#then I almost had a stroke after he mentioned he was thinking of watching Supernatural

[steelthroat]

*me putting my Transformers figures on a shelf after tidying up* "Optimus and Megatron go together obviously"

My dad jokingly: "Heh, are they friends?"

Me: "In the Ancient-Greek sense of the word yes"

[ladyluscinia]

You know what... I do appreciate the genuine "my bad", the sun is shining, I have an unexpectedly light evening, and Supernatural is trending due to actors getting gay married. I think I will say some nice things about Destiel today.

Introduction: Supernatural is the longest running American Sci fi / Fantasy show (and pretty much only beat in length overall by Doctor Who - which is kind of a unique case) with 327 episodes over 15 seasons. It ran from September 2005 - November 2020. Destiel, the main ship of the spn fandom, appeared in the S4 premiere on September 18, 2008 with the introduction of Castiel, the angel who quite literally pulled Dean out of hell and resurrected him. (Fun fact: the first Destiel fanfic was posted that day.) Castiel had enough compelling character work and wild chemistry with Dean in their first season to inspire the writers to change their planned arc of killing him off after 3 episodes to keeping him around and (infamously) adapting the conceived allied-angel plot of a different new character, Anna, that was going to be a potential love interest for Dean into Castiel's story instead. So at the end of S4 he turned on all of Heaven after Dean Winchester looked him in the eye and asked him to, and the next 11+ years were history.

Now I can quite literally babble on about in-universe Destiel forever, but the stuff I've actually been observing / joking about / commenting on while all this ship bracket posting has been going is the more meta-level negative perception of the ship, show, and fandom, so I think I'm actually going to just overview that.

---

So like... broad strokes, Destiel is almost more meme than ship at this point. And it's not a generally positive meme. Part of that is our fault as a fandom - we do love our joking about queerbait and homophobia and being annoying and how much we lose, and the show finale was genuinely terrible - but also there is whole running joke of people who actually finally do watch spn and then go "oh my god there is actually Destiel in this show" because people assume they know about spn from the general fandom consciousness and straight up do not believe us when we say it shouldn't be dismissed as homophobic queerbait. Because it's not.

If anything, Destiel is a unique and fascinating case study of the blurry line and interactions between homophobia, queercoding, queerbaiting, and telling a canonically romantic story - one that could only have been produced in its timeframe.

Since we're coming from the Sulemio poll, there have been a lot of mentions of the legality of gay marriage. This is particularly ironic, because gay marriage is legal in the USA, yes, but that court decision came down in 2015. When spn premiered it was legal in exactly one state and explicitly banned in nearly half the country. By the end of 2008 (start of Destiel era) that becomes two legal states and explicitly banned in over two thirds. Supernatural as a show and Destiel as a ship literally straddle pretty much the entire process of gay marriage legalization across the country, which ended in the summer of 2015 between S10 and S11 when the Supreme Court legalized it nationwide, including in the 14 holdout states that hadn't done so yet. And this shows. It's intrinsic to understanding Destiel.

Because you also have to understand that a lot of people worked on spn over a lot of years, and our fandom loves to know those people by name. In the writers room alone you have 4 separate showrunners and about 15 additional writers of significance (so more than one-off episode writers) who all contributed their own efforts and perspectives. Plus directors, actors, the network / producers, other crew... Supernatural as a show has no coherent stance on Destiel at any point in its run because the people making it have so many different stances - which is how we get the final 3 episodes dropping a canonical romantic love confession and then trying to ignore they did so, burying their confirmed gay angel (the famous superhell meme) and then un-burying him in the finale with an offscreen mention while they studiously avoid drawing attention to post-canon Destiel possibilities, and very likely accidentally giving a translation team a script / transcript from before they cut the verbal reciprocation to said love confession that they insist did not exist despite the translation team seemingly receiving it (y yo a ti / canon in spanish memes).

Early years Destiel was a lot of homophobic jokes + queerbait and the show was mostly homophobic about it, but at the same time we have Ben Edlund, beloved writer from S2-S8, talking on twitter recently about how he was definitely aware of and intentionally exploring queercoded possibilities with Destiel well before that could be anything but queercoding on a network tv show. And he wasn't alone! Meanwhile in the late Destiel era we have Bobo Berens, a gay writer who joined the show in S9 (still pre-national gay marriage!) and would steadily gain importance until he wrote Cas's love confession and worked insanely hard with showrunner Dabb and actor Misha Collins to get it in the show. Yet some of the homophobic people from the early years are still around through all of that!

Like - gay marriage is legalized in 2015. S11 airs (with a lot of Destiel subtext which is standard by this point) and behind the scenes showrunner Jeremy Carver is passing the reigns to final showrunner Andrew Dabb. S12 is Dabb's first season as showrunner and he immediately has Destiel market researched. The network presumably says no, so S13 they open with a five episode bit we call the widower arc where Cas is temporarily dead and Dean is literally a widower about it, ending with a Cas resurrection and Destiel reunion with set decor referencing the Romeo + Juliet movie from 1996 and camerawork showing Cas's return putting the light back on Dean's face after he just tried to kill himself for real because nothing mattered anymore.

You can't make this shit up.

At several points we will never be able to fully pin down (see: varying stances across cast and crew), Destiel became a thing that a significant number of the creators were pushing for in some shape or form. That's not queerbaiting anymore. That's queercoding in a canon romance when you aren't allowed to break the "plausible deniability" rules - no kissing, no "I love you" that doesn't get immediately maybe-platonic-zoned, no gay stuff that couldn't maybe be the warrior's bond or a joke (and ideally leaves the audience to fill in the punchline). You can actually do a lot inside those rules. See: the entire history of queer media.

And they did it. For years. Until the needle on "how taboo the idea of your male lead being gay is" had moved just enough to pull the trigger and film it becoming canon right before a worldwide pandemic paused production and gave homophobic executives a huge block of time, required rewrites, and the perfect cover story for basically anything they chose to do. (The spn finale lore is way too complicated to get into here - just know it's undeniable shenanigans happened.)

So we have a heavily queercoded ship that's not really "open to interpretation" despite the party line - as in written in arcs where one guy is filling the role of love interest in everything but name and the two characters function like a common law married couple in between getting paralleled to about every romantic relationship they meet - that manages to become canon despite being native to a pre-gay rights era show that has a huge historical impact on fandom culture. And then we have a broad fandom perception of it among people who have not watched the show as being a cringe queerbait that the creators hated and never took seriously which should only be known for how homophobic it was to it's fandom while we leave it in the past (where it belongs) and embrace real canon ships that were made with effort by people who wrote them with intent to tell a gay love story.

...now maybe you see where I was coming from with this meme:

Oh, and in this timeframe spn fans have also put over 116k Destiel fanfics on AO3 - that's around 45k more than 2nd place Sherlock/John Watson last I checked - and yet the prevailing meme opinion is that it's just another white guy ship between two people who barely come across as friends and most people only still like it for the meme anyway. It's not like Destiel is actually has value or is worth shipping in 2024 with so many better options out there.

It's cool to hate now, and people loudly and enthusiastically hate it in order to be cool. Which is why we laugh amongst ourselves through losing polls and also laugh at the random wildly uneducated Destiel opinions that get treated as absolute fact because some meme voter said them and doesn't everyone know Destiel was queerbait?

Anyway if I really wanted to throw some stones in these glass houses I'd ask where the beautiful canon yuri ship advancing us beyond the era of barbarous queerbait - the one that got officially married in their blessed canon - is keeping their official kissing gifs.

They have those, right? One of the perks of being real canon and married (since Destiel canon doesn't count).

...oh.

Oh?!?

You mean they didn't show an official canon kiss on screen despite making it super blatant that there was a non-platonic relationship going on here??? And then the anime studio after making it super gay by doing a political marriage plot from ep 1 tried to walk it back to being "open to interpretation" by downplaying the relationship in the final episodes and editing out parts of interviews that said they were married post-canon?????? As in your fandom had a brief QUEERBAITING SCANDAL due to NETWORK CENSORSHIP?????????

[bloody-cupcakes]

If there was a yandere who was obsessed with Damon (tvd), how do you think he'd react? I personally believe he'd be a little flattered, at least at first

Tw: yandere/dark content, murder, slight gore/blood mention, manipulation, etc.

You're so right, anon. At first, I really don't think he'd recognize the danger. He'd just be thinking, "wow, someone's obsessed with me?" Especially if the yandere wasn't a vampire or hybrid, and they were just human, because if things got too out of hand a human can easily be killed.

And even if they were a supernatural being of some sorts, I still don't think he'd be too worried, because then he wouldn't have to hide who he really is to them. See, he's spent most of his life feeling like a monster, always being forced to play second fiddle to Stefan. So having someone who looks at him and sees none of those things, just utter perfection, it makes him feel appreciated. More than that, it makes him feel loved.

I don't think anybody would be able to convince him you're no good, especially not Stefan. He'd probably just view it as him trying to steal you away, and not as any actual warnings worth any further thought. Stefan was just jealous, that had to be it. There's no way any of what he was saying could be true...right?

I honestly think the only way he'd finally be able to see who you really were and what you were capable of is if dead bodies started popping up all over town (most of which he recognized as rival vampires or people who he just didn't get along with), all of them leading back to you. He'd probably be confused at first, thinking it's some sort of misunderstanding, and end up confronting you on the matter.

Once he found out that it was, in fact, you who was killing everybody, and it wasn't just a case of mistaken identity or merely accidents he'd be left with a choice to make: either help clean up after your messes so you wouldn't get caught, or kill you and risk losing the person who he loved the most.

"What are you doing?" You heard Damon ask as you cleaned the blood off the knife you'd used on someone earlier that day.

"Hi, honey!" You turned around, facing him with a big smile on his face. "How was your day?"

"You didn't answer my question." He narrowed his eyes at you, watching you set the knife down on the counter and grabbed a rag to dry your hands off with.

"I was just washing some dishes," you calmly replied, almost as though you didn't understand the gravity of the situation. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is," he said through gritted teeth. "Bodies have been popping up all over town, and I have reason to believe it's because of you."

"Oh? And what makes you think that?" You felt yourself get pushed up against the nearest wall, Damon's face inches away from yours.

"Don't play dumb with me, I know it was you."

"Oh, Dae," you said sympathetically, using the nickname only you got to call him by. "Don't you see? I did this for you, for us. Those people, they were competition. Threats, even. I did what I had to do in order to keep you safe." You brought your hand up to his face, lovingly stroking his cheek. "I did this for you, honey."

You could see he was cracking. You knew that no matter what you did, to him or others, he would never want to hurt you. He couldn't. You were the only person who ever truly loved him. You made him feel special, like he deserved the world.

His mind was completely blank. He didn't know what to say. "I-"

Noticing he was at a loss for words, you pressed a gentle yet passionate kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, just like you knew he would.

"Next time I kill someone, I'll make sure to get you first so all that blood won't go to waste," you promised him, and you knew from the way he nodded obediently that you'd successfully stolen his heart.

~

[make-me-imagine]

Promise Me

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 1 - Whump

Summary: The reader takes care of Evan after he’s been hurt on the job; Evan takes advantage of the situation, but also worries about how the reader might feel about his job.

Triggers: Mentions of fire, wounds, bandages, stitches, and a little blood.

Word Count: 1.6k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000 9-1-1 Taglist: @spuffyfan394, @webreathfandoms Requested Taglist: @hybrid-omegaverse

*Whump/comfort; heavier on the comfort part.

You rested your hand gently on Evan’s side as you entered his loft, helping him to walk. He limped slightly as he tried not to put too much weight on his injured leg. Finally getting to his couch, you slowly lowered him to sit, and as he was finally down he let out a relieved sigh.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

He nodded “I’m good, thank you.”

You smiled softly at him before moving to leave “I still think you should have stayed in the hospital longer.” You commented.

He shook his head “I hate being in there. Besides, they said I didn’t really need to be there as long as I had someone to take care of me.” He said with a sly wink at you.

You rolled your eyes lightly “I’ll go get your stuff from the car.

“No, no, wait.” Evan said as he reached out, gently grabbing your wrist.

“What is it?”

“You can get them later, just stay with me.” He asked with an almost whiny tone as he pulled you gently towards him.

You let out a soft chuckle as you sunk down onto the couch beside him. He kept one of your hands in his as you gently stroked the side of his head, your eyes lingering on the stitches near his temple “I swear you do it on purpose.”

“Do what?” He asked.

“Get yourself hurt.” You said as you met his eyes, your tone not entirely serious.

Evan let out a soft chuckle cocking his head slightly as he gave you a lopsided grin “Maybe I do it so I can get you to take care of me.”

You let out an amused laugh as you rolled your eyes and leaned your head against his own, careful not to touch his head wound “I don’t know if I’d put that past you you know. But I don’t mind taking care of you, as long as you get better.” You finished with a warning tone “And, as long as you never get yourself killed. Please.” You added the last word with a hint of pleading.

He quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek “I promise I will try to be careful. But I do love when I get to see this side of you.”

“What side? The side that’s worried about you all the time?”

“No.” He chuckled “The side of you that is gentle and caring when you are helping me. I love it.”

You smiled at him and shook your head lightly as you stood up “I’m gonna go get your stuff, don’t move.” You pointed at him as you headed to the door. Buck watched you with an adoring smile as you left. But a sudden intrusive thought passed through his mind. Trying to shake it away he looked to the tv, grabbing the nearby remote he turned it on to help drown out his own thoughts.

- - - - -

As the sun began to sink under the horizon, you piled all of the bandages on the table “Okay, time to change your bandages.” You said as you began to sort them. One for his shoulder and chest, one for his wrist, one for his leg, and then you needed to clean his head stitches. You looked over at Evan “Take your shirt off.”

He smirked as he sat forward “Demanding are we?” He joked.

You rolled our eyes “Shut up Buckley.”

He chuckled as he carefully began to unbutton his shirt, and as he started to take his arms out, you saw his face change to discomfort. Moving over to him, you carefully began to help him so he didn’t have to strain himself. After getting his shirt off, you began to take off his bandage, gently unwrapping it from around him. As his bruised and scraped chest was slowly revealed you felt your stomach sink. Your mind flashing back to how he got hurt.

You had been watching it on the news, a large factory had caught on fire. And when the familiar faces of the 118 ran by the cameras you were even more engrossed. You felt pride and admiration as you watched your friends put out the large building fire. But as it suddenly collapsed around them you felt terror as your body seemed to swoon. And as you watched them pull out the body of one of the firefighters from the burning rubble you began to panic. Who was that? Which one? Bobby? Chimney? Buck? Oh no, please, not him. You hated fearing more for one over the other, but you couldn’t help it. You loved him.

You watched carefully, and as their helmet was taken off by the paramedics, you saw his face and felt your body freeze as you stopped breathing. His eyes were closed and his face bloodied. And as the cameras cut away to the reporter you felt your body move without reason as you began to grab your things, and reach for your phone. You had to find out where they were going to take him, you had to find out if he was alive. He had to be.

“Are you mad?”

Bucks voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you realized you had been moving on autopilot, taking off his bandages and wiping down the wounds just as the doctor told you. You grabbed the new bandages and met his face “Why would I be mad at you Buck?” You asked, using his preferred name softly.

“Well I...I know how hard it must be, to watch others you care about do such a dangerous job. And I know it can get...harder to deal with the more it happens. I just...don’t want you to get tired of being afraid for me.” You could hear the strain in his voice as he struggled to find the words to express his thoughts. But you knew exactly what he meant. What he was afraid of.

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you because of how dangerous your job is? That I’ll get tired of worrying that I might lose you?” He met your eyes almost hesitantly and nodded his head.

You smiled softly at him before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Pulling away, you reached up and gently took his face in your hand, making him look at you “I will always be afraid for you Buck. And I will always worry. But what outweighs that, is the pride I have for you. I am so proud of you and what you do. You risk your life to save others. And I see how hard you fight for it, and I see how hard you fight to survive while doing it. Sometimes it might not feel worth it because of how scared I get. But when I see how happy you are at the end of the day, how fulfilled you feel about what you do. That makes it better. I will never wish for you to do something else, because I know what you are doing is what you are meant for. It’s who you are and I would never ask for you to be something else. All I ask is that you promise you will always try your hardest to come back to me, alive, and safe.”

Buck stared at you with evident tears building in his eyes, just as you had in your own. And he felt an almost overwhelming love for you as you spoke to him. He nodded his head “I promise.”

You smiled at him and gently rubbed his cheek with your thumb “And I promise I will always be here to take care of you on those days you can’t quite keep your promise.” You said with a light chuckle, which he replied to with his own. “Now shut up so I can concentrate.” You said as you moved to apply the clean bandages.

Buck chuckled again “Yes Doctor” He joked.

- - - - -

After finally replacing all of his bandages, with only mild complaining from Buck, you began to apply the disinfectant to the stitches on his head. Being careful not to pull at the stitches, you got close to Evans face. In the midst of your concentration, you didn’t notice how much Evan was staring at you.

He studied every inch of your face, to the small almost invisible spots on your face, to the more obvious ones. The curve of your lips, and the cupid’s bow above them. The color of your eyes as their gaze flicked around as you focused on his head. He spent a lot of time staring at you, when you were engulfed in your work, when you were engrossed in whatever movie you two were watching, when you slept beside him in bed. He never got tired of looking at you. And now as you were so concentrated on taking care of him, he felt himself fall in love with you a little more. Which he had not thought possible.

As you brought your hand away from his head, he quickly leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips and catching you off guard. When he pulled away with an amused and proud smirk, you smiled at him and shook your head ever so slightly “Careful, you’re going to make me pull your stitches.”

He simply smiled at you “I love you.” He said softly.

You met his eyes and almost swooned at how deeply he was staring at you, his blue eyes shining adoringly. Leaning forward you were now the one to suddenly kiss him, quickly, gently. And when you pulled away you smiled brightly at him “I love you too. Always.”

xx End xx

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[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Fear

Word Count: 2,020

Characters: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader (gender!neutral)

Warning: angst, mentions of death

A/N: pls send requests I am 1000% out of ideas

Masterlist

“Why are you awake? It's almost 4,” Derek yawned as he walked to you.

You sat on the counter, your laptop open in front of you along with a notebook next to you.

“I have some work to do,” you continued to focus on your work, ignoring Derek's glances.

“I know you have work, but it's late.”

“Just go to bed and leave me alone,” he frowned once more, before putting his hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), I’m serious. You haven't been sleeping for a while,” you rolled your eyes, shoving his hand off your shoulder.

“Unlike you, I have actual things to do. If sleep is such a big thing to you, then go. I’m doing something important, I don't need you to distract me and bother me with stupid things, okay?”

“Fine, goodnight,” Derek gave you a small smile before turning away, a worried look on his face.

He knew something was wrong, you were more reserved, you didn't tell him anything.

You looked at a page in your notebook that had two numbers on it.

You felt your heart drop as you stared at the numbers, then at your phone.

You closed the notebook before going on your laptop once again,

opening up another browser.

One more time, (Y/N)

You dialed the number, biting your nail before hearing the voicemail once more.

“Hello, you’ve reached…”

You ended the call before it could finish, feeling tears threatening to spill.

You sighed deeply, before focusing back on your laptop.

---

“What happened last night?” Isaac asked.

“Nothing, I just had some work to do,” you shrugged.

“I mean why didn't you go to sleep?” Isaac took a seat in front of you, handing you a cup of coffee.

“I did sleep some,” you replied.

“That’s weird, I didn't see or hear you come in the room,” you could feel Derek from behind you as you sighed.

“I fell asleep down here,” you said.

Derek and Isaac both looked at each other before Derek walked to you, resting his hands on your waist.

“We’re just trying to look out for you,” he pressed a small kiss to your cheek as you rolled your eyes.

“I appreciate it, but just stop. You guys have been like this for days,” you stroked Derek’s hand before he sat down next to you.

“You've been upset for days,” you felt a pang in your chest before you pulled away from Derek, standing up.

“Wait, (Y/N)-” Derek started.

“I have to get going,” you grabbed your bag before Derek stopped you.

“Are we still on for dinner?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I'll see you then,” you gave him a weak smile before rushing out of the door.

“Where are you going?” Isaac frowned as Derek grabbed his jacket and his keys.

“Where do you think?” he waited until you got on the elevator before rushing to the stairs.

---

You ran your fingers through your hair, waiting outside of a house. Anyone crossing by would assume it to be empty but you knew it wasn't.

He deserves it

You made sure your gun was in your back pocket, keeping your knife up your sleeve.

It was a simple plan of attack. He didn’t even know you were in town, he didn't know you knew where he was. He didn't know you knew he was supernatural. All you needed from him was a location.

You felt your heart aching, all feelings and memories from your life, everything led up to this final moment of revenge.

It was all his fault

Deep down you knew better. You should've been there, with your mom, but instead, you left her alone because you were upset.

If you didn't storm out after a fight you wouldn't have been orphaned at 16.

You inhaled deeply before closing your eyes.

You can do this

You pushed past all the anxiety, nerves, and fear, walking into the house.

---

Don’t follow them in, Derek tried to tell himself to keep away, he already felt guilt in his chest as his car parked a distance behind you.

He watched as you hopped out of your car, slightly tensing as you grabbed a knife and gun.

It looked like you were going on a hunt.

(Y/N) wouldn't do something like this and not tell me

Maybe I’m pressuring them

He watched nervously as you ran to the house, holding himself back

Leave as soon as they come out, go back home and leave them alone

He took a deep breath, leaning onto the chair.

---

You stumbled out of the house, your vision was blurred as you fell past the stairs, hitting the floor.

“Come back here…”

His voice faded out of your hearing, your ears ringing as you tried to back away from him.

You felt his hands grab you, pulling you up as you winced.

“I should damn well kill you right here. End it for you,” his nails dug into your arms as you held back a cry.

You tried to slip your hand into your back pocket.

One headshot could do it, but his grip was too tight.

You used all your energy to kick him back as hard as you could, watching him stumble as you reached your gun quickly, aiming it at his head.

“Now… you don't have to”

“Tell me where he is.”

“You were there that night. You saw him kill…” your voice faded as you cocked the gun.

“Look, I don’t know where he is. I haven't seen him for years, okay?”

“Wrong answer,” your tears made your eyes red as you took shaky breaths, trying to keep yourself vertical.

You were two seconds away from dying.

“Hey, listen here kid-”

Before he finished his sentence, you pressed on the trigger, standing frozen as the bullet went through him.

His body fell over in front of you as you let out a shaky breath, feeling pain in your chest.

You let out a soft cry before you pushed yourself further, trying to get back to your car.

You stumbled forward, unable to make it more than three more steps as you collapsed onto the floor.

Your chest was racing, you were hyperventilating.

All your hope had faded, the one and only lead you had on where your dad was.

Your vision blurred as you closed your eyes.

I deserve to die right here like this

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath before you let go.

You don't deserve to live

---

“Yeah, they're okay now,” you kept your eyes closed as you listened to Derek’s voice.

You could tell you were back at the loft.

“What even happened?” Isaac exclaimed.

“I don't know, Isaac. I need to talk to (Y/N), so will you please just go?” you remained still, hearing silence before Isaac sighed.

“Just tell me what happens,” he nodded before walking out of the room.

Derek waited a few seconds before hearing the loft door close.

“I can tell you’re awake,” he said.

You sat up shakily, clenching your jaw as he looked at you.

His arms were crossed as he closed his eyes before sighing.

“Are you mad at me-” your voice was barely above a whisper before he shook his head.

