#Demons of the 16 fires of hell

[kentnaturaltribrid]

“I just color the truth, a bit. That’s all.”

These are from top to bottom based on their level by color of eyes is all are still equal to Evermond but they’re at their own pace of leading as well; Delyle (Evermond’s half sibling), Leveran (Also a half sibling of Evermond), Circilica (Evermond’s twin sibling & Leveran’s half sibling). Delyle for the lady of Lies, Death, and Secrets, Leveran for Leverage and Levikalitry (Keys), and Circilica for The lady of Truth and Sacredity, of which these three are the most low key known by name but the strongest of the 17 known members. They’re considered completely complicated, but up to Evermond and these three are known as the Everlasting family. It’s a lot more than just a name, they’re also well established allies and have their own connections to magic and other things necessary for them, but it’s not as complicated as one may expect from them. They follow rules as much as any other of the realm they live in and have further knowledge of the Memory than most would consider a mere knowledge of the basics.

Though, most of us know Not all of the others in his family there’s also the non-allies which should be well known by reputation to those who know Evermond. However, they’re not at all to be trusted and not to be mentioned by name. That’s about it, there’s no going back once one sides with them.

[space-ace-in-the-space-race]

I’m gonna talk about Dead Boy Detectives for a second, specifically Charles and Edwin’s deaths.

Edwin died in a basement and Charles in an attic, and Edwin went to Hell and Charles was presumably meant to go to Heaven. Edwin died by fire (demons from Hell) and Charles died by ice (hypothermia). Edwin was targeted for his queerness and Charles for the color of his skin, the country his mother came from. Edwin never seemed to get along with the boys who would kill him but Charles called his murderers friends until they turned on him. Edwin died by supernatural means while Charles died by run of the mill racist teenagers. They died more than 7 decades apart.

When you look at the details there are so many differences but the story is still the exact fucking same. Two boys who died at the hands of a group of their classmates who decided that they did not fit with the rest of them and therefore must pay the price. Two boys who died on the same grounds of the same school, whose deaths were brushed aside and covered up by people who held the same titles. More than 70 years apart and not a single thing has changed, Charles’ death didn’t get any more attention than Edwin’s, because more than 70 years later the same fucking story happened again.

Edwin’s death didn’t change a damn thing, and it could happen again now because Charles’ death didn’t change a damn thing either. And then the ghosts of two 16 year olds decided that if the adults, if the living weren’t going to change anything then they fucking would. If the living would not grant them justice and would not grant them change, then they fucking would.

Because there was a difference, in the end. Edwin was murdered, and so was Charles, but while Edwin died scared and alone Charles didn’t. Edwin died in a cold, dark basement, but Charles died in warm light of a lantern, even if that warmth wasn’t enough to save him. Edwin died to the sounds of his own screams, his own voice pleading for mercy that would not come, but Charles drifted off to sleep to the sound of a kind boy reading him a book.

The living won’t change. The story could and will keep on repeating because the living will not make sure it doesn’t. The living are messy. But the dead, for all the ways they will never change, will never get any older, they can change the story, at least a bit. Charles and Edwin can’t make sure that no other boy dies at that school, but if the story repeats itself yet again they can make sure the victim is at peace. They can solve the murders and find the lost items and release the spirits who are trapped. The living won’t help the dead, but they can help each other.

So they call themselves the Dead Boy Detectives, form an agency and get an office and help who they can, because they didn’t matter to the living, and many of their clients don’t either. But they matter to the dead.

Their clients matter. And Charles and Edwin matter too.

[bunnis-monsters]

The mating bond of a prince

Yandere!Demon Prince x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 17th

Oct 16

Oct 18

summary:

warning: dubcon, kind of angsty, breeding, mating, marking, possessive and obsessive behavior

a/n: I wanna do more with this concept, but here’s a snippet for monstertober because I’m behind ><

Demons were said to be cruel creatures incapable of love or empathy, soulless beings that fed on fear and misery… and for the most part, that was true.

But what humans didn’t know about demons was one simple fact. There is only one person that they will ever love and care for…

Their mate.

Every demon was born into the world with one thought in their mind.

To find their mate.

Soon, other thoughts would pop up from time to time. They had to eat to continue the search for their mate, tear down humans cities to help their species thrive so their mate would have a comfortable place to live once they found them.

If they didn’t fight to end human civilization, where would their mates live and raise young? Taking their beloved back to hell with them was out of the question!

This was how the demon king managed to help demon numbers increase and keep his army growing. If each demon was born with the urge to procreate and create a good nesting ground for their mate, they could be easily controlled.

He just hadn’t expected his son, the prince of hell to be bound to a human.

The prince had recently conquered a small village. As he went about killing the men, his entire body began to throb.

In the distance, he smelled something that had his head spinning. One of the small cottages was on fire, that heavenly scent coming from inside.

He felt his body being pulled towards it, so he completely ignored the humans attempting to kill him and walked towards the cottage.

Breaking down the door was easy, but being enveloped in your overwhelming scent made it hard to think.

The second he saw you, injured and barely confused as a fellow demon stood over your fragile, human body, he felt something he had never felt before.

Protective.

Within seconds he was shirking your body, his claw drenched in the demons blood from ripping his throat out. Why was he doing this? You were just some human woman, but his soul was bound to you.

He couldn’t let you die.

When you woke up, you were somewhere strange… some sort of contraption beeped next to you, the beeps increasing in frequency as you sat up and looked around… only to spot a demon by your bed.

All you felt was pure terror.

You stared at the creature whose specifies was responsible for the deaths of so many of your friends and family, who killed innocents in cold blood. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to speak.

“Please… let me go…”

But when the prince looked into your eyes for the first time, his body felt like it had been set on fire.

He loved you, and you were his mate.

Not once in his life had he ever looked upon another creature with such fondness and care. The prince made his way to your bed, kneeling by your side and taking your hand.

“My love… oh, my darling do not fear… here you are safe, you’ll be treasured for all eternity…”

He kissed the back of your hand, your gut burning with anger and shame. This thing had taken you as some sort of… bride?

“W-what about my family?”

The words finally came out after a few days in the hospital. In this time, you learned that demon society was far ahead of the human one, with machines that could monitor your heart rate and medicines that kept you from being in pain.

It was… comfortable.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and cold. “What about them? They are humans, they will be culled like the rest.”

You clutched your blanket in your fists, your eyes welling up with tears. Something about you crying made his chest ache, and the prince reached out to caress your cheek.

“Why do you cry? Are you not comfortable?”

The demon could not comprehend your feelings towards your loved ones. He simply saw them as pests that needed to be eradicated, and could only feel love for you, his mate.

“They’re my family, I love them!”

Your sudden exclamation had him raising an eyebrow, his tail twitching. Were they really that important?

The prince knew that every human from your village was already dead, there was no way your family had survived. But to placate his mate, he wrapped his tail around you, using his soft black wings to encircle you and bring you close.

“I’ll have my men escort them somewhere safe. You may not see them, but they will live.”

This lie made you relax, and you settled into his arms. You felt like you could finally rest, and slept like a baby for the first time since you had been taken away.

The prince wanted to take things slow, but news that his mate had turned out to be a human woman spread through the kingdom until it reached his father.

He was called in to meet with the King, who was displeased, but mildly amused.

“I hear you’ve taken on a human mate, my son. You know how the royal court will react.”

The prince nodded, standing tall and confident in front of his father. “I am prepared to defend my mate to my dying breath, as would any demon.”

“That’s all well and good, but a human mate is an eyesore. You should hurry up and get her pregnant, there will be less danger once an heir is produced.”

Everyone knew that demon blood was powerful, being the dominant trait in every pairing. Once she was pregnant with the heir to the throne, not a single creature would dare to touch her.

It had only been a week since you had been home from the hospital, staying with the demon prince when suddenly approached you.

“My love…”

His lips peppered across your neck, hands holding onto your waist before sliding to your hips. “I wanted to wait… to give you time to adjust…”

You froze when his tail moved between your legs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. “But this is the only way to keep you safe… please, don’t be afraid… I’ll be gentle.”

The pieces slowly came together as his tail played with your cunt, rubbing against your panties before slipping under them and toying with your clit.

His hand was on your belly, eyes darting between your face and thighs. The way he moved his hand around your stomach…

He was going to breed you.

You squirmed for a bit, letting out an uncomfortable whine, but settled down when his clawed hand danced across your chest, groping one of your breasts as his face buried itself into your neck.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, love… this life is comfortable, isn’t it? I can give you a life of peace and safety, where you don’t have to fear war or pain. You’ll be taken care of.”

The very thought of some human male touching his lover made a growl rumble in his chest. You’d be staying with him, that wasn’t an option… but he wanted it to be something you chose yourself.

It felt sinful feeling wet from the demon playing with your fat pussy. His fingers pumped in and out of your as the tip of his tail continued to stimulate your clit, your juices flowing down your thighs.

He said your family was safe… was it so bad to let this demon take you as his mate? You were tired of long nights full of screams from people running from demons, of days without a proper meal as you rationed your supplies so you wouldn’t have to leave your home.

Couldn’t you live a comfortable life? You’ve suffered enough…

So you let him pin you down, watching as his fat cock rubbed against your leg. You had never seen a man naked before, so you were unsure if the size was normal… but you knew it had to be bigger than average.

His wings fluttered as his cock rested against your thigh. It nudges you, his tail lifting from your cunt to your tits, playing with them.

“I love you… more than you could ever imagine. You never have to want for anything again. I’ll give you everything…”

The pain of him taking your virginity made you cry out, your nails digging into his forearm. It didn’t hurt him at all, and he simply cooed, his wings soft as he dried his best to comfort you.

“Shh… shh… oh, my love I know it hurts. It won’t be for long…”

His lips pressed against your forehead, sweat already beading down. It wasn’t easy trying to take something so large inside of you for the first time…

The second you eased into it a bit, he pulled back out and slammed into you. He hadn’t meant to be rough, but he had struggled to control his urge to breed you from the second he realized you were his mate.

“I love you…” he murmured, gripping your hips as he fucked you, his teeth lightly gracing your neck. He wanted to cover you in bites and hickeys, claiming you completely.

He wasn’t done with you until your belly bulged with his cum. You smelled so much like him that he was a sappy mess.

You were exhausted, sore, and in need of a bath… but your demon mate curled around you protectively, kissing all over your body.

Within a month you were confirmed to be pregnant, and were moved into the palace as a princess.

You’d live a life of comfort… but were practically betraying your species by baring the future demon prince.

The current demon prince would soon be king, and you his queen.

An honor and the biggest shame.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[obae-me]

The Devil's Desire

Nothing like trying to come back from a long hiatus with more Luci content. It's always him, I can't escape.

Warning: This fic contains a makeout scene but nothing explicit, so 16+.

Disclaimer: I am NOT bashing religion, nor am I calling out any specific faith, denomination, etc. It's written to be mostly generic on purpose, and is simply based on a real life experience I have had before. Don't take this seriously, please.

Word Count: 2.3k

With that out of the way, please enjoy some Luci romance!:

To lie with the devil is to wake up in hell. Tender lips stained with debauchery embrace nothing but lies. Tainted is the temporary vice. Lost is the lamb who leaves the flock. Damned is the devoured; the ones drowned in their own sins, plunged into the fires, entombed in brimstone. The cries of pleasure now ones of wailing. Of gnashing their own teeth. Made to suffer an eternity of eternities for shunning the light.

At least, that’s what they say.

And by they, right now you meant the very adamant woman standing in front of you, brandishing pamphlets like they were her very own Ten Commandments. If only 'Thou Shall Not Harass Unsuspecting People on the Street' were one of them. If you had your own rules, that would make it into the top five for sure.

Unfortunately, the lady slowly singling you out from the rest of the passers-by did not share your same sentiments. She was on a mission. Her mission? You. The goal? To wear you down and pester you long enough to join whatever group she was promoting. You’d seen these things enough before to see the danger signs in advance. A clipboard so they could take your name and number. A promotion selling tickets that you’d inevitably have to use your email to register for. All in an attempt to get your information so they could track you down in a less stalker-y sort of way.

“Oh, hello, dear. How are you today?” The hunter was closing in, two teens carrying signs at her side working on sequestering you- the weaker link- away from the pack.

“I’m good, how are you?” Damn your polite force of habit! Curse you, customer service default settings!

She grinned, knowing that if she played her cards right, she could probably keep you trapped here for a while longer. She spoke, and due to the survival instinct in your brain, you were capable of tuning her out for the most part. Something something, for the greater good, something something, special soul. They never meant what they said, or even if they believed their own words, it was undermined by their intentions. You’d been in this boat before. You kept waving your hand and nodding your head, explaining to her that you were busy and had someone you were meeting.

As you stepped backwards, she approached again. “Just one minute of your time! One minute could save your soul from Lucifer’s clutches!”

