of leaves. 

One of the hounds lifts its head, ears twitching. Your eyes scan the surrounding area back and forth, searching for what you know is there. 

It happens so fast that you don’t even see the wolves enter the ring of torchlight until they’re there, snarls rattling the trees. You clamp your hands over your mouth to mute your gasp as the sounds of screams and tearing flesh explode in the night. Hounds screech, their growls savage and choked as the wolves descend. 

You don’t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

Time moves slowly. Or quickly. You cannot tell which. One moment the sounds of a nightmare turned real are just a few hundred yards away. The next, an eerie silence blankets the dark forest. 

You don’t want to open your eyes, but you have to. Very slowly, you crack an eye open. At first, there’s nothing. Your vision swims with flashing colors, your eyes trying to adjust. Then, there is the vague outline of trees. Ahead of you, where the men had been, lay shadowed piles. 

Shaking, you glance around. You see nothing - hear nothing. You stand slowly. Each inch you gain feels like you’re being too loud. Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. The cool air makes it feel like an icy finger brushing down your nape. 

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else around, you take a step toward where the attack happened. Leaves crunch beneath your feet. You stop breathing, waiting for signs of anything. Nothing happens and you let out a trembling breath, taking one more step. Again, you wait to see if your footfalls will trigger something. 

You repeat this to the edge of the slaughter - for that’s what it is. A slaughter. Bile rises in your throat as you reach the first body and stamped-out torch. The constable and his hound lay in tatters, only recognizable by the batch on his cloak. 

It is carnage. You don’t dare breathe through your nose for fear of breathing in the scent of death, circling the scene with weak knees, hand pressed to your mouth to keep in the whimpers. You see the faces of men you’ve known since you were a child. Ripped, bloodied, gored. 

Finally, you lean over and empty the contents of your stomach. It burns on the way up, choking you. Pressing a hand against a tree, you breathe raggedly. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you twitchy and unstable, each nerve feeling like it’s on fire. 

Leaves crunch a few feet away. Your head snaps in and you zero in on the source of the noise, mouth hanging open when you see Seokjin standing amongst the trees. He stares at you, frown on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle. You realize he can’t see your face under the cowl of your hood and you’re not in your traditional red. He sighs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hear shuffling behind him before you see a white wolf. The white wolf from the Marrow farm. There are others, then. You don’t know how you missed them, the darkness of their fur blending in with the darkness around them.

The white one is spotted in red, muzzle matted, teeth slicked. Your stomach lurches. It isn’t hard to guess where it’s from. You take a step back and the wolf growls, lips pulled back. You freeze, looking amongst the pack of wolves that fan out around Seokjin, desperately looking for your wolf with the kind, intelligent eyes. 

You do not find him there. 

With a growl, the white wolf steps forward. Your instincts kick in and you turn and run, letting out a wild shriek as you do so. If Seokjin recognizes your voice when you scream, you cannot tell. The wolves are after you and you’re barreling through the trees with no hope of outrunning them, especially uphill.

A wolf nips at your ankle and you scream, tripping over your feet in your terror and going down hard. You’re jarred as you hit the ground, bones rattling as pain shoots up your limbs from the impact. Before you can scramble, there are teeth around your ankle, not biting down hard enough to snap, but hard enough to drag.

Your scream is wretched even to your ears. It is a curdling, nightmarish sound. You feel the scrape of leaves and sticks against your skin, cloak picking up dirt and twigs as you go. Your nails dig into the ground but the soil is frozen solid, fingers scraping bluntly against it. 

With a surge of self-preservation, you kick your free leg backward as hard as you can. You hit the wolf in the muzzle, making it cry, and let go of your foot. You manage to crawl to your knees, slipping in the foliage as you try to stand before it’s tearing at your cloak, determined to drag you one way or another. 

Sliding again as it drags you by the cloak, you try to undo the ties at your throat with shaking fingers. It comes away and frees you from the hellish drag to your death. This time, you’re faster to your feet, turning and running in the opposite direction. You don’t know where you’re going, just that you want to get away. 

Your foot slides on the incline and with a shout you go down. This time, your head hits the ground hard. Your ears ring and your vision pulses. Blinking, you roll over and stare up at the canopy of dark trees. The world spins dangerously and you feel nausea churn deep in your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you hear the deep voice but it sounds warbled like you’re hearing it through water. Your head lolls to the side, the ringing in your ears still going as you see feet pass you. “Enough!”

Your field of vision narrows to a sharp point, edges pulling with black. You realize you’re about to pass out, oddly just thankful that you’re already on the ground. Just as your world begins to face, the face of the person in front of you appears.

Namjoon. 

-

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls to you. There are soft hands on your head, brushing against your forehead. It smells like pine and bergamot as you snuggle into them. “I hate to wake you, but you need to wake up every few hours.”

The memory of the wolves comes to you. Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times before your vision adjusts to see Namjoon leaning over you. Cringing away from him, you press yourself into a warm, soft mattress that isn’t your own.

“Easy,” he cautions, holding his hands up. “You smacked your head very hard. I think you have a concussion.” 

“Where am I?” 

The room isn’t so much a room as it is a shack. There is a single fireplace in the far corner, a pile of logs, and the bed that you’re in. Despite the tiny space, it looks well-built and it’s warm, your heart slowing down as Namjoon leans to sit further from you and give you your space.

“Random shack in the woods near your village. I think it used to be a hunter’s stead for the winter.” He jerks his thumb toward the fireplace. “Hasn’t been used in a while. The wood has rotted.” 

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

Emotions spill out of you like a broken dam. You don’t know which to acknowledge first: anger, fear, curiosity, gratitude. 

Namjoon’s sigh is heavy. He visibly looks wearing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how soft his hair is, followed immediately by feeling ridiculous for the timing of said thought. 

“Just…” he winces. “Try to lean back and take it easy, I’m worried about how hard you hit your head. I promise I have no intentions of hurting you or letting anyone hurt me.”

“You called that white wolf Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? Why was Seokjin in the woods - those people - they’re dead.”

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

You lean back carefully. The bed is comfortable and Namjoon keeps his distance, worried eyes on you. “I will try to explain the best I can. It will require a little bit of faith that I’m not lying to you and that I’m not insulting your intelligence by telling you things that will sound insane.” 

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t laugh, crack a grin, or do anything to make you believe he’s joking. Your first instinct is to blow him off. Werewolves were a tale for children and a way to help the children of the village cope during periods of wolf violence. 

Thus far, all Namjoon has done is protect you. Strange as it seems, you know that fact to be true. He didn’t tell Dr. Jim you were eavesdropping, he kept you company after Mr. Hatch’s murder, and he stopped the wolves from taking you.

Namjoon is… there is something between you. You know it.

Hesitantly, you say, “Alright. Werewolves exist. Keep going.”

He is visibly relieved that you’re not questioning or berating him. You don’t exactly believe him yet, but you want to hear his story. 

“There were communities of werewolves who lived here long before humans did. When people migrated to this area, they drove them out and forced those communities to become smaller and smaller. When the werewolves asked for their land back or to share resources, they were hunted and slaughtered.” 

Namjoon’s throat bobs and emotions flicker across his face. His features settle on pain, and you stop yourself from reaching out to take his hand. “What you vaguely remember as wolf attacks and wolf hunts as a child was those families being exterminated. There are a few families in the village who remember that werewolves exist. They took it upon themselves to remove the problem forever.”

This village has a complicated history. 

Dr. Kim’s words float through your mind as you chew on what Namjoon has told you. He lets the information settle, giving you a few moments to think. You don’t recall anyone seriously ever talking about werewolves but… 

“They’re angry,” you murmur, remembering how San described the massacre at the Mathesons. “The wolves now - those aren’t wolves. They’re werewolves who are getting revenge. You spoke of revenge with Dr. Kim. Is that why the animal attacks have been happening?”

Namjoon nods grimly. “There is a very small concentration of people in the village who keep the secret about the massacres and the knowledge of werewolves. Those families have been… targeted recently. They still hunt werewolves when they can.”

“Who is Yoongi?”

“Ah,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “He leads the last remaining community of werewolves. His family was murdered by your constable when he was a child.” You blanch. “Yoongi is angry, vengeful, and very influential. When he was voted pack alpha, he decided to eliminate the last remaining threats.” 

“He’s the white wolf.” Namjoon raises his brows but nods. You think that makes sense, remembering the white wolf at the Marrow farm and the one who dragged you in the forest. “Why was Seokjin there? Did he lead the constable to-”

Namjoon hesitates and nods. “The Kim family are wolf friends. It’s largely the reason Dr. Kim is a veterinarian. They’re what we call one foot in the forest. There were two others in your village that were wolf friends. Your neighbor was one.”

You twist your fingers in the blanket. “Did Yoongi-”

“No. I believe he was murdered by one of the men who knows what Yoongi and his people are.” 

“So that’s why Seokjin led them to Yoongi?” Namjoon gives a curt nod. “This is…. A lot to take in.” 

“It is. Sleep a little more and we’ll talk about it more when you wake up. Your head is already swimming enough, yeah?”

Namjoon’s grin is gentle and you shoot one back. “Do you promise to tell me why you’re really here? And why it feels like I know you?”

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

Namjoon wakes you again a few hours later. This time, it’s with water. It’s cool and fresh, soothing your aching head and waking up your sleepy senses. He lets you drain the entire thing, sitting thoughtfully at the end of your bed. 

This time, you feel more alert. Sitting up carefully, you cross your legs and examine him. He’s dressed in simple clothes and a jacket, the fireplace throwing an orange glow on his face. Again, you’re struck with how much you could swear you know him, like his eyes are something you know and love. 

He waits for you to get settled, placing your hands in your lap. You fiddle with the edge of your tunic, drinking him in. Strong shoulders, rough hands, tawny skin. Your heart does a flip before you shove away thoughts of how pretty he is to think about what he’s told you so far.

“I have questions.”

He smiles and it’s as warm as the fire behind him. “Of course you do.”

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

You get the tough one out of the way first. It was a thought you had just before you slept, wondering if your father had been someone who helped the constable murder Yoongi’s family. Though you have decided to dislike the white wolf very strongly, you can’t help but pity him.

“No,” Namjoon says vehemently. “After you told me about your father, I did some asking around. He was a wolf friend. That’s why he didn’t hunt big game, Red. He knew about us.” 

A tight feeling works its way up your throat. The relief and anger you feel is a double-edged sword, happy that he didn’t contribute to the displacement Namjoon is speaking of and angry that you know with every bone in your body that he was murdered. The instinct speaks to you the same way it tells you that you know Namjoon. 

You look up at him sharply, realizing something. “What do you mean ‘he knew about us’? Us?” 

Namjoon’s eyes are dark. He regards you intensely, making you shiver. Slowly, Namjoon begins to roll one of his sleeves. Your eyes drop to his hand as he does, long fingers meticulous. He bares his skin and holds his hand out to you, displaying the jagged, white scar that lopes around his wrist. 

Without thinking twice, you reach out to him, pulling his hand toward you. His skin is warm, sending a tingle through your fingertips. His palm is large and rough, your fingers delicate as you flip it to face the ceiling, eyes glued to the scarring around his wrist.

You move your fingers over his palm gently, scraping the calluses as you go. He lets you do what you want, touch stopping at his wrist bone before glancing up at him. His eyes are impossibly dark and he nods, urging you forward. 