“I followed you today. I know I shouldn't have but I have been worried about you for weeks. You snap at me, Isaac, Scott, and everyone else for the smallest things. I turn my back for two seconds, I see you aiming a gun at some guy’s head before you collapse. You could have died,” you stayed quiet, looking down as he continued talking.

“I went to the hospital, Melissa patched you up before I brought you back here.”

His voice went up slightly as tears rushed to your eyes. You knew you were in the wrong, you had no good excuse for what you did today, it wasn't worth it in the end.

“I can’t even begin to express how scared I was. If you just let me in, if you just told me that something was wrong…”

“Derek.” you started.

“So you want to talk now?” he scoffed.

More tears threatened to spill.

“After all this time of silence, you finally want to tell me things?”

You can't tell him the truth

You know how he’ll feel

You couldn't hurt him more, the truth would make him feel like shit.

But you cared about him, you don't lie to the people you care about.

“I’m not mad. I swear, I’ve been scared for you for so long and I don't know what to do at this point,” Derek walked to you, bending down to look up at you before he held your hands.

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he stroked your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to hide this from you, i-it's not even… I just don't know how to tell you, everything was good between us and this is just so much shit and I didn't want to burden you with this and you already have all this shit to deal with living here with being the alpha and I didn't want you to change the way you see me, a-and-” you gasped for air before Derek stroked your back.

“Nothing can ever change the way you see me, no matter what.”

“When I was sixteen I got in this really bad fight with my mom, I don’t even remember what it was about but I stormed out…” your head began throbbing as the memories rushed to your head.

Everything felt sick all over again.

It had been four hours, your mom was most likely asleep by now.

You couldn't talk to her, you needed a break.

You sighed deeply, pulling your key out of your pocket as you walked to the door, pausing as you saw it open.

Your body tensed as you took a few steps forward, walking into the house slowly.

Your eyes went wide at the sight.

Blood was everywhere, your mom was on the floor, you immediately felt a sick feeling in your stomach as your dad stood next to her, his hands covered in blood.

“Who the hell are you?!” you heard someone call as your dad’s head shot up, locking eyes with yours.

“Shit, (Y/N)...” before he could finish his sentence, you ran as fast as you could, rushing into your car before seeing your dad run out of the house.

You swore you were going crazy, his eyes glowed slightly as you drive off as fast as you could, trying to get the image out of your head.

Derek had his arms around you, rocking you slightly as you continued crying, telling him everything.

“I was trying to find him for a few weeks, I thought I could finally get my revenge, but…” you held back a cry as you turned to face him.

“He didn't know where my dad was, I spent all this time tracking him down and it was useless, I’m back to having nothing,” you cried softly.

Derek’s arms stayed around you tightly as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to find him now, I-I killed the one person who would have known because I got too emotional,” you leaned onto his chest.

“You mean you don’t know how we’re gonna find him?” you looked up at him, sniffling.

“I don’t care what happened or who you killed. I want to be here for you when you need me. I want to help you find him and get your revenge,” he said softly.

“You already have to deal with all this stuff here, and-”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, you know that?”

You sniffled before nodding.

“I know,” you said softly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, we will figure this all out tomorrow. You don't need to do this alone,” you nodded again as he held your hand, pulling you up.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

You saw a small smile on his face as he nodded, walking away with you.

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[snackhobi]

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you. 

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world. 

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening. 

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?” 

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show. 

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.  

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.��

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity. 

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine.  “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.” 

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay. 

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him. 

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs. 

--

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it. 

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course. 

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared. 

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face. 

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful. 

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you. 

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

--

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does. 

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you. 

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions. 

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout. 

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips. 

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin. 

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to. 

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time. 

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

--

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man. 

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple. 

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease. 

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone. 

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

--

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress.  “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous. 

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio. 

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!” 

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

--

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it. 

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features. 

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch. 

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed. 

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said. 

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern. 

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked? 

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

--

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there. 

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don��t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin. 

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are. 

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser. 

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not. 

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole. 

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it. 

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ. 

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you. 

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of. 

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right. 

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.  

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room. 

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room. 

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back. 

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok. 

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you. 

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you. 

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth. 

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be. 

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles. 

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over. 

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly. 

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright. 

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him. 

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty. 

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly. 

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you. 

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology. 

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. 

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast. 

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

--

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

[faerykingdom]

JUST MAKE IT STOP ━ E. MIKAELSON

PART TWO

WORD COUNT → 1586 words​

SYNOPSIS → You just want it to stop

WARNINGS → self-conscious, insecurity, mentions of rape, word “vagina” mentioned once, fluff, and some lovely angst

The voices of Lorelai Gilmore filtered through your black macbook laptop. The white covers of your twin bed, was wrapped around your shoulders, and halfway up your face, almost covering the entirety of it. The dried tear tracks left on your pale cheeks made your cheeks slightly itchy. But you hardly payed it any time. 

You felt numb. Like everything in your head was cloudy, and covered in fog. You could hardly focus on the episode of Gilmore Girls. You couldn’t tell which episode it was, but it had the usual Lorelai and Emily Gilmore yelling and fighting. You didn’t know what they were fighting over. Truthfully, you hated this show. You found Lorelai extremely annoying, The constant complaining, sarcastic comments, and the whole “I stopped being a kid when I had one!” You didn’t really know why you chose to watch this. 

Maybe it was because it was the most mind numbing thing you could think of. I mean, you could of have put on Dragons: Race To The Edge, the latest show on the How To Train Your Dragon franchise. You loved that series, it reminded you of a time where you and your mom would cuddle on the couch every Friday, with a load of candy and popcorn, while you watched movies. It reminded you of when everything was easy, and not complicated. When you didn’t know about the supernatural life, where you weren’t in love with an original vampire. Where he wasn’t in love with you as well. 

You couldn’t really remember how you had gotten home after.... after what had happened. It was like you were in a trance with what had happened. One minute you had been trying to keep your ripped clothes on your broken body, next you had been in your home, barely able to dodge Mrs. Dawren -- your next door noisy neighbor -- when she had come bustling out her door, yelling, “Ms. y/l! Ms. y/l!” You had slammed your door shut as soon as the old lady had yelled your name. 

You hardly remember the scalding hot water that you had burned into your skin when you had hopped into the shower. You had scrubbed your body so hard that some of your skin had peeled. When you had gotten out of the shower, your skin was a bright red, but you could still feel them. You could still feel their hands on your body. You could--

No!

No, you can’t think of it. It would just cause more problems. It would just worsen your mind.

You didn’t even realize that tears were streaming down your cheeks as you stared blankly at the laptop. A sob broke through your lips, as your shoulders shook. You buried your head into your comfortable comforter, that was already soaked with tears. Your h/c hair was still soaked with the burning water, but you hardly paid it any mind. You just wanted it to stop.

You wanted your thoughts to stop. You wanted the memories to stop bombarding you. You wanted to get up and get dressed. You wanted to go to work, and act as if it had never happened. You wanted to turn on your phone, and look through instagram. You wanted to just forget.

Your sobs were the only thing you could hear. You didn’t hear when your boyfriend had knocked on the door, so you hadn’t tried to stop crying. You didn’t hear him use the key you had given him for emergencies, so you didn’t try to calm down. You didn’t hear him speed into your room -- damn vampire speed --, so you didn’t look up. You didn’t notice his presence until he had grabbed onto the laptop that was about to fall of the bed, and kneel in front of you. 

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern, as he raised his hand to stroke your cheek only for him to stop when you flinched away. Burying yourself deeper into you blanket.

“Go away,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. You didn’t want him to see you like this. 

Elijah Mikaelson kneeled in front of his sobbing girlfriend, his face dropped in shock. Here she was, sobbing her heart, and she tells him to ‘go away.’ He knows that sometimes he isn’t always there, what with temperamental younger brother, drama queen sister, and a pregnant hormonal werewolf, his hands were kind of tied. But he always tried to find time where he could be with you without interruption. And when you hadn’t answered his calls, texts, or even emails, he had gotten worried. 

When he had heard your sobbing from down in the parking lot, and the hint smell of blood, he had vamp speed to your door. In the apartment next to yours, Mrs. Dawren had been loudly complaining about your rudeness, and your need for manners. “Young man, you ought to teach that girl of yours, some manners,” she had said, almost making Elijah snap her neck. If the old woman had only been willing to listen, she would have heard your sobs, it’s not like you were being exactly quiet with them. 

“Darling, what happened?” he asked again, only this time softening his voice, and adding a stern tone to it. You had always been intimated by it, almost always answering immediately to the tone. 

You had tensed up a bit, but still, you didn’t answer. The more that time went by, the more that Elijah worried. You had never acted like this. You were usually up. constantly needing something to do, or you would get exceedingly bored. You always had a smile on your face, your eyes had always had a gleam to it. But now, now it was like a cloud rested over your eyes. Your face, even though sobbing, had a blank look to it. 

He slowly brought his hands up to remove the blanket from your face. You hadn’t resisted. Your limbs too tired to try to fight off a thousand year old vampire. (That would win.) The sight before him sent him into a fury. Your naked body laid, wet, on the bed, completely soaking your bed. But that wasn’t what had bothered him. It was the bruises, and dried blood on your most sacred area. 

Bruises covered the entirety of your body, there were even some scratches and dried blood that you had missed in your frantic scrubbing. Your arms had finger shaped bruises, like someone had held you at your forearms too tightly, leaving purple and black bruises. Your hips had bruises like that as well. Your legs were covered in green, yellow, and purple bruises, some even giving the distinct impression that someone had held them up against a brick wall. The burns proving the theory. Your vagina had dried up, and even some new, blood dripping down it, leading down to your roughed up thighs. And it wasn’t period blood.

Period blood had a distinct smell to vampires. It smelled like regular blood, but with a hint smell of honey. Or at least, that’s what it always smelt like to Elijah. Regular blood smelled like metallic, had the smell of pain. 

This, this blood reeked with pain. 

Elijah’s eyes filled with rage. Someone had hurt you, and he hadn’t been there to help. He hadn’t been there to save you. “What happened?” he growled, snapping his veined filled eyes up to yours. 

Tears had continued to spill down your cheeks, but there was a new emotion in your eyes. The first one that he had seen since he had gotten there. Fear.

A sob ripped through your throat, and you looked away. Your gaze turning to the wooden floor. Before you could let your thoughts continue to take you to a place that you shouldn’t be, Elijah had gripped your chin, and forced you to face him. “What happened?”

It took you minute of just staring at his brown eyes, just staring. Your pale lips -- probably the cause of you still being drenched in water -- were trembling. Your shoulders hunching over yourself, as if trying to protect yourself from the pain.

“They had came out of nowhere,” you whispered, desperately trying to look anywhere but at him. It had taken everything in you to just say that. “They had yanked me into a alley. They had slammed me against the bricks. H--Had ripped my clothes, a--almost impossible for me to keep me covered. On--one had held my l--legs up, a-a-another had held my a--arms. T--The le--leader had b--een first. I--I can’t rea--lly remember what h--had ha--happened a--after.”

You tried to tell him everything, but it was like you were reliving it all over again. You could see all of it happen all over again. You felt their hands on your body, and you heard their taunts. Their laughs. Slowly, you had stopped trying to speak, instead just delving into sobs again. 

But Elijah didn’t need to hear more. He knew what they had done. He didn’t need you to tell him. He knew. 

“Just make it stop. Eli, please,” you cried. Your head shook as you closed you eyes, and dug your head into your soaked pillow.

As he watched the love his life cry and scream, as he held her, tried to comfort her, he vowed that he would break every bone in their bodies. He would find them, and make them feel the pain that she felt. And he never breaks his promises. 

Part Two

[eureka-its-zico]

Half Bitten Part 4

Prologue  Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

A/N: So no one really asked for a continuation of this. I just work on stuff when I’m stuck on other things and I love supernatural stuff. My only hope is that someone out there enjoys this just a little. As always, thank you for reading. Much Love, Jenn

Jimin X Reader (for now?)

Words: 8620

Genre: Vampire supernatural goodness

Warnings: some slight gore

The surge of fear that rushed through you left a sickeningly sweet taste of copper on your tongue. For that brief moment, as your eyes focused in and out on his figure, you wondered if maybe you’d bitten your tongue. A mixture of shock from the wound on your leg and the frigid air making your teeth begin to clatter unapologetically from the cold. That wasn’t even mentioning the blood loss from your wounded leg was starting to show itself: your eyes running over him in doubles when you knew damn well there was only one of him. The spyglass vision made it increasingly harder to focus, and the more you did focus on him the more you felt the absurdity at noting how attractive he was. 

From Jimin to Namjoon and now this guy, they all held on to that otherworldly energy. It demanded to be admired and touched: a dangerous game to hypnotize right before they stroked. A small part of you wondered if there was a convention? A secret meeting place to find the most attractive people on the planet and turn them into vampires. 

It was the worst, most ridiculous, time for your thoughts to shift to the absurdity of looks but it also felt equally absurd that you were running for your life. From vampires. You knew the fear that quickened your blood should’ve been enough to send your feet packing in the other direction. Yet, there you were woozy from blood loss and your limbs on fire from adrenaline. 

You were vaguely aware that your new dangerous stranger was edging his way towards you. Blood soaked eyes smiling to the soft hum of a song he’d originally hummed but was now breathing into the space between you. It was hauntingly beautiful and serene. The words took ages to reach you, but when they did your heart thundered wildly. A scared rabbit caught in the view of a viper. 

“Your scent is so pure. It tastes so rich. You’ll try to hide.  you’ll never get far. I love the chase. I’ll find you wherever you are.”

The words danced sickeningly sweet inside your head. The angelic sound of his voice almost enough to make you overlook the words. But your brain knew something wasn’t right, and it sent you turning on your heels and attempting to sprint away from him. 

You’d felt like a fool. You’d been so starry-eyed as you watched him he’d already begun to pace towards you. A delicate shift of his feet that practically left him dancing and a few feet closer to you than before. 

Your late response to turn tail and run; digging in and shifting you forward, hopefully, as far away from him as your injured legs could carry, felt too late. The sensation was so overwhelmingly it took everything in you not to scream. To yell into the void of the night for a help that would never come. The anxiety of not knowing when his attack would come ripped your stomach apart and your heart nesting snuggly in your throat. 

With every pounding of your feet into the asphalt the nerves in your injured leg sent electrical jolts of pain throughout your body. A screaming reminder that you were wounded prey, and the agony you felt now wouldn’t compare to the future he had in store.

You held on to a dim hope you’d had a chance of getting away, but with the first brush of a body moving past you, faster than your brain could register, you knew that hope was non-existent. You barely had time to register the second gust of movement, now to your right, and you weren’t able to stop the soft yelp that crawled free from your throat. 

His windchime-like laughter resonated around you as if he was impossibly close. Behind you. Beside you. All around you. The playful sound erupted and consumed you until it was the only sound you could hear. 

He kept toying with you, herding you, whichever way he saw fit. The progress you thought you were making to safety dissolved quickly at the realization he had you moving in circles. Your mind was now blaring warnings wrapped up in frantic thoughts that left you dizzy with panic.

He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t Jimin who was there to care for you. He was obviously one of Namjoon’s people. This mystery man who tormented you. 

RUN!

Your brain kept scrambling the words around. The flight of nerves urging you to keep moving not caring that you were attempting just that. The neon of the Chinese food restaurant that’s been on your right now seemed on your left. Had he completely made you do a one-eighty? 

There it was again - that clamoring of panic in your chest. It definitely wasn’t helpful, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to help save you. Just another thing to add to your growing shit show of a day. It didn’t matter if you were going to be able to get away. Realistically, you knew the chances of that happening were narrowing down slim to none. It didn’t stop your legs from tearing to your left back down the street, legs pumping, and started saying a prayer that you’d magically turn into The Flash. If vampires and witches were suddenly real it didn’t seem like too much of a stretch to become a superhero. 

Gosh, how you’d seemed to find a street with literally no one on it seemed horrifically convenient. 

“Silly rabbit,” his voice whispered down your spine and instantly caused a scream to catch in your throat like bile. 

Somehow, it seemed even the buildings were helping him play tricks on you. The acoustics of his voice bouncing around as an endless echo to disorient you from knowing which direction he would come from. That knowledge alone made a soft hiccup of a sob leave you. You weren’t even aware of the tears stinging against your eyes; your only focus on your escape and cursing your legs as they struggled to pick up the pace. You bite down on your lower lip to keep from letting one tear escape. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

“There’s no place you can run that I won’t find you.”

If you were feeling good about your odds, you would’ve told him to go fuck himself. The declaration is already solidly forming on your tongue and patiently waiting for you to send it off. Unfortunately, the odds were never in your favor.

You didn’t have to look back to know he was still giving chase. 

You struggled to stay focused. Your gaze landing on a liquor store - neon lights flashing with the grace of a motel vacancy sign - gave you a destination to strive for. The earlier choice of the Chinese restaurant now a thing of the past. He’d turned you around so much you weren’t sure if it was ever real. 

What you needed now was a home base that would possibly give a semblance of safety if only you could reach it. It felt damn possible. The feeling of the crazy bastard behind you somehow leaving you, but the anxiety of being chased still resided. 

You were mid-run, feet still lifted off the ground, when an arm snaked around your front and collided your back against a hard chest. A flutter of a moment passed, not long enough for his foreign touch to register, before your neck was exposed by a violent tug of your hair and sharp canines sinking down into the soft skin of your throat. 

That sob you’d held down ripped its way violently from your lips. Mixing together with a scream that shook through you and landed like an earthquake around you. His strong arms dominated you with ease, and continued to constrict across your body to keep your arms useless at your sides. 

The sensation was one that reminded you of your time in second grade. Mrs. Mann’s beloved python that sat motionless a majority of the time in the back corner of the class. You never seen it move until it was feeding time - never live bait - but even then you could still remember the abruptness and strength of the way it matched onto its food. The greedy way it swallowed its’ meal whole after its body made sure one last time the bunny was dead. 

This was what you remembered now as his arms continued to pull your body closer; impossibly closer. The hand that held your neck letting go to secure itself on your opposite shoulder. This man was your boa: squeezing his meal until he popped bones and killed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

The pressure was so great that it left your mouth hinged open. Your jaw unable to collapse, mostly due to your body howling for air. The flashing twenty-four hour liquor sign was a comical five feet away. The promised salvations hum of  low voltage electricity and spastic red glow turned into a blur. The tears you’d refused to shed now slid effortlessly down your cheeks. 

The only thing you could be aware of was that you weren’t breathing. Your mouth was still wide open, but your lungs refused to take in air. It didn’t matter that your body ached for it. It focused more on the sensation of a hungry mouth that sucked hungrily at your neck. The sharpened dog teeth that were sunk deep into the skin no longer ached. 

There was a moment you felt something hot slide down your neck and you wanted to yell. Your mind registering it as drool; not being able to comprehend it was your blood seeping between greedy mouthfuls as he drank. It was strange that after all this, your body was still aware of the placement of his hands. His arms still holding deathly tight, and yet you were placed securely up against his chest. 

If someone were to walk by all they would think was that you were just a young couple. Your boyfriend casually holding you from behind and laying kisses on your throat. They wouldn’t notice that the way his arms held yours it kept you from reaching out a pleading hand for help. At this point, you were so weak you weren’t even sure you’d have the strength to lift a finger, let alone a hand. 

The sting of his teeth that found their home in the hollow of your neck began to fade. Your mind was now only able to recognize the euphoric sensation that began to dance through every cell of your body. You no longer felt the need to fight him. Why would you when your body suddenly felt heavy and his arms so secure? 

In all the chaos of a few minutes the pain fueled down into an annoyance that went to the backdrop with the sensation of numbing pleasure. Whether it was blood loss, or defeat, your body began to relax against the undead stranger. A quiet urge to allow him to drink you down until you were nothing. You were sinking deeper against his strong chest; the euphoric feeling that coursed through you had now consumed you. 

You were vaguely aware that he was no longer holding you so tightly. An arm had found its way out of his hold and instead of fighting him off, it guided your hand up to his head. Your fingers now laced in his hair and holding on in pleasure. When your fingers dug and pulled against the hairs on his scalp, his arms moved to pull you closer but didn’t remove your hand. His mouth giving a -lord help you - playful bite that sent a thrill to the ends of your toes. 

And just like that, your lungs found air, and fuck - you moaned. 

A part of you hated the sound that escaped your mouth. That hatred growing stronger when you swore you could feel his lips curl into a smile. As fast as it all must have happened; it felt like an eternity. One you loathed and yet, were silently hoping would never end. You were so lost in the fuzziness of your thoughts, the sensation of him, that when you were flung violently from his arms the last bit of air you’d had left was knocked from them. The asphalt catching your body as it came to a painful multiple rolling stop. 

An eruption of a roar you knew came from the one who’d captured you: enraged at having his meal taken away was your only guess at how angry he truly sounded. You were too tired, too drained, to be afraid. The small part of you that was still capable of common sense knew you should’ve been terrified. To be terrified meant to flee but the amount of energy that would take was not something you had at that moment. 

You were barely able to muster enough of it to flip yourself onto your back. Your neck now alive with a bitterness at how rough he’d been. The feeling that was creeping back into your limbs made it inch by aching inch that it was not happy. A groan left your lips as you mustered another fit of strength to move yourself to your side. Your eyes landing on the one who’d rescued you. 

Jimin stood in the middle of you and the man. The other man who, even from this distance, plainly wore your blood smeared haphazardly around his mouth. A small amount decorating the hollow of his neck that he now wiped away in agitation. While he seemed particularly calm, annoyed, but calm Jimin seemed to reflect his opposite. 

Jimin’s body seemed consumed by a rage that reflected in the crease of his brow and the hard set of his shoulders. His jaw tight as he straightened out his body back to his full height. The other man before him appeared to be a few inches taller, but Jimin’s rage made him appear larger than what he was. 

“Jungkook!” Jimin’s voice rang out. The animosity in his voice radiated against your skin like a flame that threatened to eat you alive. “You dare taste her? Mark her?”

Jungkook didn’t give Jimin the satisfaction of answering him right away. Instead, you watched a coy smile spread on his blood-stained lips. His thumb dragging across the bottom and ended with it pressed inside his mouth. His tongue seductively working to clean up the mess you’d made. Jungkook didn’t let his thumb come back out until it was completely licked clean; his crimson eyes watching your face as he did it. The intensity of his gaze left an aching shiver on your skin and the heat on your cheeks enough to tell it wasn’t all completely out of fear. 

Jimin must have sensed it too. His gaze turning back to take you in at your current state, and finding your eyes glued to Jungkook’s position. The hurt Jimin showed wasn’t something that you could fully comprehend. You weren’t his to have. You belonged only to yourself. The person that he remembered, the woman he’d loved so many centuries ago, was not you. You were your own person. 

So why did the pain that rippled across his face make your heart ache? 

“You place an apple in front of Adam, Jimin and ask him not to take a bite.” He tsked him. The same finger he’d used to clean up your blood now teasing him in a tick tock motion. “You should remember: Adam always was a fool for the most delicious delights.” 

“She is not yours to have! You play me for stupid, Jungkook. I know that blood alone is not hers. Did you plan on making her drink from you?”

Your body became rigid as Jimin’s words embedded themselves into your chest. The fear that’d begun to reside came racing back and forced you to look at Jungkook closer now. You weren’t sure what it was that Jimin had seen that you did not. You feverishly scanned him until, there, the sleeve of his shirt that sat on his wrist was stuck to his skin. The blood there was still bright and fresh and only beginning to brown at its edges. 