Without entirely meaning to, the drop of that name made you pause. Every once and a while, you forgot that the person you had come to know so well was such a prominent- albeit infamous- figure in the human world. Although, the way he tended to be described made him seem more like a boogeyman rather than a demon capable of Armageddon, scaring children across different nations and cultures into behaving. Perhaps you should be insulted on his behalf. Perhaps you should share some of the stuff you had seen. Tales of ivory wings and the blinding glow of a fallen angel whose twisted voice now told beings to Be Afraid. With a haunting beauty so enveloping, you openly fell further into the nightmare. That being said, you almost laughed in her face, wanting to tell her that the man she was so afraid of had been fretting over what kind of coat to wear this morning. Black was classy. But blue made his eyes pop more. But red was his color. Thirty minutes he pondered over this. “I’m not all that worried about it.”

Maybe you hadn’t contained your amusement as well as you thought you did, because for some reason, a righteous fire had lit under her sandy open-toed wedges. “You should be! Whatever promises the devil gives you, it will only bring you misery in the end! He cares nothing for you! Only HE can give you the joy you seek.” Her pointer finger raised up while she gazed to the clouds like she could peer into Heaven from down here. It was hard to tell if the dramatics were more for you or her. When she glanced at you again, she appeared spooked, clutching pearl hands at the ready.

An arm snaked around your waist, a hand settling on your hip. If the touch wasn’t so familiar, you would’ve jumped. “I don’t know. I think I bring plenty of joy, wouldn’t you say, love?”

Speak of the devil, in a quite literal sense.

Relief flooded your body, the tension you’d unknowingly built in your shoulders loosening. Even posing as a human, Lucifer was intimidating. At the very least, no one bothered to approach him out of the blue. This party buff seemed to extend to you as well. This lady seemed much less interested in trying to convince you of anything now. She cleared her throat and thought about potentially leaving you one last message of warning, but the man in your company wasn’t having it. He scoffed under his breath before he gestured to some of the other sign bearers in the group, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Strange weather today, isn’t it? You might want to help retrieve your things,” Lucifer announced. Eyebrows raised. The weather was quite nice today, albeit a little cold. Curiosity got the better of her. Just as the woman turned around, a heavy gust of wind blew over you all, making pamphlets and signs fly upwards and into the streets. Subtle. People scrambled. The lady hiked up her skirt and ran to the edge of the sidewalk. Cars screeched to a halt and honked, people stopped to gawk at the calamity, all the while, you felt yourself being tugged away.

Lucifer’s hand remained on your waist for a few minutes until he was certain the annoyance was far behind you. How much of a mess was the scene now? You turned your head to look over your shoulder, but only saw darkness as a gloved hand covered your eyes. A slight huff sounded off to your side.

“Leave it. This hesitancy of yours is what got you caught in the first place.” The hand moved from your eyes to the top of your head, making you look up at him with a twist of his fingers. “I leave you be for a few moments, and you once again find yourself tangled up in nonsense.” His narrowed eyes flitted over your form as if checking for signs of distress or injury, like the woman was a master of combat with pamphlets as her weapon of choice. Always the worrier that one. He’d have still a similar reaction if you found yourself lost in a grocery store…

A frown crossed over your face. “I did try to leave. How many times do I have to say ‘no thank you’ before someone leaves me alone?”

He tisked, his posture straightening as he fixed the scarf around your neck. The plush fabric was rubbed against your jaws. “There’s your first issue. Manners are all well and good until someone takes advantage of it. At some point, you have to drop the politeness and just say ‘no’. With your entire chest.” All of a sudden, he took two pointer fingers and manipulated your cheeks and lips to mouth some words. “N. O. Just like that. Can you say it with me? Nnnn…ooo…”

You narrowed your eyes a bit at his teasing, batting his hands away. “Knock it off, Luce…”

“Hmm. Maybe I should go get one of those eccentrics and tell them we changed our minds and—“

“No!”

“Ah, see, you are capable of it.” Someone was mighty pleased with himself. Anytime he found himself in a place where he was free from his responsibilities, he always got shockingly more playful. It would be cute if it weren’t so frustrating right now. His hand started running over your head. “Good job.”

“That’s not funny. You heard how they were talking about you… I hate listening to it.”

At your words, his teasing smile faded. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hands. “I would much rather you save that vexation for yourself and how they treated you. All the humans in the world could despise me and I would not bat an eye.” Suddenly, his finger tapped your chin, trying to regain your full attention. “I only care what one of them thinks about me.”

Something about the sudden sappiness in public snapped you out of things. You turned a bit on your feet and started walking. “Did you check us in already?”

“I took care of it. Did you want to head in now or wander around the town a while?” His partial pout at ignoring his romanticism could almost be felt physically as he matched his pace with yours.

“I think I’ve had my fun for now.”

A hum, and his hand found your own. Clasping it, guiding you to the hotel as you both walked. It was astonishing how such a move cast a level of camouflage over you two. Suddenly, it was as if you both were a normal couple following the regular flow of foot-traffic, keeping each other warm in the crisp air with the heat of each others close proximity.

If the devil was so callous, why were his hands so tender?…

The rest of the walk was a bit of a blur. The people, buildings, spoken words, all unimportant compared to the sensation of having him near. The elevator ride jostled, giving you some more awareness to your surroundings. A short walk, a brandished key card, and he opened the door for you, the very picture of a perfect gentleman.

If the devil cared not for you, why would he bother with chivalry?

The “room” was huge, with an entire kitchen, walled off bathroom, closed off bedroom, and separate living area. This was more an apartment than a simple hotel room. The luggage was already brought inside, Lucifer’s portion already opened and put away. “Leave it to Diavolo to save you the biggest, fanciest suite in the hotel. If the tub has jets, I’m never leaving.”

“Do you expect the Avatar of Pride, the right hand to royalty, to expect anything less?”

“You’re funny if you think Diavolo wouldn’t give you something like this regardless of your gilded titles. Careful, your sin is showing.” You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful nudge.

He swiveled on his feet and poked your ribs. “You dare push me?” His voice rumbled in amusement deep in his chest. “Rather bold to do to such a dangerous demon.”

“Oh? Is that a threat? Going to take my soul? Well, you’re going to have to get through me first.” Fake punches flew through the air, striking at his chest and face with no force. Although you knew real punches would have the same utterly useless, painless outcome for him.

The world tilted, some of the air leaving your lungs in a giggling gasp as he scooped you up over his shoulder. He twisted, spinning around occasionally to leave you somewhat disoriented until you were plopped down on top of the bed, the whole mattress bobbing. Lucifer hovered over you. “You cannot hope to win, human. You’re mine now.”

Something in your chest fluttered at that. “So you win then, is it? How would you like my soul? Grilled? Blended? Braised?”

One of his hands worked on removing the scarf from around your neck, the back of his index finger tracing the outline of your chin. Just a breath away from being in contact. “Let me see…” Adjusting, rubbing his nose against yours, he waited for that tell-tale sign of permission, of you closing some of the distance. Temptation struck you, flooding in your heart. The plunge was too alluring. You bit of the fruit, and the devil wrapped his clutches around you.

Watch out for the schemes of the devil, who prowls like a beast, waiting for the moment to strike and devour- lips whispering inner desires. Raise up your guard to save yourself from being pulled into darkness, into his embrace, limbs aching and craving. For his claws shall tear and shred in eagerness, unable to contain themselves as they remove the body of protective vestments. He will take the very breath from your lungs. Crush the bones with a heaving chest. Partake of your flesh.

Lucifer raised his head for a moment, letting you both catch your breath. Your thumb traced his bottom lip, puffy and scarlet where you’d nipped it. Red was always a good color for him. That’s why you picked the crimson coat for him today. It matched his cheeks, the end of his ears, his longing eyes.

“Authentically,” he said, answering your question you felt you asked two lifetimes ago. His mouth covered yours as his broad hands squeezed your shoulders. “Slowly…” You could almost feel his hum in the back of your throat as he spoke between kisses. “Bit by bit…” His teeth grazed you top lip. “Over the course of a lifetime…” His affection moved on, venturing out and exploring your cheeks and gently over your eyelids. “So you’ll be right here with me… exactly like this… for a very-“ a searing mark was placed right under your earlobe, against a tingling part of your neck, “…very long time.”

To lie with the devil is to wake up wrapped up in braids of limb and cloth. Tender lips stained with last night’s embrace whisper saccharine words. Cherished is the temporary stillness. Beloved is the lamb who measures the meter of the heartbeat of the wolf. Blessed is the enamored; the ones drowned in their own affection, plunged into the fires of passion, entombed in each other’s chests. The cries of pleasure echoed with ones of mirth. Of declarations and vows held tight between their own teeth. Made to persist an eternity of eternities for existing as the other’s light.

For it's his desire.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Blackbird masterlist

Summary

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

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

Chapters

Chapter 1 - 1880: Blackbird, Dakota territory Chapter 2 - The Cathouse Chapter 3 - Cain Chapter 4 - Sold under sin (June 26) Chapter 5 - Advances, none miraculous (July 3) Chapter 6 - I am not the fine man you take me for (July 10) Chapter 7 - Arrival (July 17) Chapter 8 - Fallen from grace (July 24) Chapter 9 - Hell or high water (July 31) Chapter 10 - The demon (August 7) Chapter 11 - Upright men wanted (August 14) Chapter 12 - The white devil (August 21) Chapter 13 - More of hell than I care to know (August 28) Chapter 14 - Pain and damage (September 4) Chapter 15 - The sound of thunder (September 11) Chapter 16 - Tell your god to ready for blood (September 18) Chapter 17 - Are you gonna cowboy up or just lie there and bleed? (September 25) Epilogue (September 25)

Welcome to fuckin' Blackbird! Can be combative!

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

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

[onion-souls]

So with the announcement of the D&D6e Fighter and alleged improvements to CR, I wonder if this will do anything to address the dirty little secret of the Fighter and other martials- they don't actually scale.

The numbers change, but the percentages only go up a little. A lot of times, they go down.

At level 1, you have 13 HP, and the enemies are doing 1d6+2 damage on a hit against your AC 16-18. You go down in 1-3 hits. You have about a 50% chance of hitting anything, and enemies about about 5-12 HP, usually dying in one to three hits.

Effectively, you actually have 2-3 Hit Points, and kill things in one to three hits.

At level 10, you have 104 HP, and then enemies (let's take the CR10 Stone Golem, Aboleth, and Young Red Dragon, but ignore the 16d6 Fire Breath) are making two to three +10 to hit attacks against your AC19 that are dealing 20 damage a hit. They have AC 17-18. You have about a 50% chance to hit anything with your two attacks. They have 150 HP, you deal 15 damage on a hit. You go down in 5-6 hits. You kill them in in about 10 hits.

You actually have 5 HP, and kill things in about 10 hits.

They fly now.

But luckily, you have Great Weapon Master or Sharpshooter. So they really die in 5 hits. On a -5 to hit penalty.

Now, bounded accuracy was supposed to keep lower CR creatures a plausible threat for longer. And a Fighter should be able to mow through these guys. We'll, that's the fantasy.

But even with GWM, a kill is only giving a bonus action attack. You're not mowing through hordes. A Level 15 fighter is killing 4 goblins a turn. Leave the horde killing to the casters.

And the DM is never letting that actually happen. You faced 5 goblins at level 1 and it was dangerous as hell. But you never face 5 goblins or kobolds at level 15. You face 30 goblins or 50 kobolds as a bit of flavor around 6d10 lava traps, an AEO poison fog, and all their dragon and demon friends. Oh yeah, the DM knows about Moria and Tucker's Kobolds. Everyone does.

The DM is also annoyed that your bard friend can sing people to death and juggle planes, and you have to pay for her sins against nature.

You are a level 15 fighter and actually have 6 HP, and kill important things in about 12 hits.

Luckily, you have 3 attacks now, and your party members in the good classes are now spitting out serious single target damage as well. That's what you're here for, to lock up the bad guy for a sneal attack or Finger of Death.

However, you only have Indomitable to pump up your +2 Wisdom saves. There are now thirty things between you and the pit fiend. It has 3 uses of hold monster a day and fireball at will. Every important enemy is a spellcaster.

So you are a level 15 fighter, and actually have a +2 wisdom save with two rerolls a day.

There are also fear auras now, so

[eveenstar]

we are the blood of the night | vampire!targtowers x human!reader

tags/warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, blood drinking, vampire AU, hints to sex, polygamous relationship, reader's gender is unspecified, helaegon strives, targcest, slight stockholm syndrome, 16+ read

note: can you tell i watched iwtv

note pt2: this is an old work, forgotten n abandoned in my drafts. Thought that might as well put it out there.

In the olden days....Well, maybe not so long ago. Perhaps a few months. A year, even? You weren't so sure anymore. Time seemed to move differently in the Targaryen Manor.