The scarring is rough. Thick, ropey lines encircle his wrist like his hand was ravished by teeth. It makes you faintly think of Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle or -

“You,” you breathe, eyes meeting his. They are the same warm, intelligent, and welcoming eyes of the wolf you’d saved all those years ago. The wolf who had stood between you and the others at the Marrow farm. The wolf you dream about every night. “I saved you?”

His throat bobs. “You did.”

“I… that’s why it feels like I know you.” Your fingers trace his scar, almost fondly. Namjoon’s eyes flutter. “I do know you. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He smirks. “‘Hi, my name is Namjoon and I can turn into a wolf whenever I want and you saved me a few years ago and I’ve been thinking about you ever since’ is not exactly a great opening.” 

“Better than ‘you know most people who don’t want to be seen don’t wear a red cloak’.” He scrunches his nose. Cute. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk if you’re willing to listen?”

You nod, not letting go of his hand. Now that you know who and what he is, any residual fear is gone. You scoot toward him, wanting to be closer. “I want to know.”

“Giho is my uncle like I said. He’s not a werewolf, though. That trait passed through my mom’s side of the family. Still, he was family and he knew about the werewolves that my father married into. He's a wolf friend and does what he can to help us, including making house calls and stealing us goods in harsh winters.”

“Huh. I always just thought he was a quiet, grumpy vet.”

“He is very much that, but he has also been a lifeline. He helps Yoongi far more than he should. It puts him in danger. His wife was killed for being a wolf friend. Giho was left alone simply because he is useful to the village.” Your fingers squeeze his hand at the hurt in his voice. “That night you found me… I was pretty young then. Fourteen, to be exact. I was nosing around the village that everyone was so afraid of and never saw the trap. I cannot emphasize how much you saved my life.” 

“It seemed like the right thing to do. I was afraid but you were… hurt. And your eyes were so kind. I don’t regret it.”

“What a relief.” You smile, genuinely happy. “I was worried you might after finding out my family were sort of… killing people.”

“When you put it that way,” you wince. “But I do believe you. That humans drove you out. That people are hurting you and your people. You don’t deserve it and I… don’t think I am in a position to offer moral arguments to what you’re doing.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

Namjoon turns his hand and catches yours, lacing your fingers. Your heart skitters as he pulls you a little close and leans, eyes narrowed playfully. “Hmm, sorry. I wasn’t really allowed to come hang out around your town, Little Red.” 

“Why did you finally come? Is it to help Yoongi?”

He shakes his head. “I only have one goal.”

“Which is?”

“To keep you safe.” That quiets you. Namjoon doesn’t meet your eyes when he continues, “You showed me such kindness, I just wanted to repay you. I liked to keep an eye on you when I could, always from a safe distance. You might not know me, but I grew up knowing you.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words. For someone who poses such a threat, Namjoon is gentle. Soft. Kind. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Did you give me the red cloak?” 

“Yeah. It was to mark you as a friend. We give them to those who are under our protection.” He narrows his eyes. “Which is why Yoongi swears he didn’t know it was you in the woods tonight. Seokjin’s eyesight is too piss poor to realize it was you. Idiots.”

“Well if you know about me, tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What do you like to eat? What's your favorite thing about being a wolf?”

So Namjoon does tell you. You both end up sitting on the bed next to one another, arms touching as he traces the lines on your palm. Your backs are pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of his bed as he tells you about his childhood. 

It is fascinating hearing about the dynamics of his community but it’s also sad. Hearing how they live in fear, hearing how so many of the people he knows are gone. Realizing that the things he tells you match up with things you realize about your own community. 

Sadness sinks to the bottom of your gut like a rock. It isn’t pity that you feel, but something far more profound. It’s regret that you didn’t know any better. Frustration that he has suffered. A radical feeling of anger and desire for justice knowing you lived in comfort while Namjoon and his family suffered. 

There are good parts, too. Namjoon recalls happy moments and blushes when he recalls seeing you a few times. It doesn’t feel weird or strange, knowing someone was looking out for you. It feels comforting, like old friends catching up. 

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle as he tells you about his favorite books. You don’t know when you stop listening to him and start staring, but it’s inevitable. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, dimple making an appearance as he recalls a story about putting Yoongi in the dirt with his brother, Taehyung’s help. You love the way he gestures wildly with his hands, every word evocative and enthusiastic. 

He’s the kind of person you would have been friends with had he grown up with you. And maybe a little more, you think, watching Namjoon watch you. His gaze is even and heated, making you squirm. His mouth twitches and you’re so sure that he knows he makes you nervous.

“I never thanked you,” you mention. He hums in question, letting you go back to tracing his scare delicately. He twitches and you grin. Good. “For saving me from the jaws of Yoongi.”

“Ah, that. I think he knew it was you. There’s a reason he dragged you instead of killing you on the spot.”

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

He nods. “I love Yoongi. Is my brother, in a way.”

“Well still. Thank you.” 

You look up at Namjoon. You’re sitting so close, shoulders pressed against one another. He smells like pine and bergamot, your favorite scent. It’s heady, awakening a foreign ache in you. Your heart speeds up as you lean into him just a little more, watching him through your lashes.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rumbles, voice deep. 

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

“LIke you wanna do more than just thank me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

Ah. You start to pull away and turn your head, realizing that he’s not interested, but Namjoon catches your chin with his other hand, tilting you back toward him. Your heart stalls when he looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I’ve known you for all my life. Not how I wanted, but I’ve known you nonetheless. But you haven’t had the chance to know me.”

“I want to. I feel like I have known you. Like I knew you were always there.”

“Is this what you want?”

This. Namjoon. Whatever is crackling between you. The thing that has sparked since the moment he caught you eavesdropping. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

Namjoon makes sense though. The way his gaze softens when he sees you. The way he looms on the edge of your life, a silent protector. The way he could do so much damage but is soft instead. The way everything about him feels like the sun on a summer day, like a field of wildflowers in spring.

He must sense you tipping over the edge. His grip on your chin becomes firm and he tilts your face toward him, leaning down to press his warm, full mouth against yours. The effect is instantaneous. You melt into him, sighing as a feeling of belonging slots into place.

The kiss is chaste. Namjoon pulls away and your lashes flutter. You hadn’t even realized your eyes closed. His gaze is dark and half-lidded, his face close enough that you feel his breath. His lips have stoked a fire in you and you want more, you want to spill out the years of longing for something you didn’t know was there, for the sudden confirmation that he’d been there all along.

Surging forward, you press your lips to his again. This time, it’s searing, your mouth fierce as you push up off of the bed. Namjoon falls in your rhythm easily, hand leaving your chin to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap.

Knees slotted on either side of him, you pour everything you have into the kiss. Your fingers card through his thick hair, silky strands sliding between them like you knew they would. His lips are soft on yours, mouth warm as you break the seal of the kiss with your tongue.

Namjoon lets out deep, throaty sounds. It coaxes the flame inside of you to a roar, tongue tangling with his. It’s wet and messy and a little impractical but you don’t feel embarrassed or nervous. It’s Namjoon. It feels like home. 

Pleasure tingles down your spine. Namjoon grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. It feels hot and your skin is burning up, static trapped between your chests where they’re pressed together. Your hips twitch, tentatively seeking friction in his lap. Namjoon responds immediately, pulling your hips toward him and letting you roll. 

Your mouths part but Namjoon doesn’t stop kissing you. You pant while he presses his mouth to your chin and jawline, tongue tough against the softness of your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls. You tilt your head back, letting him pepper your throat. “You have no idea.”

“I always felt like something was missing. I think it was you.”

Namjoon moans at your admission. The heat between your legs is almost painful. One of Namjoon’s hands goes from your waist to between your legs, cupping you. You gasp back bowing as he presses firmly, deft fingers providing mind-numbing pleasure.

“That feels good.” You fist the collar of his shirt and squeeze your eyes. You feel tense, color exploding behind your closed lids. “Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. He pulls you in close, fingers curling. Your hips buck and you realize it isn't enough. You need the barrier of clothes gone. You want it more than anything. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes.”

You do know. It’s second nature. You knew even that day in the street when you’d first seen him. Just like Namjoon knows what you want and need, land leaving the apex of your thighs to help you off his lap and onto the bed under him. 

There’s a confidence in his movements that makes the room spin. Long forgotten are the wolf attacks and Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle. Here, it’s only the rasp of your pants against your skin as Namjoon pulls them down. It’s only the heat of his skis as you yank on his tunic, desperate to feel him.

Namjoon does run hot. His skin is burning up as your hands explore his firm chest. He captures your lips again, sucking your bottom lip in his mouth as he spreads your legs open with a knee. You shake under his touch, equal parts eager and stimulated. 

He’s so, so gentle as he caresses your inner thigh. When he brings his fingers to your sticky center, you let out a pitiful whine. Namjoon pauses, fingers pressed to your swollen kiss as he laughs and breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against yours.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, leaning your head up to bite his chin. “It feels good.”

He gives you a quick kiss. Once. Twice. “Good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Namjoon circles his middle finger lazily around your clit. Your feet press into the bed, hips pulling up off the sheets. It feels amazing, pleasure sparking in your stomach. “That,” you gasp. “I like that.” 

He dips his head down, attaching his mouth to your neck as he teases your cunt. You don’t have to say anything else, Namjoon’s inquisitive fingers learning what makes you squirm and sigh. You’re a mess beneath him, chest heavy, beats of sweat making your shirt cling to you.

You claw at it, pulling it away from you. Namjoon leans up and lets you take it off, eyes dipping as he smiles appreciatively. He combines the efforts of his fingers with his mouth, bending low to catch a pert nipple with his teeth.

“Shit!” you squeak, making him chuckle again.

His fingers circle your clenching hole, pussy leaking onto his fingers. He presses a finger in and you let out a long, quiet whine. The feeling of his finger pressing against your walls is perfect, your cunt clenching as he shallowing thrusts the finger.

Everything he does is perfect. He sucks at your nipple hungrily as he fingers you slowly, making sure to press up inside your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unable to think about anything except his teeth scraping your sensitive bud and your pussy clenching around his finger.

Namjoon is attentive. The heel of his hand presses to your clit and he eases another finger in, slower than the last. He looks up at you, mouth slick with spit to watch your mouth fall open. You nod, urging him further, sound stuck in your throat. 

The wet squelch between your legs as he fucks you with his fingers is obscene. You like it though, driven by the fact that it’s Namjoon doing it. Namjoon who you saved. Namjoon who watched over you. 

You open your eyes and look up at him, cradling his face in your hands. His forehead is damp with sweat from the heat building in the little shack. His skin is flushed and his hair hangs in his face. You pull at his bottom lip with your thumb and he gazes at you, hungry and wild, pupils blown.

Greedy, you pull him to you. The kiss is more teeth than lips, the two of you panting. Your leg hooks around his waist and you nibble his bottom lip, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, an orgasm starting its ascent. 

“I want you,” you breathe against his mouth. Your lips are sore from arduous kissing. “Please.”

He kisses you. “Okay.”

It’s that simple. You ask for it and he gives it to you.

Namjoon retracts his fingers from your cunt. You feel the sudden loss, fidgeting as you wait. He makes quick work of his pants, kneeling on the bed and bringing his hands covered in your juice to pump his cock. You feel your eyes bulge at his thick length. 