It was the same side that held your head to him, neck exposed, earlier until he’d let it go. You’d thought Jungkook released you because he’d realized you were no longer going to put up a struggle and now the sickening feeling of knowing he’d meant to do something more ominous left you feeling nauseous. 

Jimin knew what he was trying to do. You knew from Jimin explaining about blood being a conduit that if you’d taken even a little of blood, Jungkook would’ve been able to find you. Wherever you were. No matter what. 

“I was only doing what MY King asked of me.”

“I could kill you for what you’ve done here.”

The playfulness that’d controlled Jungkook from the unfortunate moment you’d met him disappeared like smoke. His features hardened with a sinister look as he gave Jimin his entire focus. 

“You could try, old King, but you will fail.”

Jimin’s squared shoulders seemed eager to do just that until another voice joined the two men. 

“Now, now Jungkook. We don’t need an all-out fight on this beautiful night do we.”

You knew the owner of the voice long before Namjoon - the asshole himself - stepped out like magic beside Jungkook. A friendly hand resting on his shoulder until Namjoon moved to stand a few inches in front of him. But it wasn’t just Namjoon himself that appeared like magic from the curtains of the night. Two other figures joined at the edges of the men, making a symbol of an arrowhead, and one of these new introductions to this wildly fucked up play was holding the arm of your best friend. 

“Alice” 

At the sound of your voice it brought Namjoon’s full attention back to you. His brow creased in a momentary show of confusion at how cute you must have been looking: a bloodied heap in the middle of the road. He only needed to look to the man beside him on his left to understand your current state. Or perhaps he already knew. Jungkook’s earlier words of his orders swimming back to the surface of your recollection. 

Namjoon held you in his vision for breadth longer and moved his eyes over to the form of your friend. 

“You can still change her fate, Y/N. All you need to do is come with me.” 

Namjoon’s eyes held tightly to you: all of them seeming to watch your exhausted frame. Your mind struggled to comprehend what he meant and what it was exactly you’d have to do to change it. You’d barely been able to move up onto your knees. Your palms still needed on the asphalt of the road to keep you steady. Your whole body shuddered in exhaustion, but looking at Alice now, at what he had done was enough to make the exhaustion disappear and icy fury made your body rigid. 

“She won’t be going anywhere with you,” Jimin snarled. 

His comment snapped their attention back to him. You wanted to tell him yourself that you could make your own decisions. Not even he got to make them for you and yet, you couldn’t muster enough strength to care. Whatever you had left in you needed to be used to rescue Alice. Her lights still on with nobody home. 

“Jimin. I don’t think you’re in any place to be making threats, old friend.”

“It is more than just a threat.”

Namjoon took a step forward and splayed his arms out to indicate the men beside him. They were so caught up in their pissing contest. All you wanted was to know what you needed to do to get Alice back. All the way back and out of this trance he’d flung her in. 

“It took you long enough to come to your supposed “loves’” aid.” Namjoon’s words were filled with a sharp teasing; sharpened and dripping with sarcasm. “It took Jungkook using her as a snack for you to finally come running.”

“She enjoyed it.”

The heat in those three words were enough to send your cheeks heating with warmth and your eyes searching for the safety of the pavement. You wanted to shout your denial to Jungkook that he was wrong. Not a single part of you enjoyed what had transpired between the two of you, but that lie died long before it’d ever brushed your lips. 

Jimin must have realized it too, because now his earlier lividity returned. His eyes flickering with a murderous rage in Jungkook’s direction. 

“Hmm, maybe I should give her to Jungkook to finish what they’d started. What do you think, Jimin? Or I could always just give him Alice.”

Your head snapped back on Namjoon’s moving figure. His right hand resting under his chin as if he was stuck in a philosophical debate, and not the fate of an innocent woman. 

“You touch her and I’ll kill you.”

The coldness of your words stopped him short. Jimin, who’d been moving back towards you, didn’t take another step. You couldn’t believe it was you who’d spoken. Your own voice carrying a warning that was swept up in the air around you. Threatening something much darker than even you were able to understand. 

For a moment, you could tell you’d caught him off guard but Namjoon was quick on his feet. The hand that held his chin a second ago now moved to usher forward the man to his right. The one who was holding tight to Alice. 

“Oh, Y/N. Of course, I don’t want to do anything to your dear, sweet, and innocent little Alice. That’s why I’m giving you this choice.” 

The man whose face eerily held an angelic softness handed her off into Namjoon’s waiting embrace. Only taking a single step back; his dark almond eyes transfixed on you as if you were something dangerous, and not the other way around. His eyes speaking plainly: he wouldn’t let you do a damn thing to his King. 

“Stop giving her speeches of fairness. We both know you don’t have a fair bone in your body. All you know is how to do is take,” Jimin sneered. “I know even if she still says no you won’t stop hunting her until you have her.”

A flash of annoyance struck over Namjoon’s features like lightening and just as fast after it came, it was gone. His face smoothed back to its porcelain indifference. The only thing that showed his displeasure was the way his eyes were beginning to bleed crimson. 

“I would rather her to come willingly.” His reply was stated matter of factly. Namjoon’s eyes darting back to where you still sat on the floor and took a cautious step towards you. His hand on Alice’s arm forcing her to move with him. “But make no mistake, Y/N. I will have you. I will take you. One way or another.”

A scream echoed around you, and it took you a moment to realize it was coming from yourself. All the frustration. The guilt. Anger and grief that’d been building in the last twenty-four hours came out in a wave of exhaled air before you could stop it; before it could swallow you whole. 

“What will it take for any of you to get it through your thick stupid skulls! I am not a prize or some reincarnated lost love you two fought over because one was captain steal-your-girl. I’m literally no one! I’m just me.”

Namjoon released the grip he had on Alice’s arm and took another step toward you. His body language stating clearly he did not find Jimin’s presence between you in the least bit threatening. The pity that he showed you now, etched into the fine features of his face, only seemed to poke at the Amber’s of the animosity you felt towards him more. 

Why couldn’t any of them understand that you were not what they wanted you to be? You were yourself and always will be. And, at this point, you were more than happy to be your plain Jane ordinary self. 

He crouched down until he was leveled with your position on the pavement of the road. While he adjusted himself to your height you allowed yourself enough time to push up off your hands. Your butt now sitting on your calves and the pressure of the added weight sent the jagged pebbles deeper into your knees. As uncomfortable as it was you could deal. At least now you were looking him squarely in the eyes: no more cowering. 

“You really don’t understand, do you?”

“Namjoon.”

Jimin said his name as a warning. In return, Namjoon continued to ignore him. His brow furrowed tight at his attempt to intrude on his would-be heartfelt moment. 

“Your great-great-great grandmother is long dead. There is no bringing her back. Jimin and I have long accepted this. However.” Namjoon paused for a millisecond. Long enough to make your skin itch with the desire for him to hurry up and finish it. “The power that courses through your veins, Y/N it’s centuries old. Older than even she was. Your blood is what we are all after and the magic that flows in it.”

“I can’t even make a quarter disappear.”

Namjoon’s eyes sparked crimson to obsidian in a wild dance as he struggled to get his anger under control. While he didn’t seem to find your small joke funny you’d earned a snort of laughter from somewhere behind him. Even Jimin’s titled head wasn’t enough to hide the small smile that lifted his lips. 

“In time you will learn.”

“I don’t want to learn! What part of that aren’t you getting through your thick fucking skull.”

“That’s enough!” He roared. His face was fully changed now. All teeth and bleeding eyes with a power that shook the fabric of the night to its core. Namjoon’s change caused everyone around him to join in, until you were painfully aware you were the most human on of the group. “Either you come with us now or I rip your friends’ head open like a Pez dispenser.”

Your eyes zeroed in on him. The threat he made ruthless but one you knew deep down in your gut he’d meant. 

“I’d like to see you fuckin try.”

A mouth full of teeth smiled wickedly back at you. His feet obliging you by moving the few steps he’d taken away from Alice back to her side. Where she continued to stand patiently waiting like a zombie.  

There are moments in your life that don’t feel that important. These small decisions that you don’t realize put you on a deeper path to harder ones that you’ll have to make. Those small repercussions building themselves into a mountain of a moment.  

This is what it felt like now. All those decisions in your life you’d made suddenly seemed to expand like an endless sea of stars. So many of them that they couldn’t possibly be connected; and yet came together to create this constellation of your life.  

You watched Namjoon house the words you’d spoken in his mind. The way his face contorted into something that was worthy of pure nightmare fuel. The resolve of strength you’d had to tell him to basically go fuck himself was gone in that instant, because you were made painfully aware that the individuals before you were god-like. What could a helpless mortal do in the face of a god? 

Namjoon proved to you the answer to that was nothing. His speed moving him faster than you could process. You hadn’t even realized he’d moved at all until Jimin was simply in front of you; guarding you. He was now completely standing between Namjoon and yourself. Jimin’s hand catching Namjoon’s wrist; his fingertips milliseconds away from the tip of your nose. 

The two of them were locked in a battle of wills. The strength they commanded showing itself in the struggle of a dance of tug-a-war without any rope.  If Namjoon gained an inch Jimin was quick to take it back.  

“Move!” 

Without question you obeyed and were up on your feet immediately. Jimin didn’t give Namjoon another moment to force him back; his free hand shot out in a blur and connected with his chest. The sheer strength behind it sent him flying back almost a dozen feet before he gained back his footing. A snarl cutting through the air between them and Jungkook and the two other companions were at his side. 

Suddenly, you were painfully aware how outnumbered Jimin truly was.  

“Ugh – Jimin.” 

“Not now!” 

He waved you off as his eyes scanned in other bodies appearing from the shadows behind the four. Like a fool, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe some of these were on your side. By the way Jimin was staring at them, however, you knew that was most definitely not the case. 

“Where a little outnumbered here. Don’t you think!?” 

Was that your voice that cracked? No, no. You were perfectly calm. Super calm. 

Out of your peripherals you were able to catch a flash of movement. That flash was all you seen before teeth were inches from snapping in your face. A scream worked its way up your throat and was torn from your lips as foreign hands gripped your shoulders. You moved to block your face in a weak attempt just before those same hands disappeared.  

Jimin was behind him in seconds and ripped him off you. The two of them moved in a blinding speed of punches and blocking until Jimin’s hand exploded out the back of the other man’s back. Your hand flew to your mouth to stop a scream short; the gruesome mess left you feeling a bit lightheaded as you unwillingly noticed pieces of shirt and...other things dangling at the end of Jimin’s hand. 

It was a devastating wound. One that would’ve killed any normal man, but this wasn’t an ordinary man or a man at all. Jimin’s blow was only meant to wound, not kill, and this perfectly insane stranger was still trying to snap his way towards Jimin. His hands grabbed Jimin’s shoulder and used it to pull him forward. The movement made a sucking noise and made you question if the contents of your last meal were about to reappear like magic. 

Jimin knew the intentions of the other man and quickly drew his arm back. In the same breath, he followed it up with his palm slamming into your would-be attackers chest. The force of the blow sent him back like a limp ragdoll into Namjoon’s growing group.

“We need to get out of here!”

You couldn’t stop the panic dripping from your voice as you watched him narrowly escape another attack. This new body formed itself from the shadows and split free from its darkness with the flash of a blade. Jimin dodged each whirlwind of blows and strikes with an ease that you weren’t sure came from raw power or age. His attacker tried to switch up his attack by sending a flurry of double kicks towards Jimin’s abdomen. This must have been the opening Jimin had waited for. 

Jimin allowed him to land a kick to his side and when the man went to pull away Jimin locked his leg in place with his forearm. Jimin’s fist rushed in a speed of movement to land powerful blows into his exposed stomach and face. When the man tried to stab his blade into Jimin’s back, he easily grabbed his wrist and knocked the knife free from his hand. He was so focused on the knife that he wasn’t aware of the man coming from behind him. Your eyes danced back and forth, in decision on whether to speak or move weighing heavy on you. 

“Behind you!”

You decided on both. Your feet carried you forward as you shouted your warning to him. What you were going to do against a supernatural creature, you had no idea. You just knew you needed to do something. No matter how aware you were that you were incredibly useless in moments like this. Whatever happened when you finally reached him, you knew it was not going to end well for you. And that knowledge made your stomach turn until your body practically vibrated with anxiety.

The man with the blade was now on the floor under Jimin’s boot. Another came sprinting out of the darkness a mixture of snarling teeth and determination. Jimin used the man under him as a soccer ball and sent him flying into the other man. His body turning in a fluid one-eighty to to defend his back against another. 

You weren’t a hundred percent sure what overcame you. Why you felt the need to scream with what you figured was a war cry. The only thing that came out of it was now the singular attention that had been on Jimin now became equally shared between you. A man who’d been heading towards Jimin and the others derailed and was coming straight for you. Suddenly, that new found bravery dissipated and your fear sent the world around in slow motion. Your feet felt stuck in molasses; each step heavier than the last and a silent pleading for you to turn back. But you couldn’t turn back now. 

You braced yourself for whatever was about to happen. One minute, he was two feet from you, and the next he was screaming on the road. A man held on to the collar of his shirt and what was left of his upper body. The rest of him was laid out on the street in a mess of gore. 

The man who’d entered stage right held his own blade that looked more like a short sword. His arm slinging the blade back to whip off the blood onto the street. 

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

You spoke to no one. The words weight no more than a whisper and yet, to you, it felt like you’d been shouting. Crazy sword guy gave you the barest of glances before he was off. That blur of speed brought him to help clear the remaining men off of Jimin until the two of them were standing at each other’s backs. 

“Nice of you to finally make it, Hoseok.”

Hoseok, aka sword wielding-guy, had the grace to look embarrassed. Hoseok’s body bent at a stiff ninety-degrees towards Jimin who seemed too busy dusting off his coat to notice. 

“I apologize that Jin and I were not here sooner.”

Jimin waved him off. His eyes scanned the surrounding darkness and a part of you wondered what it was he saw there. You wanted to ask him, but the possibility of bad news kept you silent. 

“And where is Jin?”

“Waiting.”

What could he possibly be waiting for? You wanted to ask but in no way wanted anymore attention on yourself. A scream that demanded to be found sounded in the night around you. It circled around and asked to be followed. Your eyes locating the origin of the voice in a matter of seconds to Alice. No longer the vacant girl she’d been the last hour and more herself: the terrified edition. The terror in her eyes was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. 

“V.” Namjoon motioned with a flick of his finger and the man obeyed.

V. He’d been the one who you thought looked Angelic. His eyes were bright, open, and reflected nothing but bad intentions. Pillow soft lips curled up into a sneer of a smile as he stepped forward. He dragged Alice with him pulling her with such force you were worried he would simply tear it from the socket out of boredom. The sounds Alice made to accompany his aggressive movements only solidified your assumption. 

For all the beauty their afterlife had given them, it did nothing to hide the monsters underneath. Even the devil was an angel once.

“Let’s speed thing up, shall we? Either you turn yourself over to me now, Y/N, or I’ll kill her.”

To prove his point, Namjoon reached out to take her from V. His large hand closing around her throat and lifting her up effortlessly. Her dangling feet struggled to kick him, flailing hands scratching at his arm, and to silence her Namjoon noticeably squeezed her tighter. 

“Stop it! Please!”

The words came out in a sob. Your body struggling to take a breath. A fear that if you did, if you moved at all, it would be all he needed to hurt her more. 

“If you want to stop this than I suggest you do as you’re told and get over here. Now.”

The previous cat and mouse coyness in Namjoon’s voice completely vanished. Every word he spoke sent a sliver of fear down your spine. You weren’t going to argue with him as the fight had left you the minute you’d heard her pleading. You moved to take a step forward and found your legs were refusing to move. The more you struggled against the sensation the heavier the feeling of sinking in quicksand became. 

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

The threat in Jimin’s voice was palpable. The anger that clutched his jaw made you want to instantly apologize for even considering leaving. Almost. Your own anger was bubbling to the surface finally and a hushed, “Fuck you,” rumbled free from your chest. 

“Why can’t I move?!”

“Because I’m not letting you.”

There was a split second where it crossed your mind that he had to be joking. You felt so sure it was a sick prank only to see no part of him was joking.

“What does that even mean? You aren’t letting me. I don’t need your permission.”

Jimin’s mouth opened but it was Namjoon’s voice that cut through.

“It means that this is pointless. You didn’t tell me he’d given her any of his blood.”

Why was he saying this towards Alice? Your brow furrowed as confusion began to roll through you in waves. There was no way your brain could comprehend what you were seeing. Namjoon’s arm no longer held her off of her feet. He’d set her down but kept a firm hold of her neck. And Alice. Your best friend. She no longer looked one bit terrified. Instead annoyance had taken residency all over her face. 

“Alice.”

You hated how little your voice sounded. How much it showcased the betrayal you felt. That annoyance that’d wrapped itself around her like a shroud only seemed to grow larger when she glanced in your direction.

“She never mentioned anything to me about him feeding any blood to her. Just that they’d had sex in a dream a few times.”

Heat washed over your face. A blend of anger and embarrassment with you not really knowing which one it was that colored your cheeks.

“Alice!”

Christ. Were you a broken record.

You might as well have been talking to the wind. Alice looked away from you and back at Namjoon. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Her eyes were strictly for him. A comical cartoon version with her eyes filled with hearts flashed in your head. And slowly, as you watched her continue to look at him like a lovesick puppy, a horrible realization began to spread. Your chest tight and ready for whatever heart break came next.

Months ago, Alice talked about meeting a guy at a bar. A night when you were supposed to join her, but lied about catching a stomach bug. She’d gone on and on about how he looked. She’d gone into even more detail about the way he’d fucked her. You’d thought he sounded like someone who just wanted a piece of ass. Hated him before you’d even met him. Now your mind was flooding with all the descriptions Alice had ever given.

It had been Namjoon she’d met that night in the bar. The night you’d ditched her.

Slowly, your eyes moved from her hopelessly devoted figure to the man who still held onto her neck. An unseen collar and his arm was the leash.

You never hated someone before. Not really. Sure, you’d said it nonchalantly in passing. Thought you’d understood exactly what it felt like in moments with people that you were sure the only emotion you’d felt was hatred. Looking at Namjoon now – you knew you were wrong.

This hatred was fire in your blood. It threatened to climb up your throat and release out from your mouth until all the air was spent from your lungs. Most of all, this hatred would only be sated by blood.

You hadn’t been aware that your body was moving until you felt a sharpness in your chest. Your hand moved up to clutch absentmindedly at your heart. Was it possible to feel your heart break and be this angry all at once?

“Y/N – stop!”

Jimin’s voice dripped with the command. A command you wanted to tell him to shove his commands up his ass, but your body listened nonetheless. You felt rooted to that very spot. You were too angry to make sense of this. It forced you to close your eyes and attempt to concentrate. No matter what you did you could not get yourself to move.

Jimin walked to where you stood. His body moved to stand in front of you and cut off what little you could see of Namjoon and Alice.

“Out of my way, Jimin!”

“No. You are too angry right now to see this is what he wants. It’s just another trick to get you where he wants you.”

“Well it’s working.”

“You need to try and calm yourself – “

“Fuck you,” you snarled. Your world was narrowing; wilting down to a tunnel vision that only housed enough room for two. “I’m done with being calm. I’m through with being scared.”

A snort of laughter brought your attention through the tunnel and landing on Alice. She was no longer held like a dog on a leash. She stood proudly behind Namjoon at his side. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes stating plainly: you’re a joke.

“What are you going to do, Y/N? All you’ve ever been since I’ve known you is weak. I don’t even know why they’d even fight over someone as pathetic as you.”

Her words stung. Why would she say that? Was he making her say things like this to you?

“Alice. I know this isn’t you.”

Alice shook her head and moved forward. Her arms falling at her side as she regarded you with the same disgust she’d show a piece of shit on her shoe.

“And what do you actually know about me, Y/N? You’ve always known what I wanted you to know.  The person I made you believe I was, is all just someone made up. Imaginary.”

“How can you say that to me? After all the things we’ve been through. The things we told each other. You can act as tough as you want in front of Namjoon, but you and I know the truth.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But how else do you think they found out where we lived? Why did it feel like someone was following you at all your favorite spots? I told him, Y/N. I told them everything I knew about you.”

That fire that’d raged in your blood smoothed into ice. The shock of her words rocked you, and you knew that was exactly what she’d wanted. Alice was not who you thought she was. She’d made that abundantly clear. 

That girl didn’t exist. And all those times you’d come home terrified. Your heart crammed so deep in your throat you’d thought you were going to die from panic. All because you’d thought you were being followed. Alice joked and comforted you into believing it was just your mind playing tricks. When, in all actuality, it had been her doing the entire time.

Alice was a major key player in where you were standing. Surrounded by a pack of wolves.

You were vaguely aware of Jimin at your side. The faded sounds of his voice beside you eventually grew silent. His companion, Hoseok, somewhere off around you. The two of them faced Namjoon and his men. In between making sure they weren’t trying anything, he sent cautionary glances towards you. He must have been able to feel it; sense it.

The flame of your hatred, your betrayal, that had extinguished earlier was roaring back to life. The anger far surpassing what you felt capable of containing inside you. A dark part of you wanted to scorch the earth they stood on. 

Show them.

                                  Burn them.

The softness of the whisper tickled across your ear and raised the hairs on your arms. The sane part of you – what was left of it – knew something wasn’t right. You tried to play it off as just thoughts. The sinister feeling a part of you, a part that all humans had inside them when they were pushed too far. But it whispered again. This time gentler and promising: “Show them the price for a Witch's fury.”

“I don’t know how.”

Your words hung in the darkness of the night as you waited for a reply. The cautionary energy was pulsating now. All eyes wondering if you’d gone insane for talking to yourself. But they couldn’t hear them. The women who felt like friends; relatives.

“Whatever you hear – whatever they’re saying – you must fight them.”

Jimin was back inside your vision. His eyes searching yours to see if you were still with him. You were both present and not. Lost to voices that made you wonder if he could hear them too.

We can show you.

                         We can teach you.

Let

           Us

                         Innnnn…

Your eyes looked back over at Alice. The one person you’d held the closest in your life, second to your own mother. Flashbacks of every moment you’d shared together. From special drinks you’d created on girls’ nights while binge watching ‘The Great British Baking Show,’ and ‘Friends.’ The two of you, drunk, and believing you could easily make a three-tiered cake from scratch. The trips you’d taken. The help you’d given.

All of it had been a lie. A well-crafted play for her just to hand you over to the very monster she proudly stood beside. Looking at her now was enough for you to make your decision.

Jimin must have sensed it. His mouth framed in an unfinished shout that never got a chance to be heard. Silently, you let the sickly-sweet voice know you agreed and suddenly you weren’t the only one in your body.

It felt like dozens of women – yes, women – were housed inside you. Each of them held their own rage at a betrayal they’d suffered. Each deceit seeped into your bones like a cancer.

Jimin’s hand reached out to touch you; could feel the unspoken bound he’d made inside you make a weak attempt to soothe you. It was a warm sensation that moved from your core and up. A ghost of a hug that was only felt by its warmth. 

He was trying to drive whatever darkness you’d allowed in, but your wrath - your hatred - was too strong. It easily pushed back whatever weak attempt he’d tried to bring you back, and sent your hands out against his chest. The force of it sent him flying back; his feet struggling to stay grounded as his feet dragged on the asphalt.

“We are not your playthings.”

When you spoke, it wasn’t just your voice they heard. Your feet that had felt rooted were now moving forward. Your hands that had trembled were steady as they went to the wounds on your throat. The still pulsing wound in your leg. Each hand moved into the aching wounds to release fresh blood in your palms.