You were, once, the baker's child. You loved and were loved by all. You were your father's prized possession - "the best thing he'd ever done," said he. There wasn't another life for you. This was what you wanted, what you would spend an eternity doing if you could.

The bakery was in a small village in the outskirts of a forest, surrounded by mountains. A little community thriving under the lordship of Lord Aegon Targaryen and his siblings, Lord Aemond and Lady Helaena. No one ever saw them. Truth be told, they were as mythical as the white stag said to roam the forest. The whispers told that they were...sinful creatures, partaking in the darkest of rituals and magics - but starvation and plague hadn't harmed the village since Lord Aegon took over, and who were you to complain? They could do all they wanted behind their stone walls, as long as the village remained safe of their doings.

Which it did.

Until it didn't.

It started as a word, a mere whisper in the wind, travelling from ear to ear until it reached yours. A group of religious fanatics, proclaiming themselves to be prophets of the Seven, had begun cursing Aegon and his kin, claiming they were devils, and you, the poor few, were being manipulated by them.

We are all cursed to the Seven Hells, they screamed.

Of course, such words were soon to reach the siblings. For a few days, you thought nothing of it. Perhaps they didn't even care.

On the seventh night, you awoke with the screams of the damned. The fire that consumed the church reflected in your eyes as you ran outside, calling for your father. In his stead, you saw the burning flesh and melting faces of the so-called prophets and their believers. Amidst fire and smoke, Lord Aemond came riding on Vhagar, dragging behind the horse the perpetrator of such lies.

"Father!" You screamed, running out of his way and hiding behind some barrels. Little did you know, you would never see your father again.

Hearing your wails, Aemond dismounted his beast of a horse and pulled you by your arm to him. The tales about him didn't live up to the man before you. You swore it was a fallen angel, coming to drag you to hell with it.

The fire in his eye, his lips drenched in fresh blood that dripped down from his fangs, his long silver hair glimmering in the light of the moon. A devil, a fallen angel, a demon. Aemond Targaryen was all of these things and more.

He took you to the Manor that night. Even as you screamed and kicked, it was like you were a feather on the palm of his hand. He dragged you to his brother's feet, who seemed as confused as any, still wearing his nightgown.

"What is the meaning of this? Who gave you the order to attack our village?" Demanded Aegon.

Aemond snarled, his grip on your hair only tightening. "I merely maintained the integrity of our subjects, brother. They must be reminded of who they serve."

"And this?" Aegon motioned to you.

From the darkness, a voice spoke. Lady Helaena revealed herself. "A sacrificial lamb in a blood web."

Aemond shoved you to the floor, a somewhat proud look on his face. "Beloved child of the village. I wager they shall remain on their toes if they wish her...Well."

"Mother taught you better than play with food, Aemond." Reminded the older sister. "Especially if it's a female."

Play with food.

Were they...cannibals? No, no, there was something terribly wrong with the Targaryen siblings. Something dark and twisted that would reveal itself to you rather sooner than later. Something that would change your life for all eternity to come.

Helaena, sweet Lady Helaena, took you under her wing, away from her brothers. She was kind and sweet, bathing you in a golden tub and gifting you garments of the finest silk you could only dream of.

"What are they?" You'd ask, in a hushed voice. "You, I mean."

But in those few days, Helaena would only cup your cheek and speak in riddles. You could hardly understand her, and you found yourself wondering if that was intentional - to leave you in the dark, just for a little while longer. To have you wanting for knowledge, for the obscure truth that awaited you in the long hours of the night.

Back then, you rarely saw Aemond, but you heard Aegon. He was loud and boastful, but so under Helaena's thumb. Completely enamoured by his sister. You quickly understood that Aegon might be the Overlord, but it was Helaena pulling the strings. Without her, your village would've crumbled to fire and blood to the bloodthirsty brothers.

Then, at last, you came to a dreadful realization.

They weren't devils nor fallen angels. They were creatures of the night, doomed to an eternal life of youthfulness and beauty, ravishing in the nectar of the innocent. They were vampires.

"The village has understood your message, my Lord," you pleaded, "I won't tell anyone what you are. You have my word."

Aegon laughed until he realized you were serious. You knew their true nature. "Oh," He threw a glance to Helaena and Aemond. "The little bird knows our secret. What are we to do now?" Asked he, rhetorically.

Before you could reply, Aegon leaned on his throne. "You see, my young brother is eager to taste you. He might lie to himself," The white-haired Lord stood up and within a breath, was right in front of you, making you nearly stumble. "But I know he wishes to drain you dry of your..." One cold hand viced itself around your neck, like cold air. "Sweet youth."

Behind you, Aemond glared. How he despised being diminished to a pup, to have his brother mocking and taunting him like they were children.

"But, I say none of that." Aegon smiled, and you could finally breathe. "After all, we need the people on our side, and why waste such a beautiful face for only a few moments of ecstasy?" His attention shifted to his sister Helaena, to whom he smiled, sharp fangs glimmering in the pale light. "What do you say, love?"

Helaena hummed, tilting her head as she looked upon you. In her eyes, you saw not the lust or bloodthirst of the brothers, just a strange softness that seemed to draw you to her like a moth to a distant moon. You shook your head before you could get lost in her gaze.

"I quite like her."

Aegon clapped, "Wonderful! Then, it is set." He declared, holding your chin so your eyes were solely on his violet-reddish ones. "Be not afraid. We take very well of our...own."

And that was the night your fate was sealed, for better or worse. Alas, you have only seen the village from afar, only heard news of your father's thriving bakery. They were all alive, unlike your...you didn't know what to call the Targaryen siblings. In the months that issued your unwilling kidnapping, you found yourself living as a guest and not as a prisoner.

Aegon assured you that you could leave anytime you wanted, and although you were tempted to do so in certain nights, you... never went past the gates. Memories of Helaena's singing, Aegon's strange jokes, and Aemond's fleeting touches always drew you back in.

It wasn't so bad, after all. They hadn't drained you dry yet, had they? Just a few drops, here and there. Aegon would practically get drunk on your blood alone, and Helaena had to 'gently' persuade him back to her bed, to her blood.

Aemond was the strangest of the three. Unlike Helaena and Aegon, he preferred to watch you from the shadows, creeping in the corners of your peripheral vision, and shamelessly stare at you during supper. You, as the only human, were the only one eating actual food while the others fed on animal blood.

The one-eyed vampire seemed to thrive on making you uncomfortable.

It didn't take long to get used to their routine. Sleep during the day, live during the night. You were no servant; make no mistake. You were their 'guest', their....little adventure. From the finest of clothing to the ancient books and scrolls, all were gifted to you as a way to...thank you, for your most willing offer; your blood.

Oh, yes, the first bite had hurt. You still remember as if it were yesterday.

"They say eating cherries makes your blood taste sweeter," said Aegon in jest, "And pineapple makes your body smell better during sex."

You'd nearly choked on your food. "I...I'm sorry?"

"I heard a maiden say once." The Lordling leaned back on his cushioned chair. "Of course, she tasted neither like cherries nor smell like pineapple, but..." He threw a fanged smile your way. "A vampire shouldn't complain when his meal throws itself at him. Don't you agree, sweetling?"

"I..." You cleared your throat, glancing at Helaena for moral support. "Well, I never had a boar throw itself on my plate."

Aegon's booming laughter filled the hall as if you had told the funniest joke of all millennia. "Oh, she's funny, this one. I like her."

"You like all of them, dear brother." Said Aemond. A common thing, it was, for the brothers to be at each other's throats. You had witnessed a true fight between them once, but...that is a story for another time.

For now...Now you had to focus on how to survive three Targaryen vampires that were all too enamored with you.

[whatswrongwithblue]

Artowrk by inuhalfdemon

Series Masterlist

Summary:

He took her face between his clawed hands and kissed her, hard and quick.

“So now that I have you back,” as he spoke, his voice crackled and lowered several octaves, and the room darkened as he allowed his power to slip out just enough to make reality around them go fuzzy. “I’m not letting you go.”

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

TW: canon typical violence, language, character behavior. recreational drug use. body image issues. references to self harm. OC has ptsd from sexual trauma and spousal abuse - not from Alastor! cannibalism. gun violence. slow burn. alastor is an ass and alastor is also soft. the smut will eventually include: p&v, fingering, oral - both receiving. biting, scratching, blood play. occasional shadow tentacle and sex toy usage. Anal play. Nun Alastor makes an appearance later on. Breeding kinks - both Alastor and OC deal with breeding cycles. Touch adverse Alastor. Ace-spectrum Alastor.

Also available on AO3 .

Chapter 1 - The Pilot: Alastor returns to Hell. Basically the events of the Pilot, but rewritten with Mina present.

Part 1

Chapter 2 - Reflections. The short story of Mina's life and death.

Chapter 3 - Overture. Events of Episode 1 as well as what happened during the Extermination the day before.

Part 2

Chapter 4 - Terminally Dispelled. Mina arrives in Hell.

Chapter 5 - Radio Killed the Video Star. Events of Episode 2. Alastor is a simping show-off but still not good at processing emotions.

Part 3

Chapter 6 - Little Sunshine. - Mina's POV from the end of last chapter.

Chapter 7 - Ashes in My Wake. - Alastor handle's being smitten really, really badly.

Chapter 8 - Scrambled Eggs. - Alastor finds out someone has hurt his wife.

Part 4

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful. - "First time" smut

Chapter 10 - Masquerade. - Events of Episode 4. Angst ahead!

Chapter 11 - Stitches. - Angst & post-fight make-up smut

Part 5

Chapter 12 - Drunk on Life. - extra fluff & smut

Chapter 13 - Dad Beat Dad. - Events of Episode 5 w/ smut.

Part 6 - Alastor in rut smut but also lots of dark themes. Please mind the tags of these chapters.

Chapter 14 - Welcome to Heaven.

Chapter 15 - Tainted.

Chapter 16 - Possessed.

Chapter 17 - The Prophetess vs. The Nun.

Chapter 18 - Welcome (Back) to Heaven.

Part 7

Chapter 19 - A Fate that Befell Him. - proposal & wedding day

Chapter 20 - The Silence in Between. - honeymoon smut

Chapter 21 - Hello Abaddon. - recruitment for the hotel battle

Chapter 22 - House on Fire - smut rather than dealing with feelings.

Everything below is finished, only unpublished because I need to proof read!

Part 8

Chapter 23 - Don't Take That Sinner From Me. - the day alastor left

Chapter 24 - Just Pretend. - have some more angst. as a treat.

Chapter 25 - A Place to Put Your Pain. - surprise! more smut

Chapter 26 - The Show Must Go On. - the battle

Bonus Chapters

Chapter 1 - The Library - bonus smut

Chapter 2 - Poppin' Molly - Alastor on drugs, enough said

Chapter 3 - There's Children Screaming in the Streets - my dear friend @safination wrote a Sinner's POV of Chapter 23 and it's amazing!

[hishumanbellestories]

The Devil’s Melody.

Next chapter: 16. First chapter: here.

Alastor held you, breath still ragged, hands still trembling where they pressed against your skin. His claim burned into you, an unholy vow, a desperate promise.

But then—

The air shifted.

Something cold slithered into the space between you, unseen but unmistakable. The candles flickered. The room darkened.

And then—

A voice.

"Tsk, tsk. Such a tragic waste."

Alastor went rigid. His grip on you tightened, his entire body stiffening like a predator scenting a rival.

You turned your head, pulse spiking—

And there he was.

Lucifer.

Tall, poised, draped in decadence and arrogance, his golden eyes gleaming with something dark. Something hungry.

His lips curled into a smirk, but there was something deeper beneath it—something cold.

"You really think you can claim her, Alastor?", Lucifer mused, stepping closer, his presence suffocating. "When she was always meant for something far greater than you?"

Alastor didn't move.

Didn’t speak.

But you felt the fury radiating off him, the barely contained violence simmering beneath his skin.

Lucifer’s gaze slid to you, and something flickered in his expression—something sharp. Desire.

“Do you even realize what you are, little angel?”, he murmured, voice velvet and venom. “You’ve survived everything—Heaven’s wrath, Hell’s corruption, even Alastor’s touch.” His lips twitched. “And yet, your divinity still lingers.”

Your breath caught.

Because he was right.

Despite everything, despite the fire and ruin, despite the sins that should have consumed you—there was something inside you that had not faded.

A light. A power.

A gift.

Lucifer’s eyes darkened. “You don’t belong to him, you know.”

Alastor snapped.

Before Lucifer could take another step, Alastor lunged, slamming him back with a force that cracked the walls.

"SHE IS MINE!"

His voice was feral, distorted, a sound that shook the very fabric of Hell.

Lucifer only laughed.

"Oh, my deer little Radio Demon," he purred, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, "you really think you can keep something as divine as her?", his golden eyes gleamed. "You think Hell will just let you have her?"

Alastor bared his teeth. "I will kill anyone who tries to take her from me!"

Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Then, his eyes flicked back to you, and something in them turned possessive. “But tell me, little angel. Why settle for him… when you could have me?”

Alastor froze.

A flicker of something terrifying passed through his face.

And you—

You felt your heart clench.

Because deep down, you knew—

This wasn’t just about Alastor’s pride.

This wasn’t just about Lucifer’s envy.

This was about fate itself.

And fate was not done with you yet.

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon A Dream - Chapter 11 (Lucifer X Reader) (Alastor X Reader)

My Masterlist

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

(WARNINGS)

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

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

(CHAPTER WARNINGS)

Relationship fighting

Descriptions of anxiety/panic

Blood/major injury

I'm so sorry for the delay of update, I've come down with a freaking head cold :( so chapter 12 might be a little delayed as well as I don't have much energy rn. But enjoy the cliffhanger for now!! (not sorry about that lmao)

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

Banners by @strangergraphics

“I…um…” You stumbled over your words, not sure how to respond without incriminating either yourself or Alastor. Who would he accuse less of the two? “It’s not what it looks like.” You managed to sputter out as his gaze became even more narrowed. Fire burned behind his snake-like eyes. Whom it was aimed at you weren’t entirely sure; though you had an inkling it most likely wasn’t you. 

He scoffed. A harsh sound that grated against your ears. One you found that you hated falling from his lips as an instinctive frown crossed your face. “Really? Because it looks like he was trying to kill you. Or eat you. Or both, knowing him.” The anger fell from his face for a brief moment as he ghosted the tip of his finger over one of the deepest and reddest-looking bite marks Alastor had left earlier, a flash of pseudo-pain making his scowl scrunch up into sadness. 

“What?!” You practically shouted, almost tearing yourself from Lucifer’s grasp at his accusations. But his hold was firm; refusing to let you go now that he believed you were being hurt by another. “That’s not-” 

“You really trust him? After he treats you like this? Despite everything we had, everything we did together? You were a Queen, y/n, and I always treated you like one. And now you let this sinner throw you around like…like some toy?” His words were coming out harsher than he had intended, his anger boiling over into his bottled-up agony. 

Something inside you snapped at his words. You shoved yourself away from him. Forcefully. It hurt your heart to see him go tumbling backwards and almost lose his balance, an instinct inside of you wanted to reach out and help him, but you resisted it and withheld yourself. “Stop talking about him like that.” You told him coldly, sticking your nose up in the air with a confident sniff. “Don’t bring up my memory like you knew me. You’re the goddamn King of Hell. I couldn’t have been that fucking important to you.” You were confused, too many thoughts and feelings rushing through your head at once, but most of all you were angry. Alastor had been there to care for you from the beginning of your affliction, albeit in his own strange way, whereas Lucifer had shown you nothing but coldness from the day you had met him at this hotel, only until recently had he even started to talk to you for more than a minute. How dare he think he had the right to swoop in on his seraphim wings and “save” you from a demon that you hadn’t asked to be saved from. 

You flashed your eyes aggressively at him. “I don’t know who y/n is. My name is Ducki. You know that.” 

A saddened look settled in his eyes, his body frozen with shock as his mind scrambled to process your aggression. But his anger soon flared to match your own. He huffed out an agitated growl. “But that’s not your fucking name! Your name is y/n!” He thrust out a hand to grab yours; to which you pulled back aggressively, twisting out of his reach with an abhorrent look, but he was quicker than you, and honestly becoming tired of this whole game. His fingers locked in between yours, not leaving you an inch of room to pull away from him as he forced your hand to go where it was meant to be. 

A permanent frown was set on his lips as you refused to step closer to him. But he didn’t let your body language stop him from continuing on. He could deal with you being angry with him, forever, if he had to, he could learn to accept that, but he was done pretending like your past no longer existed. Not when he was hurting you. 

He held your hand firmly in his grasp as he fished around in his breast pocket with his other hand. You had hoped his distracted state would’ve aided you in your attempt to pull away from him, but his hold was unyielding. His clawed fingers held on to you with a strong grip; though never tight enough to hurt you like he had. 

As soon as his fingertips touched what they had been searching for, the smooth edges of once glossy paper now worn thin from one too many touches, he immediately showed it to you. The artifact in his hands, the thing looked to be downright *ancient*, chilled your body right down to your bones and halted your incessant squirming. 

An image that had brought him so much heart-aching comfort, his only symbolic light left, was now staring you down in the face, and sending you into a world-shattering shock. 

You felt yourself stop breathing. Your heartbeat urging you to expand your lungs. But your body refused to cooperate as that picture stared back at you. 

A small, barely bigger than Lucifer’s palm, black and white photograph of two people holding on to each other very clearly in love while mid-kiss. The thing was visibly old; weathered from time and handling, smudged with stains and sections of it faded to shades of an odd grey. But the two people were still crisply printed and recognizable. Lucifer on the right, though he looked younger, happier, but it was still undoubtedly him; his hair slicked back and neat, topped with a gleaming kingy crown, and an extravagant regal suit adorning his body as he passionately clutched at the person standing next to him. 

A person who looked strikingly, undeniably, irrefutably like you. 

Kissing Lucifer. Captured forever in a photo. 

“You used to be my Ducky.” You heard him say to you, though you weren’t sure if you ever saw his mouth move; your eyes refused to move off of the picture in front of you. Fuzziness overtook your mind as a certain detail caught your attention within the black and white colors. Front and center of the photo, sitting nestled in between the two of you, brought to life by the flash of the camera, gleamed a set of matching wedding rings securely attached to two clasped hands. 

Your eyes left the photo only for a moment then, to verify that yes, the ring in the picture undoubtedly matched the one that still adorned Lucifer’s hand that clutched onto the cherished photographed memory, a small band of polished gold carved into the shape of two wings snugly set onto his finger. 

Once your eyes flickered back to the stilled image of the two of you holding hands did you notice the other ring, the one that complimented his, the one that sat on your finger. The band of gold shaped into two angel wings, same as his, except yours included the addition of an apple-shaped ruby set into its center. 

The very same piece of jewelry that you had found attached to your finger from the moment you had woken up in that strange bed with no memories. The very same ring that still sat slotted onto your ring finger even now. No matter how many times Alastor had tried to persuade you to take it off. 

The very same ring you had refused to take off, no matter what, even if you couldn’t remember where it had come from, for even the mere thought of removing it caused an aching pain to shoot through your heart. As if you were disgracing a vow you had promised on a long, long time ago. 

Hope shined in his eyes as you began to blink rapidly, processing the puzzle pieces in your mind. You looked down at the wedding ring on your finger. Its blood-red ruby gleamed from the maroon-tinted sunlight pouring in from the nearby window as you fiddled with it within your fingertips. One by one memories seemed to flood back into your mind, the ceaseless fog finally vanishing, revealing the face of the devil standing before you behind it. 

Your fingers twitched to reach out towards him. To touch him. To hold him. An urge you hadn’t felt in months but one that felt like a necessary need now. 

His eyes were locked onto yours as you looked up from your ring to him, even as he tried to blindly put away the photo of the two of you safely back into his pocket. “Luci?” You called out softly, his name barely a whisper as the air stole in from your lips. But he heard it nonetheless. The nickname felt different on your tongue now; now that you remembered. 

A comforting shiver ran down the back of his spine as he absorbed the single word. His name. You remembered the implications of that single word. It held a wholly different feeling in his ears now. He was careful in his movements as he held out his hands towards you. Slow. Steady. Recognizing your fragile state and not wanting to do anything to startle you further. 

His smile was warm. Inviting. Homily familiar. Like a thousand years of pure unadulterated love visibly on display behind those sharp teeth. You crashed into his body before you could stop yourself, your arms constricted around his body in a soul-crushing hug. He let out an audible “oof” from the force, his mind taking a second or two to comprehend that your final decision had been to embrace him. But it wasn’t long before his arms were wrapped around you, holding you to him, right where you belonged, safe in his arms. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing you in. A grin became stuck on his face as he realized your smell hadn’t changed a bit, despite how much time you spent around him. It was something he hadn’t ever forgotten, the warmth of your arms, the comfort of your touch, how he finally felt like he actually belonged when he was with you. He discovered that he never wanted to be apart from that feeling ever again. 

“I’m so sorry.” He heard you whisper into his ear. Barely audible, but his angelic hearing had always been better than most. He immediately pulled you away from his body just enough so he could see your face. Immense sorrow blossomed behind your eyes like untamed weeds. 

He couldn’t help but frown as he grasped your shoulders. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, sweetheart.” 

You heard his words but they barely made it to your mind. “This is all my fault. I started this whole thing. I trusted Alastor. I fled our house. I-” 

Your eyes went wide as a sound cut you off. A soft, but crisp and clear chime. The toll of a bell. It rang once. Only once. And then silence. Perhaps you were hearing things? 

Lucifer called out your name. And that was when you heard it again. Louder this time. A continuous ringing in your ears that seemed to grow more distinct by the second. The intensifying fear on your face was sending Lucifer into a panic. 

“It’s…it’s happening again. Luci!” You clutched onto him, agonizing fright circling in your eyes. “I hear them! The bells!” You cried out in anxious terror. 

“What?!” He was panicked. Angry. Confused. Not sure which emotion he felt more of at that moment. But most of all he was worried. About you. For a brief instant he had gotten you back, all of you, the real you. And now they were threatening to take all of that away from him again. 

“It won’t stop, Hell, it won’t stop! Luci, I’m scared.” The look on your face broke what intact pieces remained of his already fragile heart. 

It was then that he decided. Even if it killed him. Even if they decided to make the trip down here to smite him themselves for his actions. 

He would not stand idly by again. 

He was done letting other people control his life. 

“Ducky, look at me.” He phrased it like a question, though it was meant as more of a demand. You had brought your hands up to your ears, futilely trying to block out the sound of the angelic tolling of the bells in your head, but his powerful voice managed to cut through the ringing. You did as you were told, your eyes focusing on his now red-filled sclera and yellow snake pupils. He wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. A soft smile grew on his face as you melted into his touch despite your turmoil, never once flinching or pulling away from him. “Do you trust me?” He asked. 

You nodded your head quickly without a second thought. Of course you did. You’d trust Lucifer with your life.

And currently you might not have any other choice but to do so. 

The ringing was becoming ear-piercing, on the verge of unbearable as it shrieked in your head. You swore you could feel warm blood trickling down between the fingers pressed against your ears. It seemed the more you resisted the sound the louder it became, your screams of tormented pain practically trying to drown out the chiming of the bells. 

He acted fast, before any more damage could be done; his wings unfurling from behind him in a display of bright golden light that filled the hallway as the six feathered appendages curled around you. A protective shield of equal parts angelic and demonic force. A desperate attempt to protect you from Heaven’s unruly wrath. 

Shimmering spots of gold and red danced in the air around you as you were encased in a dome of feather downing. Lucifer’s hands held steady onto your waist, his fingers a steady grounding force as your skin was set alight underneath his touch. A tingling, comforting warmth seeped into your bones. 

“I won’t let them take you again. I promise. I’ll keep you safe.” He reassured, though neither one of you were sure if he was talking more to you or to himself. 

His voice cut through the bells, an echoing tone that almost demanded you listen. You focused on it, on him, on the safety that you knew was within his presence. His horns and halo had found their way atop his head, a glowing ring of light encircling the snake around his devil’s horns that shone so brightly it almost blinded you. He had closed his eyes, his concentration focused wholly on protecting you. Slowly but surely the ringing seemed to be dissipating, becoming softer in tune as the lights around Lucifer blazed even more intensely. You felt his nails dig into your skin from the pressure of his grasp as you began to hear another sound accompanying the tolling of the bells. 

Soft, melodious, almost angelic-like singing. You couldn’t make out the words over the noise reverberating in your skull, but you could definitely make out the echoing and soothing sound of the voice that cut through the heavenly ringing like a clear hot knife. It worked to drown out the deafening bells until its calming tone was that remained in your ears. 

“And in the end, I won’t lose it all again. 

Now you’re the only thing worth fighting for.

More than anything. 

More than anything. 

I’ll shelter and adore you more than anything.” 

He was singing to you inside of your head. His voice soft and tranquil, a soothing lullaby chasing away the shrieking horrors. His eyes flickered open after a moment, meeting your gaze as everything seemed to return to normal around you. The color of his eyes had returned to their usual pale yellow, his horns and halo had disappeared along with the shimmering lights that had surrounded him. The only thing that remained was the canopy of his wings that covered the two of you. 

Certain that the ringing had completely ceased, you removed your hands from your ears. Bloodstained your hands and the sides of your head but Lucifer didn’t seem to care as his hands automatically found yours, giving your hands a tight squeeze as he held them. 