He notices and grins, slowing his movements. You watch as his hand smears precum down his shaft, twisting lightly as he gets to the top, his thumb brushing over his dark tip. “You can take it,” he pants, grinning wolfishly. “I know you can.”

Instead of answering, you nod, lifting your hips eagerly. He hums, pleased as he lets go, cock bobbing heavily while he shuffles over and leans over you. He places his hands on either side of your head, arms flexing as he holds his weight to bend down and steal a quick kiss. 

You kiss back feverishly, one hand traveling between your sweaty bodies to grip his length, trying to stroke him the way he did. He sighs, breaking the kiss and dropping his forehead against your chin as a shiver ripples through him. You smile, continuing to pump him.

“Want to be inside,” he mumbles, barely coherent. 

You open yourself up more, gently guiding the blunt crown of his cock toward your trembling entrance. You hold your breath as his hips follow your hand, breaching your ring of tight muscles and pushing in. 

Immediately your muscles spasm and resist, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s girth. You blow out a long breath as he enters you so, so slowly. It’s heaven and it’s hell, it’s pleasure and it’s pain. Namjoon presses his mouth to you, tongue distracting you as he bottoms out, stuffing you full.

Nothing has ever compared to how stretched you are. He doesn’t move, letting your cunt twitch around him. He holds himself up with one hand, the other brushing up and down your side, squeezing bits of flesh comfortingly as you try to still your beating heart under him.

The pain fades. You get greedy, wiggling your hips back and forth experimentally to feel the way Namjoon’s cock rubs against your walls. He blows out air sharply, a half laugh before his hand drops down to your hip, pushing you down into the bed with his weight as he slides backward.

“Ohhhh,” you sigh, head lolling to the side. The pressure of Namjoon pressing you down as he sets a slow pace of fucking into you is just right. You close your eyes, letting him set a slow pace in silence. “Yeah.” 

Namjoon’s breath is unsteady. Every little sound he makes sets you on fire. You’re pliant beneath him as he picks up his speed, properly fucking into you. One of your hands reaches up to grab his bicep, nails digging in, the other shooting to his hand on your hip, squeezing his wrist. 

Everything feels right. Connected. Overheated. The air is so thick you think you might suffocate, sheets sticking to your balmy skin, toes curling as Namjoon’s cock hits that spot inside of you that drives you mad. 

Nothing but this matters. Nothing but knowing your wolf isn’t really a wolf at all, and that he’s been there all along. Just like you’d hoped. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon pants. “I never dreamed I’d have you.”

“I dreamed of you,” you gasp on a particularly hard thrust, your nails dragging down his arm. “I just didn’t know it.”

His mouth crashes to yours. “Mine,” he growls. “My savior, mine to protect.” 

Your orgasm spins like an out-of-control spool of thread, winding tighter and tighter. Namjoon can tell, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, throwing his gentle movements out the window and fucking you hard into the bed. 

The sounds and words coming out of your mouth are useless babble, your thoughts turning murky as that spool tightens so much inside of you that it bursts, unspooling and spilling out of you around Namjoon’s cock. 

You can’t even breathe as you come, feet kicking, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched. Your heart beats in your ears, the only thing you can hear for a few seconds as you spasm, eyes clenched shut. You are vaguely aware of Namjoon coming shortly after you, your name ripping through clenched teeth as he does. 

There are a few minutes of nothing punctuated by your stilted breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, you blink, stars swimming in your eyes as you look at Namjoon, who hangs his head on your chest. You reach a hand up and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Your wolf. Somehow you’d always known it. Even when you thought you were crazy. 

Gently, Namjoon pulls out of you, fluid spilling between your legs. You don’t care, limbs too heavy to move. Your skin is still burning up from exertion and you roll your head to the side to watch Namjoon as he lays next to you, pulling you toward him. 

For a little while, it’s quiet. You listen to the beating of his heart, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. You’re content just to lay there feeling whole just for once. 

After a while, Namjoon sighs. “You have to go back eventually.”

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

Namjoon pulls away and frowns at your tone, eyes reading your face. Your mouth is set in a firm line and you look at him with all seriousness. “We’re not letting them get away with what the humans did to you and your family.”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.” You pause. “I think it’s what my father would have wanted. It’s what I want. Even if Yoongi bit me.”

“Yoongi will never bite you again,” he vows fiercely. Then, a little more gently, “But he… would be glad to hear your sympathetic stance. I’m glad to hear it, Red.”

“Good.” You snuggle closer. “You’re mine to protect too. And I will make them pay.”

For Namjoon. For your father. You’ll paint the village red. 

[via-l0ve]

Hi I want to request Spn boys dating someone who is a few years younger than them (They almost have to be in crowley and castiels case) and they sometimes use slang that they don't get at all. I loved the way your wrote Gabriel in latest work so could you add him.

I understood that reference! (SPN pref!) 🩷

A/n: hi anon! i love this idea!! i hope you enjoy :)

warnings: swearing, modern vine/tiktok references

Dean:

“no, y/n!! you don’t understand! this is important, you could’ve died back there!! you need to be more careful! i’m tired of-“

“no need to shout. no need to yell. shut your eyes, take a deep breath.”

“…”

“aww look! you’ve gone all quiet.”

“what the fuck was that?”

you take it to your advantage when he’s arguing and just slip in some vine references (idk if anyone understands that one but i love it.)

“y/n, you want avocados on your toast like a heathen?”

“it’s an avocado! yayyy!”

“are you having a stroke? it’s just an avocado.”

one time a demon came through and a fight broke out and the table broke

“the tables broken. i’ll have to go out and get a new one in the morn-“

“oh no!! our table! it’s broken!!”

“…i just said that.”

the poor man is SO confused

Sam:

side. eye.

he’s flabbergasted

let’s say he’s mad about something okay?

he’s ranting and ranting and then he turns to you

“woah. calm down there jamahl. don’t pull out the nine!”

he’s giggling tho

he thinks it’s entertaining how you just say things for fun and it confuses everyone in the room

also also also

he tells you the most depressing news about the world and you go

“oh. slay.”

“slay? i just told you 20 people died y/n are you okay? are you high?”

“i wish i was.”

“what.”

lmfao i’m sorry but imagine in the middle of a hunt you get punched in the face by a demon or something and he turns to you and

“you okay?”

“oh! oh! call an ambulance! call an ambulance! but not for me!!!”

and then you kill it.

he falls in love even more.

Castiel:

poor baby is so confused

“where are you going, y/n?”

“wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“w-what? weather boy? i’m an angel of the lord-“

it’s not even vine. if you use slang he is so confused

“she thought she ate that up.”

“ate what up? what was she eating y/n?”

“no… no she wasn’t eat-“

you do it just to mess with him lol

“cas, you’re such a snack.”

“huh?”

your humor makes him so confused

“cas! look at this video of a gerbil running up to the camera and it freezes right on his dumb face.”

“y/n you concern me.”

“i was laughing for ten minutes.”

crowley:

he is so confused

he thinks your dying

but he also just goes along with it

any vine references he giggles a little bit ngl

he thinks you’re so funny even if he dosent get it too much LMFAOO

he gives you the look every time you reference something.

“was that a vine thing?”

he says meme like sebastian stan

“mee-me.”

“was that a mee-me?”

“meme, crowley.”

“oh. meeh-me.”

“no🩷.”

i’m cackling

i feel like he sucks at texting bro.

“hey bestie how was ur day?” - you

“good bestie i am not your bestie i am crowley your lover”

“use punctuation.”

he dosent understand your new language but he tries to keep up.

[dearly-somber]

deathbed (coffee for your head) | h.js

-> pairing. Han Jisung x f!reader

-> genre. angst, hurt/comfort, f2l (friends–lovers), neighbors!au

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1442

-> warnings. Mentions of divorce; rocky home-life; reader runs away from home (essentially)

-> a/n. Ngl to y’all the formatting for this one was… questionable lmfao. It’s not terrible but… 🤡🤡 idk check it out if you don’t like it 🤷🏻‍♀️

-> collection. songfic

-> started. Sept. 5th, 2020 @ 17:29

-> fin. Aug. 21st, 2021 @ 22:23

-> edited. Sept. 23rd, 2022 @ ???

You walked down the side of the road, the patter of rain distracting you.

You left your house since your parents were having a screaming fit—as they usually did those days. Ever since your mother told your dad that she didn't love him anymore and that she had already filed for a divorce, the tension in the house had been unbearable. You hadn't thought it would start raining, so you were walking with your hoodie up to cover your hair and face, though it was starting to soak though the fabric and make you cold. Your phone rung, Goodbye (by 2NE1) blaring.

Not bothering to check the caller ID, you answered the call with a scratchy throat: "Hello?" You hummed into the phone half-heartedly, stopping underneath a tree.

"Y/N! Where are you? I heard your parents fighting but when I came over to check on you you weren't in your room—"

"Jisung, what have I told you about going through my window? If my mom finds out she'll kill us!" You scolded him, shaking your head disapprovingly

"Whatever, it doesn't matter! Just come to my house, okay? My mom is cooking dinner for us." You smiled softly, humming before turning around to go to your neighbor's house.

Once there you knocked on the door, a low thud accompanying each knock. Jisung opened the door with an excited smile, the smile slowly fading when he saw how wet you were, lips parted in shock.

“You must be freezing… come inside!" He ushered after a moment, quickly pushing you inside. "One sec, lemme grab you some clothes—" it took only a few seconds for him to arrive back with some of his clothes and a towel. "Go change in my room. Mom should finish with the food in a few minutes." He said, pushing you in the direction of his room.

"Y/N! The food's ready!" Jisung yelled just as you finished pulling one of his hoodies over your head. It had been laying on the ground somewhere, so you might as well, right?

"Y/N! It's so good to see you again!" Mrs. Han said with a welcoming smile, hugging you tightly. You smiled with a laugh, nodding.

"I missed you too, Mrs. Han." You said. "By the way, where's (J/B/N)?"

"Oh, he's away for a business trip—"

"Okay, stop talking about my hyung and come spend time with me," Jisung whined, pulling you away from his mother. You had met Jisung in your shared classes, since you were both music majors at school. You had hit it off with him, and when you found out he was your new next door neighbor, you were practically tied to the hip. You giggled as Jisung over excitedly dragged you to where the food was, holding your hand before stopping you in front of the soup.

"Quickly, take some before I finish it myself—"

"Okay, God. You're so impatient, you know that?" You said with a raised brow, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's why you love me, Y/Nie." He retorted, scrunching his nose cutely. You chuckled, dishing up before heading to the dining room, where you and Jisung ate.

Mr. Han only came back later, having gotten stuck in traffic on his way home from work. He greeted you casually, since it wasn't unusual for you to stay over some nights. Jisung had only ever really stayed over at your house once or twice, since your father had never really liked him. You guessed it must've been because he didn't trust him, but you knew your mother adored Jisung, so you guess that's a plus.

"Y/N, are you done?" Jisung asked, looking up from his phone. You nodded as you took your last bite, finally finishing. You had kept getting distracted your thoughts, so it had taken a while. He smiled at you warmly, getting up with a stretch. You smiled at him gently, the image of his cheeks stuffed with food similar to that of a squirrel stuck in your head. You had told him that it was cute and it's exactly the reason why you had saved him on your phone as 'Squirrel bby🐿'.