A voice inside the chaos came forward. An old oak among raging storms and housed itself there to teach you. All magic flowed through a balance in the universe. You could not give without it taking. This was how balance worked. A debt was owed when you used it for something dark, and this price you would pay with blood.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Alice no longer looked smug or amused. She looked terrified as she moved to stand closer to Namjoon.

“That parasite will not save you from me, girl.”

Your voice was dry and worn with age. You rode out her fear and moved to kneel in the road a mere feet from her. Your bloodied hands working symbols into the ground as you began to chant in a tongue you did not know.

All you knew was that the fire full of rage that sat deep in your belly would soon consume her. When the last of the words left your lips, a blue flame snacked along the blood you’d spread until it grew and grew; spreading wings to create a small lake of fire between you.

You rose to your feet and looked out among the faces of those that’d wish to harm you. 

                                            Harm us.

You watched as their bodies became tight with anxiety; some of Namjoon’s lackies fear seeped into the air like a sickness. Good. They should be. With an unholy shriek the fire that crept around them spread wide as your arms rose around your head. The only driving thought you had was that you wanted it to cleanse them.

The fire rushed first towards Namjoon and Alice. V and the other broody one you’d yet to learn of his name, quickly grabbed her and were gone. Namjoon offered you a brief look of irritation before he dodged out of the way. The sound of screams brought your attention to your left and watched as your flame licked up, up, and up until it consumed. The vampire with the fist-sized hole in his chest was now struggling to put himself out.

A smile that was not yours curled your lips and a sickening feeling of joy at watching him die made you suddenly grow ill. This wasn’t you. This hatred. This destruction. You didn’t want to be a murderer. The sickly voice that’d whispered reassuringly earlier was now hostile. It wanted to stay.

Your feet began to back peddle away from everyone as best you could. You had no idea where it was you were going, but anywhere that would be safer for them. You turned to start running again and held your hands over your ears as a scream shook across your skull. Only you could hear them and how they pressed hard inside your skull. The pressure overwhelmed you and made you believe at any minute your eyes would be pushed out. 

You’d only gotten a block when your body could no longer take the pain. Your feet caught on the edge of the sidewalk and you went crashing down. The screaming in your head had only grown louder and caused your vision to begin to blur. Maybe your head really was going to explode after all.

You turned your face to look up towards the moon and were greeted by the sight of Jungkook. His fist connecting with your cheek was the last thing you seen before everything went quiet and dark.  

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc. 

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh. 

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again… 

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole? 

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone. 

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…” 

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart. 

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t. 

“I wish you were here, noona…” 

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum. 

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?” 

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.” 

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven. 

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh. 

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.” 

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?” 

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.” 

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.” 

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting. 

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips. 

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze. 

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom. 

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place: 

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?” 

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything. 

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.” 

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?” 

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain. 

This subject, however, has been a brick wall. 

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—” 

“(Y/N)?” 

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face. 

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch. 

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger: 

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.” 

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).” 

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop. 

“Did you need something?” 

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—” 

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.” 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.” 

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue: 

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…” 

“Then you met Jackson.” 

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.” 

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring. 

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.” 

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?” 

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…” 

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…” 

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm. 

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—” 

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care. 

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?” 

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You smile at his apology. 

“I’m sorry too… for everything.” 

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.” 

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders. 

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?” 

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.” 

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.” 

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.” 

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.” 

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly… 

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.” 

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way. 

“(Y/N)—” 

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…” 

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey. 

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill? 

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.” 

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips. 

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.” 

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—” 

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.” 

“Help is on the way—” 

“How do you know that for sure?” 

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows. 

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.” 

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison. 

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment. 

He needs to have hope, if nothing else. 

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?” 

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.” 

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?” 

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head. 

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?” 

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.” 

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see: 

Im Jaebeom. 

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk. 

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.” 

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?” 

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?” 

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.” 

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.” 

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff: 

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.” 

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.” 

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?” 

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.” 

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.” 

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest. 

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return. 

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?” 

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet. 

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?” 

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.” 

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—” 

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities. 

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...” 

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing. 

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.” 

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!” 

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!” 

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!” 

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.” 

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!” 

“Every war has its casualties.” 

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?” 

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!” 

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.   

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?” 

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!” 

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer… 

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward. 

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.” 

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder: 

“Not yet, hyung.” 

“But Jinyoung—” 

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.” 

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party: 

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.” 

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.” 

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?” 

Jaebeom’s face darkens. 

“...So there is a cure?” 

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.” 

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.” 

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.” 

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world. 

“You know she doesn’t have much time—” 

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”  

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead. 

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.” 

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far. 

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!” 

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn. 

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch. 

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph: 

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.” 

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.   

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something… 

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.” 

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?” 

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave. 

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why. 

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?” 

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.” 

“He never told me that.” 

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.” 

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—” 

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.” 

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further. 

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway. 

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight. 

“Everything okay…?” 

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.” 

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.” 

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—” 

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress. 

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh: 

Die. 

“Shit—we need to go. Now.” 

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.” 

“Don’t be an idiot.” 

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.” 

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation. 

“What is it?” 

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…  

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?” 

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”  

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal. 

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!” 

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight. 

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.” 

“Watch your ears.”  You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire. 

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise. 

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand. 

“Mark—” 

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand. 

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat.  You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!” 

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—” 

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!” 

“I understand you—” 

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!” 

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.” 

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality: 

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two. 

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable. 

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…” 

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears. 

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?” 

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.” 

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips. 

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!” 

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.” 

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?” 

You nod.   

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.” 

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…” 

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!” 

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…” 

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing. 

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile. 

“Thank you, Changbin…” 

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…” 

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.” 

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head. 

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.” 

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.” 

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer. 

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…” 

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.” 

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?” 

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question. 

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?” 

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…” 

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.” 

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.” 

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—” 

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!” 

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…” 

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.” 

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—” 

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...” 

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips: 

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.” 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else. 

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse: 

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.” 

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand. 

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—” 

“Tzuyu…?” 

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips. 

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?” 

“It seems so.” 

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one. 

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?” 

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.” 

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…” 

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart. 

“Everything is taken care of, right?” 

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace. 

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear. 

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”  

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…” 

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.” 

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.” 

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?” 

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.” 

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.” 

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation: 

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues. 

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!” 

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears. 

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!” 

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out. 

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?” 

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!” 

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...” 

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts: 

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!” 

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground. 

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground. 

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!” 

“(Y/N)! Don’t!” 

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white. 

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms. 

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!” 

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips: 

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out. 

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…” 

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so. 

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?” 

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.” 

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.” 

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent. 

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?” 

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest. 

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.” 

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that… 

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human. 

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.” 

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.” 

“Then let me be selfish with you.” 

Tzuyu smiles. 

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.” 

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.” 

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

[misora-msby]

花火 | chapter two : snow

花火 (fireworks) | chapter two : snow

themes / warnings : medieval japan au, supernatural au, fluff, angst, death, illness

pairing : kitsune!suna x fem!reader

word count : 11.7k

notes : please read part one before reading this one! it’ll be nicer i promise, even if it’s long <3 to those who already read it, thank you very much! as always, i did my best to research shintoism but i also did take a few creative liberties. and thank you very much to my dear friend and beta reader @myoyachi​ <3

part one can be found here

A cold winter wind blew, disturbing the otherwise peaceful landscape of snow. To many who had been tired of the many years of the war, winter was just another grievance. Food was scarce in these months with fewer crops, and the battles were always more painful when you were fighting off enemies, hunger, and hypothermia.

The four kitsunes at the shrine noticed the larger amount of people coming to pray too. Whether it was a farmer making his final prayers for his farm before hurrying and leaving it to his family, or a housewife praying for her unborn children to be healthy so they could help out from a young age, their days were filled with delivering prayers to Inari.

However, today was a quieter day. Fewer people were coming to the shrine due to the snow falling and making the stairs up to the shrine slippery. Hence, Rintarou could take a break sitting on the rooftop as he always did.

He wasn’t bothered by the freezing temperatures. After all, he was just a spirit and he could warm himself up whenever he wanted to. Not that he needed to. Despite that, he still wore a tanzen instead of his regular yukata or jinbei. It was just a little more comfortable in the winter, like wearing a thick blanket around him at all times.

As Rintarou laid on the rooftop, he closed his eyes and felt the tiny flakes fall upon his teenaged face before melting. He wondered how long it had been since he first came to the shrine considering he looked to be about 16 years old now. A small smirk came to his face as he thought about how he had grown to be taller than the other three over all the years.

While Shinsuke didn’t seem to mind, Atsumu and Osamu complained that they still had some time to go. Rintarou didn’t doubt it, but he would simply remind them that that meant he had time to grow too. 

Safe to say, the twins shut up after that.

Speaking of which, the silence around him had been interrupted. Rintarou could hear the shrine maidens putting on their sandals and walking around to the front of the shrine. He could also hear the sound of geta clicking their way up the stairs leading to the shrine.

“The maids must’ve seen someone coming up the mountainside to make their prayers.” He thought to himself and relaxed.

“Thank you for making the journey up!” The kannushi greeted. The kitsune wondered if it was someone important. There had been some important daimyos visiting before and he could sense a familiar presence and scent from them.

“It’s alright. We’re more grateful for you being willing to take her in,” an elderly woman spoke.

“We’re sure she will become a wonderful shrine maiden. She’s not of age yet but until then we shall teach her about what we do and take care of her,” one of the shrine maidens spoke. Rintarou frowned slightly at the weird feeling in his chest he was getting, and peeked over the edge of the roof. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.  

“What’s your name, dear?”

“L/N...Y/N.”

Rintarou felt his heart stop at the mention of your name. Could it really be you? After all, the spirits of the deceased were not reincarnated but went on to reside in another world. Or maybe you were an anomaly and allowed to reincarnate for whatever reason. He wasn’t sure but he didn’t want to question it too much. All that he knew was that you were here now. Or someone who resembled you strongly. 

“Rintarou,” a strong voice called from behind him. The kitsune turned quickly to sit up and face his senior standing with his arms crossed and his haori resting on his shoulders as usual.

“Yes, senpai?”

“She may not be who ya think she is. Don’t frighten her. And remember to be careful, she’s here to become a shrine maiden.” 

The younger kitsune nodded slowly though his gaze drifted to you. Even if he knew you probably wouldn’t remember him, he still wanted to talk to you and to be friends once again.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Deep in the forest, Rintarou had been sitting on the old boulder and watching the moon, contemplating whether to talk to you or not. There was no way you could ever remember him anyways, so was there a point in trying to form a relationship with you again? You would probably be scared of him, right? He had nearly gotten over losing you anyways, so would it be worth it to start this all over again?

As he thought about it, drumming his long fingers against the rock, he heard a familiar sobbing in the distance.

Rintarou instinctively launched himself off of the boulder, his feet landing in the overgrown grass and snow without so much as a crunch before he took off running down the mountain to the shrine. The sobbing wasn’t loud at all, but it was easy for him to hear and he knew who it belonged to.

Right before he could reach the shrine, he came to an abrupt stop.

You were sitting on the engawa of the house where the priests and shrine maidens lived. Soft moonlight shone onto the snow piled around the shrine and gently illuminated your crying form which rubbed at your eyes with the sleeves of your old worn kimono. Rintarou took a step forward but stopped himself knowing that if you saw an older boy suddenly appear in front of you, you might scream. Any attention on himself was the last thing he wanted right now.

He took in a deep breath and a warm feeling spread through the kitsune as his body became smaller and dark fur grew on his skin. The transformation always gave him a weird sensation and a few moments getting used to, but not five seconds later he was a fox. A fox with a few tails, but he could hide that with a bit of illusionary magic.

With snow crunching softly under his little paws, Rintarou slowly walked over to you and sat right in front of you who hadn’t noticed him yet. 

When you removed your sleeves from your eyes, you looked down and jumped when you suddenly saw the predatory animal with glowing golden eyes right in front of you. “A-Ah… please don’t hurt me…”

Rintarou could feel a stinging pain in his heart, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. To think you could be scared of him when you were once quick to hold his hand or hug him… But he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised and that he would have to rebuild the relationship from scratch. 

He hopped onto the engawa and sat beside you on his hindlegs, golden eyes staring at you before bowing his head lightly to show that he meant no harm. 

“Ah… You’re nice, aren’t you?” you mumbled and reached out a cold hand to carefully stroke his head. To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at all. In fact, he leaned into your hand with a little whine.

You continued to stroke his soft fur. The warmth from the fox was warming your cold hands, making the action strangely therapeutic.

“This is really weird but…” You suddenly spoke, making Rintarou look up in surprise to hear your voice sounding almost exactly like it had years ago. “You make me feel better. I feel like I can talk to you.” A sad smile formed on your lips as tears began to well up again. 

The fox raised its paw, as if it wanted to wipe away your tears but quickly put down its leg and settled with just rubbing its head against your side. You had to smile a little more at that - this fox seemed to understand you. 

“If you don’t mind, I want to talk a bit,” you say, and the fox silently looks up at you again, “I didn’t want to come here. My family… my family is really far away. No, they were far away. We were craftsmen and merchants and it was okay. Then the daimyo asked all the men to fight his stupid war.

“Dad had to go… and then later nii-chan did. Mom, nee-chan, and my little brother were all left on the farm. One day, a man came to the house and mom started crying. I knew what happened to dad and nii-chan.”

Recounting the harsh memories caused little droplets to fall from your face, temporarily illuminated by the soft moonlight before dampening your kimono. Your breath was becoming a bit heavier and the way your chest jumped with nearly every breath told Rintarou how painful it was. 

“Mom… she was so sad. And then one day, I was out with granny to the forest to forage for some ingredients. Nee-chan couldn’t go because she had to help out in the shop. When we came back a week later, the village was burnt to the ground. It was so quiet.” 

You could recall the only sound being the howling wind blowing through the broken and burnt remains of the village. No pretty glass wind chimes, no laughter from the tavern, no children running freely. Just the wind and the sound of snow crunching under your feet. 

“B- But… obaa-san couldn’t take care of me. She’s getting old and wouldn’t live much longer. She said there’s a safe shrine and she used to be friends with a miko so she took me here. It was one week of walking and it was really painful but now I’m here. Then they said that I have to become a shrine maiden. My training hasn’t started yet but it will someday.”

The loose thread on your kimono sleeve had become longer as you fiddled with it while talking. “A-Anyways, I never really believed in the gods that much but I guess I have to start doing it now right?” You tried to laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.

In reply, Rintarou pressed his forehead against your arm. A quiet way of saying he would stay with you.

He didn’t know if you wanted or even needed his protection, but he would give it to you. He knew that the training for becoming a shrine maiden was difficult, even painful at times. And he had already decided he wouldn’t let harm come to you anymore. Even if you didn’t know him anymore, or even if you weren’t the same soul, he would protect you.

The fox’s ears twitched as he heard footsteps pat their way on the wooden flooring of the house. Knowing it had to be one of the other shrine maidens, he quickly sprinted away from you. He didn’t need them to explicitly know of his existence.

“Y/N-chan, what are you doing out here? It’s cold and you must be hungry! Come sit inside by the fire. Ami-senpai made some matcha and we have some soba,” one of the shrine maidens insisted. 

“I was talk- I was looking at the moon.” You changed your answer upon realising it must be strange to say you were talking to a fox, though your gaze lingered on the little pawprints in the snow.

“The moon, huh?” The older girl looked at the sky and nodded, “Indeed. It’s beautiful, but it can wait unlike our soba!” 

She quickly ushered you inside, away from the cold and unintentionally from Rintarou’s gaze. 

He had transformed back to his human form, finding it more comfortable. His face remained neutral as he looked up at the moon, wondering what he could do for you. 

The next morning, you woke up and rubbed your eyes. The sunlight was shining through the paper doors and you noticed the other shrine maidens were still asleep. Perhaps it was because they had stayed up a little later than you did to wash the cutlery and clean around the fireplace. 

You pushed back the blanket and quietly folded your futon. Maybe you’d go sweep the front of the shrine and remove the snow. The maidens were nice and you knew they had plenty of duties so it would be good to help out at least a little. 

The air was cold from the night’s winter breeze but at least the sun was starting to melt the ice just a little. You breathed on your hands in an attempt to warm them up as you carefully slid open the paper doors separating the room and the open hallway. To your surprise, there was a little parcel right outside. 

On top of a piece of scrap cloth sat a little bundle of berries and a few small mikan fruits. You cocked your head, wondering where they could have come from until you saw a few strands of fur laying beside them. 

Dark brown, just like the fox from last night. 

And if you looked carefully, there were little paw prints leading to the forest beside the shrine. 

You wondered if he could’ve been a guardian spirit and smiled to yourself at the funny thought. Anything could happen these days. 

You then wrapped up the fruit, deciding to share it with the other girls for a sweet breakfast or for a snack later and reentered the room. 

Rintarou watched from atop a tree branch, his narrow eyes hoping you had noticed the little clues he had left for you. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your smile was enough to please him. It was certainly nicer than your tear stained face which he hoped he would never have to see again. 

With ever quiet footsteps, Rintarou hopped off the tree and began walking back to the den where the other foxes lived.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Several moons had passed. 

Since that day, Rintarou could not gather the courage to speak to you. All he would do was lay on his regular spot on the rooftop and occasionally eavesdrop on the shrine staff if he felt like it to make sure you were alright. You seemed to be adjusting quickly, helping out with minor tasks and cleaning up around the shrine in order to get on the shrine maidens’ good side. It seemed to work, and he was relieved for you. 

On certain days when you were asked to go into the forest and pick flowers or fruit, he would subtly guide you in the direction of better fruit or block a path to poisonous berries. He would also scare off wild animals to keep you safe.

While doing this, Rintarou wished he could talk to you directly again, but he knew there was the risk that you would be scared and it would make your many years at the shrine hell-like.

“What do you think?” he asked Osamu one day while the rain of June fell outside their den - a little hut that Shinsuke had built a long time ago with the other kitsune who lived here before they moved away and before the three younger foxes had come about.

“What do I think? You kinda sound like a weirdo,” his fellow kitsune replied while taking a bite from his onigiri he had made for himself. Rintarou frowned and crossed his arms, silently asking “What do you mean?” 

Osamu finished up his rice ball and looked at his friend, “Yer always just watchin’ the poor girl. If you were a human you’d probably wanna protect her from yer weird self. Just talk to her. If she gets freaked, that sucks but it ain’t the end of the world.”

Rintarou drummed his fingers against his bicep, knowing his friend did have a point. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

Which was the reason why one month later he was standing by the torii watching you reach up in an awkward attempt to light the lanterns around the shrine. 

Tonight was the summer festival.

Although the war still raged on, knowing they could still hold the festival every year was a sort of blessing to the population. Being under one of the more powerful lords, their region lived in relative peace and prosperity. 

And to Rintarou, it brought both wonderful and painful memories.

He took in a deep breath and walked over to you who stood on your tiptoes in an attempt to light a lantern. He noticed that though you were taller, you were still a little short for now. As for him, he practically towered over you with how he had grown in his unfinished ‘adolescent years’.

“Let me help you.” He spoke in his quiet voice, making you jump and almost drop the candle you were holding. 

“H-Hold on, who are- s-sorry, could I ask who you may be?” you changed your speech to be more polite as you realised this mysterious man could be a visitor to the shrine. Your grandma had emphasised to you to be kind to strangers, and the shrine maidens made sure you knew of that rule even more when it came to shrine visitors.

Rintarou realised that he must have surprised you with the way his feet barely made a sound as he walked to you. 

“I’m Rintarou. Do you want me to help? You look like you’re having a little trouble,” he asked, holding out a hand for you to place the candle into. 

However, you just shrank away and shook your head, holding the candle as close to yourself as you would dare. “I’m not familiar with you. We’re still making preparations around the shrine for today’s festival so…” You furrowed your brow as you saw something swish behind the man. 

As discreetly as a curious young teen could, you took a glance at what was behind him and almost dropped your candle with a squeak upon seeing three long tails swaying. 

“N-No way, you’re a kitsune? You’re real?” Your face was pale with fear but your eyes were wide with amazement. Then you remembered the tales you had read about the spirits, both the good and bad.

“You’re not… you’re not going to play a trick on me are you? Oh wait, no, you must be one of Inari-sama’s servants! Oh gosh, I’m so sorry for treating you weirdly!” You were beginning to panic at the idea that you might have just been rude to a celestial being.

“Ah, I mean that’s true but I don’t really care about those things,” Rintarou shrugged, “Do you remember me though?” It was a long shot but worth a try.

“Remember?” You cocked your head in confusion. Was there something you were supposed to remember? 

The kitsune was somewhat disappointed that you could not remember him from long ago, but he was already preparing for that. It hurt, but it was a bearable pain.

Then he remembered, he had appeared to you on your first night as a fox. With a snap of his fingers and a puff of smoke, he felt his body become smaller. The transformation was never very enjoyable but once the smoke had cleared, you gasped upon seeing a little dark brown fox with golden eyes in front of you.

“You’re the fox from that night! When I first came! But you had one tail that time…” you crossed your arms, slightly unconvinced. What if this kitsune wasn’t a zenko but a yako? A mischievous spirit looking to cause harm?

Just as you blinked, two of his tails had suddenly disappeared. He was exactly like that fox from that winter night you arrived.

“Oh… It really was you.”

“Of course it was,” Rintarou spoke and with another puff of smoke returned to his human form. Tall and handsome in his black yukata with red accents and a red obi, though this time with his ears on display too. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“That implies you would lie about other things. Aren’t you supposed to be good since you work for Inari-sama?” You grinned cheekily at his words. 

Rintarou narrowed his eyes in reply before crossing his arms, “Well. You’re supposed to be working for him soon too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You squinted at the older teenage boy.

“You’re not lighting the lanterns.”

“Oh! You’re right!” You ran to the next lantern and tiptoed to reach the paper lantern while wondering who on earth decided to hang all the paper lanterns for the festival so high. 

Rintarou watched from a few feet away, arms still crossed at your unsuccessful attempt to light the lantern. After about a minute of watching you jump around and almost dropping your candle about three times, he walked over, “Do you need help? This one’s taller than the rest.”

You looked up at him and his height before a bashful pink creeped up your cheeks. 

“Y-Yeah… And could you help with the others…”

With a little chuckle, the kitsune took the candle from your hand and began lighting the paper lanterns with ease. As you two walked around the shrine grounds to light the lanterns, you became curious of him.

“How long have you been a kitsune?” You asked.

“I think… two centuries? I don’t count these days,” Rintarou replied.

“Eh… What do you do as a zenko? Is it fun?”

“Mm… I deliver prayers and make sure no evil spirits come to the shrine. Also, I sleep a lot.”

“Wow… that sounds nice! I wish I could be a kitsune too!”

Rintarou’s breath stopped for a second. He had wished that for you too. If only you could have been a kitsune when you first met… you would have been with the four of them.

“Yeah… It’s nice. But it’s got its downsides,” he said and lit another lantern. 

He noticed the confused look on your face. After all, how could there be downsides to being practically immortal and to having magical powers?

There were too many things he wanted to say; from the way he had to witness too many horrible things in the history of this war torn land to the way the changing of seasons was no longer special to him - it was just another way to show time passed. 

But most of all, it was the fact that time passed ever so slowly for him. 

He couldn’t count how many times he had had to witness the coming and going of the animals and flowers in the forest, of the people at the shrine, and most importantly ‘your’ coming and going.

But how could he tell you all of this? He certainly didn’t want to ruin your night. 