“You’re okay.” He reassured you. Your shocked expression was becoming worrisome, the way your whole body seemed frozen in his arms. It reminded him a little too much of how you had just ceased existing when the curse had struck the first time…had he failed somehow?  But no, you were looking at him, sort of, you were blinking, breathing. You were still alive. You were still here. With him. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Everything’s okay.” He told you again, giving your hands another squeeze. Still, you gave him no response. No sign of acknowledgment. His brow furrowed as a horrible thought popped into his head. One he realized he had to ask. “...can you…hear me, ducky?”

To be continued in Chapter 12...

Taglist - Let me know if you would like to be added!

@kyo-kyo1 @voxslays @the-enderwolf-princess @fangthesandwing @hayamie @qardasngan @sirens-and-moonflowers @teacherunicorn @torustesseract @diffidentphantom @howlingnia @sleepy-frenchvanilla

[nobledragonflying]

boy and his dog au that ive been thinking about

So Edwin was born in 1900 to a wealthy/high class family with hunting dogs. When Edwin was a little bit older (5 or 7) a new litter was born and he was able to pick a puppy for himself. The dog had brown fur and dark brown eyes. He named the dog Charles. It was his first pet, and dog, which he loved dearly and did not use him for hunting, but rather as a friend and protection from other boys. Eventually Charles got old and dies. Another litter of puppies got born a week later and there was another dog with brown fur and dark brown eyes. Edwin claimed that one and named him Charles, bc of how similar this one is to the previous Charles. Also the grief. 

Eventually Edwin leaves for St. Hils, only coming back for holidays and as the new Charles aged the more he seemed like the old Charles, even growling at people that he had not met before but previous Charles did. Anyways Edwin gets sacrificed to Hell, gets passed around from demon to demon before ending up with the babydoll spider as usual. But one day, as he is running, he hears the sound of a barking Hellhound. He knows that this run is over, but he still has to try even as the Hellhound catches up and eventually catches him. 

Edwin thinks he's going to be torn apart bc that happens everytime he is caught but nothing happens except that the dog begins to...fuss? over him????? He is able to turn over to see a, relatively, young Hellhound with four eyes the color of dark brown. And even though the snout is too long and the fur is literally flickering with Hellfire, Edwin knows that this is Charles, his Charles who has followed him into Hell.

Edwin gets out this run, on back of his longest companion and oldest friend. However, when they reach the door to get out, Edwin getting off of Charles' back for just a second and opening the door, the baby doll spider catches up. Charles pushes Edwin out and closes the door. The last thing Edwin hears is the sound of fire crunching and the whimper of Charles dying. 

Edwin gets out 16 years earlier. He stays and haunts St. Hils just for the off chance that Charles is somehow able to get out of Hell. Though he does search for ways to open a door to Hell, it is very hard to do without 1) selling your soul and 2) summoning a demon also. During his 14th year out of Hell a transfer student enters St. Hils with Hellfire under his skin. Edwin, not wanting to be caught, stays away from the kid. 

Two years later the kid goes against his friends to save another kid that they were beating on, gets dumped in the pond for his troubles and internal bleeding. The kid makes his way to the attic eventually. Edwin thinks his name is Daniel and goes to him, ready with spells and runes just in case. But when he brings the lantern light to the attic he hears-

“Who’s there?”

“You can see me?” Edwin says, stepping in front of Daniel, who has damp hair and dark brown eyes that are too old on his young face. Edwin can feel the Hellfire underneath both of their skins, which reaches out and connects them. 

“Edwin?” Asks the boy wrapped in a too thin blanket, hopeful and relieved. 

“Charles?” Asks the boy holding the warm lantern light.

[zuko-always-lies]

You post a lot criticising Zuko. Do you like Zuko or not?

(genuine q)

Well, let me break that down a bit:

Do I think we should have sympathy for Zuko?

I think as a 16 year old abuse victim he deserves a lot of sympathy and should get support.

Would I enjoy being around him?

No, I think the Zuko we see is a deeply unpleasant person and I doubt I would enjoy it if I were around him. However, I suspect I would also find Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, and Toph quite unpleasant to be around too, so that's hardly unique to Zuko.

Do I think Zuko is an interesting character?

I think Book 1 Zuko is actually quite interesting and in his own way quite likeable, even if he's a terrible person. Book 1 is where Zuko's writing peaks for me.

Beyond that, I honestly think Zuko becomes much more boring. The writers started leaning entirely on having viewers closely emotionally identify with Zuko and feel personal emotional catharsis when he "achieves redemption." If you don't, Zuko becomes much more boring and the flaws in his writing become much more apparent.

I also think Zuko isn't a particularly interesting or unique character in general. Azula, Ty Lee, and even Mai all manage to be way more interesting and unique than Zuko, despite getting vastly less character development time. At their core, Zuko's arc and themes amount to rejecting an abusive father in favor of a better surrogate father, which feels pretty standard to be honest. By contrast, I can think of only one character the least like Azula in any Western media, Miles Vorkosigan from the Vorkosigan Saga.

Honestly, the most interesting thing about Zuko is analyzing the difference between how the narrative frames him verses what his actions actually suggest about who he really is. That's probably why I write so many "Zuko critical" posts, because I find analyzing the difference interesting.

Do I think Zuko's arc was well-written?

No. The writers were very good at tugging at the heartstrings but beyond that I think "Zuko's redemption arc" is not nearly as good as people make it out to be. In particular, the way that the narrative after Book 1 stops holding him accountable for anything he does weakens his arc badly. That, along with making Iroh the center of Zuko's arc at all costs, made things drastically worse than the original writing plans for Zuko.

Do I think Zuko is the morally pure perfect Firelord the narrative tries to sell him as?

The finale tries to present him that way, but it falls flat for me. Zuko is a very badly flawed person who never addressed most of his flaws, and he's not the least bit suited to be Firelord. The narrative needs him to be the perfect, rightful prince who will redeem the Fire Nation from darkness, and if Zuko had been written differently and his arc had been taken in a different direction, he could be that, but he's not. I could never buy the person we see at the end of the show being a good ruler, and I could never buy him being happy as a ruler.

Could Zuko be an interesting character?

Hell yes. If the narrative had been less prone to gloss over Zuko's many flaws, and more inclined to force him to address them and deal with the consequences of his actions, he could be very interesting. Even if the narrative was willing to seriously acknowledge Zuko's flaws without having him ever improve on them, things would be more interesting. The Zuko-Azula relationship is actually super-interesting if you think deeply about it, but you need to ignore everything about how the narrative frames them for it to be interesting. "Good boy tormented by evil demon psycho younger sister" is boring as hell.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Apple Seed 15: Mommy's Here?

16 Hours In

Charlie: (demon mode as she screams in agony and continues to crush Vaggie's hand, pulverizing the bones to dust) FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!

Vaggie: (biting her tongue so hard she's bleeding as the bones in her forearm begin to snap and break, holding Charlie's leg up by the bend in her knee with the crook of her elbow with her free hand, and trying to breathe despite Charlie's tail constricting her waist)

You're doing great, babe. (kisses Charlie's sweaty hair) Just a little more. You can do it.

Demon Charlie: (slumps against the pillows with a pitiful sob) I can't. I can't. I can't do it. *sob - hic* I can't.

Rosie: (on Charlie's other side, holding her other leg up with one arm and petting her hair with the other - mostly trying to make sure Charlie doesn't rush forward and poke out anyone's eyes with her horns)

Of course, you can! You're doing wonderful, darling! Isn't she doing great, Carmilla?

Carmilla: (sitting at the end of the bed with her hands hidden between Charlie's legs) It's Carmine to you, Rosie. But, yes, she is doing well. The baby's head is almost out, then the biggest problem will be the shoulders. Push on three, Princess. One.... two.... three.

Demon Charlie: (growls ferally as she pushes again, pressing her legs against Vaggie and Rosie's grip for leverage, and spewing fire out of the sides of her mouth)

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! (slumps against the pillows again)

Carmilla: That's it, Princess. (grabs a warm, wet towel and starts wiping the baby's face and hair) Esta bebé se parecerá a Vaggie, lo juro. The head is out. Now, all you have to do is get the shoulders. Charlotte, you'll have to give a really big push to get them out. One more should do it. Can you do it?

Demon Charlie: (panting and whimpering as she nods) U-Uh-huh....

Carmilla: Good. On three. One....

Rosie: Two....

Vaggie: Three!

-In the Foyer-

Lilith: (sitting on the couch and seething as she downs her fifth cocktail) That self-entitled, boorish, sorry excuse of an angel dares to tell me, ME, the Queen of HELL to wait outside while my daughter gives birth!

Angel: Honestly, I'm not surprised, bitch. Vags has no clue who the fuck you are. She's never met ya. You weren't there for Charlie when she opened the hotel, you were mysteriously missing during the fight against heaven, gone for the hotel rebuildin', didn't show up for their wedding, missed out on all the pregnancy bullshit. Shit, if she had let you in, I woulda been insulted!

Lilith: (horns grow in anger) Why you pathetic sex worker-

Lucifer: (boops Lilith's nose with a rolled up magazine) No. Mm-mmm. Not today or any other day. Angel has a point. You decided to go off galivanting in Heaven during all of this, so you have no right to be mad that you aren't in there right now.

Lilith: (blinks and black shadows swirl around her) HOW DARE YOU?!?!?!

Lucifer: (boops again) No. Down. Bad, Lili, bad.

Husk: (pours himself another drink) Never in a million years would I have thought that this was the relationship the King and Ex-Queen of Hell would have.

Lilith: I am STILL the QUEEN!!!!

Angel: Hardly. No one cares about you anymore. Everyone's all about Charlie after the war against the Exorcists. Your reign is done, your ex-highn-ass.

Lilith: (opens her mouth to refute only to be cut off by Charlie's growling, scream of a screech)

-Fire explodes through the hotel without burning the inhabitants-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

-Silence-

Hazbins: (stand still)

...

...

...

-The sound of a baby's cry echoes through the hotel-

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 16

BTS OT7 x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlists-Spotify

Word Count Approx: 25k

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

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

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

recap

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

“Never send a man to finish-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook can we not–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, she loved that sound. 

_________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can let me out here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ice cream?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t lie to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really want to kiss you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still want to kiss me?” 

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

“Promise.” 

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

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

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

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

‘LOADING…’

‘LOADING…’

‘ON’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It sounds lovely.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was unforgivable. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She froze, her body going rigid at his touch. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s your plan, Entlein? 

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

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

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

Another slip of paper ran through the printer. 

My favorite kind. 

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

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

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

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

_________________________________________

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

[Morning Glory 🌼 set nickname to Jimin👂👻]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Jungkook ⚫⚫ 🔪]: 👍

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ultimate distraction. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. There’s always someone around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my turn.” Jungkook rose to his feet, but made no move to leave. He balled his fists at his sides, and walked backwards towards the door–each step looking more painful for him than the last. When he had completed half of his journey Y/n realized she hadn’t given him anything to protect himself (not that he necessarily needed it but it helped soothe her conscience if she could). 

“Wait–come here!” She waved him over eagerly.

“Do you want to stop?” Jungkook approached, already bending down to preemptively start cleaning up the salt.

Y/n gripped the seams on his shoulders and pulled him upright, shaking her head vigorously. “No. I forgot something.” She looked into his eyes that looked back at her with a cloudy expression as she asked her next question. “Would you feel more comfortable with a hug or a kiss?” 

Jungkook paled, the undertone of irritation that had hung over him like a rain cloud parting for just a moment to let her catch a glimpse of him that had become rare once more: guileless and soft. “What?” 

“Like I did with Joon.” She explained, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. “If you wouldn’t feel comfortable with either, that's fine too. It just makes me feel better–like I’m doing something for you guys in return.”

Jungkook didn’t blink as he brewed his answer, taking as much care to think it over as if she had asked him to solve an algebraic equation. He then gulped with a shrug. “Whatever makes you feel better.” 

Y/n left the ring of white, and slithered her arms around his shoulders to hold him close just like she had done with Namjoon. She spoke her incantation out loud into his ear, hoping it helped make her look less strange. “With a hold of my arms, keep them safe from harm.” She clutched him tighter, putting all she had into willing the statement true. “With the press of my kiss, every shot they make shall miss.” She withdrew her chin from his shoulder, pausing to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek, letting it linger there for perhaps a second too long before pulling away. 

She could feel his heart pounding from where he was pressed against her chest, and she quickly unlatched from his shoulders and stepped back into the circle of salt to give him some space. She had no right to hold on any longer if it made him uncomfortable.

“I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” Y/n reassured him, though it was intended more to comfort herself in that moment. Her senses were already pinging in all directions like a sonar, turning up empty handed with each sweep of the dull room. The only light drifting down from the drizzly skies above the glass ceiling casting a cool filter over the otherwise golden ball room. If it was so empty why’d it feel so dense? 

“You need to start now, Jungkook.” Y/n shoved her chin in the direction of the door, trying to protect her own resolve. “It’s only for like 10 minutes max.” 