"Shall we go to my room, then?"

"Mmm." You hummed, taking his hand and smiling up at him brightly: "가자~"

You were sitting with Jisung on his bed, listening to some songs he had produced, reading the lyrics he had given you. He was watching you nervously, biting his lower lip. It was already around 01:03, so his door had been shut to keep the two of you from waking up his parents.

Noticing the way he was biting his lip, you placed a comforting hand on his knee, patting it gently. He smiled at you softly, playing with your fingers until you finished.

"Wow, Jisung."

"What'd you think? Is it shit?" He asked, eyes flicking from his laptop to your eyes questioningly. You scoffed, hitting his arm.

"Yah! Stop that! It was great! The lyrics and beat are amazing... I love it." You reprimanded him, pouting. He giggled, bubbling with happiness as he leaned back with a hand to his cheek, face turning pink.

Leaning forward he squeezed your cheeks, taking his laptop and paper to put it on his bedside table.

"Aah, thank you, Y/N-ssi!"

You hummed quietly, yawning. He sighed, hitting the sides of his mattress. "차, I'm gonna go grab a mattress for you—"

"What? No, Sungie. You'll wake your parents~"

"But—"

"We can just share a bed, dummy~" Jisung went quiet, looking at you stupidly as you made yourself comfortable in his bed.

“What?" You questioned, wide eyed and cute as ever.

"You're not going to be uncomfortable?" He asked, hesitantly getting comfortable with you. You laughed at him, poking his cheek with a fond smile.

"Of course not! I trust you, Sung-ah. And anyway," You smirked, moving forward to wrap yourself around him, the exact reason why he always referred to you as 'koala'. "You're a very huggable size. We fit together perfectly—" He chuckled at that, slowly wrapping his arms around you. You cuddled further into his chest, a content sigh leaving your lips.

Jisung bit down on his lower lip once more, looking down at the top of your head nervously. Now or never, Jisung!

"Uhm, Y/N?"

"Mmm?" You had closed your eyes. God, he was so warm—

You hadn't cuddled with Jisung all that much, since you usually only watched television at your home, generally playing games when you came over to his place to hang out.

"If I told you I liked you, would you be mad?" He asked quietly, making you look up at him.

You propped yourself on your elbow, eyeing him scrutinizingly. "You're being serious?" You asked, voice soft as you watched him. With a nervous gulp, he nodded, looking at you. When, a minute later, you hadn't yet answered, he cleared his throat, looking away sheepishly.

"It's okay if you don't like me back, I wasn't expecting you to, any—"

Jisung's eyes widened comically, his hand squeezing the side of the covers in all of his shock. You had kissed him to shut him up, your hand on his upper thigh. Slowly, Jisung's eyes fluttered closed, his hand making it's way to cup your cheek gently. His thumb brushed over your skin lightly, sending a tingle down your spine. You pulled away, looking at him expectantly. When he finally re-opened his eyes, he looked at you with his lips parted slightly.

"Does that answer your question..?" You asked with a shy smile, searching his eyes. Not trusting his voice, the boy nodded, watching with a smile as you leaned in again. He put one hand on your waist while you moved to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the tips of his hair, his other hand still cupping your face. A couple more minutes passed while you kissed him, finally pulling away. You watched him lovingly, smiling before resting against his chest, your head tucked under his chin.

He chuckled lovingly at you, holding you to his chest, sliding down the bed some more while still keeping you close.

"I love you." You whispered, making him kiss your forehead with a soft smile. You lifted your head to place a quick kiss to his shoulder, your hands resting idly on his hips.

"I love you more..." He challenged.

You moved back to look at him again, kissing him softly and leaning your forehead against his, lips still lightly brushing over one another:

"I love you most," You whispered.

[mamayan]

May we get an nsfw Drabble or one shot for stepbrother spinner/pervy fem reader?

Absolutely, enjoy nonnie!♥️ The entire time I wrote this, I couldn’t stop thinking about that one porno that turned into a fucking comedy, where the girl is a life guard and the dude is in a bathtub and he goes “this isn’t a beach this a bathtub!” and she goes “I know and I think we should have sex,” and the guy is just confused and is like “…alright I guess…” lmfao

Stepbro! Spinner x Stepsis! Reader

tw: NSFW • Blowjob (double?) • Stepcest themes (not biological siblings) • Dub-con • Degradation • Brat! Reader • Fem! Reader

Tag: @sharpcheddarcheese

“S-stop! M’gonna tell ye’r ma if you don’t—ngh, wait please—!,” his claws scrape the wood flooring beneath him, Shuichi pathetically weak to your touch as you teasingly smile up at him.

How could you even do this? It’s wrong. On all the levels, it’s wrong. His dad would kill him, descale him and turn him into a pair of boots just to stomp him some more.

Apparently his dad isn’t enough to make him go soft, not when your pink little tongue licks up his shafts, your smaller hands wrapped around both to squish them together so you could wiggle your tongue between both. “Fuckkkk,” he’s about to pass out, or cum, or both. Embarrassingly he’s extremely close and you’ve hardly touched him yet. His teeth are bared aggressively but it does nothing to deter you. If anything, you become more emboldened by his fight to deny this, to deny you.

“What’s wrong Shu~♡ Not ready to drop the family act yet?” You swirled your tongue over the head of one of his cocks, chuckling as he groans low in his throat. His hips twitching up a little and smearing some pre-cum across your lips and cheek. The sight of his little sister laying her upper body in his lap to tease his cocks is too much. You could easily tell by how he trembled beneath you.

You were at it again. Vehemently disagreeing to even call him family when his dad had married your mom. You used to hate him, but his charm wasn’t in his ability to battle back against you. It was in his reliability, his loyalty and protectiveness.

It’s just you never wanted him to feel that way only because he saw you as his sister. That pissed you off. His desire for “family” cute but not when it was directed at you in that way.

“Please, this, we need to stop— fuck,” he’s panting, as you slip one inside your mouth and hollow out your cheeks to suck gently. He looks ruined and you’ve hardly played with him yet.

You release his cock with an audible pop and grinned up at him. “You keep saying we as if I give a damn about your stupid family ideals. How’s this? We can be a real family Shu, how about you marry me? That would make it true.” You laugh as he chokes on his own saliva, looked more than a little angry at your words.

“‘Ya shouldn’t say that shit so easy idiot!” A clawed hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, intent on pulling you off finally, but when you let a fat drop of spit fall from your lips onto his cock, he freezes.

“The idiot is you Shu,” you mutter before finally taking one cock all the way into your mouth and throat and gripping the other tightly to jerk in the same rhythm you set with your mouth.

“Shit, fuck, fuck m’gonna cum!” He gasps, hips thrusting up to force more of his fat tapered tip into your tight hot throat.

You pull off before he can cum, making him nearly whine.

“Aww~♡ You’re fucking pathetic, were you about to cum down your little sister’s throat Shu? That’s disgusting.” You grinned as his eyes go wide with guilt and shame. You continue a slow motion with his cock in your hand as you lean further up his torso so he’s made to look at you. “What’s wrong? You said this is wrong, but it’s you who was about to paint his baby sister’s face with his hot load.” You were goading him, it was obvious, and he was certainly putting up a good fight in the face of it.

In the end though, he loses. “Fucking bitch,” he all but growls before taking a fist full of your hair and pressing your face back down on his cock. Moaning when you relent and open your warm mouth for his dick to invade and thrust up into. He could care less it gagged you, even chuckling when a few tears prick your pretty eyes.

“This want ya fuckin’ wanted? The fuck are they even teachin’ at that fancy college you go to?” He’s pushing and pulling your head like a toy as he fucks your mouth. Your free hand forced to grip his shirt still on to ground yourself a bit. “Okay baby, ya wanted me’t treat ya like my woman, I am now.” He laughs, moaning as you drool and slobber on his dicks, struggling to breathe and crying now. You looked messy and adorable, like a slut for his enjoyment and not the precious sister he normally tried to treat you as. He’s not thinking anymore, just focused on cuming as hard as possible down your throat like you asked for.

“Fuckin’ take it all—,” he groans, stuffing his cock as deep down into your throat as possible as your cry is stifled. You feel his cock twitch and even expand in your throat, eyes widening in panic as you shake, while his second cock shoots another load all over your neck and chest. His balls are drawn tight as he gasps, pushing your head down even further until your nose is smashed against his scales.

You nearly pass out before he releases you, having cum straight down your throat and into your stomach.

You cough and sputter, trying to fill your lungs with air and dispel the burning in them. Tears, snot, saliva, and cum cover your pretty face. Hair disheveled and cocky expression finally gone as you look up at him with those sweet eyes he adores.

Until your words throw him for another spin.

“You still didn’t even make me cum, who would want to be your woman when you can’t even do that?”

“Fuckin’ brat!” You giggle at his irritation.

[ssiggss]

Hello! I've always loved your Trollhunters content, and I really love your characters and storyline for the Arcane Order.

I just wanted to share my own design for Skrael, who I reworked a lot for my own rewrite of the Trollhunters series, as you'll see in the paragraphs to come, and the sketch itself.

(Sorry it's so messy!)

He's actually one of the first human-like figures I've been able to draw in a way I'm happy with. I based him more off of Inuit culture, and Inuit / Scandinavian viking clothing. (He has Scandinavian-style braids under that hood and skull)

This is just a sketch, but he's wearing a Walrus skull instead of that weird deer-thing.

I turned his shawl into a traditional Inuit garb that goes over his shoulders (since he can't freeze to death, it's not needed, and shows off his tats).

Speaking of his tattoos, since he's a god and doesn't really need a gender, I gave him both face and chest/arm markings. Traditional Inuit tattoos are usually given to women for events like childbirth or reaching maturity, and are located on the face. Male tattoos are not usually on the face, instead primarily on the arms and chest, to stand for a big whale they killed.

His pants are the same as traditional male Scandinavian pants, along with the boots, that cut off at the ankles so he can be barefoot. (Ignore the feet, I don't like drawing feet so it's just blocks).

I love Skrael. 🥰

I haven't answered an ask for this blog in a VERY long time, I'm pretty inactive, but I really like this!!

It is clear you put a lot of thought and work into this redesign, I really like it!! It's drawn very well, you did a good job!!

I love the Inuit inspiration, I've always held the conception that the Arcane Order is coded in many Native cultures, and I always recommend doing the most extensive and in depth research into the culture you're drawing inspiration from so you maintain a good respect and understanding in your creations!!

There's so much to learn and it's all absolutely fascinating and fun to study, I wish you luck and enjoyment in your research!!!

Deers are known to hold great significance in many Native cultures, and that's more than likely the reason his headdress is designed after one!!

I do love the walrus skull, it makes sense for the alterations you made to his character!!

I am so attached to Skrael being bald LMFAO but I like the idea of braids for him! Overall, I love this reworking you did!

I've always wanted better for the Arcane Order, I feel like all of them deserved to be redeemed and they have so much potential as gaurdians of the earth and stewards of the balance, and as powerful allies to Jim and everyone else, so seeing people adore them as much as I do is wonderful!!

After watching the last movie (we do Not talk abt that movie It Did Not Happen) I kinda immediately ignored pretty much all of it and did my own thing, because they could NEVER make me hate the Arcane Order.

I loved this take on Skrael, thank you so much for sharing!!