“You just get bored after a while since everything’s a bit repetitive,” Rintarou shrugged while lighting a lantern. He returned the candle to your hand, expression ever unchanging. “We’re done with everything. Are you going to the festival after this?”

“Thanks, Rintarou-san!” The kitsune cringed at the way you called him ‘-san’ rather than with ‘-kun’ or ‘RinRin’ like Shinsuke or the twins would. It really had been a while since he talked to anyone else. “Mm, the shrine maiden onee-sans said I have to help out for three hours, then I get free time to go to the festival!” You grinned.

“Ah. That’s good.” He replied. 

A short silence followed, the two of you unsure what to say or do now. The cicada’s buzzing was getting louder and Rintarou’s expression remained calm as he stared at you with his narrow eyes. His stare was so intense that it felt like he was looking right into your soul.

“Rintarou-s”

“-kun. You don’t have to say ‘-san’.”

You cocked your head in confusion, “But you’re a zenko. If anything it should be with ‘-sama’,” you said.

“I’m okay with it. More importantly, I wanted to ask you if you want to spend that free time in the festival with me? There’s something I want to show you, I think you’d love it.”

You thought about it for a moment, “Sure, but what is it? I’m not gonna follow you to the spirit world if that’s what you wanna do.” 

Rintarou scrunched his nose at the thought. He went there all the time, it wasn’t special at all. And he knew you wouldn’t enjoy it much (it was more weird in his opinion than special.) “No, but it’s a surprise.”

You cocked your head, wondering what on earth he could be referring to. But you sensed no malice from him and he genuinely just seemed like he had good intentions, so you nodded, “Alright, I’ll see you at the back of the shrine in three hours then.” You flashed a toothy smile at him too and he smiled softly in return.  

“I’ll see you there.” 

Time seemed to pass in the smallest increments as Rintarou walked around the festival with the twins and Shinsuke. Not only was waiting for you taking an excruciatingly long time, but all the attention they were receiving was becoming tiring.

As they practically towered over everyone around them, they just stood out in the crowd too much. Even Shinsuke was taller than everyone. Though, Rintarou noticed that people were taller than the average height a hundred years ago and he wondered if the average height would continue to grow. He hoped that would happen so it wouldn’t be so troublesome in the future for them.

Because as flattering as receiving marriage offers from various women trying to find suitable son-in-laws was, it was getting a little annoying and Rintarou was not interested in marrying anyone. Atsumu cheekily accepted one or two but a quick knock on the head from Shinsuke reminded him to keep his mouth shut.

So when the three hours had passed and you were finally able to leave your duties taking care of selling charms at the shrine, you were somewhat surprised to see Rintarou looking almost eager to meet with you.

“How long were you waiting for?” You asked, having to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Not a long time,” He shrugged as if he didn’t come to the meeting spot almost twenty minutes ago. “Anyways, should we head to our destination? We don’t have much time.” 

You nodded and followed behind him into the forest. Even if it was strange to be following someone you barely knew, it was like there was something deep in you that said ‘You can trust him.’

Rintarou’s tails swished behind him as you two walked, almost tickling your nose with how close it was to you, though you knew to not touch it lest you wanted to cause an accident. You noticed how you could only clearly hear your footsteps - the kitsune’s were so gentle that they made no more than a light brushing against the grass. 

It really was strange, following a spirit into the forest.

A couple of minutes later, he stopped walking. “Here we are,” He stepped to the side and allowed you to take in the beautiful sight of a glade. It felt like a scene you could only see in a dream. In fact, it gave a strange feeling of deja vu, like you had seen this sight in an old dream. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s so pretty that my chest feels funny,” you replied, causing Rintarou to chuckle lightly. 

“This place makes my chest feel funny too,” He said and brushed off a wisteria petal that fell onto your head, “Come on, it gets even better.”

He then guided you to the boulder and helped you climb on top of it. As you sat with your knees hugged to your chest, staring up at the dark night sky, you smiled to yourself. It really was a nice place, and Rintarou really was a nice person.

A sudden flame shot up into the sky and burst, followed by a loud bang seconds later. Soon, more lights followed the initial one, exploding with their own timings while loud claps and bangs followed mere seconds after. The night sky was repeatedly illuminated with vibrant colours and you could only stare in awe. 

For many years, Rintarou had watched this sight alone, but now he had you again. Though your relationship was different and he didn’t even know if you were the same person, he didn’t care. Your company now was good enough for him. Filled with nostalgia, the teen couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he watched the last light fade away, leaving a trail of smoke in the air.

“The fireworks at my old village were never this pretty,” You spoke softly after a few moments of silence, “They were pretty of course, but never this beautiful.”

“Well this region has some pretty important shoguns so we’ve got a little more access to money for festivities these days,” Rintarou explained, though he personally felt it was prettier because he had a friend to watch the show with.

A friendship that possibly transcended a lifetime, huh…

“This place is really pretty in the sunset too. And the sunrise. And in the afternoon actually.” His words made you giggle.

“So, this place is pretty all day?” you asked. 

Rintarou realised how awkward his description was and nodded slowly. “Yeah… You should come see it. I’ll bring you so you don’t have to worry about getting lost and such.”

“Sure!” Your bright smile was illuminated by the remaining fireflies and yet it also illuminated the dark space around you two. Rintarou smiled back and ruffled your hair lightly. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” he started as you pouted and rearranged your hair, “There’s plenty of other nice places here too. I think you’d love them.”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Months passed, and as the green leaves faded into shades of warm oranges, reds, and yellows, you two would spend the cooling autumn afternoons crossing creeks, eating juicy berries you would find, and sometimes just sitting in a quiet place to chat, eat, or read. Though the library in the shrine wasn’t massive, it held some interesting folktales and old journals. 

The shrine maidens did enquire once in a while but you figured they wouldn’t believe you if you said you went to spend time with a group of kitsune. You wondered if it was bad to lie and say that you liked reading in the forest and gathering the fruits of fall, but you did so anyways. It wasn’t a complete lie after all. 

You enjoyed the time you spent with Rintarou - he was fun to talk to and when Atsumu and Osamu would come to spend time with you two, the afternoon was always filled with laughter. Shinsuke was interesting to talk to too, he was knowledgeable about nearly anything and you were convinced at times that he was Inari themselves (though he was quick to tell you he was just another kitsune like the three).

The seasons seemed to pass too quickly though, for before you knew it the golden leaves began to fall and became buried under layers of snow and ice. You were no longer allowed to leave the shrine as often, seeing as it was dangerous and cold. Because of that, you couldn’t talk to the foxes as much as before, but you appreciated them trying to visit once in a while. 

Still, the cold wind and frost threatening to freeze your fingertips and cheeks brought back terrible memories and their limited visits weren’t always enough to keep you warm all the time. 

At times in the middle of the winter nights, you would suddenly wake up from the sound of a particularly strong wind blowing, rattling the shutters and rustling the crackling branches of the trees nearby. No matter how you hugged the blanket to yourself, you never felt completely fine until you’d quietly exit the room and sit on the engawa just like you had roughly a year ago, watching the moon.

“Can’t sleep?” The familiar voice spoke with a little chuckle. You looked to your side and saw Rintarou sitting beside you.

“When did you get there?” You asked, hugging your knees to your chest and looking at the nearly spotless layer of snow before you. 

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t seem too good though,” he said, looking at your smaller form.

“Yeah. I don’t feel too great,” you mumbled, “I just remember… that day a lot these days. And… the shrine maidens told me something.” You rested your chin on your knees.

Rintarou noticed the way your fingers dug into the thick cloth of your kimono, as if you were trying to endure an invisible pain. He cocked his head, “What did they tell you?”

“I have to start training to become a miko once spring comes. And it’s really scary… I mean, I think you’ve seen it before. All the onee-sans are always really tired and they have to do these terrifying rituals and sometimes… I’m not dumb. I know what happens in the spare room with visitors. It’s one of the only ways we get money anymore.” You could feel a lump welling up in your throat. 

Rintarou noticed it too. The way your breath became shakier the more you thought about it, thinking about the times you overheard the older miko talking to each other about their past experiences, and the way your sniffles were not because of the cold air but because you were trying to hold back tears. 

“I read the old journals and I don’t want to become a miko. I’m scared, Rintarou.” You cried softly and held onto his sleeve, trying to hold your breath to prevent your wails from escaping your throat. But you began hiccupping and panicking even more, worried that the others would hear you.

Rintarou was quick to pull you close to himself, large hands carefully stroking your hair in an attempt to calm you. 

He had no idea what to say. The thought terrified him too, to think that you didn’t get to choose this path yet you were stuck on it. The only thing that could come to mind for him to say was,

“I’ll protect you.”

Your hiccupping stopped as you looked up at him. 

“Huh?”

“I won’t let you get hurt by evil spirits or allow harm to come to you. Officially, I’m just a messenger but I think my powers exceed just that,” Rintarou looked into your teary eyes as he spoke, a small smile on his lips as he continued to stroke your hair, “You don’t doubt me, do you?”

“No, I don’t…” Your choked voice replied, though it and your body were both noticeably calmer.

“Yeah. So don’t worry. I’m still here and I’ll always be here for you.”

You look into his golden eyes for a minute, searching for any deception you doubted he would hold towards you. Your grip tightened on his clothes and you finally let your head fall against his chest. “I trust you.”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

As the years went by, Rintarou kept his promise. Every time he knew a spirit would come to possess you, he would warn it to not cause harm. Whenever your training involved the cold, he would help warm you up with his fire. And whenever you felt like it was getting too difficult, he would come to your side and encourage you to continue.

He was proud to know that your skill in talking to spirits (with some of his help) made you recognised as one of the best miko at the shrine.

But today, Rintarou finds himself seated upon the roof once again. It was a special day today - you would perform the kagura dance on this fine afternoon among the falling cherry blossoms to show off the cultivation of your years of effort. 

On his left sat Shinsuke, and to the left of the older kitsune sat the twins. All four of them were eager to see the culmination of your efforts, and were curious to see how Inari would take it. They would be coming down today after all, and possibly entering your form.

The four watched as you carefully took your position on the platform in your pure white robes. If he wasn’t mistaken, you looked up at him for a moment before your powdered face returned to its calm and emotionless state. You then picked up the kagura suzu, a wand with bells for the ceremony, and held it firmly yet carefully. It jingled quietly with your subtle movement, though it became louder as you rattled it and signalled for your fellow miko to begin playing their instruments. 

Rintarou narrowed his eyes as he watched the way your feet took little steps, slowly moving around the platform just as you practiced. Though it wasn’t the first time he had seen it, for some reason he thought you looked absolutely amazing today. 

Your hair was done beautifully and the movements your body made were simple yet stunning. The look of serenity on your face was something else too. Though it was funny to hear coming from a celestial being such as him, he thought you looked ethereal.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. What was he thinking? He shouldn’t be falling for a human, much less a shrine maiden. 

A cold breeze blew through the shrine grounds and your body tensed up midway through your dance. 

Inari had descended. 

Instinctively, Rintarou stood to his feet to protect you and calm you, but Shinsuke grabbed his wrist roughly. “She knows what she’s doing. You’ve watched her practice. Inari-sama won’t harm her,” he said, and the brunet sat back down.

Your once gentle movements had become wild and loud, as you leaped about the platform possessed by Inari. Though this was a special moment for you, Rintarou could only feel a strange feeling in his chest. 

Was it worry? Jealousy? But it felt stronger than that. He couldn’t understand it and could only continue to watch your performance in silence but also with a warm feeling in his heart. 

That night, you decided to sit out on the engawa and watch the moon once again. It felt like a good night as the ceremony in the morning was a success and the current weather was not too warm yet not too cold. Of course, you never watched the moon alone, though you didn’t even have to ask if your regular partner would care to sit with you because when you slid open the door, Rintarou was already there.

“You did well today,” he spoke up and shifted slightly to make space for you on the engawa. 

“Thank you. The other maidens said the same,” you replied quietly as you sat beside him, “And I saw you four sitting on the roof today. Do kitsune find the kagura entertaining too?” Though the ceremony was originally intended to be entertainment for the gods, no one could deny that in recent years, many people found it interesting themselves. 

“We’ve seen many kagura performances in our many years of living so… it’s not particularly entertaining anymore,” Rintarou shrugged. 

“Then…” you narrowed your eyes and leaned in close, “My performance was boring?”

The kitsune realised what he had said and his eyes widened. “No, nothing like that. It was good,” he quickly spoke.

“Good, but boring?”

“It wasn’t boring… I enjoyed watching it and I thought you looked-”

“I’m just teasing you, Rin. You always tease me so I thought I should do the same to you someday.” You giggled and averted your gaze up to the moon. Rintarou looked down at you in surprise but smiled softly.

Moments like these were frequent - the two of you would sit on the engawa at night and watch the clouds drift by, occasionally concealing the moon before allowing it to shine once more. But tonight, the kitsune didn’t feel like looking at it. Instead, he felt like it was outshone by your beauty. 

“It’s pretty tonight, isn’t it?” You suddenly spoke up, smiling at the sky. “I wish we could sit here forever to watch it.”

Rintarou glanced towards the sky for a moment but his gaze returned to you within the second. “Yeah. That would be nice. It’s really pretty,” he said before mumbling under his breath, “You’re really pretty.”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

The following summer, Rintarou waited in the forest as he usually did. Though it wasn’t too deep in, it was far enough that one couldn’t find him easily without knowing the correct path to take, weaving between trees and crossing over large roots. Of course, it was a path you knew all too well. 

Hearing the sound of leaves and dirt crunching alongside laboured breaths, Rintarou looked up to see you smiling at him tiredly. 

“Working as a shrine maiden ain’t all that fun is it?” He asked with a light chuckle as he passed you a still warm taiyaki wrapped in a small handkerchief, “Here, eat up.”

You nodded and took the taiyaki before following the spirit up the mountain as you always did. It became quieter the further you two walked into the forest, though it was a strange quiet. Unlike the silences you two often shared, today’s one felt different. Like you were waiting for something.

Perhaps it was the fact that this was your first proper break in a long time - your new position as a shrine maiden did take up a lot of time. Or the anticipation of this year’s fireworks, which were supposed to be bigger than ever due to the shogun finally winning the battle against his biggest enemy. You weren’t sure, but it felt like your heart was beating stronger than it usually did.

So far deep in your thoughts and snack, you didn’t realise a new root had grown on the path in the time you hadn’t visited the glade. 

With a squeak, you found yourself bracing for the impact you would surely feel once you hit the ground but- it didn’t come. Instead you felt a cool but warm body.

“Don’t go getting injured on me,” Rintarou warned and helped you stand up properly.

“Oh, you know that’s not my intention.” You laughed and took a bite of your taiyaki. “Plus, you’d nurse me back to health right? Just like that one time?”

“I feel like I’m cheating,” you admitted one day while laying in your futon. Rintarou sat beside you, flipping through an old folklore book left behind by a visitor. 

“Hm? Why’s that?” he asks as he put down the book to look at you. He carefully poured out a cup of hot tea for you and helped you sit up to drink it. This was one of the rare times you got to spend a lot of time alone and though you were unwell during it, he would use every second of this time to be with you.

“The other miko don’t have a spirit helping them. When they get sick from training they have to take care of themselves. And when they have to speak with spirits for training, no one can give them tips or frighten off the bad spirits,” you mumble, your voice slightly muffled by the thick blanket which was pulled up to the tip of your nose.

“If you want, I can ask Atsumu or Osamu to take care of them. They wouldn’t mind for sure.”

“Oh… no, don’t bother them.” You coughed and rolled onto your side to look at Rintarou, “They’ve probably got a lot of duties already.”

“But it’s no different from me helping you out, is it?” He pointed out. 

“But you chose to do this… If you wanna stop, you can too, ya know. It’s fine with me.” You sighed quietly and furrowed your brow. Even though you had just suggested it, you felt sad at the thought of your best friend leaving your side. It wouldn’t be like you’d never see him again, you’d just see him less. 

And yet… the thought of that hurt.

“You don’t actually want that. I can tell,” Rintarou chuckled and helped push away a few sweaty strands of hair from your forehead, “And neither do I.”

You pouted under the blanket, knowing he was right. And he knew he was right too. “Still…” you mumble, “You don’t have to take care of me to this extent.” 

Rintarou shook his head and leaned close to you. He could practically feel the heat emanating from your forehead but he ignored it along with the way you shrank further into the futon. “You can’t stop me from doing what I wanna do,” he said and pressed his lips to your forehead. 

It’s only a small act of affection, a show of protection from a spirit to a human. Yet you suddenly felt like your temperature had increased a couple degrees and a strange feeling had erupted in your chest. It was such a frustrating yet loving feeling, you wanted to experience it more and yet you wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

When Rintarou pulled away and sat up straight again with his legs crossed, he rested his head in his palm, elbow propped up in his lap, and looked down at you with a sort of endearing yet sneaky smile. “So let me take care of you, Y/N.” His gentle voice spoke.

You nodded quietly and closed your eyes to return to sleep, though just before you did, you mumbled a small, “Thank you, Rin.” 

“I don’t recall.” He shrugged as he pushed back a wisteria branch and waited for you to pass. Just thinking about how he was trying to be cool by giving you a forehead kiss was enough to fill his body with the overwhelming need to hide under a rock for the next century. Thankfully, you were extremely drowsy while sick so you probably didn’t remember...

“You liar! You were giving me tea and putting the towel on my head and- there was a forehead kiss!” 

Looks like you didn’t forget and Rintarou would have to find a giant boulder very soon. 

“Who knew a zenko serving Inari-sama would believe in kisses to help heal sickness?!” You teased and reached up to poke his forehead, though he easily dodged it and you only laughed more.

“You’re annoying.” He sighed as you two waded your way through the tall grass of the glade. 

“But you still haven’t left me.” You giggled as you awkwardly climbed up the rock before sitting on top of it.

He had to admit you did have a point. Throughout the years, he never left your side. And thinking about it, you never left his either. Even though decades had passed, longer than you could even remember, you always returned to his side. 

The thought had him smiling softly before he nodded, “I suppose you have a point there. Now come, the fireworks should start soon. I heard they have a new one, created by some craftsmen from the north.” 

You gasped in reply, “Really? I can’t wait to-”

A light flew into the sky, bursting into a bright yellow flower before a loud BOOM sounded a second later.

“It’s starting! We really made it just in time, huh?” You grinned at the brunet before looking up at the sky once again. 

Even if you saw the sight every year, sometimes more than once a year, it was still beautiful. But what made it truly beautiful was the kitsune beside you.

No words had to be exchanged, yet his mere presence was enough to fill your heart with a warm feeling.

“Rintarou…” You called his name quietly while the fireworks continued to burst their way into the sky. 

The kitsune looked over at you, wondering what you would say. 

“I want to spend every year like this with you. Every summer festival, let’s watch the fireworks together. And every Tanabata, let’s make the same wish. Oh and every New Year’s, I’d like to eat mochi with you,” the words spilled from your mouth without you thinking.

Rintarou blinked owlishly at you for a second before he began laughing, his arms folded over his stomach in a bad attempt to make himself stop before he broke his cool too far.

“H-Hey! What’s so funny?” You whine, hitting his arm lightly.

“N-Nothing, it just…” He took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, though he still looked at you with a small smirk on his face. “It just sounds like a marriage proposal.” 

Upon hearing that, your eyes widened and your cheeks turned red. A marriage proposal? That sort of thing could never come from you! With your duties to Inari, there was no way that you could ever get married, especially not to a spirit like him!

“Y-You’re imagining things! I just said I like spending time with you!” You insisted, tearing your gaze away from the spirit sitting beside you. Though… you had to admit, there was more than one occasion where you wondered if the two of you could have gotten married in another life. 

In a different life, where you two were free to meet and fall in love, to court and engage in the beautiful ceremony of marriage… You both knew you would have chosen each other.

“Even if it was a proposal- and an accidental one at that, it’s not like we could get married. We’re both busy with our duties and you could probably find a more beautiful wife. The yuki onna that lives on the mountain in the winter is a good choice.” You joked, though it hurt a little to think of Rintarou choosing her.

“That woman? She’s still around? I thought Shin-senpai chased her off the mountain three years ago for causing violence on the grounds,” he frowned.

“Um… well she… or another one came back last winter, though she left already,” you tried to recall.

“Good riddance. Anyways, I wouldn’t choose her as a wife. Even if we were both human,” he shrugged before turning to you, “After all, why would I when I already have someone I want to marry right in front of me?”

The moment your eyes locked, a loud explosion burst and echoed in the silence that followed. The sky was reduced to its dark colours, any stars dotting it blanketed by the smoke.

“You’re just saying that,” you mumbled and quickly turned away, “it’s not good to joke about such important matters.” 

Rintarou frowned and scooted a little closer to you to ask, “Why do you think I’m joking?”

Your gaze stayed fixed on the grass surrounding the boulder, “Because we can’t get married. You’re a kitsune and I’m a human. Not to mention we have our own duties.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not serious when I say I want to marry you.” He gently cupped your face with his cool hand and brought it to look at his. 

As your eyes met, you wondered if the gold in his eyes always looked so beautiful. The sharpness of his features were more mesmerizing than ever, and you were so badly tempted to just lean in and-

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was more alluring than ever. 

“What if Inari-sama gets mad at you for defiling one of their shrine maidens?” you asked with a little grin on your face, making Rintarou playfully roll his eyes. 

“I’ll deal with that later,” he says and leans forward, taking your lips with his own. 

The moment you made contact, the sky was lit once again with bright colours. Though for once, both of you didn’t look at it. Instead, your eyelids slowly shut as you leaned into Rintaoru’s kiss. 

Though his skin was cool, the kiss felt hot. Too hot to handle - like a strange fire was spreading throughout your entire being starting from your heart and lips, and even burning the tips of your fingers and toes. You had never read about it before, let alone experienced it, but you liked it and wanted more of it. 

Was this what being in love was supposed to be like? 

As the two of you kissed, the fireworks continued to colour the night sky, unnoticed by you. To the two of you, nothing else existed right now. 

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Many more summers passed. Every year upon completing your shrine duties on the summer festival, you would don a wooden kitsune mask and run into the forest to find your lover waiting for you with a matching mask and a small packet of food to share. 

“Don’t you find it weird to have matching masks?” you asked with a giggle one winter night as you hiked hand in hand up the winding mountain trail. 

“Perhaps. But it’d be worse if someone saw the beloved seer and shrine maiden running into the forest with a man, wouldn’t it?” Rintarou asked.

“I suppose so. Would be horrible for business, wouldn’t it?” you replied with a laugh. 

“Exactly,” he ruffled your hair. 

Though the summer festival was always the highlight of the year for you, it wasn’t as if you two didn’t meet at other times. 

Spring was spent watching the blooming cherry blossoms together while eating small snacks, autumn was spent collecting fruits and sewing new kimonos to wear, and winter was spent drinking hot barley tea by the fire with the other kitsune. When the other shrine maidens asked where you would disappear off to for hours, you would simply smile and say, “I’m just checking in on the spirits around the mountain.”

Tonight as you walked hand-in-hand with Rintarou to the glade once again, he noticed the way you were walking a little slower than usual. He realised it wasn’t the first time either - these days he found himself slowing himself down to match your pace more and more often. 

“Did something happen recently?” he asked, removing his mask and hanging it on his hip as he knew you were both out of view and earshot of any humans. He then carefully took your mask as well. 

You shook your head. “Nothing’s really happened lately, why do you ask?” 

Rintarou furrowed his brow but nodded. “I was just wondering, that’s all.” 

“You’re making a funny face,” you giggled, “But no, nothing special’s been happening these days. Oh, I was offered a position of priestess but I said I’d rather stay as a shrine maiden.”