His brown eyes disappeared into pools of black, tracing down her body and back to her eyes looking torn. “But you’re scared.” 

“I am. But I know you’ll come back for me.” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, and shifted her weight around on her feet. “Now go.” 

Jungkook exhaled sharply from his nose, a barely audible groan falling from his lips as he took off in a jog out the double doors and into the hall. Y/n didn’t take her eyes off of the back of his head as he knelt down in front of the door to pick the lock in seconds–a skill he had learned during their many games of spy as a kid that finally came in handy. He shouldered himself into the door and retreated within, only snippets of red wallpaper and brown bookshelves visible from the few inch wide crack he left open. 

Y/n’s breath shuddered out of her lungs, and her limbs began to lose feeling from both the cold that stuck to her skin and the trepidation building in her belly. Each inhale whistled in her own ears, and her eyes rapidly moved about the room–the walls, the floor, the ceiling–each paneled doorway and each second story window into the hall. 

Panic warped her vision, making her feel unsteady and untrusting of each flicker of black she thought she saw peeking down from the windows or zipping past the glass of the doors. Appropriate it would be to also blame her lack of sleep, which she vehemently cursed herself for.  

One of the glass panels behind her ‘clinked’, and she whirled to face it with a sudden intake of breath, but her eyes couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary in front of or behind the glass. 

Seconds transformed into minutes. Each one spotted with the smallest of noises–a tap of a glass, a single scuffle of a shoe on the tile, a sway of a curtain that could be easily dismissed as a breeze from the air vents. Nothing major that should frighten her the way it was. 

The walkie-talkie beeped from her pocket, and Jimin’s voice carried through–chopped and interrupted by rushes of static. 

“I’m all good. I...few boxes…everyone? Over.” 

Y/n’s hand clamped over her mouth at the sudden noise, and she unclipped it from her pocket and brought it up to her ear. 

“Can you repeat that? You’re breaking up, over.” Y/n had the receiver nearly pressed against her lips, subconsciously making herself appear smaller by tucking her arms against her side. However the radio made an error sound, signaling that the button hadn’t been pressed hard enough to catch her voice.

Jimin’s next attempt was completely unintelligible, diced vowels and consonants with no particular meaning. Y/n huffed, and fiddled with the antennae to see if that helped. 

“Come on you stupid piece of shit…” She smacked it against her palm a few times, giving it a good old whack like she used to do as a kid. 

The ballroom door that Jungkook had left open hovered a few inches to the left, bouncing off the wall lightly with a bubbling croak of a hinge that garnered her full attention. Y/n swallowed thickly, the sound echoing in her own ears, and lowered the radio down to her side. 

“Sergeant?” Y/n squeaked, leaning to the side to see out into the hall. 

“...Basement…found something…shortly…”  Namjoon’s crackly voice came through from her side from the now forgotten radio.

A chill ran down her spine, settling into her bones and spreading outwards. Her teeth chattered against each other, and her breaths fell short and shallow. She didn’t know what was looming, but she knew it was there. Waiting with an open mouth and open arms for her to fall right into. 

Wet bare feet smacked across the tile, leaving puddles with each step until they stopped in the center of the ballroom to Y/n’s left a few yards away from her. 

Another tap on the closed door behind her that Y/n jumped to look towards, rummaging in her pocket for the flashlight and flicking it on towards the door, bathing it in light. Nothing visibly changed, but the tapping ceased. Y/n turned to cast the glow towards where the footsteps had stopped, adding a quick dash of light from wall to wall for good measure. 

Every muscle in her body was trapped against her will and holding her mind hostage–the voice inside it screaming at her to do something–to call for Jungkook or to light the bundle in her pocket. Terror had its unrelenting hold on her, even though she technically had nothing yet to see to elicit such a reaction. Still she felt frozen in time with a throat so tight it burned. 

The walkie-talkie fuzzed through again, still struggling to keep up with the discussion between Namjoon and Jimin. There were a few words she had been able to decipher, and it's amazing how a phrase so short can wreak such havoc on the body. 

“....sounds good Y/n. Check…after…over.”

Y/n knew with the utmost certainty that she had not offered anything of value to their discussion. She couldn’t even hear their conversation let alone add anything to it. Sweat made her hands slippery as she bent to place the flashlight between her feet with the beam still pointed into the room where she had heard the last noise. Y/n unclipped the walkie-talkie and frantically tried to get it to work. 

“Whatever you heard wasn’t me! I haven’t said anything!” Y/n grew panicked, and smacked the side of the machine a few more times. “Guys don’t listen to whatever they said!” 

The error message came through again, earning it another smack and a frustrated scream.

“Jungkook?” Y/n raised her voice an octave, knowing he should very well hear her from within the office. 

Y/n squatted down to grab the flashlight, but stopped in her tracks half way down when something out of place snubbed her all of her attention. 

Her circle of salt had been disturbed. A long thin stripe wiped away, resembling how a finger would swipe frosting from the side of a cake. Then she watched as another formed in front of her eyes, trailing a new streak through the white granules little by little until it had made it a clear little path. Y/n moved as quick as she could, yanking the rosemary from her pocket and the lighter from the other, clicking the ignition over and over again, each attempt failing to catch. 

“Jungkook!” Y/n cried out desperately, the bundle losing debris from how much her hands trembled to hold it up the lighter in hopes of catching even the teensiest of sparks. Whatever was in here made her feel fear she hadn’t felt in a long time–the kind that had her yearning to call for her mother, and beg her to come home so she could hide in her room. The fear that made her feel small and powerless. 

Y/n used the toe of her shoe to spread the salt back into a circle hoping that’d be enough until Jungkook returned, and weighed the pros and cons of dashing to the bag to grab the back up lighter and back to the circle. It would make her feel exponentially better to light the herbs–and perhaps it would clear up the energy enough for her to get a proper message through. 

After what felt like the millionth failed attempt Y/n just tossed the lighter across the ballroom with a shout. In a split decision, she took the bundle and crushed it in her palm, tossing leaves up into the air like confetti to rain down over her head, then taking some and smearing it across the radio. 

It appeared to work for the time being, their messages coming through clearer than before. 

“I’m headed up to the terrace now, Y/n. I’ll meet you guys there, over.” Namjoon chimed in, sounding breathless. 

Y/n pressed the button so hard the springs groaned beneath the pressure. “No! Don’t go there–That wasn’t me!” She spun on her heel to locate the bag Jungkook had discarded nearby. “Please dear god hear me! Don’t go–” 

The walkie-talkie clattered to the floor, knocked from her hand by the body she whirled right into. 

A woman stood flush against her, cold wet hands holding Y/n’s wrists in an iron grip. Her face was shrouded by her hair that bushed and draped over her features, her dress was much too old fashioned to be anyone from her family–renaissance inspired and singed at the edges from old kisses of flame and smeared with soot. 

She did not speak, only gasping out strangled rattles of air from an open mouth. 

“Jungkook!” Y/n screamed as loud as she could, struggling to wrench her wrists from the woman’s hold. Why wasn’t he answering? Had something gotten to him too? 

One of the spirit’s hands clamped down over her mouth, pressing their palm that tasted of dirt and rotting fish against her lips and making her gag. Tears welled in Y/n’s eyes, spilling over the edges and onto the back of the woman’s hands, and she shook her head in a futile effort to remove the pressure from her mouth. 

The spirit released her other wrist, and grabbed the back of her neck to smash their foreheads together with a hiss that died out after a few prolonged seconds. She gargled sounds out from her plum purple lips, guttural grunts and squawks from the back of her throat as her fingers gripped down to the scalp to press their skulls together in a painful chokehold. 

Y/n’s eyes rolled back into her head and her knees buckled out from beneath her, the ground rushing forth at an alarming speed. Her hands caught her fall, but the woman didn’t give up; she fell to her knees to stay in Y/n’s line of sight so she could look at nothing else but her horrid mouth that stretched open around each noise, pressing Y/n’s head in between both hands and applying excruciating pressure to both sides. 

“No…” Y/n sobbed, a familiar tugging sensation starting behind her eyes that she knew all too well. Y/n fought to pull to give in, fingers digging into the tile below her and her body quaking. 

The spirit let out a shrieking cry, showing her gray gums that cradled no teeth in them, and Y/n’s vision flickered to black despite her eyes being wide open. 

“No…Stop please…” Y/n blindly searched for the flashlight–for a handful of salt to throw–anything. 

Something foreign moved within her, curling inwards and latching onto her subconscious. It sent sharp waves of pain through her chest, an unseen fist gripping her morning glories by the roots and slashing them down to nothing. Her head felt on the brink of explosion, no doubt from her double head injury and the pressure the woman squeezed it with. It burned, ached, and cut deep into her nerves and she felt her hands give out and the cold tile meet the skin of her cheek. Y/n writhed, her nerves firing off in succession and she cried out in agony from a weapon she could not see. This was a pain she couldn’t take–she couldn’t handle it. She was going to let them down for real this time.

 Her consciousness flickered, her body shivering and weak. 

Then it stopped.

The woman who was there one moment, was gone the next. However with her departure her physical control did not improve: the room still spun, and Y/n’s vision was left in a complete state of disarray–blobs of color and outlines of too many shadows. She was so, so tired. The battle was coming to an end, her eyelids heavy as if injected with cement.

“Nap time Ente!” Matilda’s giggles bounced around her from all sides, a horrid sound that brought forth the throb of grief. More voices joined in, a sickening chorus of condescending laughter. 

“No gun, no fun, I’m afraid you can’t run. Without your reaper, You’re quite the Weeper!” Clay’s laughter howled from above her, barely stopping so he could speak again. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. We have been much too kind. Have fun with my cousin, she doesn’t show mercy–and she’s got more blood on her hands than most of us do. Spilling yours will be not more than child's play to one as well versed in death as she.” Clay tutted from somewhere above her, and he worked up a glob of saliva and spat it down onto the floor next to her. 

From the dropped walkie-talkie she heard Namjoon’s voice urgently calling out to them for help, his words morphing into screams that scraped at her ears and made them ring. He cried for help, the sounds growing louder and louder until they swallowed her whole–then they cut to static. And Namjoon was heard no more. 

Her body shuddered with silent cries, fingers splayed out towards the blurry shape of the door in hopes Jungkook would come through again at the last second. Y/n couldn’t fight it any longer no matter how hopelessly she tried, her body succumbing to sleep, and the world fading to black. 

_________________________________________

Y/n blinked the darkness away, and she was back to where she was before–the walkie-talkie clasped in her hand and her feet planted on the ground. The flashlight was still posed beneath her feet to coat the back corner of the room in warm light, contrasting the dim and gloomy atmosphere of the room.  

There was a dull pounding in her head, and her cheek felt cold to the touch as she brought her fingertips up to graze it as if in a trance. Her heart raced against her ribs from the horror she had faced only seconds before–but all other signs of its occurrence were gone. 

The salt circle was undisturbed, the line completely intact with no indication anyone had swiped their fingers through it. Rosemary leaves were littering the screen of the radio and stuck to the sweat on her skin from when she had crushed the bundle, the herbal aroma filling her nostrils and pulling forth memories of Namjoon–

Y/n raised the radio to her mouth, lips poised to spill out her worries into and eyes welling with tears at the echoing sound of Namjoon’s screams. On cue, the walkie-talkie chirped to life in her hands with an incoming transmission.

“I’m headed up to the terrace now, Y/n. I’ll meet you guys there, over.” Namjoon chimed in, as breathless as when he had said it the first time. 

“No! Don’t go up there!” Y/n felt wetness track down her cheeks with the monumental wave of relief she felt to hear his voice. 

The screen lit up with a response. “What? You just said–” 

“I haven’t said a single word! Something happened–I don’t know how to explain it. Do not go up there, come to the ballroom please believe me!” Y/n blubbered her words into the receiver, despising how desperate she sounded, though it felt appropriate at the moment. She had no idea what awaited him on the terrace, and she couldn’t push aside the mental images of someone pushing him off the edge of it and the way his screams had cut off. “I called for help so many times and no one heard me– and then you–” Her voice broke with a hiccup. “Please just someone get here.” 

“I’m coming back to the house, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Jimin responded immediately, his signal ending. 

“I’m on my way down now.” Namjoon

Y/n heard someone approaching from behind her, and her brain locked all of her muscles up against her will–petrified to turn around and find the woman from before standing against her again. 

“What happened?” Jungkook’s voice demanded from behind her, sounding livid. 

“Thank god!” Furious or not, the sound of his voice was like the call of an angel to her weary ears. She spun to address him, stepping one foot out of the circle to meet him halfway. “I called for–” She yanked her foot back into the circle of salt for the ballroom was empty, and the office door was still cracked like he had left it. Y/n shook her head in disbelief, icy terror building within her again. 