[oristendir]

I haven't posted in a while, but I'm working on this twst oc fic (working is a very loose term because it's all in my head and I'm struggling to write anything down), so I thought I'd post an little snippet of it here.

For context, my OC is named Eve Stirling. He reincarnated from a fantasy world that had it's own magic. Backstory wise, he was an orphan on the streets who was picked up by a noble and trained to be a bodyguard/ personal attendant. The noble turned out to be the 'villain' of the story (not that anybody knows that), but Eve was extremely devoted to him, called him Master, blah blah blah. Long story short, the 'villain' got defeated and killed by the worlds hero, and despite Eve's best efforts, the hero's part did not kill him out of misguided assumptions of innocence. Ultimately, Eve died after avenging his master, and reincarnated into TWST, where he becomes a painter (only so that he can make portraits of his Master), and is desperately trying to find a way to bring his Master back to life in this world, or travel back to his original world to revive him there. He get's placed into Pomefiore during the sorting (not rlly important here but it felt right that you know)

The snippet takes place during the Scarabia chapter. Eve is commissioned by Kalim to make him a painting that captures Scrabia's essence (kalim's words, not mine lmfao).

Lotta backstory, but I feel like it's necessary lol. The snippet is under the cut!

-----------

“Can I help you, Mr. Viper?” he asks without turning around.

“Ah, yes.” Viper coughs lightly, “My apologies, but I have a request.”

Eve finishes the stroke and gently wipes his paintbrush before setting it down. Truly, what Viper thinks important enough to interrupt him after being specifically asked not to, he doesn’t know. 

“What is it?” he turns around and startles at how close Viper is standing. He didn’t even hear him approach.

What on earth…?

“There’s something in your eye. Let me get it out for you.” Viper reaches up and gently brings Eve’s face down level with his own. Their eyes lock.

The world turns black.

-

“The one you see reflected in your eyes is your master. Answer me when I ask. Bow when I command. Snake Whisper.”

-

Stirling falls, which is an unusual reaction in and of itself.

Jamil glances down at the prone form on the ground and crouches to check his pulse. He’s not dead… surely… it would be quite the hassle if Sterling did die right now, considering numerous people are interested in his well being.

No, the pulse is still strong. Not dead, thankfully. But still unconscious.

“Of all the troublesome reactions…” Jamil mutters as he drags the other man onto the bed. “You just had to faint, didn’t you? What kind of weak…”

Jamil cuts himself off as Sterling begins to shift. He prepares to knock the other man out at any sign of trouble. He can’t afford to have any unknown variables appear at this stage of his plan.

Sterling groans and sits up, clutching at his head.

Abnormal reaction. The spell didn’t work.

Why, exactly, the spell didn’t work is a mystery for another time, when Jamil’s entire life goal is not about to be shattered into pieces. He moves to grab his magic pen, only to freeze when Sterling snaps his head over. He stares at Jamil. Jamil stares back. Sterling’s face begins to flush, and the look in his eyes as he gazes at Jamil…

It’s almost reverent. A gaze of love, devotion, loyalty, relief; everything the Asim family has ever expected of Jamil, packed hypnotically in eyes so deep, Jamil almost drowns in them.

He feels like a god under that gaze.

Sterling opens his mouth, face flushing. His voice comes out wispy and faint, barley making a noise. The words seem to come out almost involuntarily, the way they push so lightly past his lips, hanging in the air with all the weight of the world.

“... Master…?”

-

Eve wakes up dazed, head pounding, staring up at the ceiling of his temporary room in Scarabia. He sits up, groaning and clutches his head as his headache intensifies. He feels the same as he did back when he trained against Master, body battered and aching. 

He grips his head tighter, and then freezes as the presence next to him makes itself known.

That aura…

Eve whips his head around, disbelieving and nearly breaks down.

A man sits next to him, glorious as the day Eve saw him last. Black hair perfectly straight, falling like silk strands around a strong form; skin pale and scarred from battle, stretched perfectly across sharp features; eyes red like the rubies inlaid upon his crown. A man sits next to him, staring down at him with amusement.

Eve could cry. 

My God, My World, My Everything..!

My-

The image flashes briefly, pale skin turning tan, sharp features turning sly, before it settles back into place. Eve’s eyes white out in pain.

“...Master…?”

[blackvahana]

Reminded of my ramblings in response to magical girl stuff and I think I understand my feelings towards astral magical girl things more now. As with any opinion I'm not saying I'm right, and to be honest as much as I'm realising I can't stand this, I'm very, very aware people also can't stand me in the way that we're all programmed to be annoyed by shit other people do and we all have extensive reasons for why we think others are wrong, but that doesn't actually make us right. I can list my reasons here, doesn't mean I'm right. Maybe one day I'll completely change my mind! But for now, no, uh, yeah. Oh, and also worth noting no, I'm sure not everyone under this label fits my issues, this (an opinion) can only ever be about what I've seen and if the shoe doesn't fit then you're not included in this post

I already have issues with pop culture stuff bleeding into violence because you have to be real, real sure that the cause you're hurting other living beings for even exists let alone is what you think it is. Usual "I spent 5 years channelling and taking part in astral stuff with PC spirits who proved they were real - then I found out the hard way through them having their faces torn off by Divine Fucking Intervention that they were completely lying and using my connection to a video game to get me to be a part of their cult" shit, but you know. that's mostly a me thing, and that's not really something the average person is able to prove, because you know. spirits will prove they're real to you and will show you firsthand memories of fictional locations and people, have other fictional characters show up, and so on to prove to you they're real and uh.... the average person doesn't know about memory forming and mask forming and multiple bodies with multiple personalities and how to dissect the difference between holes in channelling and holes in the spirits lies and so on and so forth. But also this point is not against magical girls so much as its just a uh. yeah. oh boy. And this point is also relegated to PC pagan work

The general issue I have is that it's such a... trivialisation of war and violence. Here's the thing: Soldiers can lean into aesthetics, sure. Lev and I can be seen showing up with terrifying flashy entrances lmfao and Beastly(tm) forms, on occasions. Much less so for him nowadays because of how serious war fucking is and how little the enemy is dissuaded by fear. There's a lot to be gained from picking a persona to interact with war, too: war is a fact of life, but flight/freeze/fawn reactions don't have to be a counter factor if you engage personas. But here's the thing: I work with soldiers outside this incarnation. If fucking any of them showed up in an aesthetic outfit and treated the violence like it was their Moment To Shine and their opportunity to become a magical (gender) and we're acting like they're being pretty while bonking people on the head I'd bite their own fucking head off, possibly literally if soldiers weren't more important than my disgust

There's something actually twisted about treating violence as a magical cutesy fashion thing, an opportunity to get dressed up and be a Magical (Gender) Fighting Evil or Fighting Demons or whatever else dehunanisation of the enemy is going on. Not in a "take my sphere of warfare more seriously way", not in a "show up more seriously way". I don't care about you. I care more about the enemy that has to deal with people showing up in cosplay being cutesy for you to enact violence on them. Show respect to the enemy, show them you actually see them as a being instead of treating them like their blood is just in a jar waiting to be smashed so they can add it to your aesthetics.

Again, I understand aesthetics in war, and I also understand dehumanising the enemy. But can you seriously imagine through my eyes for a second? Imagine a soldier showing up in heels and a fancy dress with charms on their weapon making peace signs at the camera and UwU killing people. That's what I'm seeing when I see this. You can do what you want at the end of the day, but if you value your aesthetics over taking violence seriously then spirits ruling over war and violence are gonna at the very least have 0 respect for you if not be pulled to tearing you down, not in terms of personal retribution (though there's no line between aspect/part of nature and personhood) but in terms of... if you push the ocean to recede, it is forced to return by its own physics. If you start playing with warfare and violence in the way that you completely disrespect it...

Like here's the thing. Lev and I? Especially Red Sky, half of Lev... We'll say Lev and her for a minute: They wear corpses, they skin what they hunt and kill and wear it, but they do so to see through their eyes and out of respect. It's ("shamans") making skin drums, it's journeying, it's opening up to the world letting it teach you... And this is important to me. Which is probably, actually, part of why I hate this so much, because magical girl shit is the opposite of what we as a group do - which is, yes, a more subjective reason to dislike this. We are war spirits, we are willing to wear the enemy's viewpoint, see them for what they are, and even in death they are in a way preserved even if we may personally hate them. Magical girl aesthetics... Enforcing and projecting your own aesthetics on to the world, on to the enemy, and fighting not even to preserve your micro-culture but as a part of it? Yeah. Not a fan

[iamnotawomanimagod]

"being triggered isn't real" and then I literally freeze up and can't move for five minutes straight after a bad phone call with my mom lmfao

(very long venting session incoming, abusive-parent related)

I've tried to be gentle but relatively firm about what a bad idea her coming to live with us again would be, because it took three days for it to catastrophically break down last time she moved in.

but when fights get bad with her partner, she ends up calling me and basically begging to try again

I don't want to live in a triggered state 24/7. I don't want to walk on eggshells and pretend to laugh at her offensive jokes and deal with her judgmental comments and never get any time to myself ever again and always have to put my "people face" on in my own home

I don't want my husband to feel uncomfortable in his own home and not be able to stim and be goofy and carefree which is something he literally can't do in front of anyone but me

I don't want to have to move the litter box and find a new place for it, and deal with however she decides to treat Adaine that will probably piss my cat off, and I don't want to give up the room I have that is my own space and not anyone else's (other than the litter box lol)

I know people are supposed to respect their moms or whatever, but my mom put me through a lot - and I've forgiven her for a lot. but that doesn't mean I want to open myself up to new things that I will have to forgive.

she got dealt a bad hand in a lot of ways, and I really feel for her, but that generational curse worked its way down and I've done everything I can to just try to have a peaceful and safe life. and that can't happen if she's in my home. even if she magically became a totally peaceful person (unlikely) I can't just turn off my trauma response to her mild irritation and/or other perfectly normal human emotions like sadness/annoyance/bad moods etc. I will never be able to relax again.

and I'm honestly a bit bitter because she left so easily last time. I only finally caved in because she convinced me that staying in her partner's home was literally killing her, that the walls were leaking poison. she said she wouldn't last another week because of her health issues. she acted like it was a life or death situation.

but it was preferable to go back to that situation than to live with me, the last time we tried this and it felt apart. how quickly she forgets. and she ended up staying in that house for several more months, so it was never as bad as she said it was.

and I know my mom, I know that she has a really hard time admitting when she's also being shitty, and she tends to blame her partner for everything. and her partner is shitty! my mom's picker is broken! it's not my job to fix that, it never has been, but that doesn't stop her from asking me. because she doesn't have a whole lot of other options if she and her partner do split up. she has no income, no money of her own, no other options for housing. I get that she's in a shitty situation, so I don't feel great about trying to be firm with this boundary.

anyway when I said I'd have to think about it, because it went so poorly last time, she hung up on me. and I know I hurt her and I know she's scared, but that reaction also really doesn't bode well for general communication in a situation where she did move in.

the last time this happened and I agreed to it, it was because the topic kept coming up during really difficult moments for her (just like today's phone call) and I felt like I couldn't say no. and then I tried to delay it as much as possible, and that's when she hit me with the "this is killing me" line. it was a choice made out of desperation, not a well-planned one made in moments of rational calm.