“Is that so? Congratulations, though. The offer alone is good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is! But at the same time, I don’t feel like taking it. I’m happy with how things are, and I think Kiyoko-senpai at the shrine is way more suited to becoming the priestess than I am,” you smiled, “I just like helping around where I can and then going to see you when I can.”

Rintarou blinked in surprise but a small smile came to his face as he leaned forward and gave you a soft kiss. “I love seeing you too,” he hummed when he pulled away, hands moving to gently cup your face which looked small in his large hands, “And I’m glad that I can be here for the rest of your life too.”

He pressed his cool forehead to yours and you giggled at the feeling. Just like that night over fifteen years ago, you felt his coolness and a warmth. He was just wonderful. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck and pulled him closer for another kiss. Though the cold wind of winter blew around you, and the falling snow threatened to pile up on your feet, the kiss still felt incredibly hot. Perhaps it was partially due to Rintarou warming you with his own magic, but you felt like you could stay like this forever with him.

Eventually, he pulled away with a little cloud of vapour leaving both your lips. His nose crinkled just a little as he chuckled at the sight of your flushed face. “You look absolutely adorable,” he said and pushed a lock of hair behind your ear before noticing something he wished he hadn’t.

“As much as I’d love to get more kisses from you, Rin, I’d rather we get to your den and sit at the fire that Shinsuke has definitely prepared already,” you teased. 

“Right, right.” He nodded and took your hand once again, leading you to the den even if you had known the path from visiting hundreds, if not thousands, of times.

As the two of you walked, muscle memory leading the way, Rintarou thought about the thing he noticed - the fact that your hair had changed colour.

It wasn’t something he had never seen before, he had seen plenty of the priests, priestesses, and shrine maidens grow old before. Yet somehow it became so much heavier when he realised the same thing was happening to you. Your steps were slower, he could find grey strands, and when you smiled, the creases by your eyes seemed deeper than before. 

He knew about this. He once watched you grow up before his very eyes and get married to another man while he still lived in the body of a child. He anticipated the fact that someday, you would leave the earth and him, but he didn’t think it would hit so suddenly and painfully. 

With his free hand, Rintarou gently touched the soft skin of his face and took in a deep breath, realising that it was happening.

“Rintarou, did something happen?” you asked, noticing he had something on his mind. 

The kitsune turned to you and shook his head before kissing your forehead. “No, nothing’s wrong, Y/N.” He smiled.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

“Y/N, you have to let me heal you.”

“For the last time, Rintarou, I said no!” you cried and pushed him away with what strength you could muster. Though you had gained a lot working for the shrine for so many years, your old age was finally catching up to you. 

A cold wind blew and though the doors to the shrine were closed, a small draft sent a shiver through your old bones. With bony hands, you pulled the futon’s blanket higher on you and laid down. “Please… just don’t.”

It was such a painful sight, to see you slowly succumbing to nature’s will. No matter how many times Rintarou insisted on using his healing to keep you healthy enough to live a long life, you always refused it. 

“Please, just give me some time,” you spoke quietly.

The kitsune bit his lip before nodding. As much as he wanted to spend whatever time he could with you, he respected your wishes and left the room to work on his own duties. 

As you laid in the futon, you stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t hard to tell you didn’t have much time left. At the moment, you couldn’t remember how long you had lived for but if your greying head, wrinkles, and frail body were anything to go by, it was a long time.

“Isn’t it so funny… to see Rintarou in love with an old hag like me?” you asked quietly.

“Not particularly.” A certain voice spoke. You turned your head to see Shinsuke had entered the room and took a seat by you. “We’ve gotten used to you over the many years, ya know?”

“He keeps insisting to take away my sickness and make me younger. I don’t even know if his magic can do that.” You sighed.

“I’m not really sure about it either but in the end it’s yer choice. He can’t force ya to accept any treatment and neither do I think he would,” he shrugged, “But I’ve noticed you’ve been pushin’ him away a lot recently. The boy- the guy comes back all moody and stuff almost everyday.” He still had a little habit of calling him a boy ever since meeting the three foxes.

“Hah… is that so?” you laughed quietly before coughing loudly, “I just don’t want him to be sad when I… you know. Because I know I have to go soon. And this illness in the winter doesn’t help.”

Shinsuke stayed quiet. 

“I wonder if he knows how much I love him. I wonder if he’ll begin to hate me these days. In the end of my years I was always just a trouble to him,” you smile sadly, “He had to carry me to visit you guys, and helped me with so many chores. When we went to watch the fireworks every year, he would also have to pause for me on our walk up, and we even missed it once because I walked so slowly! The following years he would carry me up though.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that memory despite the tears forming in your eyes.

“I wonder if Rin found me a burden,” you continued, “I wanted to do so much for him. Make him snacks or give him books or… I don’t know, just put a smile on his face. But he was always the one doing things for me.”

By the end of your short monologue, your pillow had become soaked with tears. Your body shook slightly, both from the cold and from your sobs.

“I think…” Shinsuke started, “Rintarou loved you just as much. He always came back with a small smile on his face. Whether it was the summer festival nights, or simply sharing a cup of matcha with you in the winter, I believe he thoroughly enjoyed it all.”

“R-Really?” You looked up at the kitsune with puffy eyes.

“I would not lie.” He smiled in reply.

You smiled back softly, relieved to know your ‘husband’ felt that way about you. “Thank you for telling me, Shinsuke. I would- oh!” you exclaimed as you remembered something, “On that table there. There are five books. Can you bring them?” 

Shinsuke reached over to the table and placed five red leather-bound books next to you. “Are these the ones?”

“Yep. They’re my diaries,” you grinned, “The next time Rintarou comes here, I’ll give these to him as my final gift. And if I live on after that… well it’ll be embarrassing if he’s read how I feel about him.”

“Ya say that as if you two ain’t been in a relationship for decades now.”

“Shinsuke! How rude…”

You two shared a small laugh in the winter night. 

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

A few nights passed and Rintarou shot out of his sleep as he felt something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

These past nights, instead of sleeping in the den with the other kitsunes as usual, he had been sleeping on the shrine’s roof. He felt that the closer he was to you, the more at ease he could be. But alas, every night his heart still felt heavy and worried. It didn’t help that the two of you hadn’t talked since the night you asked him to leave you alone. 

But tonight he knew he had to see you. 

Rintarou jumped off the roof and hurried to your room before sliding open the door quickly yet silently. 

“Y/N,” he spoke before gasping as he saw you curled up and shivering under the blanket at the sudden draft of cold air.

“R-Rin? What are you doing-”

Without a word, he quickly shut the door and fell to his knees to hold you close in an attempt to warm you up. Though he could feel your body warming slightly, all he could think about was how cold you were.

“You’re so warm…” You mumbled and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah?” He asked with a nervous chuckle. 

“Mmhm.” You leaned into his chest as your frail fingers trailed their way up his warm body. “So… so warm.”

“I’m using my magic, you know? I’m supposed to be the colder one here.” Rintarou brushed away a few strands of hair in front of your face.

“Hm… I guessed so,” you hummed and gently stroked his soft face. Not that you could really feel it anymore - your fingertips could barely feel anything. “Rin-kun, can I give you something?”

“You should focus on resting. I can get that later when you’ve recovered.” The kitsune insisted. Though he knew he was just saying that in reassurance. Whether that was to you or to himself, he didn’t know.

“Rintarou, we both know I might not live for much longer.” You coughed dryly as you spoke. Slowly, you removed your head from his neck and looked up at him with tired eyes. “Please, just let me do what I want to do.”

Rintarou bit his cheek, staring into your dull eyes with his own golden ones. Sure, he had the powers to heal you, but you kept insisting he let you pass like a normal human would, and neither did he possess the power to bring you back. This truly was a final request from you. 

He nodded and helped you sit up properly, eyes following your hands as they reached for a small stack of books sitting beside you. There were four, no, five books, labelled ‘one’ through to ‘five’. 

“I wrote these. It’s a bit embarrassing to say… but I wrote about my time at the shrine and about you so I wouldn’t ever forget them,” You smiled weakly at your memories of writing in the books almost every night, “I think, in total… my memories with you take up about four of these books.”

Rintarou couldn’t speak. All he could do was let the books rest in his hands, unable to even find the strength to hold them properly. 

“I doubt I kept everything in there. There’s a lot, you know? I forget things and I don’t remember a lot of what I wrote. But I know I wrote about my favourite things like when… when we went fishing and those twins fell in the lake. And the summer festival where it rained so he had to have an extra day for fireworks. And when we held our own marriage ceremony in the forest with Shinsuke as our priest. Do you remember that?”

“Y-Yeah… I remember.” Rintarou’s voice cracked as he remembered the bright sunny day where you held his hand in the glade and shared sake with him. It was funny, thinking that a few decades had passed since that day yet he could remember it like it was yesterday. Yet it was likely already distant for you. 

You looked over and laughed quietly upon seeing him holding back his tears. “I haven’t seen you like this since the wedding.” He chuckled lightly until you began to cough loudly. As always, Rintarou was quick to knock on your back until the coughing stopped and he helped you lie down on your side.

Instinctively, he got under the blanket with you.

“Hm… I’m glad I get to experience my husband holding me one last time,” you say softly and bury your face in his warm chest, “You’ll stay here, right? Until the very end?”

“Of course.” Rintarou mumbled and rested his chin on the top of your greying head. “I’ll always be here.”

“Wouldn’t it be so embarrassing if I woke up the next morning all okay?”

“I wouldn’t laugh.”

“You would in a few days.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“I don’t think it’s happening though.”

“Neither do I.” 

The kitsune stroked your back softly. It was always nice for you, but for him it was calming. He figured that he didn’t want your last memory of him to be of him sobbing uncontrollably. 

“If it were to end like this, I’d be happy though.” Your muffled voice spoke into his chest. It was nice, he thought, the feeling of his chest vibrating as you spoke into it. 

“I’d be happy for you too.” Rintarou mumbled, glad that you couldn’t see his face and the way he was pursing his lips harshly in an attempt to not cry. 

A few more moments of silence passed before he heard your quiet sobbing.

“Actually, I think I don’t want to die. I wish I could live with you forever, Rintarou. I wish that I could kiss you every morning and every night, and I want to watch the fireworks with you every summer festival.” Your tears were soaking his clothes as you sobbed. “I wish… I wish so many things. I’m so happy with what I’ve done in this tiny life with you but I just wish… I wish more could’ve happened.”

It took all of his own power for Rintarou to stay strong, to not weep and make your final memories horribly sad. Alas, a tear escaped from the corner of his eye, and soon more followed, disappearing into the pillow on which his head rested.

He knew he had to say something. 

Taking in a deep breath, he called your name softly and cupped your cheek. The flow of your tears had slowed and you managed to tilt your head up to face your husband.

“I will always, always love you. And someday, whether we exist as ourselves or not, we will love each other again. I promise.”

With his words, you could only begin to cry again, though this time with a smile on your face.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Your voice was tinged with both sadness and playfulness. 

The kitsune smiled weakly at your words and allowed you to lean closer to him, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss was weak, tired, and sad. Yet at the same time it was powerful and blissful. He noticed the grip your hands had on his arm weakened and by the time you pulled away from him, it was gone.

You took in a shaky breath and smiled softly.

“I love you, Rintarou.”

And with that, your eyelids shut and the last of your tears fell. 

With that, Rintarou’s body began to shake as he sobbed into your body. Crying, coughing, wailing in the pain of your loss. 

He held you until your body had become as cold as the snow falling outside the door, and by then he knew he had to leave. The other shrine maidens would come to check on you soon anyways. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He mumbled softly and placed a final kiss to your forehead before leaving the room with heavy but silent footsteps.

And as he walked through the snowy forest, he realised how dark it was. Looking up at the sky, he realised only the stars shone without the brilliant moon to accompany them. 

“How fitting,” Rintarou mumbled and turned his gaze back to the snow-covered ground.

[anqeluv]

kinktober : bts as angels & demons

disclaimer : this isn’t meant to disrespect anyone’s religious beliefs at all; it’s just a supernatural au. feel free to keep scrolling if this one isn’t for you :)

trigger warning : taehyung’s part includes a brief mention of self harm as part of a demon summoning ritual. there is also a little blood in that scene.

seokjin : an angel

jin has been your guardian angel since before you were born. he’s always been there for you, but you’ve only known of his existence for a few months. he wasn’t supposed to reveal himself to you (you almost got run over! what was he supposed to do, just let you wander into ongoing traffic?), you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be teaching you how to get off.

“touch it slowly at first,” he instructs you, from where he’s sitting at the end of your bed, his large white wings folded against his back. you’re laying up near the headboard, your panties and shorts discarded on the floor. you’ve got two fingers circling your clit, slowly the way he told you, and it has you pitching your hips upwards, wanting more.

“please, jinnie,” you beg, giving your angel your biggest puppy eyes. “please, please will you do it for me? it feels so much better when you do it.”

jin closes his eyes, trying not to give in, but then he feels your lips on his and they fly open. he groans against your mouth, one of his hands slipping between your thighs before he can think about the consequences this might have.

yoongi : a demon

yoongi knows damn well he’s supposed to be torturing some poor soul in shanghai right now, but somehow, balls deep inside you, he can’t bring himself to care. it’s not as if anyone back in hell is going to care if he takes a little time to fuck his favorite pet. there was a time when he had several, but over the years he’s come to only crave you.

there’s just something about you, his sweet little kitten, that he adores. maybe it’s the way you listen so well, the way you’re so eager to please. maybe it’s the way you take his cock like it’s what you were born to do. he’s not sure, but he does know that visiting you is always the highlight of his week.

“yoongi,” you gasp, bringing him out of his reverie. you’re squirming in his grip, fucking yourself back against him a little bit. “please can you move? wanna cum, please.”

“of course, kitten,” he says, fucking you a little faster to make up for it. “go ahead and cum for me. you deserve it for being so well behaved.”

hoseok : an angel

hobi adores everything about you. he knows he’s the angel, technically, but he’s convinced you must have some angel in you. you just look so pretty, all spread out underneath him.

you felt completely overwhelmed. it was always like that when hoseok fucked you. you knew that it was probably against the rules, especially since hoseok was only watching over you because a demon had been lurking near your home for the past few weeks.

but somehow none of that mattered once you were in bed together and hobi’s lips were against yours and his hands were touching you in a way that none of your exes ever did.

afterwards, you were always a little out of it. a little too sleepy and giggly and completely dependent. hobi said it was natural, because he was an angel and you weren’t used to being so close to one.

“hobi, i feel like the moon,” you gasped, curled against his chest. you laughed after you said it. it sounded so ridiculous. but it was true. you felt happy and floaty and special. you weren’t thinking about the come down later, about the way you cried, but hoseok was. he never regretted what you did together, but he wished it were easier for you.

“it’s okay, sunshine,” hoseok said, stroking your hair calmly. “i won’t let you float away. i promise.”

namjoon : a demon

joonie almost feels bad watching you squirm. you’ve been trying to get yourself off for the past ten minutes, but try as you might your little fingers just don’t feel as good as namjoon’s do. they don’t reach deep enough and they don’t know how to be rough with you the way you like (even if you won’t admit it).

suddenly, as though something inside of you can sense that you’re being watched, your eyes open and you spot joon lounging against your bedroom wall. there’s a twisted smile curling up the sides of his lips and he sends you a half wave, a casual flutter of his long fingers which you know is meant to please you.

you cry out, which namjoon doesn’t expect, moaning in the way you know he likes, “please, joonie. please, can you help me?”

namjoon’s smile gets a little wider and he moves away from the wall to replace your hand with his, using his other arm to prop himself up above you. your eyes are closed in complete bliss as joon’s fingers slip through your slick to bring you the release you’ve been craving all night, unaware of the darkness slipping inside along with them.

god, you’re so naive. it would almost be sweet if namjoon was capable of feeling anything close to affection.

jimin : an angel

“y/n!” jimin burst into your room, pearly wings nearly catching in the doorframe before he gasps and covers his eyes at the sight of you standing in front of your dresser in your underwear, frozen like a deer in headlights. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know you were changing.”

“s’okay, jiminie,” you smile, humming as you search through your drawers for a shirt. “i don’t mind.”

jimin lowers his hands hesistantly, trying to ignore you the way he knows he should. angels aren’t supposed to see humans like that.

technically, he isn’t even supposed to be here. but how was he supposed to stay away when your soul was crying out to him? jimin had always been a little more empathetic than most angels, so much so that he could feel how sad you had been all the way from heaven. he felt your pain like a knife in his chest and so he made the choice to come visit you.

he only visited you in your dreams, so maybe he should have thought about the fact that this reality was ultimately under your control. maybe he should have thought about why you would be half naked when you knew he could burst in at any moment.

“jimin?” your voice is different than normal, a little raspier and much closer than before. jimin opens his eyes in surprise to realize that you’re standing right in front of him, this time in even less than before.

“y/n, what are you do—?”

but then you’re kissing him and if jimin didn’t know better he could’ve sworn you were a succubus because before he even knew what he was doing he was backing you up towards your bed, following you as you lay back against the sheets, his hands dipping lower, so much lower than they should be…

jimin woke up with a gasp, feeling his cheeks flush with shame. what has he gotten himself into?

taehyung : a demon

you knew tae was a demon. you were the one who summoned him after all. but somehow you hadn’t expected him to be this cute. weren’t demons supposed to be evil and hideous?

but taehyung wasn’t. taehyung was charming and sweet and had some of the prettiest laughter you’d ever heard. anyone would’ve thought he was an angel if it weren’t for the curling black horns which grew from the top of his head.

carefully, you slit you palm with one of the knives from your kitchen, allowing a few deep red drops to fall against the marks you had made on the floor. with a swirl of black smoke, taehyung appeared in front of you.

“hi, princess,” he smiled in that disarming way of his, stepping delicately out of the pentagram on your floor to cup your face with his elegant, ring clad hands. “what can i do for you?”

you felt your heart beat a little faster in your chest. you had made a decision earlier, but now that he was here, in front of you, you were starting to question whether the idea of losing your virginity to a succubus was such a good one.

seemingly as soon as the thought passed through your head, taehyung smiled. it was a dark smile, a smile that promised something more. “oh, princess,” he tapped your bottom lip with his thumb, dragging it downwards before gently releasing it. “if that’s what you wanted, you could have just asked.”

jungkook : an angel

“you know, for an angel, you’re surprisingly good at this,” you gasped, fingers curled in jungkook’s dark curls. the angel in question pulled away from where had been happily nestled for the past half hour, grinning mischievously.

“how do you think i got so much practice?” he quipped. he kept his middle and ring fingers inside you, curling gently, while his thumb replaced his tongue in swiping over your clit, swollen from so much attention. “heaven’s pretty, but it’s boring.”

you choked, in part over that sentence, but mostly because of the way his fingers sped up a little bit inside you, pressing against a rough little spot which had your vision going white as you came for the third time tonight.

“good girl,” jungkook smiled radiantly, finally pulling his hand away from the apex of your thighs and sucking the wetness off of them. the sight had a fresh wave of heat pulsing through you. jungkook moved up your body, pressing a searing kiss to the base of your throat. one of his hands, the one that had been inside you before, guided his cock inside you, while his other tugged at one of your nipples.

you could barely string a sentence together, a soft moan falling from your lips at the feeling of your angel finally inside you. jungkook’s wings cocooned you, so all you could see was white and gold and kook’s face above yours.

“…one more for me,” he was saying in between the kisses he was pressing up the side of your neck. “can you do that, pretty girl? cum just once more for me. i know you can. you’re always so good.”

[glitxhwayventeen]

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow

Minghao: Chapter 1 (Sirens)

Characters: Minghao x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, domestic violence, child abuse, blood mentions, death mentions, gang activity mentions, lots of dick jokes, suggestive content, tiny drug mention if you squint, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Sirens by Cher Lloyd. It’s a strange choice I know. It doesn’t necessarily go with this chapter. But i think it’s actually a pretty good song, so I used it for a loose inspiration for Minghao’s opening Chapter.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Slight 🥀 but mostly ☁️

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow Master List

Chapter 1: Sirens

These last few days have been some of the best days of Minghao’s life. Not to say he’s had a bad one, he actually considered himself quite fortunate in that aspect compared to his brothers. Most of his pack didn’t even know what Minghao had done before he joined them. They just figured it wasn’t anything good. He had this… bad boy aura about him that they couldn’t quite place. So no one really ever wanted to fuck with him, not that he was complaining. I mean don’t get me wrong, he could do some SERIOUS damage to an opponent, he just didn’t want to have to. He was done with and over all the fighting. He fought his whole life. Now, he was tired. Boy, was he tired. He got so tired sometimes that it felt like his bones were scraping each other and if he didn’t lay down in the middle of whatever he was doing, they’d crack and break apart from his body. He’d never tell his brothers that though, he didn’t like them worrying about him. He wasn’t helpless, he was quite capable of taking care of himself and others. He just never had to because he had the Alphas looking out for the pack all the time. It wasn’t his problem to watch out for anyone and he liked it that way.

That is, until he met you. Before you, he saw the world for all its horrors and terrors. With you around, he saw all its beauty and grace. He never thought that imprinting would be like this. He felt almost high when you were around. No one ever really explained it all in depth to him. He didn’t realize that just someone saying your name would make his heart jump out of his chest. He took one look at you and he realized you were all he cared about. Sure he loved his brothers, but he knew if push came to shove they could protect themselves. Apart of him knew that of course you could too, but for the first time, he actually WANTED to take care of someone.

He always needed to be sure you were okay. He’d ask how you slept, if you ate, how you were feeling, if you were happy. It frazzled his brothers, he’d never done that with them. It was strange seeing such a loving side of him. They knew he loved them because they were his brothers, but they absolutely KNEW he loved you because you were his mate. But seeing him worry himself sick over your well-being was… different to say the least. They were actually pretty sure you had replaced him with an identical looking version of himself when they weren’t looking because, again, he just wasn’t even acting like the Minghao they knew.

You didn’t mind of course. You actually loved that he cared for you so much. You were so tired of having to take care of yourself for all this time. You didn’t think you were very good at it and, quite frankly, it was exhausting. You had been on the run for centuries before you met the pack. It was lonely and if there was anything in this world that you actually hated, it was being all alone. You came from a tribe where the bigger the family, the better. You missed it. So when you realized Minghao had imprinted on you, you couldn’t have been more happy. Because now, not only did you get a mate who loved you more than life itself, but you got his crazy pack brothers too. You figured he loved you anyway, he hadn’t actually said the words to you yet, still, you could just… feel it. You could even feel that his brothers loved you. They reminded you a lot of your original brothers. They were loud and rambunctious, and they’d do anything to protect you because you were their brothers mate. It was perfect.

As you both lay asleep in your now shared bed, you cuddled on top of his toned chest like always, you heard a loud, almost in human, scream from outside. It made you jump almost a foot in the air, and had you falling in the floor. You had let your instincts and guard down quite a bit since you came to live with them a few weeks ago because you felt safe. So the terrible noise from outside scared you a great deal. Minghao was quick to act of course, rushing to scoop you in his arms and quietly rocking you to calm you down.

“Shh. It’s okay baby it’s gone now. Don’t worry. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He spoke softly as he stroked your hair gently, still rocking you in place.

“I- I know I just wasn’t expecting it. Who the hell screams like that this early in the morning?” You questions, both of you knowing it was more rhetorical than anything.

“More like who screams like that in general.” Minghao said, half joking and half concerned, though he was trying his best to hide it from you.