Unnerving silence hovered around her, it felt too thick to be real–too muffling to be natural. Everything felt wrong.

 What the fuck had that woman done to her? 

“Jungkook!” Y/n called out again, putting as much force into it as she could. Still, no head of dark curly hair came around the door, and no movement filtered from the other side of the door. She brought her arms up and waved them frantically over her head, yelling out for her next target. 

“Sergeant! If you can hear me, please get Jungkook!”  

She repeated the motion twice, but no more than that. If the spirits were still lurking about (or worse, new ones with fresh energy) she didn’t want to keep shouting out her exact location. Or worse, draw them in for Jimin and Namjoon to run into. Whatever had happened was something Y/n couldn’t even begin to understand–but what she did know is that it left her shattered and rushing to collect herself before anyone else could poke at the sores it left behind.

The door to the office opened in a flash, Jungkook dashing across the hallway and onto the squeaking tile of the floor in an instant, coming to a firm stop directly in front of her with wild black eyes. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you call for me?” he scolded, rapidly approaching her side. 

Y/n wanted to fall right into him, and to be whisked away from the room somewhere safe–but something had her stopping. How did she know this was him? With Clay being back on the property, how did she know it was real this time and they weren’t playing some stupid trick on her? Her trust in reality began to falter, the ground beneath her feet even lost its reputation as a solid force to hold her up. Everything she saw, and everything she touched was now on trial–guilty until proven innocent. 

She choked back a sob, pointing at him with a trembling hand and taking a cowering step away from him. “Tell me something only you would know.” 

Jungkook looked taken aback, bewilderment melting down to concern. “Huh?” 

“You heard what I said. Tell me something only you would know…” Y/n dropped to a crouch, fisting a mixture of fallen rosemary and salt to throw at a moment’s notice. 

He pressed his lips together with creased brows, inspecting every inch of her from head to toe more than once. His tongue poked out to lick his lips, and Y/n could see the gears turning in his head. “The croton plant in your room is for me, because it’s a spiritual protector. You showed it to me after you first got it, and you yelled at me when I tried to touch it because it’s toxic.” Jungkook took a hesitant step closer to the circle with his hands now raised up, mimicking how one would approach a wounded animal. “Is that good enough?” 

Y/n turned the antidote over in her mind, scouring it for any loopholes that a spirit could’ve weaseled into for the information. But each one her brain tried to come up with was clear: her door had been closed, and they were in her heavily warded room when the conversation had occurred–and they hadn’t discussed it anytime since. This had to be Jungkook.

“Where were you? I called for you so many times and you didn’t hear me!” Y/n wiped at the flow of tears from her cheeks that she couldn’t stop, falling to her knees with a heaving gasp. She groaned, overflowing with resentment for herself at her own inability to reign herself in. Jungkook stepped into the circle and positioned his hands under her arms, and helped hoist her to her feet. 

“I didn’t hear anything.” His voice was so small–so fragile it made her nauseated with shame at how quickly she had yelled at him. He used his hands on her arms to help steady her. 

The moment she was back on her feet she fell into him, gripping onto him as her lifeline against the dark and dreary room. “Just don’t go back yet–we can finish the mission I just need–” 

One of the hands that bunched his shirt was yanked back in front of them, Jungkook holding it up between them to inspect the skin. 

“Where’s the bracelet I made you?” He asked sharply, though Y/n knew he wasn’t angry with her she still felt the slap of his fury. Something she had never struggled with distinguishing before. 

“I don’t know, I had it on a moment ago–I never go anywhere without it.” Y/n hastily twirled about to look along the floor to see if it had fallen off when the woman had grabbed her, but saw no trace of it. Impulsively her fingers shot up to wrap around the smooth stone pendant from Yoongi, only brushing across open air and empty skin. 

Y/n felt the urge to cry more, looking up at him in what she imagined was the most humbling expression–humiliated by how her face must’ve crumpled in an effort to subdue it.  “My necklace is gone too.” 

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, each breath didn’t satisfy the hunger for air. So she took in another, and another until each inhale clipped into the next. That was the only thing she had left from Yoongi besides the dried bouquet above her bed–but the necklace was a gift he had given of his own free will–a silent apology and an offer of protection from the incident in the bathroom with Hadwin. And the bracelet Jungkook had put special care to craft for them–one of a kind–gone. Her emotions felt out of control and her mind raced, like every emotional wound had been rubbed raw and left to oxidize. 

Something had happened to her and she had no evidence to show that it did. No wound to bandage or bruise to ice. The missing bracelet and necklace were the only tangible differences. Her puddle of a brain didn’t offer any substantial proof that it even had happened at all. 

“Hey.” Jungkook brought his long hands up to cradle her face, and he dipped down to her level. His thumbs soothed gentle circles on her cheekbones, and his lips were left open in search of what to say next. He settled on something short and to the point. “You’re okay.” 

Any other time Y/n would have laughed, and taken turns with Namjoon to poke fun at his lack of good verbal communication while making sure to acknowledge and appreciate the innocence behind his affection. This time they were enough. She didn’t think she would be able to sit through anything more than that without wanting to run and hide in a corner to save face. 

There was no reason to comfort her when nothing had happened.  

“Yeah.” Y/n nodded, swallowing her next sob with a few quick shuddering breaths. She needed to be okay because they weren’t finished yet, and she wasn’t going to go through whatever that was and leave empty handed. Just as the words left her mouth Namjoon wheeled around the corner, his backpack hanging off one shoulder with the large zipper pocket bulging with his freshly dug up treasures. 

Oh fuck, here it comes again–the sound of Namjoon’s electronic screaming piercing her ears from the memory (if she should even call it that) shattering her resolve and clamping her hands over her ears to stop it. 

“What happened?” Namjoon slid across the floor to their huddle, letting the backpack tumble to the floor next to them to pry her hands from her ears. “Did you guys find out who was on the walkie?” 

“The walkie?” Jungkook shucked the radio from her pocket, turning it over in his hands like if he looked hard enough he would be able to see into it. “What happened with the walkie?” 

Y/n grabbed Namjoon’s shoulders and engulfed him in a hug. “No we haven’t. Thank whatever deity exists, you're okay.” She pushed him back by the shoulders and peered up at him to check for any injury. “Nobody hurt you right?” 

Namjoon adamantly shook his head. “Something definitely tried to stop me–but Arrow fought like hell. We can debrief later though.” He made a face, and shrugged off his flannel to fall over her shoulders. “You’re freezing.”

“We need to keep going.” Y/n pulled the fabric tightly around her shoulders to greedily suck up the warmth from it, and turned to pose her next question to Jungkook. “Did you find anything yet?” 

“I took pictures of anything suspicious I could find.” Jungkook shifted his longing glance back to the open office door.

Y/n pulled on her most convincing facade of confidence she could muster. “If you need to go back in then go ahead, Namjoon and I will continue step two of his plan.” 

“No… I can’t dig around too much without disturbing stuff on their desk. I found a few things though.” Jungkook dismissed her offer with a firm shake of her head–a sign that if she pushed further it would no doubt lead to another argument, and she didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for that yet. 

“Then we should probably head somewhere safe and lay low for a bit. We most definitely pissed things off…” Namjoon put both hands on his hips, teething at the inside of his cheek. “We’ve taken enough risks, and it sounds like we’ve had some wins today–let’s not push our luck.” 

He pulled on his authoritative demeanor, and fixed her with a pointed look that challenged her to fight it–not far off from how he had looked at her in the green house when he was teaching her how to wrap bundles. Y/n’s heart sank, for now it was two against one for continuing on with the rest of their plan that for all things considered had been a success from how they spoke. 

“We can go upstairs.” Y/n yielded, shrinking away from both of their unbending stares. 

They flowed into quick action, Jungkook sweeping up the salt into a dustpan from the hall closet and discarding it into the trash while the other two trailed after him like nervous children hiding behind a parent. While they waited, Namjoon made sure to update Jimin and Bear of their plans, the latter signing off to conserve energy until later in the evening with a five minute warning on the camera’s. 

With the ballroom looking good as new, all three of them shuffled in a line up the stairs and down the hall, hackles raised and hearts pounding despite having yet to see anything out of sorts. It was all too quiet. Jungkook even looked perturbed, eyes flying this way and that with nothing to land on. 

Something wasn’t right. 

The three of them moved in a wordless stupor–at least Y/n did–bumbling down the hall with minds building more suspense than their surroundings did. So it was no wonder that they all jumped a foot into the air and scurried into each other like frightened rats when Taehyung’s door swung open as they approached. Jungkook moved himself in front to put distance between them and the sudden intruder, his shoulders dropping when he registered who it was. 

Y/n watched a full range of emotions flush through Taehyung’s system. Eyes outlined in deep purple bags widening in surprise, his mouth starting its journey to a smile that instantaneously dropped when he spotted something that had his spine straightening and his hand gripping the door. The longer he looked at them, the more on edge he became. 

“H-hey.” Y/n awkwardly waved at him. 

Taehyung stuck his back flush to the wall and started to shuffle away from them. “Good morning.” 

Jungkook held his hand out to him for their usual shake in greeting, and Taehyung jumped away and out of reach, both hands darting behind his back. “Sorry. I have a cold and don’t want to share it.” He gave one last unease flicker from Y/n to his door, before sliding past them and down the hall. “I need to go.” 

They all watched him stumble past Jimin who was just rounding the corner from the landing, sharing a baffled look between the four of them when Taehyung uncharacteristically flinched away from his friend and scampered down the stairs. Y/n took to vocalizing what they all must’ve been thinking–because if Yoongi wasn’t here to do it–someone had to. 

“What the fuck was that about?”  

_________________________________________

Her bedroom door closed behind them, and before she could even blink Jimin had his arms engulfing her, wheeling the two of them towards her bed. He guided her down to sit at the edge and squatted down in front of her with a soothing run of his hand on her cheek. 

“What happened? You sounded really shaken up back there.” Jimin maneuvered his face to look at her each time she tried to hide from his imploring eyes. 

“Nothing.” Y/n’s lackluster answer surprised even herself, her eyes widening marginally like they did when she tried too hard to force a lie. 

Jungkook made a noise in the back of his throat from her desk chair, eyes narrowed to slits in her direction. “That’s a lie.” 

“No it isn’t.” Y/n shook her head, wiping any residual sweat from her palms onto her thighs. 

“Are you kidding?” His eyes widened at the sheer audacity of her response. “Don’t lie. I know when you do. I saw you in the ballroom.” 

“Now let’s not argue.” Jimin’s hand dropped from her cheek to lay over her hand, addressing Jungkook this time. “Let’s just let everyone take a second to breathe.” 

Jungkook crossed his arms with a huff, and leant back in her desk chair with arms folded. “Fine.” 

“Did you find anything noteworthy in the archives?” Namjoon plopped next to her on the bed with a sigh, his expression reading as something different entirely to Y/n: Take a breather and then it’s your turn.

Y/n rolled her eyes, letting them stray forwards to avoid all of them for the moment. Her breath hitched as they landed on her bathroom door. 

It was closed and she hadn’t left it that way.

“I did. We will all have to go down there together…” Jimin launched off into an animated retelling of his side of things, rambling off about a few of the missing boxes being found, and the nasty spirits Tree had to fend off–though none of them got close enough to do any harm. It seemed that they kept the same arms length distance from him as they had at the estate. His fingers played idly with hers as he spoke, his touch and his words doing little to keep her mind from straying back to the plank of old glossy wood that separated them from her bathroom. 

Because her bathroom door was closed. And it shouldn’t be. 

“Did you find all of the missing boxes or just some?” Namjoon inquired, taking notice of her far off look and her leg that grew restless against him. 

Jimin quirked his mouth to the side with mild disappointment. “Not all of them, no. I found some of the ones I had been going through that Mindy had taken. But there’s a few I still haven't found.” 

Y/n stared daggers into the closed door. What if something was behind it? What if she opened the door and that woman from the ballroom was waiting for her–a trap to lure unsuspecting prey such as herself into a state of vulnerability, waiting in the shadows for the best time to strike.

“Like what?” It was Jungkook who asked this time, his tone tense and impatient. His black eyes never left her face, scrutinizing every shift of muscle and whatever unseen changes he could sense. He knew–he always knew. 

Jimin’s answer faded to nothing but noise, drowned out by the circling thoughts of what lay in waiting on the other side of her bathroom door for her. Perhaps it was Hadwin, large bulbous hands outstretched and hungry for revenge from when she shot him–or even Duane–broad shouldered with muscles glistening and exposed from the disintegrating sheets of skin that hung from his body. Y/n’s hands twitched beneath Jimin’s–she needed to open the door. If she opened it, it meant they couldn’t hide. 

“Which one did you say was still missing? Candida?” Namjoon’s even words rumbled next to her, mooring her back into the conversation. He had procured a notebook from his backpack, writing down details that Jimin shared. 