I really wish we'd gotten a two-bedroom or a one-bedroom now.

she hasn't called me back or texted me. it's been like thirty minutes. I'm supposed to go see her tomorrow. not sure if I want to, tbh.

[ramonadecember]

Angst list:

“If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Do it because I need you.” For Sullen

i know i said my goal with these was to keep them short, but then it was your bday and i think my fellow cullen/samson enjoyer deserves some extra anyway. so here we are nearly 4k words later lmfao (which is why the full thing has been posted to ao3, this is just a 'preview').

happy belated birthday, bby!!

READ FULL ON AO3

Cullen never expected to see Raleigh Samson again. 

Once Samson had been cast out of the Order, there was a period of time where Cullen held on to this foolish hope that maybe something could be done about it. Cullen was hurt by Samson’s actions, taking his getting kicked far more personally than he had any right to, because to Cullen, it’d seemed like in finding a way to leave the Order, Samson had killed two birds with one stone and found a way to leave him too. But once some of Cullen’s initial upset had simmered, he’d started to think that maybe there was a way to fix what had happened. Samson could atone and be a Templar once more. They could be together once more. 

It didn’t work out like that, of course. Not in the slightest. Even if Meredith had been willing to welcome Samson back—and on that, she’d made her opinion clear that Samson was lucky to still have his head, so Cullen knew there was no hope for forgiveness—Samson would also need to want to return. The chance of that happening was just as unlikely. Samson bore no love for the Order any longer. 

Cullen found that out the one time he tried talking to Samson after it happened. It’d taken some time for him to work up the nerve to seek Samson out, and when Cullen did finally find him, slumming it down at the docks, Samson already looked like he was in rough shape, the cut-off from the once-steady supply of lyrium he’d been taking for years really taking its toll. It broke Cullen’s heart all over again, as did the way Samson laughed in his face at the suggestion that he apologize for ‘what he’d done.’ Samson had shook his head, giving Cullen this sad look like he was the one to be pitied in that situation. “You really don’t get it, kid, do you?” Samson had asked, but he’d refused to elaborate, telling Cullen to instead go run along back to his master. It made Cullen snap his mouth shut on any further response, his cheeks burning with anger and something he’d later identify as shame.

He really didn’t get it, not at the time. Not until Meredith’s madness really set in, not until the explosion that rocked both the Gallows and Cullen’s once-unshakable faith. Cullen had looked for Samson after that, once the fighting had simmered and the dust had—literally—settled, but Samson was nowhere to be found. As more time passed, it seemed less and less likely that Samson was just lying low in the aftermath, until it got to the point where Cullen had to start accepting that Samson likely got swallowed up by the chaos like so many others—until Cullen had to start accepting that Samson was dead.

It was an… odd knowledge to get used to at first. There was always a part of Cullen, silly as it may have been, that thought Samson and him would work out in the end. Or at the very least, it was always a comfort knowing that Samson was still somewhere out there, that they still coexisted in the same space at the same time as one another. Now that shred of comfort Cullen had clung to was no more.

Cullen did his best to move past it after that, doing what he did best and shoving down any residual heartache and feelings in the name of best performing his duty. A new, worldwide crisis meant there were much bigger issues to focus on than those of the heart, but then of course, as was Cullen’s luck—or lack thereof—his professional world collided directly with the personal life he’d been trying to smother out in the form of one Raleigh Samson heading up the army Corypheus sent to attack Haven. It left Cullen doing something he prided himself on never doing, and that was freezing in the face of a crisis. It may have only been for a moment, but it still happened—not that he was sure how else he was supposed to react when confronted with the ghost of someone he once loved, the ghost of the only person to make him feel safe but was ripping that feeling away entirely.

The Inquisition ultimately captured Samson after a few misses and some hard-fought battles. In the process it came to light just how… familiar Cullen was with him. While he tried to play it cool, tried to maintain that what he knew of Samson came from, at the very most, a place of friendship, but more than anything, a place of ‘sharing very tight quarters for an extended amount of time’ or ‘frequently paired off for training drills together,’ he knew others had their hunches about what he wasn’t telling them. It was there in Cullen’s commitment to bringing Samson in—alive. It was there in the passion with which Cullen spoke of Samson, even if that passion seemed to currently come from a place of animosity. It was there in the way he insisted on taking over for Josephine’s normal role during judgements once it was Samson’s turn to be dragged before the Inquisitor. Why anyone let him, especially after he explicitly stated that he wanted to because of personal interest, was beyond Cullen, but he supposed he was hit with payback for his unprofessional behavior in the form of Samson becoming his charge, his to deal with. 

It was hard from the start, not that Cullen expected any different. But the thing was, the difficulties arose from places other than where he thought they would. Cullen expected Samson himself to be difficult, to be purposefully unpleasant and contrary in all things asked or expected of him.

Cullen didn’t expect the difficulties to come from seeing Samson like… that. Ever since their spat in the throne room at Samson’s sentencing, Samson had completely shut down. No fighting, no bickering—as much as Cullen, admittedly, sometimes attempted to provoke him just to get a reaction—no real obstinance whatsoever, except when it came to leaving his cell. And even that Cullen would categorize less as defiance and more as Samson just… giving up. Samson had said it himself at his sentencing that he knew one way or another, he was a dead man, be it the Inquisition turning him over to other authorities or keeping Samson as their own prisoner, or even in some world where he managed a return to Corypheus. In his mind, all options ended with him dead—and with everyone saying ‘good riddance’ at that. So it seemed like Samson wasn’t waiting for the inevitable, he was opting to play dead even while his heart still beat. It was breaking Cullen’s.

Cullen tried to tell himself not to care, that if anything, he was glad Samson was suffering after all of the same that he had created for others, but as good as Cullen was at lying to himself—about all things emotional in particular—he still knew that wasn’t the truth of it. He couldn’t bear to see Samson reduced to this unrecognizable husk, lacking any trace of what had made Cullen fall in—

Lacking any trace of what had endeared Cullen to the otherwise crass and surly man in the first place. It was painful to witness, painful to have the phantom of who had once been his best friend haunting the dungeon, his office, his thoughts. 

READ FULL ON AO3

[gravitycoil]

Dream of 6/9/23*

(gross, helminthophobia, graphic warning)

Yet another dream where this shit happens but, I was home and it was night time and I'm going thru the fridge trying to find a snack and I see this meat. Ground beef or something. I couldn't tell if it was rotten or not so I asked my mom and she then proceeded to say it's fine and eating it straight up raw just from the fridge? (it was rotten) She then gave me a piece like held it up super fucking close to my face and I practically jump backwards away from it and make sure it didn't touch me at all. I'm like, "I'm not eating that. That's disgusting." and some other shit happened but I don't remember what but eventually Im in the car at nighttime like, idk why but I'm in the back just sitting there and I realize someone is in there with me and I freeze i didn't know what to do but I eventually just speak up and they turn to face me and I startled the shit out of them. We didn't say anything to one another but he got out the car and opened the backseat door next to me and sat next to me and then some other guy got in the driver's seat. I look at the new person and I recognize them even tho idk who it is at all but im like holy shit I know you. Eventually I say something like "You need to take me to the hospital I'm afraid if I have worms" and he starts driving and taking me there and I'm just anxious and paranoid as hell I think we eventually get to the hospital but they wouldn't take me in for some reason like they refused to help me and even kicked us out so we had to sneak in and find out for ourselves. I pick up this paper or something that detailed a bunch of symptoms of different parasites and what they looked like and all these different details and I realize that I had every single one described and had them for a long ass time. I don't remember what they were called but as soon as I realized it, I could feel them. One of them was super rare and the only way to get rid of it was purposely infecting yourself with another parasite so it could eat the rare one. It was all so fucked up I hated all of it. I don't even think I was able to get them out of me like I'm pretty sure the end of this dream was me accepting I could never get rid of them.

Dream shift

Was a hunter and was in a group with like 2 others and we had this rival smoker group who lived up the rafters of the roof while we lived on the ground and every so often one of us would be snatched by one of them but we always helped each other get out. I remember we were very cat-like with our body language and headbutted each other we also loafed a lot. lol. The smokers were getting really annoying like we were all trying to sleep but they kept picking at us and I got really really mad and ended up scaring them back into their corner up the roof. I might've killed some I don't remember. At one point we all try to sleep again and I remember it being something like If you didn't sleep in a certain amount of time you got killed or something lmfao. I remember I couldn't sleep at all but I tried to pretend I was and for some reason a tv turns on and is playing music and for whatever reason everyone started to blame me even tho I did nothing. They kicked me out.

Dream Shift

Was home or something. I was at some house thing and it was night time and I'm showing my friend around I'm like giving him a tour and I sense something bad was about to happen or something and I tell him in a really panicked mannor to start lighting candles and placing them in the corners of the house and he was all confused asking me why and I just yell at him to do it and that there's no time, eventually I try to hide in a bush with him and we suddenly can't move anymore and this woman starts to look around for us we perfectly hide from her and I don't remember who she was or what she wanted but I remember being so relieved that she didn't find us and nothing bad happened.

[hideoussundemon]

DISREGARD THE LAST ASK DONT REPLY TO IT REPLY TO THIS ONE

I MISREAD THE POST

john sheppard

Djkfdkkfkdkffk you got it partner

1. Sexuality hc: Raging homosexual

2. OTP: not to be a basic bitch but McShep always and forever

3. Brotp: John + the whole team ofc, but also John and Teyla and John and Ronon on their own. Also, John and Carson is an underrated brotp - especially John with clone Carson in The Kindred Pt2

4. Notop John/Teyla. Even putting aside John being gay af, every ship tease we get of the two of them is met with Teyla’s palpable disinterest lmfao. Also John/Elizabeth bc, once again, gay.

5. First headcanon that pops into my head: he actually can play that guitar he keeps in his room. Whenever he played in front of people as a kid, he’d always lead with the line: “Hello, I’m Johnny Sheppard” (iykyk). He thought he was so cool. (He was not).

6. One way in which I relate to this character: oh man, so many ways…..Definitely his inability to function in the face of other people’s emotions. Freezing up, looking deeply uncomfortable, and making a lame attempt at a joke to ease the tension? Mood

7. Thing that gives me secondhand embarrassment about this character: ………His inability to function in the face of other people’s emotions 😂. Also the fact that he plays golf.