He had come to realize any sounds out of the ordinary could set you off into a panic attack. He didn’t like seeing you scared, and he didn’t like your heart rate spiking for anyone or anything other than himself.

“I just hope it’s over now-” you start, but just as you were about to finish your sentence, another loud screech forced you to jump from Minghao’s arms and hide under the bed.

He knew he couldn’t help it, it was now part of your instinct to hide in the darkest place possible from danger as you were out alone in the woods for decades and it was the way you kept yourself alive. Still, he couldn’t help the small whine that came from within his chest as he saw you hiding. He hated the fear in your eyes, it made him feel so helpless. He tried to coax you out from under his bed by trying to tell you it was just a passing noise. But, once again, the noise came back. Except this time, you actually managed to hear it without the sleepiness or your mating pull clouding it. Oh no! You quickly go out from under the bed and grabbed onto Minghao.

“Hao, where are the other boys??” You asked quickly, the fear in your eyes seeming to amplify.

“Probably asleep, like we should be so let’s-” he tried, still wanting to attempt to get more hours.

“No Hao! We need to find them. We need to find ALL OF THEM right now!” You all but yell as you quickly grabbed a pair of shorts, slipped them on, and threw open your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?? They’re all sleeping come on let’s go back to bed” Minghao whined, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation.

You ignored him as you opened the door closest to your bedroom, you were greeted with Chan sitting on the edge of his bed, you could tell he was also woken up by the loud scream. Good, he’s safe. Now the others.

You then opened the door across the hall from your room. In it, you found Seungcheol yawning putting on pants in order to try and investigate the strange noise. You then pushed open Joshua and Jeonghan’s rooms, in them, you found both boys to be just as shocked from your actions as Minghao was. But nevertheless they were safe so you didn’t care how crazy you looked. After them, you dashed to Jun and Soonyoung’s shared room, letting out a quick relieved sigh seeing them both already standing close to their door.

You kept doing this until you had finished your rounds of Jihoon’s, Seokmin’s, Seungkwan’s, Wonwoo’s, and Hansol’s rooms respectively. You were so beyond happy that all the boys were okay that you almost cried real tears, they were already brimming at your waterlines.

“(Y/N), we all heard the noise. But it just sounded like someone yelling. We’re all fine. You worry too much.” Seungcheol assured you, giving you a small pat on the head to show gratitude for your care for them.

“No Seungcheol. You don’t understand. That wasn’t just any random villager screaming. That was something more vile than you could even imagine. And it prays on men, specifically horny-” you stopped yourself mid-sentence. “Wait.” You paused. “WHERE’S MINGYU??” you said, realizing very quickly that one of the wolves you were thinking of while saying your piece was unaccounted for.

You dashed to his room and busted the door open. And sure enough, his big ass form was there laying in bed, sleeping like a baby. Thank God.

“Alright. Somebody’s been hanging around Jun’s paranoid ass too long.” Hansol joked your way, earning a chuckle from a few others as well.

“Hey!” Junhui tried to defend himself.

“No you guys don’t get it. That scream, that was a siren’s victory call. I was legitimately worried for your lives.” You protested, Minghao coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“A siren? What’s that?” Chan asked as all the boys looked to you for elaboration.

Boy, you sometimes forgot how young and inexperienced with the supernatural they were. They were far better with people than you were that’s for sure, but when it came down to other magical beings, it was like you were speaking a different language. And you only really ever did that with the foreign wolves as you knew both English and Chinese.

“A siren’s one of the most deadly creatures you can find. They look like regular people, most of the time, they’re absolutely beautiful. That’s what makes them so scary, they look like angels. But they’re pure evil, they lure people to their deaths late at night, mostly men. Mostly horny men. They use them for sex, to procreate. Then they kill them in brutal, horrible ways. Afterwards, they let out that God awful scream. That’s why I got so worried with you guys, I thought that…” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

“That what? One of us got our dick wet and our head chopped off?” Joshua laughed out, clearly amused that you considered them all horny men.

“Well yeah, kind of. You can’t blame me. I know what most of you go to the village for late at night. When I realized what the scream was, I just had to make sure you were right. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning to have to go out and find a fucking body.” You huffed as Minghao gave you a small peck on your shoulder to try and ease your tension.

“Well, thank you for caring for our safety. But we’re big boys. We can take care of ourselves. Well most of us…” Soonyoung assured you, standing more proud than he should’ve as he looked at Jeonghan.

“Yeah… that’s kind of what I’m worried about…” you let the joke pass your lips, trying your best not to laugh.

The other boys went into a roar of laughter as Jeonghan tried his best to hide his own amusement behind a fake angry face. The laughter seemed to be just enough noise to wake the life of the party up finally.

“Hey guys” Mingyu yawned. “What’s gonna on? Why are we laughing?”

“Well (Y/N) seems to think we’re gonna get our dicks chopped off.” Jeonghan responded to Mingyu, earning another quick chuckle and a slap from Jihoon.

“Oh well… that’s nice… any particular reason it’s me and you or is everyone else invited to the dick chopping party too?” Mingyu spoke again, trying his best to hide his obvious confusion with a joke.

“No man. It’s mostly you two.” Laughed Seungkwan. “You’re the ones who always seem to need to bury your dicks in something, not us”

You snort as you turn yourself to bury your face into Minghao’s chest, now wanting to go back to sleep knowing everyone’s alright.

“Alright alright you horny kids. All jokes aside.” Joshua spoke up. “(Y/N) how serious is this siren threat?”

“Well I’ve seen one siren take out half a town before. So pretty serious I’d gather. I dont know where all this dick chopping came into the conversation, but I’d say everyone needs to stay inside once it gets dark out until further notice, just to be safe” you mumble out from Minghao’s chest.

“Okay guys. You heard the all knowing wolf lady” Seungcheol said, earning a playful glare from you. “No more going out at night. Not for a while. No exceptions. All dicks must remain in tact” he declared.

“Aw man” Mingyu pouted, he was disappointed but also understood that the pack’s safety came before his hormones.

You let out a small giggle as Minghao lightly laughed as he placed a little kiss on the top of your head.

“No that’s enough excitement for one night. Everyone back to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Joshua decided, ushering everyone back into their rooms.

Once your bedroom door was closed, Minghao picked you up mumbled an “I’m exhausted” before he placed you on the bed, the bags formed under his eyes showing you just how tired he must be. He joined you moments later and hovered himself over you.

“Do you really think the guys will stay inside because of the siren?” He questions while moving a lock of your hair behind your ear. You clasp your hands behind the back of his neck and place with his hair.

“Hmm. Don’t know. I guess we’ll see. If someone wakes up without a dick, we’ll know they didn’t listen” you said with a cheeky ass smile, much to the delight of your loving mate.

“Got it, no dick means they’re the siren’s bitch” he said aloud causing you to chuckle at his thought process.

“I promise I’ll still wake up with mine though” he added, earning a sweet smile from you. God, what did he do to deserve such a cute little mate?

“Good. I’d be real disappointed if you woke up with it gone.” You playfully pout, stroking his cheek during your sentence to further add to your point.

“Well you know how I hate to disappoint love” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he pecked your lips with a bit more passion than you thought he would’ve used this early in the morning.

“I thought you were tired?” You questioned as best you could while he was trailing his kisses down to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin gently.

“I was.” He mumbled into the crevice of your neck. “But I realized just how hard it is to resist your cute self. So now I’m thinking of some… other things we haven’t quite gotten to just yet” he answered with a playful smirk, making his intention completely obvious to you. Boy, this morning was already off to a fun start.

Another Author’s Note: I know what you guys are thinking, you’re thinking I meant succubus. But I meant Siren. There’s many different versions of both and I just happened to use the Siren version where they sing the men to lure them to their deaths on land. On another note, I finished three chapters in one day. I’m a bit proud not even gonna lie. I hope you guys liked this one. Minghao’s next chapter will be smut as I want to get their first time together out of the way as soon as possible. I don’t really know why. It just feels right you know?

(Updated 7/27)

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25

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2005

It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.

As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side. 

There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown. 

“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?” 

I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.” 

“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.

The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me. 

“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned. 

“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement. 

Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right. 

I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.

- 

I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive. 

I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse. 

Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.

"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.

"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"

“Very pregnant.”

"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood. 

“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"

“About as well as you can imagine.” 

“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. 

"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.

“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”

He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.

“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”

Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"

"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.

“Have any names picked out?”

"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good. 

"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them." 

"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”

"Maybe that would be a little too much."

“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself

-

"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.

"Nicholas?” He asked again.

"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name." 

“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.

He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"

I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away. 

Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you." 

-

My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.

"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me. 

 Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open. 

"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."

The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too." 

"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man. 

"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.

"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"

I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"

“What?”

"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?" 

"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.

It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible. 

"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.

"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”

Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."

"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”  

"I really don't think it's safe for you here." 

"Here we go agai-" 

"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.

"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..." 

“Nicholas.”

"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.

"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?" 

"You have my word." 

I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go." 

He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.

Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to see you too.”

- 

"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.

"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about." 

A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me." 

"Well, I've only known you my whole life." 

He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him. 

Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport. 

"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah." 

“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in. 

"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too. 

There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked. 

Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me. 

“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.

“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.” 

Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?” 

Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back. 

“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I. 

“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”

“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard. 

“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off. 

“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.” 

“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?” 

He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true. 

“I’m sorry that I hit you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.” 

“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red. 

“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed. 

“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”

Happiness welled up in my chest, ���I sure hope so since you picked it.” 

“I didn’t think you liked it.” 

I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”

“Riiiiight.” 

By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me. 

“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."

We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.

"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.

"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."

I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."

Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?" 

My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."

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Read part 26 here!

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[prose-for-hire]

The Devil’s in the details

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" And Fluff With spike

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader is a killer. They kill a person. For the Devil. Kidnap. Big blood mention. Mention of hiding a body.

A/N: Okay. So it’s not fluffy but I’ve injected some cuddling with Spike into it cos I got carried away with the plot. Hope this is okay anon - I got carried away. I can write you something fluffier (after Halloween) if you want to drop another request... Happy Halloween month !!

It was that time of year again. The yearly struggle where you had to offer a sacrifice to the Dark Lord again to ensure he kept his end of the bargain. Halloween night was circled and underlined in your calendar in thick red pen. Blood red. A coincidence, of course. You sighed, planning out this year’s would be tricky.

You had your boyfriend to think about and people knew you in Sunnydale now, it was hard to keep under the radar. You were practiced in what you needed to do, knowing there was no other way around it. As far as Spike was concerned, you were a sweetheart. A pure, innocent person who wouldn’t so much as look at someone the wrong way.

He was convinced you had never said a swear word and he was equally convinced you would turn to dust if you even attempted it. As far as he was aware, you knew nothing of demons or vampires or anything other than your pleasant life. And this is how you wanted it to stay.

However, Spike had long been trying to find a way to tell you about the supernatural. The Hellmouth. He didn’t want to scare you off, so he had been lying or more avoiding the truth. He wanted to tell you this year though, before Halloween.

You loved him but there were certain things that you would rather he didn’t know about you. For now at least. Especially the fact that you already knew he was a vampire. You smiled at him softly, leaning in and kissing his cheek – a greeting you always gave. He loved it, it was as if he was a husband returning home. He felt cherished by your affection. You never shied away, you wanted him to feel loved. Always.

“Can’t believe it’s been two years and I’ve never so much as had an invitation before, love”

“We did agree Spike – you have your space and I have mine”

“Yeah, but all your crap is in my space” he raised his voice an octave higher to cement his point, “Most men would have left over it, y’know” he added, pointing at you for emphasis.

“Then I’m very lucky to have such an understanding and kind boyfriend” You smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go, “God, your hands are always so cold”

“It’s my condition, love. Anaemia – always, uh, makes me cold” he muttered, not convincing anyone. But you just nodded along, smiling.

Spike had always meant to tell you but had never found the time. Besides, you had your own secrets (he wasn’t stupid he just didn’t suspect the truth) so he didn’t feel so bad about lying. Most of the time.

It was finally Halloween. You knew the drill. Spike would stay in and you would go where you were directed. You woke up to the same mysterious name written on a piece of paper you always did. It was the kind that would combust when you fulfilled your end of the bargain.

You walked up to the bar to order your drink, reading the nametag and smiling. This was getting easier every year. It almost made it difficult to feel the guilt anymore. You spent your evening talking to him, waiting until his break before you managed to subdue him and bring him back to your apartment. Usually, hitting them over the head and dragging them into the boot of your car seemed to work. Your neighbours were usually out and if anyone stopped you, you explained it was an elaborate costume. 

You were sat watching a gory horror film with the volume up high as you waiting for your new bartender friend to wake up from his little nap. He was propped up on the couch beside you. You had zip tied his hands and feet but you weren’t so cruel that you would cover his mouth. 

He finally started to come around as the humorous film started to get good. You shrugged, you were sure you could rent it for some light-hearted entertainment another day. They never quite got it right anyway. The blood was never the right colour.

He opened his eyes and started to yell. You hushed him and helped him regulate his breathing until he calmed down. When he eventually calmed down you explained the situation calmly, “So, listen, you’re gonna die tonight. But it’s for a really good reason so, at least there’s that” You nod along with yourself, smiling sweetly as his eyes widened in horror, “Okay I have to do a little ritual now that you’re awake just uh, stay still”

You got up, switching off the tv and lighting the red candles that had already been arranged in a circle on your coffee table. An ornate knife was in the middle of the circle. You closed your eyes, chanting some well-practiced verses. You motioned your arms slowly and you felt the warmth in the room dial up. The familiar crackle of flames started to sound around you.

You took the knife from the centre and awkwardly helped the man up, before slicing the blade across his throat. The liquid oozes from his wound and he started to sink to his knees, his blood splattering everywhere.

“Fuck, not on the rug!” You looked horrified, “What is wrong with you?! Over the chalice!” you hissed as if it was the poor man’s fault. You grabbed the chalice and held it under his neck, trying to 

The man slowly lost his life as you took the most important part for yourself. His blood. You sighed, rolling your eyes at his crumpled form as his blood soaked into your now ruined rug.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on your door. Shit. 

You slip your clothes off and grab the nearest items of fresh clothes so you could go to the door. In your haste, you almost slip on the pooling blood as you make your way to the door.

“What?!” you shouted, scowling at the visitor before you realised who it was, “Oh, Spike! Hi. It’s Halloween… you said you stay in on Halloween in case of the cute kids wanting candy”

“I said that-?” He questioned, before he caught a distinct smell of something he knew well. His stomach rumbled to confirm his suspicions, “What’s going on? I can smell-”

“Smell what?” You ask innocently. He squinted, before shrugging. It must be a different apartment in the block.

“Uh, nothing, can I come in?”

“I’m actually pretty busy… I’m, uh, I’m… baking” You said. Nobody, especially not yourself, was convinced by that excuse. But Spike just smiled slightly and nodded before asking once more, “Look, I need to come in. It’s… important. I gotta tell you somethin’ or my damned head will explode” he gestured at his head as he shook it, “Can I come in?” he pressed once more.

“Uh…” You look at the mess behind you that you’re concealing from his view by the door, “Just… give me time to clean the place up. I’ll be… 10 minutes” You muttered, slamming the door in his face and putting the lock on – just in case.

You clean the best you can, using so much bleach you were worried you would pass out. You sigh. Every year you tell yourself to put plastic sheeting down and every year you forget and end up ruining an item of furniture you were fond of. That was the real sacrifice you had to make, you sighed again as you rolled the poor man up in the rug and pulled him away. You found him a spot to rest in your tub. Hopefully Spike wouldn’t pick today to use the bathroom. The rug and the bleach all thrown in there too.

The blood now up the best it could be, you manage to find a roll of cookie dough to put in the oven. You sweep all of your occult stuff into a box and hid it under your bed and cram the rest into the cupboards. 

You had been twenty five minutes, but hoped Spike just presumed that you were house proud.

“I like your place, pet. Spotless” he said perusing the area. He smiled, it smelled of you and… cleaning products. Bleach. Oh, and cookies he smiled. He hoped that you would let him have some later on.

They say love is blind, and Spike was completely head over heels in love with you. So much so, he could only note the smell of cookie dough and you and didn’t think to question the smell of the blood that had been thinly masked by bleach.

He then eyed something on the coffee table that you had set down during the heavy-duty cleaning, “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" He joked, a slight smile as he started to flip through it. You grinned back, trying to conceal the fact that you were wiping beads of sweat from your brow when he looked up by scratching your scalp.

“It’s for Halloween – they were handing them out at the… mall”

“Uh, sit down pet” he said, sitting down in the same spot your previous guest had, “I need to… there’s somethin’ I need to say” he started to explain. He had chosen now to reveal who he really was. The fact that he was a vampire. He insisted he loved you and that it wouldn’t change anything between you.

You gasp, perhaps over exaggeratedly but you were actually surprised that he would choose now to tell you. You of course knew about demons and you were unsure if he was telling you this so he could take a bite from the body in your bathroom tub.

“I mean it – I’m… a vampire” He showed you his game face, taking your shock for disbelief. You cup his cheek gently, insisting this would never make a difference. You traced your thumb over his features and he closed his eyes at your touch.

“I will always love you. No matter what” You insisted, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips. He nodded slowly, smiling at your insistence. You caressed him softly, hoping he could feel the sincerity of your actions. You honestly weren’t scared of him. Or repulsed. You felt so deeply for him. You held him close to you as he flipped on the tv. You both settled into the sofa, stroking through his hair softly as he closed his eyes and leaned into you. You kissed his temple and whispered your continued affirmations. That you would never leave him. That you could never stop loving him.

You heard something and cast an eye to the kitchen, which you could see from your living space. The familiar figure you met every Halloween was there. The Devil.

You smiled, winking at the Devil as he took his offering as if he were Santa sneaking in on Christmas night. He smirked, drinking from the cup and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He clapped his hands and left which you caught from your peripheral vision.

You smiled warmly. It was all worth it. You were satisfied as you snuggled into Spike’s now open arms, you would keep the love of an immortal for another year at least.

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.52

Word Count: 2,745

Characters: Derek Hale, Noah Stilinski, Jordan Parrish, Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski (mentioned), Liam Dunbar (mentioned), The Mute, Scott McCall, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluff 

A/N: i have writer’s block :/

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

Derek was resting on top of your body, his head resting on your neck as you wrapped your arms around him, finding it hard to find sleep. The two of you laid together on the couch, not wearing any clothes.

Derek had been asleep for some time now, there was no surprise. He was exhausted, even if he didn't want to admit it. You stared out the window, your mind kept thinking about everything that was happening, from Derek to working with Sheriff Stilinski. It became harder and harder to watch him look around the station, with it only half the size it was before. And it was all because of you, someone he trusts.

Your phone rang slightly as you jumped, waking up Derek as he gasped softly.

“Crap, sorry,” you apologized.

“Who’s calling you?” he asked.

You picked up the phone, frowning slightly.

“Sheriff Stilinski. Is everything okay?” you asked, sitting up slightly as did Derek.

“Not necessarily. I need you to come back to the hospital. With Derek,” he replied.

Derek frowned before nodding his head.

“Y-Yeah, we’ll be there in a few,” he hung up the call as you turned to Derek.

“Oh, I guess it’s bring your boyfriend to work day,” he smirked slightly.

“Oh, haha. Come on, go put on some clothes,” you scoffed, trying to hide your nerves.

You pressed your lips against his, before getting off the couch, throwing your shirt over your head.

---

“So he was a wendigo?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen one in California before,” Derek replied.

The two of you stood on the roof of the hospital, along with Sheriff Stilinski.

“What can you sense?” you asked.

“I think there was someone else here too,” he frowned.

“Scott said there was some ax murderer and Sean,” Sheriff Stilinski replied.

“There was someone else. Young and male. I can smell something,” Derek said.

“I’ll go check the security cameras,” Sheriff Stilinski nodded, heading back inside. 

“What can you smell?” you frowned.

“I don’t know. I’m gonna need your help on this,” he turned to face you.

“Me? How?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Use your powers. Focus and try to tell me what’s here,” Derek explained.

“I don't necessarily have a spell for this-”

“Then make one. Or combine one,” he replied.

You sighed nervously before nodding your head.

“Revertere,” you felt chills going down your spine as you gasped, your eyes turning purple.

“T-There’s blood… and fear,” you started.

“Is there anything else?” you took a deep breath, gagging at the smell.

“I-I think the person broke a bone,” you started.

“Okay, that's something… (Y/N),” you scrunched your eyes, taking a shaky breath as you could hear screams fill your ears.

“(Y/N)!” Derek put his hand on your shoulder as you gasped, opening your eyes.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he pointed out.

You wiped your nose, slightly embarrassed as you shook your head.

“S-Sorry,” you replied softly.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied.

“Yeah, okay. Let's go find the Sheriff, okay?” Derek asked.

You nodded your head, before receiving a spam of texts, and then a call from Scott.

“Scott? What is it?” you said.

“I-I screwed up!” he yelled.

“Calm down, what happened?” you asked again.

“I… Come to my house, please. Like now,” Scott yelled.

“Uh,” you turned to face Derek as he nodded his head.

“I-I need you,” he said.

“O-Okay, I’m on my way,” you replied.

“Thank you,” he hung up the phone as you walked to Derek.

“I…” you started.

“Go, it’s okay. I can handle Sheriff Stilinski on my own,” he nodded.

You kissed his cheek softly.

“I’ll see you at home?” you asked.

He nodded his head, before you stroked his cheek, walking away.

---

“Scott?!” you yelled, running up to his room.

“(Y/N),” he and Stiles sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing their heads nervously.

“Go in the bathroom,” you frowned, before walking to the bathroom, opening the curtain.

“Oh my god,” Liam sat inside, duct tape around his mouth, arms, and legs.

His eyes went wide, as he screamed, muffled through the tape.

“You kidnapped a kid?!” you screamed.

“I-I bit him,” he stuttered.

“First, get him out of the bathtub! What the hell?!” you pulled him up, walking him to the bed.

His body was shaking as he sat down on the chair.

“Don’t scream, Liam. If you don’t scream, the duct tape stays off, okay?” Stiles warned as you glared at him.

He pulled the duct tape off while you pulled Scott aside.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Sean was going to kill him. He threw him off of the building and I had no choice. I had to save his life,” Scott explained.

“Well, congrats, I guess,” you shrugged.

“(Y/N), help me!” Scott whined.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper-yelled.

“I-Is he dying or is he turning?” he asked.

“Uhm,” you turned back to the little kid, bending down to his level.

“Sensum,” he gasped as your eyes glew purple, holding his hand.

“Yeah, Scott. He’s turning,” you nodded.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Stiles asked.

“For starters, maybe untie him? He’s probably freaking out enough as it is,” you replied.

They nodded, while you took the duct tape off of Liam, while he kept looking at the floor.

“Hey, I know you're scared, but we’re gonna help you, okay?” you started, earning a small nod from him.

“Good, what's your name?” you asked.

“Liam,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Okay, Scott and Stiles are going to help you. You can trust them, okay?” he continued to nod softly before you stood up.

“Scott, explain to him what's happening. And Stiles… just leave the poor kid alone,” you rubbed your head.

“What about you?” Scott asked.

“As much as I want to help you, I can’t. You, as an alpha, need to form a bond with him, by yourself. You can’t do that if I’m here criticizing your style,” you replied.

“No, I really need your help,” Scott shook his head.

“My hands are tied, Scott. You can do this, I believe in you,” you pat his back as he sighed.

“Well, thanks I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow or whatever,” you gave him and Stiles a small smile before walking out of the house.