8. Cinnamon roll or problematic fave? 100% problematic fave. John has killed…..a lot of people (affectionate ❤️)

[expired-blueberries]

coool coool coooooool, just realized that tumblr has a tag limit after ive already written a miniature essay in the tags of both this post and the other post and ive lost a lot of both of them. gonna try and recall everything i said now lmfao (plus the tags that DIDNT get deleted out of existence, so the part thats formatted weird is bc of that and sorry for the wall of text lmfao - the commas were tag breaks)

the way u put it abt kevin dying alone just like a rat in the gutter and ben waking up and looking for him… GOD kill me thats SOOOO good n emotional ARGH, im having so much trouble imagining how gwen would react bc like… she has NEVER gotten that close to a situation like that, like ben has gotten pretty close. hes killed ppl before (even if cannon never mentions it :/ ) and been killed, and hes left ppl for dead and been left for dead, and whether the show acknowledges it or not hes pretty well versed in this stuff, we can guess how he would act pretty easily, but gwen…. gwen to me kind of seems to live in a tower to speak, shes been around dangerous and in danger and been threatened and seen her loved ones get hurt many times , but she also seems to have lived a relatively sheltered life, whether by the way she was raised or by her own anodite heritage just. making her mind somewhat different from humans, something more free and less easy to be hurt, so then if u have her kill somebody COMPLETELY ON ACCIDENT while simultaneously being COMPLETELY AT FAULT, (and yes in canon i think shes also killed ppl but she never rly had any reaction to it), man… how would she react? to killing one of her only friends? to killing her boyfriend?, ben starts yelling at her and does she freeze or does she argue or does she break down?, i think she doesnt face any "official" consequences - like u said i think its swept under the rug, i think at BEST ben petitions to have her put on trial but its a closed trial in plumber court, no cameras and handpicked jury, rook at least seems to be friendly with kevin tho that was at the car show and friedkin, and max… well. max has signed many a death warrant, he was the one that both opened the null void portal for kevin and he barely reacted when phil was thrown into the void in os, if his granddaughter killed somebody well…, frankly even tho max acted hospitable to kevin in uaf it never seemed that he particularly cared for him to me, he acted like an adult should meaning he was hospitable and welcoming, but there wasnt any genuine attempt to reach out or anything, so i think while he might think it sad that kevin died and might think his manner of death particularly gruesome, his first and only thought is about gwen and ben (and also how to not let this get out), and then… would kevins mom (i never count harvey since it seems he and her are long divorced and i accept kevins retelling of his past as truth and not harveys), but anyway would kevins mom even BE told?, certainly not by the plumbers whom quite frankly we KNOW did nothing for her after devins death, at least not anything substantial - they dont keep tabs on her and kevin, which is why max didnt know kevin or his whereabouts, and she seemed completely forgotten about after devin died, so i think she would just be left in the dark again. it would have to be ben who tells her, and i say that bc i genuinely do not believe that gwen would have the guts to face her ,

forgot to mention but i think even if gwen were put on trial for it, and even if she completely admitted guilt, i dont think she would get in trouble for it. or, if she did, it would be like lowest possible security plumber jail lmfao. it would be declared a tragic accident that she had no way of knowing would happen and that would be it. it wouldnt even mar her record, or if it did it wouldnt affect any of her prospects in the future and would be completely hidden from all official public records. max is powerful enough for that lol

oh - my agenda was like... an anti-shipping agenda actually? lmfao. basically, i dont think gwen and kevin should be together, and gwen killing kevin would only further that lmfao, especially if it was, say, subconsciously done - she was mad at him, she shoved him out the ship "as a joke", causing his gruesome death... well, you might see how that furthers my agenda lol. but no, i think gwen and kevin were an awful ship, even in cannon - gwen often ignores and disregards his thoughts and feelings, constantly seems to not think about how his past might have affected him and the way he thinks and acts in the present, and seems to enjoy, well... hitting him. or, at least, getting physical with him. kevin, for his part, isnt as bad, but he refuses to open up and he is a very poor communicator and allows gwen to walk all over him. all of my points have cannon basis, but i, personally, am very bad at formatting my thoughts and writing them out, and that, combined with the way that fans of gwevin often come for my head when i so much as suggest they might be better with other people, has sort of dampened my desire to create a post about it lol. this opinion might come as a surprise since i do on occasion rb gwevin art, but its for the art and not the ship lol.

I don't have the emotional fortitude to write it, but the brain does sometimes mosey over to the potential aftermath of simple shit like 'the Omnitrix is programmed to prevent its wielder from dying', 'Ben is known to occasionally get the wrong alien', and 'falling from great heights is very bad for your health' coming together after Gwen shoves the boys out of the ship during Showdown to result in one dead Kevin.

Like damn but that could be one dramatic and painful storyline.

[ziaron]

woah hi ok UMMMMMMFHSKXNXKSB (this is my first request so excuse how bad i’ll be at explaining this to you)

ive always had this idea about someone a person is dating ending up being a yandere, like they really wanna protect you to the point they kidnap you and treat you like a goddess like that and just hurts everyone that interferes? or if they see someone that’s getting closer than they’d like or they’re jealous they’d just break their leg and go “oh! they fell down the stairs yesterday :(.. i helped them, it was so sad!”

also what if they’re like kinda scary but try to be nicer around you because to them you’re like an absolute angel or goddess

I MEAN YOU SAID YOU WANT A REASON TO WRITE SO I GAVE YA ONE

also idk if u do the anon thing where they have a name i completely forgot but if u do i really like oranges so 🤭🤭 maybe i could be orange anon… OKAY THATS JUST ME BEING AN IDIOT LMFAO

Loved orange anon xDD --- 🍊🍊🍊

I'm going to write more, i just am a bit burnt at the moment

Ok but in all seriousness im willing to regress into my feral writer form to satiate your needs ♡♡♡ (P.s. Lyo is read like Leo)

cw: Yandere behavior, manipulation, physical assult (Not towards reader), threats, idolization, stalking

'No relationship is perfect- no one is perfect.' you keep repeating to yourself.

What kills you is, for the most part, he is perfect. You've truly never felt this amount of love, tenderness or care in your entire life. So what if his eyes widen just at the sight of you enter a room- like he was meeting a deity of some kind. Isn't it wrong to ask less of him? Of a man so utterly devoted to you?

"What are you thinking about, angel?" Lyo's concerned eyes stare daggers into yours, waiting patiently for your reply.

"What am I-? Oh... nothing." After you speak there's nothing but silence for a minute or two

"It's just that-... Well... I know something is wrong so- can you just tell me so I can fix it?" He leans in as you quickly pull away, last time you let him 'fix' an issue between you and someone else your friend of two years sustained some pretty nasty bruises, bruises way too specifically placed to have been caused by a tumble in the dirt.

You let it slide then- 'just once' you thought. Since your so called friend had turned into a real jackass after having a few too many, and refused to take no for an answer. You didn't even bother to start a fight even when you knew Lyo was lying to your face about just walking him home, the quick glimpse of fresh scratches on his knuckles where all the proof you needed at the time.

But then there was that 'accident' on the staircase, the scared glances that surround him, the constant hovering, and the multiple monologs about how deeply he loves you, how he will always protect you; how you were like a divine being, taking pity on the likes of him-.

'He doesn't mean to- he doesn't know he's wearing me down... He doesn't mean to.'

"Please- just let me handle it myself. I'll be alright." you give him a reassuring glance before an abrupt

SLAM

As his hand meets the table. Instantly, you look at him with a mixture of shock, confusion and fear.

"I'm sorry! I'm so-so sorry! I didn't mean to! I just-!" Lyo's posture shrinks- like he's trying to make himself look as non-threatening as possible after seeing the look on your face.

You'd never seen him like that before. He was always incredibly calm with you-

"-please dont be mad at me, angel!" He reaches to cup your face in his hands "I just want to protect you... that's all...... GODDAMN IT! This is all his fault! YOU KNOW THAT?!"

Your mouth is still agape as you watch him unravel. 'Did he want to hit me?' 'Was he going to hit me?' were the only thoughts going through your head as you watched him pace.

Finally after a minute you blurt out

"I can't do this anymore. For a second there- I genuinely thought you might hurt me. I can't do this, I'm sorry, I need to leave."

He freezes.

"Don't." Lyo's voice came out as half threatening, half pleading. Like he was dreading what he would have to do next.

"I need you. Please- I just want to protect you! You know I would never hurt you! Ever! I just got a little frustrated! That's all! Don't be stupid, you know I'd never ever hurt you! I'D NEVER HURT YOU!?! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT?! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I-"

"Stop!", "I made my decision."

"So what? Mine doesn't matter then? What am i supposed to do without you? I have nothing without you. You aren't just the greatest thing in my life- you- you are my life!" Desperation clang to every word Lyo spoke, making your heart ache.

He could tell you were caving, as pools began to cloud your eyes you croak out a pitiful "ok..." before feeling his warm embrace.

Lyo gently pets your head, holding you tightly for a good few minutes while you cry. Knowing that just like a moth drawn to flame, He has you exactly where he wants you, no- needs you.

[hakkais-hoe]

bonten (separate! ran rindou sanzu koko and kakucho) and their fem s/o wasnt introduced to their 'work' but understands and doesnt rlly mind. then one day reader somehow just stumbles upon them killing someone (or like a bunch of ppl lmfao) and the boys are like OMG THIS ISNT WHAT IT SEEMS PLS LET ME EXPLAIN Y/N and y/n, totally matching their energy is like angry and shocked and deadpans like YES EXPLAIN ITS FUCKING COLD WHYRE U SHIRTLESS >:C crack and fluff <3 tysm and take care :D

Warnings: swearing, blood, murder, sanzu, fighting, knife+gun mention, could be other stuff, lightly ditzy reader.

Characters: Ran, Rindou, Sanzu

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Ran

Spending time with Ran was always your favourite time, sadly it didn’t happen often seen as he works so much and spends most of his time with his brother and friends.

For the first time in three months you’ve both finally managed to get a night off for date night, but you’ve been stood in the same fucking place for 2 hours waiting for the lanky cunt. Instead of going home you decide to walk around with the thought of maybe finding him leaving a store or something, with the cold setting in even more you finally fish out your phone to ring your man.

With the phone calling ringing out your continue your walk, when you saunter past a dark alleyway you can hear the distinct ringtone that he put on your contact info on his phone the blaring of “Sexy Back” blasts through the dark tunnelling alley. You know you shouldn’t go down the shady back alley but hey if Rans there he’ll look after you won’t he?

“Baby?? Rannn you down here?? OH MY GOD IS THIS BLOOD?!”

“Shit doll what- oh fuck it’s not what you think it is! Uh well actually it is but I can explain.” Rans new suit and shirt are both ripped open exposing his chiselled chest and tattoos to you not to mention the blood all over him too.

“Babyyy I stepped in ittt… it’s on my red bottoms these are new… and baby get this, you’re new shirts completely ruined you’re going to freeze baby!” You wine about yous shoes at first but you quickly end up just thinking about how cold your man must be. A sexy smirk takes over Rans pretty face when he lifts one hand to push his now messed up hair back out of his face, blood and sweat helping in the place of gel.

“You look marvellous my little doll~ Take a step back so I can get a better look at ya darlin. So prettyyy… Oh shit love we’re gonna be late for our table let’s go shall we.” Ran struts towards you while wiping his hands on his pocket handkerchief and stepping on all the men he’s definitely just beat the ever loving shit out of.

“There’s a shop with Armani in it around the corner if you want to change baby, we have 10 minutes I rang up and changed the booking a while ago… Oh my also did you know that Taiju Shiba owns the restaurant we’re going to! We have to say Hi if he’s there I miss his ugly face.” You witter on in his ear and dangle off his arm as he texts away on the walk to the shop you were talking about.

“Oh yeh that’s great baby… uh-huh how do you feel about blue diamonds? Or do you want amethysts? Wait why do you know Shiba? Let’s hurry up I’m hungry that exercise took it all outa me baby.” You know he hardly listened to you but that’s okay cos you stupidly love him.

“Hmm amethysts pleaseee you know baby I only like them so much because the remind me of your eyes. Let me wipe that blood off for you or you’ll get it on another suit… I think we’ll have to throw this one away.” You pull a pack of wet wipes out of your bag to help remove the blood off his face and hands. The clerk at the front of shop looks absolutely terrified but you both ignore him and walk further to the back.