---

“Derek?” you called, walking into the loft as chills ran down your spine, seeing the power out.

“Derek?” you yelled again.

“He’s not here,” you jumped, hearing Peter’s voice, slightly strained.

You slowly made your way in the direction of his voice, before gasping. Peter laid on the ground, an ax sticking out of his chest.

“Help me,” he groaned.

You pulled him up, dragging him to the table as he leaned against it.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you heard Derek’s voice as he entered the loft behind you, frowning slightly.

“The ax murderer is after the supernatural. Look at what he did to Peter,” you said nervously, scratching the back of your head.

“That looks like it hurt,” Derek said.

“We need to find a safe place for you,” you muttered.

“What? Why?” he scoffed.

“Peter has an arrow in his chest!” you exclaimed.

“And?!” he replied.

“Derek, what if that was you?! That thing broke into the loft, and almost killed Peter! Who would've known that Peter was here?! He was obviously coming for you,” you raised your voice.

“He could've been coming for you too,” he replied.

“But my powers are fully functional,” you argued.

“I wouldn't call that fully functional,” he scoffed.

“Derek! This is serious! What if that was you?!” 

“But it wasn't! I’m not completely useless, (Y/N),” he shook his head.

“We don't know if you’re dying or not. That hunter… what if he’s trying to speed up the process?” your emotions were a mix of both anger and worry.

“(Y/N), take a breath. You need to stop stressing out about this, okay? Just… I will be fine,” he put his arm on your shoulder.

“Don’t go anywhere without me,” you said.

“I never go anywhere without you as it is,” he replied.

“As much as I would love to see the part where you two start making out, don’t forget about the man who’s bleeding out on your table!” Peter yelled while you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, fine,” you started.

“Wait!” Derek stopped you.

“What?” you asked.

“We should just leave him like this for a few hours,” Derek shrugged, while you held back a laugh.

“I’ll die,” Peter argued.

“Then half of our problems would disappear,” Derek said.

“Well, I don’t want him to die, I mean he could be useful sooner or later,” you replied.

“We both know that’s not true. But we’ll just leave him for a few hours, okay?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

You put your hand on his waist, nodding your head while you heard Peter protesting behind you two.

---

“And he escaped last night! He was tricking all of us!” Scott groaned.

“Smart kid,” you said.

“(Y/N), please help us!” Scott begged.

“Who are you talking to?” Derek whispered, walking into his room while you sat on the bed.

“It's Scott,” you replied.

“What happened?” he laid next to you, resting his head on your chest.

“(Y/N)!” Scott yelled.

“Okay, I told you I can't help you!” you replied.

“Can Derek help me?” he asked.

“What do you need help with?” Derek asked while you put the phone on speaker.

“I bit someone. He's going to turn but he doesn't trust me, in fact, he keeps running away from us,” Scott explained.

“Interesting… good luck,” Derek shrugged.

You smiled softly, before stroking his head.

“That’s not advice,” Scott groaned.

“Every alpha has their own way of teaching their betas control. I used their pain and fears. But you’re not like that,” Derek explained.

“So how am I supposed to help him? There's a full moon, tonight,” Scott said.

“Just take him to Lydia’s boathouse, like you do for Malia,” you shrugged.

“How am I supposed to get him there if he doesn't trust me?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, Scott. Tell him there's something big happening,” you replied.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Scott sighed.

“Well, you’re gonna do good. You have a 14-year-old-” 

“He’s fifteen,”

“A 15-year-old kid who probably wants to party. Do something with that,” you said.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, I guess,” he ended the call as you wrapped your arms around Derek.

“Well, you’re in a good mood,” you said softly.

“I like laying down like this. It’s like a soft pillow under my head,” you smacked his arm softly.

“That’s a compliment!” he scoffed.

“Yeah, okay. We need to get up and get to Sheriff Stilinski’s office,” you replied.

“I know,” he nodded.

You pressed your lips against his forehead, laying down with him.

“I love you,” you said softly

“I love you too, (Y/N/N).”

---

“He talked through this,” you handed Sheriff Stilinski a small arm pad with a keyboard attached to it.

“It’s military,” he noticed.

“Who runs around with a tomahawk?” Sheriff Stilinski exclaimed.

“Well, I had one for I.E.D removal in Afghanistan,” Parrish walked into the office, as you raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s… can we track it or something?” you asked.

“Yeah, I can plug that armband into a laptop. It's going to take some time, of course,” he said.

Noah nodded, handing him the band as he sat on the desk, plugging it into the laptop.

After a few minutes of silence, you heard a beeping come from his laptop.

“I got something,” he frowned.

“It’s an IP address,” he started.

“We can track that, right?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think I found another message. Does anyone recognize the handle ‘The Benefactor?” he asked.

You shook your head, frowning before you looked at the laptop.

The Benefactor: Money Transferred

“What does that mean?” Derek asked.

“It means we’re not just dealing with a killer. We’re dealing with an assassin,” Sheriff Stilinski realized.

You felt chills throughout your bones as you held Derek’s hand, squeezing it softly.

“W-Where did you track the IP address to?” you asked.

“Uh… to Beacon Hills High,” he said.

“Fan-freakin-tastic,” you muttered.

“Well, let’s go then? (Y/N), Derek, with me,” you both nodded, following him out.

---

“Just because it connected to the school wifi doesn't mean he’s here,” Derek pointed out.

“We've lost too many people to be able to walk around this school at night,” Noah held his gun out, pointing it carefully.

You walked down the hallway, before Derek pulled you back.

“Look,” he pointed to the floor, where a pile of blood laid.

“Blood?” you frowned.

“I didn't smell it,” he said softly. You felt your heart drop slightly.

He stood behind you, while you opened the door slightly, before stopping, seeing a string attached to the doorknob.

“It’s an explosive,” you said to Noah.

“A claymore… get down!” Derek wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to the ground as you gasped, seeing an ax go flying over your head and hitting the wall.

---

Noah fell to the ground, while you pushed yourself up, yanking the ax out of the man’s hand, pushing him against the lockers.

Derek grabbed him, pulling his arms behind his back while he struggled.

“Handcuffs,” Noah threw them to you, as you put them around the man’s arms, holding him back.

“Come on, we’ll take him down to the station,” Noah said.

You nodded softly, before seeing Peter standing across the hall, his claws out.

“Peter…” you started.

He ran to the mute, pushing his claws into his chest.

“Peter!” Derek yelled.

Peter pushed him to the ground, on top of him as he continued scratching at him, blood splattering across the walls and on all four of you.

You clenched your jaw tightly, as Derek pushed Peter back.

“We learned a better way,” Derek growled.

“I’m a creature of habit,” Peter replied.

“We could have used him,” you dig your nails into your palms.

“And now he’s dead,” Peter said.

“Oh, you son of a-” your eyes glew purple as Derek held you back.

“No, don’t,” Derek shook his head.

“We need to figure out why this is all happening and why he came after you in the first place? We need to find out who the benefactor is and we need to know who else is on this list,” you exhaled softly.

“And we will. Come on,” Derek put his hand on your waist.

“We should clean this all up,” you sighed.

You watched as Peter walked out of the school.

“You can go, Sheriff, we’ll clean this up,” you said.

“No, (Y/N). You two should go home,” Noah shook his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

You nodded softly, leaving the school with Derek.

---

“Why are you getting so stressed out?” Derek asked softly.

“Why aren’t you getting stressed out?” you replied.

“I’m too tired,” he sighed.

You pulled off your jacket, running your fingers through your hair.

“Okay, hey, look at me,” Derek put his hands on your cheeks, stroking them softly.

You closed your eyes, sniffling.

“We have to go take a shower. We’re covered in blood,” you said.

“(Y/N),” he said again.

You looked up at him nervously.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said softly.

“Peter killed our only chance at finding who sent that man to kill us,” you said softly.

“But we can still figure this out,” Derek said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded softly.

“So what else is on your mind?” he asked.

Your eyes watered slightly as you took big breaths.

“I don't want you to die,” you whispered.

“(Y/N), I’m fine. I’m not dying,” he shook his head.

“Please, Derek,” you scoffed.

“You need to stop thinking negatively about everything. Especially now. I’ll admit it, I’m sick. I’m not fine, but you can't say that I’m dying. I-I’m scared,” he said softly.

You stroked his cheek softly.

“But I can't keep focusing on that. There are so many other things that we need to think about,” he said.

You nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, while you buried your head in his chest.

“Come on, let’s go take a shower, yeah?” he gave you a small smile while you pressed your lips against his.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

[ieattaperecorders]

Something's Different About You Lately - Chapter 12: The Truth

All cards are laid on the table. Everything ends tonight.

Read on Ao3

"How far do these go? Are we even under the Institute anymore?"

Melanie trailed behind the group, peering down each turn they passed. Jon wasn't sure if it was curiosity or concern they wouldn't find their way back that kept her dragging her feet, but supposed either way he couldn't blame her. It was profoundly disorienting down here.

"Dunno, honestly," Martin said. "Jon uncovered them a while ago when Jane Prentiss was hiding here, but they've been locked off since then. Safety or liability or something."

"I've come down to look a bit. Mostly just near the entrance, never too deep," Sasha added. "We really ought to make a proper attempt to map them, but Tim is so set against it."

"Because there's dangerous stuff under these old buildings," Tim said darkly. "Not to mention this place has been buried for who knows how many decades without any maintenance. We don't know anything about the structural integrity. Who's to say it won't come down around our heads at any moment?"

" . . . Cheerful thought." Melanie observed.

"Could we save the talk of being buried alive for when we're not actually down here?" Martin asked. "Jon? Are we almost . . . wherever it is we're going?"

"We are going somewhere, I assume?" Melanie called. "Not just wandering in circles because you got lost?"

"We're nearly there," Jon pointed to a turn ahead. "Just down that corridor, it should be far enough in."

"Far enough in for – oh."

Melanie's question was cut off as they rounded the turn, ending in the small chamber where over the past few months, Jon had been slowly been smuggling in crates. At the far end was a shoebox-sized container, which he sifted through until he found what he needed – a small, unlabeled cassette tape.

"All right . . . I know you all have questions for me," he took a breath and turned. "Hopefully this will– Christ Tim, don't lean on that! It has plastic explosives in it!"

With a start, Tim jumped back from the crate he'd been slouching against, blinking at him with surprise. Sighing, Jon gestured to one on the other side of the chamber.

"You can lean on that one if you like, I suppose," he said. "It's just a bunch of eyeless doll's heads."

" . . . Should I even ask?"

"Gertrude used them," he said. "Eyeless dolls, eyeless photographs. Wards to keep Elias's gaze off her. The tunnels help too . . . it's disorienting down here, hard for him to see."

"Elias is our boss. Head of the institute." Sasha supplied for Melanie.

"Jon's been going on lately about him spying on us with some kind of supernatural powers," Tim added. "Honestly I believe it. He's been sending files to me that feel . . . personal."

"You're saying he's, what, psychic?" Melanie asked.

"If you have to call it that, I suppose," Jon said. "What's important is that he has ways of finding things out. Meaning once I explain things, we're all going to be in very immediate danger. If any of you aren't ready for that, you should probably speak up now."

The four of them looked back at him, silent. For the best, he supposed. He pulled a tape recorder from his pocket – it had been purchased this evening for this purpose, and hopefully wasn't supernatural – and placed the tape inside.

"I'll let Gertrude start. She tells it fairly succinctly," with a rueful smile, he held it out towards Sasha. "Would you like to do the honors? It was meant for you."

Sasha glanced at him, stepped forward and pressed play. The dead woman's voice filled the chamber.

* * *

Jon stopped the tape after the explanation, before Jurgen's voice could be heard. It would be hard enough getting everything across without that conversation derailing things.

"Wh – all right." Melanie held up both hands. "So the woman on that tape, she worked here before you. I got that. All that she was saying about – gods and rituals, being supernaturally compelled –"

"That part's true. I've tried," Tim said. "We can't quit. As in can't."

"Fine, all right. But what does it all mean? If this is some sort of cult thing –"

"It's not," Jon said. "You've seen manifestations of the powers with your own eyes. The thing that called itself Sarah Baldwin was an extension of what Smirke called the Stranger. One that hides itself inside human skin."

"What about the thing that attacked her?"

"You already know it better than you think . . . all your subsequent searches have focused on sites of violence – bombings or massacres, military hospitals. You've been following the scent of blood. Maybe you found something in that presence that resonated."

Absently, Melanie's hand went to her shoulder where the scalpel in the Rotherham scrapyard went through it. She looked profoundly sobered.

"So . . ." Sasha said. "Gertrude left this for you, and I'm guessing you found it around the time you started acting so cagey about everything?"

"No. By the time I heard this tape, I‘d already learned all of this the hard way," Jon sighed. "Fourteen months ago, I woke up with memories of years I hadn't lived through . . . ."

He told them everything. The broad strokes at least, the larger things that seemed relevant. He avoided personal details, but tried not to take out the parts that made him look bad. He wanted to be as honest as he could. He explained the ritual – leaving out the truth about the fears being connected, the fewer minds that held that knowledge the better. He explained his role in it, the end of the world, the plan to send his memories back.

Several times the others stopped him to ask questions – pressing in one direction or another, telling him to go back and elaborate. He ended up explaining a great deal about the thing that had replaced Sasha, about Melanie's experience with the Slaughter, about the Circus of the Other.

Surprisingly – or maybe not, really – Martin asked very little about himself. Sasha recognized Peter Lukas's name from the statements, and her subsequent questions led Jon into a more detailed explanation of the Lonely. His gaze kept flicking involuntarily to Martin, as he went through it, and he saw his face slowly change. When he mentioned a moment later that Peter had taken an interest in him, Martin didn't need to ask why.

He told them that Martin had tried to keep Peter occupied. That in the end Peter pulled him into the Lonely, and Jon managed to get him out. That was all they really needed to know.

And then, that was it. That was everything.

". . . I know it's a lot to take in," he finished. "But hopefully you've all seen enough to believe me by now."

"Why didn't you tell us this to begin with?" Melanie asked, an edge in her voice.

"Would you have believed me?" An edge came into his voice to join hers. "You dismissed me when I tried to warn you about dangerous specters, would you have listened to anything I said about memories from a post-apocalyptic future?"

"You could have tried," she muttered.

He nearly matched her tone, tempted to to push back with irritation, but he hesitated. Something in her was struggling against itself. Her fists had been clenched at her sides since he explained the bullet, the Slaughter and all that had happened to her. Her knuckled were white, but she hadn't raised her voice. She was trying. He softened.

"I could have. Maybe I should have . . . but now you know," he looked at the others, pleadingly. "You do believe me, don't you?"

Tim was the first to nod, Melanie was second. Sasha looked at him thoughtfully.

"It's certainly bizarre, but I believe you," she said. "Though I don't understand why you wouldn't send your memories back earlier?"

"Actually yeah," Martin frowned, realization striking him. "Did you just let me get trapped by Prentiss?"

"Of course not! I didn't choose where the memories went," Jon protested. "If I could have done that I'd have gone back before I took this job. Probably years back . . . there are so many things I might have prevented. Tried to, at least."

He sighed heavily, leaning back against one of the less-dangerous crates.

"The past isn't some pristine country with every moment in a living diorama. Time is just one more thing for the powers to twist and distort, and the Beholding shows you what you least want to see. Those memories wouldn't mean as much to the person I was five or ten years ago, and the man I would later become might have even been relieved to have actionable knowledge." He folded his arms. "Even thinking of it as time travel is misleading, really. More accurate to call it regret."

"So . . ." Martin paused. "After Prentiss. . . ."

"Yes. Letting that happen to you is one of many regrets that I have, and it was also a turning point." He closed his eyes. "The night after you came back, I had a breakdown. I was sitting at home, and it was sinking in . . . what had happened, and what it meant. The things I knew where hiding in the darkness weren't going to stay there, and there would be no sitting on the sidelines."

He looked up, smiling sadly. "A mind perfectly readied for the knowledge that would destroy it. Already trapped in the Institute, already attached to people I'd later watch suffer and die. Still hiding in denial, even after it became horribly clear it wouldn't save me."

"Jon . . ."

Martin looked conflicted, and as he drew his arms around himself Jon had to push down the urge to reach for him. He had to be calm. Steady. If he let himself start to break down, that would be it.

"Okay – okay, yes," Martin breathed, "I believe you. But what do we do about it all?"

"We have to destroy the archive," Jon said solemnly. "Finish what Gertrude started. And we can't wait. It's not impossible he already knows what we're discussing, we'll have to act before he can intervene."

He watched Martin take a deep, shaky breath, likely still processing it all. Tim seemed to notice his nerves, coming up beside him and throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"I'm game," Tim said, smiling grimly. "You guys ready for some light arson this evening?"

Martin flinched at first, startled by the touch. Then he let out a weak laugh, shaking his head as Tim jostled him in a comradely fashion. A wave of gratitude swept over Jon, seeing Tim so ready to comfort him. He was still there, Sasha too . . . he hoped they'd be there for Martin when it was all over.

"Putting a pin in committing to any felonies here," Melanie said, "won't your evil boss come after us?"

"That won't be an issue. Jonah Magnus's original body is down here . . . between the explosives and the gas main, collapsing the tunnels will be easy –"

"Sorry, gas main?"

"Oh!" a laugh spilled out of Jon, and he shook his head. "Lord, I nearly forgot. Jurgen Leitner is living down here."

"Excuse me?!" Martin sputtered. "Evil librarian Lietner?"

"He's . . . not as evil as I thought." Jon sighed. "Leitner was a fool who meddled with forces beyond him, hoping to protect the world from them while playing into their hands. But given the path my own life's taken . . . I don't think I've much room to stand in judgment of him now."

He waved a hand and continued. "He has a book that can alter these tunnels. I've already contacted him, he should be moving the buried gas main into place now. When it all goes up in flames, Jonah's body will be immolated and he – Elias – will die." Jon's tone became serious. "Now, I realize some of you may object to what is essentially an act of murder, but--"

"I'm good with it," Tim interrupted.

"Yeah," Martin nodded. "I think we're okay. Guys?"

"I've got no objections," Sasha agreed.

Melanie sighed. "In for a penny, I guess."

". . . Oh." Jon had prepared a speech on why this would be necessary, and was a little disappointed it wasn't needed, apparently. "All right, then."

"Or, one objection, actually." Sasha continued. "Didn't you say that killing him means killing us? Along with all the other employees at the Institute?"

"I have a plan for that." Jon said. "For the people outside the archive it should be simple, assuming you can get into the computer in Elias's office."

"Can, and have before." Sasha confirmed. "It's upsettingly easy. I mean, our bank information is on there."

"If they can quit, they can be fired. You'll just need to change everyone's employment status before we set the charge off."

"What about the rest of us?" Tim kept his tone light, but even Jon could tell there was something darkly serious behind it. "You planning for us all to go down with the ship?"

"No . . . that won't be necessary."

He didn't want to have this conversation, he really didn't. More than once he'd thought about lying, pretending he was going off to perform some elaborate ritual while the others were upstairs. Letting them believe he'd just been caught in the explosion – an accident, unfortunate but natural in its way.

But no. He'd tell them the truth.

"I probably should have told you this sooner, though it hardly matters now. The three of you are connected to me – when the Archivist dies, their assistants are freed," he continued quickly, not leaving room to respond. "I – I'm not needed for most of this plan. When we're finished here the rest of you can go upstairs, I'll stay behind and – well at any rate you should place letters of resignation on Elias's desk to be sure. ‘I quit' and a signature should be enough, just confirm you're no longer bound here before setting off the charge."

"In one night, we'll rid the world of Jonah Magnus, his knowledge, and –" Jon placed a hand on his own chest, gesturing, "–and his tool. The world will be as safe as it can be, for a while at least."

Minutes of silence. The cool air of the tunnels bit through him as he watched the others' faces, trying to glean something from their expressions. Jon couldn't fathom what was going through their heads, he wasn't even sure what he was hoping for.

"Well we're obviously not doing that," Tim said eventually. "So let's brainstorm plan B's. Sash?"

"Oh! Um, well, off the top of my head, I can try changing our information in the computer as well . . . ."

"I very much doubt that will work . . . ." Jon sighed.

"Shall we at least try it before going for the plan that involves death?"

A quiet, frustrated noise came out of Jon. He didn't want to fight them on this. But what did he want from them? What did he expect? It was unfair, he knew, impossibly contradictory – not wanting to hurt them, but wanting to be mourned. Wanting them to care, but not to ask him to live. It could only be one or the other.

"Wait." Melanie said. "You said that I ‘got out' in that, whatever, alternate timeline you remember. Obviously you didn't die then. So there's another way, isn't there?"

"I suppose I could try gouging my eyes out," he said. "That might be enough. If it wasn't, all of you could gouge out yours, that would definitely work--"

"Um--" Sasha began, but Jon continued

"But it's about more than just getting you out. It isn't just this place, it isn't even just the Eye. It's me. There's another power that may still have plans for me, and if it does . . . ." He looked at the others pleadingly. "The Web is insidious, it feeds on the fear of being controlled, of being trapped without knowing it. By the time I even know what it's planning, my will might not be my own any longer."

"But if you don't even know what it's planning –"

"If there's one thing I've learned in all of this, it's that no matter what I do they're always one step ahead. I've told you all what I know, as this point I can only be a liability." He laughed hollowly. "I think, truly, the most good I can do for the world right now is ensuring I can't do it any more harm."

". . . That's a horrible thing to say."

Martin shouldered his way past Tim, stepping closer. His voice was hurt, and angry, and it cut through Jon just as he'd known it would.

"Martin . . . ."

"It's hideous," Martin continued, his jaw tight. "And it's not true. It's a lot of nonsense, Jon."

Jon stepped forward, heart pounding, and reached for Martin's hand. Martin only hesitated a moment before taking it, and it was all Jon could do not to sob in relief. He was hurting him, he was hurting him and he wasn't going to stop, and still Martin accepted his hand. Despite whatever pain or anger he felt right now, he wasn't pushing him away, and the maelstrom of warmth and gratitude and sorrow and regret that rose in Jon threatened to overtake him entirely. He pulled himself closer until there were inches between them, and looked into Martin's eyes.

"I love you," he said, clasping his other hand over Martin's. "More than you will ever know. I wish that we could have a life together . . . but we won't have that either way. If we try, the powers that shape this world will tear it away from us, just as they did before."

Martin breathed in sharply and Jon lowered his gaze, looking at their intertwined fingers. Now dotted with identical scars.

"I – I can't watch that happen again. I'm sorry. I can't." Still looking down, he did his best to give an encouraging smile. "But you won't be alone. You'll all have each other this time, when it's all over. Just . . . take care of each other. And remember that you're loved."

Jon kept his eyes down, afraid to look at him. Already he feared that he'd made a mistake, that he shouldn't have told Martin how he felt. It was cruel to give him that now, to leave him with another reason to feel hurt by his absence. But it was done and out now, and too late to take back. Jon would just have to hope that he'd be all right in the end.

Then he did look up, and met Martin's gaze.

Oh. Yes, it had definitely been a mistake to say he loved him.

What he saw in Martin's face wasn't the expression of sorrow and devastation he'd been afraid of. It was hard, fixed determination. The face of stubborn, blind certainty that had smirked back at Jon when he'd said that they couldn't fight the whole world. A beacon that could rival the dread powers in its brilliance.

"You can remind me yourself, Jon," his voice had no unnatural compulsion behind it, still it demanded to be heard. His grip on Jon's hand was iron-clad. "Because we're finding another way."

Jon's heart tightened painfully in his chest, and he truly could not say whether it was with fear or hope.