Rindou

He didn’t call.

You waited in your usual restaurant for over and hour and he didn’t fucking call you. Not even a text message, you were on the verge of tears in the middle of this 5 star restaurant.

‘How could he stand you up on your anniversary!’

What a little shit, you’re deffo gonna make him buy you some new shoes as an apology for standing you up. Instead of eating longer for him you walk out of the restaurant, leaving a a wad of cash on the table in a huff while you stomp out of the door.

Phone in one hand, ringing unceremoniously, bag in the other you mutter insults at the voice message when it rings through. Saying how pissed off you are and how he owes you a whole day of his time, you break into a light jog when he doesn’t answer the fifth call you’re about half a mile away from one of the businesses that you know he owns with his brother.

Before you actually reach the building you hear grunts and cries of pain mixed with laughter coming from a back alley next to the building. Without thinking you decide to take a detour and walk straight down the dark alley.

In front of you is your beloved boyfriend and future brother-in-law beating the shit out of a group of buffed up men, Rin is currently snapping a mans arm with his bare hands casually with a cocky grin plastered to his face.

“Rindo motherfucking Haitani! How dare you stand me up! I waited for an hour for you, you shut head of a man.” You snap while stepping over unconscious men thrown on the ground, Rin stops mid snap and just gawks at you aggressively approaching him.

“Oh shit you’re so screwed little bro~” Ran muses with his baton raised above his head.

“Uh look Y/n I can explain… So um they were tryna steal Rans baton…” He’s still practically slack jawed while scrambling for excuses, you continue to get closer forcing him to drop the limp man in his grasp. Hands raised in surrender you grip the lapels of his suit.

“This is a band new suit you moron if a man! And to add onto that I fucking chose it… how could you get blood on it alreadyyy Rinnnnn and look, look I’ve got blood on my new shoes nowww you’ll have to get me a new pair!! Rannn tell him.” You wine obnoxiously while reaching to it your bag for something to clean up your man with.

“Well we’re done here so you should get your s/o some new shoes n head home little bro. I’ll have someone come sort this out later.” Ran speaks up while also taking off his gloves and whipping down his face. He waves as he walks out the alley leaving the two of you alone, well alone with about a dozen unconscious men.

“Okay okay let’s go get you shoes n head home that okay with you baby? Or do you still want to go out?” Rindou lifts an arm up to rest on your shoulder the other pushes his purple mullet out of his eyes gently as he guides you out of the quickly darkening alley.

“Mhm I wanna get shoes n go home! Ohhh can we order takeout if we’re going home??” You chirp up at him grinning for the first time that night. Rim looks down at you with a grin matching yours.

“Of course my love. God you’re so pretty m sorry for not showing up.” With that he leans down to press a quick kiss to the crown of your head.

Sanzu

“Where the fuck are you?! I’m getting awkward stares, Haru… Can you just hurry up I know you’re probably caught up at work but you could at least call. Anyway I’m hanging up now bye, call me.” You mutter into your phone, Sanzu may only be half an hour late but the staff at you twos usual restaurant are starting to give you pitying smiles like they think he’s not coming.

After another 20 minutes you leave money for your drink and a tip on the table and leave to go find your dick of a boyfriend. You know he’s probably got tied up with paperwork or something but your his s/o and he should tell you at least what’s happening.

You catch a taxi to his building where they know you as Haruchiyos s/o, you quickly pay for the taxi and run straight into the still bustling building despite it being nearly 10 pm. You stalk up towards the front desk where you catch the eye of the now growing nervous receptionist, her eyes flicker from you to the security then back again.

“Uh Ma’am/Sir how can I help you?” She quickly asks secretly hoping she doesn’t have to actually call up to Sanzu, you already know that half the staff are scared of your boyfriend it’s nothing new to you.

“Yes where is he?” You have no time to waste on chatting politely to her no matter how nice she is.

“Um I believe he’s on floor zero, I hear there’s stock down there that needed checking… I can find the code for you if you need? He should be with Mr. Kokonoi though.” You wave her on wanting the code quickly so you can go tell him exactly where to shove it.

With the code in your head you enter the elevator and type it in after selecting floor zero.

The doors beep open and I front of you is a long dark grey corridor with creepy flickering lights above you, at the end of the corridor is a single set of heavy looking doors with another keypad which you type the second code you were given in.

You push the doors informer of you open dramatically and come face to face with a massacre, blood and pieces of clothes are littered across the floor and walls.

Your loud pink haired boyfriend stands in front of a bloody corpse with a knife in hand and his head thrown back laughing, his usual purple suit and now a deep burgundy and any white of his shirt is now scarlet. Kokonoi in stood silently in a corner far from the gore lent against the wall with an impassive expression on his pretty face.

“Excuse me? Haru is that my goddamn necklace!? That was a gift from Rindou for my birthday how could you wear it in this dirty room!” You’re shocked that he could wear something so expensive to torture a man, sure you’re not going to question that part it would take so much time and you actually don’t want to know what’s happening so you go with getting mad about your necklace.

“Oh my! Hello there baby, whatcha doing here babydoll?? Did ya come to see you’re loving boyfriend?? That’s so sweettt my pretty baby came to see me~ Look Koko they came to see me aren’t you jealous?!” His loud voice and laughter bounces off the once white walls, Sanzu struts towards you with his blood soaked arms attached out wide going of course for a hug, you quickly side step his open arms.

“No nope no no thank you mister you’re dirty and this is a new top, my love. You should get cleaned up and then, hey, maybe we could go for that meal that we were supposed to go to nearly two hours ago.” You may be smiling at him but you’re so fucking fuming, he stood you up to torture some guy, what a fucking catch.

“Oh oh ohh sorry babyyy I’ll make it upto ya promise yeh? I’m done here Koko can get it cleaned up and I’ll go get changed okay? Wait for me in my office pretty one ♡” Sanzu ruffles your hair with and grin, effectively getting blood in your hair like the gem that he is, you know he’s done it so that you also have to take a shower at work with him.

🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

[fromchishiya]

Drunken Haze

Chishiya x g/n Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend looks after you whilst you’re drunk

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk Reader, Chishiya is once again whipped for you, ignore the title I had no idea what to call it lmfao

“And what’re we celebrating tonight, hmm?” Kuina laughs, tapping the side of your cocktail.

“I beat a game,” you pat the seat next to you, inviting her to sit down, “a tough one.”

She shakes her head, sliding onto the seat, “what type?”

“9 of diamonds,” you gloat.

Kuina lets out a pleasant yet surprised noise, “now that,” she points her finger at you, “is a reason to celebrate.”

Calling for a drink of her own, she takes the miniature umbrella out of yours, rolling it between her fingers a few times before looking back at you.

“So, you and Chishiya,” she starts.

You tilt your head curiously, “what about us?”

A loud scoff escapes her lips, her drink finally being placed before her, “you really expected me not to notice?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you take another sip of your cocktail, a mischievous smile crawling up your face.

“Oh come on,” she groans, “you practically drool every time he enters the room, not to mention the time he accidentally called you "Honey" in front of me.”

You lean your head on the counter, still grinning up at her, “really not like Chishiya to mess up, is it?”

“Stop avoiding the question,” she huffs, swirling the liquid of her drink around in its glass.

“Okay, okay,” you look around nervously, checking to see if anyone else is listening before leaning in, “we’ve been dating for quite a while now.”

Her jaw drops, hands reaching over to shake your shoulders, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you wriggle out of her grasp, “he said I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone apart from you, and I was only allowed to tell you if you asked about it directly. He wants to keep us hidden from everyone, y’know?”

She squeals, “how cute, he wants to protect you.”

Scrunching your nose up, you try to ignore the warmth rushing to your cheeks, “I’d want to protect me too if I made enemies with practically everybody who owns a gun in this place.”

A loud laugh escapes her lips, “touché.”

Ordering another drink, you watch Kuina tap the side of the counter, bobbing her head to the tune of the song blaring out of the speakers across the room from you.

“What about you?” you wonder aloud, “have you got your eyes on anyone?”

She looks startled, almost like she wasn’t expecting the question, “I’m more focused on getting out of here than anything else. No time for love for me!”

The constant stuttering and shakiness of her voice prove to you that she’s lying. You’ve known her for too long for her to be able to get anything past you.

“Really?” you raise your eyebrows, “cause I thought I saw you and Ann looking at each other quite a lot today.”

Her face morphs into a look of pure surprise and humiliation, “is it that obvious?”

“No, no it’s not,” you’re quick to comfort her, “I just notice these things.”

She calms down a bit at your words, fiddling her thumbs slightly.

“I do think you should ask her out, though, if you haven’t already.”

Her hands reach up to grab the counter edge, “maybe I will.”

Suddenly she stands up, downing the rest of her drink before facing you, “don’t get too hammered, okay?”

“I won’t,” you lie, eyes following her body as she walks away.

Nobody would mind if you went a bit overboard, would they?

๑♡๑☆๑♡๑☆๑

The door to Chishiya’s room swings open as you stumble in. You giggle when you see his brown eyes analysing you, eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No, of course not,” your words are slurred, and it takes Chishiya all but 3 seconds to make his way to your side, nudging you gently onto the bed before walking back to shut his door.

The sheets smell nice, you think, a grin creeping up your face as you bask in the Chishiya-scented bed coverings.

“Here,” Chishiya tosses you a pair of pyjamas; cute, soft button-ups that you usually would’ve loved to wear, but not tonight.

“No,” you whine, a pout replacing the smile previously on your face, “want your clothes.”

His unwavering eyes bore into yours for a few seconds before a loud sigh escapes his lips and he turns away.

Blocking out the sound of the wardrobe opening, you instead focus your attention on how soft his hair looks. You want to play with it so bad, put it into pigtails and attach pretty bows and butterfly clips to them. You doubt he’ll let you, though.

“If you throw up on these, I swear to God I will kill you,” Chishiya threatens, moving over to you swiftly.

You shake your head playfully, “I won’t, I promise!”

After a full 15 minutes, Chishiya finally finished helping you get dressed, which proved much more difficult than he originally anticipated due to your constant attempts of cuddling him. Thankfully, brushing your teeth wasn’t as bad as he thought, you had just sat there calmly whilst he brushed them for you. You had tried to swallow the mouthwash he gave you, though.

“Bedtime for you now,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you out of the bathroom.

“Not yet,” you protest, “I’m not tired.”

Chishiya turns his head to you, arching an eyebrow with the same unfazed look in his eye, “I don’t care.”

You let out a whine, finally laying down on the bed as he pulls the blanket over you and kisses your forehead. Ignoring your sulking, he turns on his heels and begins to walk away.

You shoot up immediately, hand reaching out to grab the back of his hoodie, “please stay, please.”

Chishiya freezes in his movements, a conflicted puff of air leaving his lips after a few moments as he climbs into bed next to you.

Beaming, you shuffle closer before attacking him with a hug. He tenses up slightly, but due to your drunken haze you don’t notice.

“I love you,” you nuzzle your nose against his, kissing the tip of it along with his cheeks.

He does nothing but stare for a few seconds, blinking as if he was trying to figure out your words.

Eventually, he speaks up, “I love you too.”

Scoffing at your overly enthusiastic reaction, Chishiya shifts your body until you’re in a position he knows you’ll both be comfortable in.

“Now be quiet and go to sleep.”