A shadow darted beneath her bathroom door, flickering towards the back of the room and away from the entrance. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look away from the door to check if anyone else had seen it. If they had, why hadn’t Jungkook said anything yet? Could it have just been a trick of the light? Y/n leveled her eyes to the crack, watching for the next flutter of movement from beyond it.  

“Besides Adelaide obviously–Candida and Lisolotte.” Jimin answered swiftly. 

The dark mass came again, at a much more leisurely pace this time. It took its time approaching the door of the bathroom and stopped just behind it, its movements unbothered and natural–like it belonged there. The hairs on the back of Y/n’s neck stood to attention, but she couldn’t spare a glance to Jungkook for fear of what the shadow may do if she were to look away. 

Namjoon scratched at his head through his beanie. “Can you refresh my memory? Were they the sisters or–” 

The shadow zipped away from the door and Y/n jumped up to follow it, rising so fast that Jimin toppled backwards onto the floor with a shout. She stepped over him in a rapid dash to the door–twisting the knob and wrenching it open to face whoever it was that had intruded upon her bathroom.

Drips splattered into the basin of her sink, running in tiny rivulets from the sides of the bowl down into the drain and ticking like a metronome. Her shower curtain was as crumpled just as it had been when she had left it that morning. There wasn’t a single towel, blob of lotion, or speck of dust out of place–even the roll of toilet paper she had knocked off the shelf on her way out that morning and had forgotten to right was lying listlessly in the middle of the dark room. It was just her bathroom in its normal shades of dated yellow and muted greens, dreary from the overcast light of the window.  

Jimin had scrambled to his feet to follow her, using her door to stop himself from colliding into her. “What is it? Are you going to be sick?” 

She heard her office chair creak–Jungkook must not be far behind. 

Good, she thought to herself. He will surely find whoever–

“You’re upset again. Why?” Jungkook articulated, growing tired of her avoidance. Yet he didn’t give any inclination that he could sense anything was amuck in her bathroom–which is what she would have hoped would have happened.

Y/n ignored him, ripping open her shower curtain to check the shower for anything that could’ve slithered behind it. When she found nothing there, she dropped to her knees to check below the tub, arm stretching out to feel around for whatever she could find. 

When her search came up bare, she took one last long look around the room. “Something has to be…” She clambered to her feet, checking the inside of her tub again. “It was…” 

“What was?” Jimin came up behind her, carefully slotting his fingers into her own. 

Y/n felt embarrassment burn at her throat, and her stomach swirl with unease. She had been sure she had seen something, and they wouldn’t have just left–that wasn’t like them. Above all, and in the most unexplainable way, she felt disappointment at finding nothing of the ordinary waiting for her. As if having some spirit to point a finger at, something memorable and familiar to go up against would offer explanation to her experience in the ballroom, and to make her feel less like she had chickened out of her own plan like a coward for something that might not have even happened.  

“I don’t know.” Y/n finally admitted, letting Jimin herd the two of them past a shifting Jungkook back towards her bed. 

Jungkook gave the bathroom a once over and shrugged, grabbing the door knob to pull the door shut behind him. Seeing the opening grow slimmer and slimmer brought back the tingling sensation on the back of her neck and she yelped, ripping her hand from Jimin’s and running back over to the door to brace her palms against it. 

“Don’t!” Y/n’s command came out much louder than she had intended, startling them both. She closed her eyes, and gulped down a few deep breaths before meeting his gaze again. “The bathroom door stays open.” 

He didn’t understand–of course he didn’t–but he could see how much it bothered her. So with a slow nod, he let his hand slide off the knob and stepped back to her desk chair, leaving the bathroom door open like she had asked. 

They all looked at her with varying degrees of confusion and worry. Y/n kicked herself for her outburst, walking back to join Namjoon and Jimin on the edge of her mattress, sandwiched between the two of them. She couldn’t understand why none of them had seen it–it was right there…It must be the sleep deprivation, and her frazzled mind from the…slip up in the ballroom.

“What about you Jungkook? What did you find?” Namjoon took the attention off of her, offering it up to Jungkook. Though she knew the strangeness of her previous actions had just earned her a ticket to the one man show called ‘we-will-talk-about-this-later’, starring the one and only Namjoon Kim. The only threat that man could ever make towards her was one of tea and vulnerable conversations, but he wielded it often.

Jungkook unsheathed his phone with a hum, clearly not interested in taking his eyes off of her just yet after the scene she had caused. He unlocked the home screen and began to scroll through some of the snapshots of her parent’s office he had taken. 

All of them were struck with reverence at what they had to offer. 

The beautifully ornate decorated wallpaper, a vibrant shade of ruby with faint swirling patterns–was now shredded in multiple spots and completely missing in others. Cascading claw marks striped away by countless swipes more fitting of one desperate to escape a high security prison, not an office. The ceiling was splattered in a concoction of shades of browns and wine, and the floor was padded with cheap throw rugs to cover deep scratches embedded into the hardwood. 

The next photo was of a pile of trash bags in the second section of the office where the billiards table was located, their mouths open having yet to be tied up and disposed of. Overhead pictures of their contents revealed broken glass and splintered picture frames, tattered curtains and blood stained dress shirts. Another showed discarded papers–legal documents, quick handed ink sketches, and paperwork for her brother’s new boarding school by the looks of it–filled out and stamped with her fathers signature. The last bag was much lumpier than the rest–bulging out of the sides with the awkward shapes of what was shoved into it. The contents were just as strange: tufts of white fluff, slats of chipped wood and and fabric dotted in purple flowers–

Y/n’s entire body shivered, and her mind went blank. She would recognize that bedding anywhere. The same bedspread and pillow her mother had so adamantly pushed her to get rid of. 

Pieces of her sister’s bed were broken up and stuffed into this trash bag, and stored on top of the billiards table one floor away from her. A bed that was supposed to be discarded in a dumpster over a decade prior. 

“There’s more.” Jungkook swallowed roughly, showing them another photo of a drawer he had pulled open to show its contents without touching them. On the top of the pile was a collection of  wrinkled receipts Jungkook had propped open to capture. 

Two were for the local hospital: One for a pharmacy pick up of hydrocodone, and another for a surgery consultation with any distinguishable dates scratched out with a dying pen. The third receipt was for a plane ticket–purchased on the previous Sunday afternoon and scheduled for Monday–but all flyer information had been similarly scribbled out. 

“Please tell me you looked for more information about this plane ticket…” Y/n looked up at him with gravity. 

“I did. I went back to check.” Jungkook slid to the next photo of the second trash bag from before, a torn piece of paper in his hands held up for the camera to see. 

It was boarding information for a flight from the Philadelphia international airport to Daegu South Korea with the designated passenger named Yoongi Min–time of boarding at 5:47am yesterday morning. 

And it was a one way ticket. 

Y/n had her phone out and in her hand before she could even register what she was doing, sifting through her contacts until she found Mrs. Min’s number, tapping on the call icon and pressing the speaker button. She’d pay the fee for an international call–she didn’t care. 

“What are you doing!” Namjoon hissed at her in a whisper, looking at her with evident panic. 

“If he is going to South Korea, his parents have to know about it.” Y/n whispered back, covered the microphone with her hand. “That’s literally where they are right now!” 

Jimin bit his lip, waving one hand about frantically in front of her “What if they are in on everything? What are you even going to–” 

“Y/n? What is this?” Hyewon, Yoongi’s mother answers the phone, sounding weathered. 

“H-hi Mrs. Min…I just wanted to check in on…things.” Y/n let out a few nervous chuckles. “Yeah. So how are you?” 

Namjoon smacked his palm to his forehead with a solemn shake, and Jimin just about keeled over. 

“We are doing well. Weather is nice here this time of year.” Her words took on a more suspicious edge, clearly just as perceiving as her son. “You never call. There must be some other reason for calling at such an hour, hmm?” 

“I…” Y/n looked to her cohorts for help, but they all gave her vague gestures and noncommittal flicks of their hands, mouthing variants of  ‘hang up!’ over to her. Y/n cleared her throat and pushed forth, disregarding their discomfort. “Actually Mrs. Min, there is a reason I called.” She shifted, unsure whether to just be honest or to continue lying–she decided on the riskier option. “I’m worried about Yoongi. He just disappeared, and I wanted to see if you knew where he was and if he’s okay.”

The line went quiet, a dense fuzz taking place where her voice once had. Y/n heard the distinct sound of whispering on the line just out of reach, a hushed discussion between Hyewon and someone undisclosed. After some deliberation, the phone picked up her voice clearly. 

“I don’t understand what you mean.”  She spoke like someone who knew exactly what she meant. 

“Mrs. Min, I’m sorry if this comes off as impolite–but I know he is in Daegu. I know he is there. Please I need to–I need to know that he is okay…” Y/n begged, her voice nearly giving out by the end. “Please.” 

Hyewon retracted again, letting the line buzz with inactivity. There were more whispers, Y/n barely managing to pick up that they were speaking in Korean before they stopped. 

“Don’t call me again. It’s late–the three of us have had a long day and need to rest. Goodnight Y/n.” 

“Wait!” Y/n’s efforts were futile, for the line had already closed. “Great…” Y/n dropped the phone into her lap and hid her face in her hands to stifle her groan. “Now what?” 

Namjoon shifted, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a squeeze with a small smile. “That was good news Y/n.” 

“What about that was good?” Her head jerked up to look at his deepening dimples.

“She said three of us. If it was just her and his dad she would’ve just said we.” Namjoon’s shoulders sagged with a heaving exhale. 

“Oh my god…” Y/n collapsed back onto her bed with an overwhelming sense of relief, tears blurring her vision. “He’s okay!” 

The entire room felt the combined weight that was removed from their shoulders. While it didn’t answer any questions as to why he was there–they knew he was alive and with his parents, most likely meaning he was out of harm's way for the time being. 

“Thank heavens.” Jimin flopped back next to her, their arms touching. “I’ve about had it with the last second trips this weekend.”

“Tell me about it.” Namjoon flopped next to them, making the bed shake. “First the guest house, then you, then Yoongi?” He shook his head with a laugh. “After all of this is in order, I’m going to need a month-long vacation somewhere far away from here.” 

“Sign me up for that.” Y/n raised her hand up into the air. 

Jimin giggled next to her. “I’ve heard Malta is lovely. Good food and great atmosphere–beaches too.” 

“Sounds good enough for me.” Y/n let herself laugh with him, feeling borderline delirious with the endorphin rush from just knowing he’s okay. Jungkook shuffled over to the side of the bed, staring down at them anxiously, shifting his weight around with his hands in his pockets. Y/n looked up at him, finding his hesitance endearing. “Get in here you big jerk.” Y/n pat at the empty spot above them. “Namjoon still has to give us his report anyways.” 

“Right.” Namjoon rolled over the edge to grab for his backpack. “Well besides some ghost knocking over a few shelves and chasing me back up the stairs–I’m alright.” He forced the zipper open over a rectangular object, and pulled it out. “I found a couple things that might help.” He held up an 8x10 old tattered frame, the picture splotched with aged and water damaged and the glass cracked. “This was one of the items that was thrown at me as I was leaving.” 

Y/n took it from his hands and inspected the couple in the photo. It was of a man and woman, her face turned from the camera and towards a hefty canvas with a brush poised in stained fingers. Her composition wasn’t fully developed, but the large round shapes building from paint and stroke looked familiar, like she had seen the finished product somewhere before. And perhaps she had, it wasn’t unheard of for some of the art and decor around the home to have been created or procured by a member of the house. 

Over her shoulder was a man with dark rounded eyes, and an all too familiar angled ridge of his brow, pointing along the canvas with his mouth open to offer earnest words. The tips of his fingers were stained with the same paint as hers. 

“That’s my great grandfather.” Jungkook pointed at the man, mirroring the same crease that she had noted. “He had an English name.”

“What was it?” Y/n asked, handing him the photo. 

Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t know. I was never into the family history stuff as much as everyone else was.”

 “John.” Jimin scoffed and grabbed for the picture. “He went by John sometimes when he first immigrated. Literally the most basic name for anyone here to remember.”  

“Well not everyone can be a historian.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, willingly passing the photo to him. 

“I think the term archivist is a bit more fitting for my job title.” Jimin replied with playful haughtiness. “Address me correctly.” 

“Okay Indiana Jones.” 

“That’s an archeologist.” Jimin twisted his neck to look up at him. “I said archivist.” 

Jungkook sniffed, and passively rubbed at the tip of his nose to hide a small smile . “Same thing.” 

Jimin plastered a grin on his face, and his eye twitched with his deep breath. “I’ll be sure to keep this discussion in mind when I’m preparing my first attack…”

“Anyways.” Namjoon butt in, reprimanding the two younger men with a glare. “This was thrown at me from the back room that I had already searched. And while I may not have all of those psychic sensitivities you guys have, I think that is a sign it means something.” 

Y/n propped her cheek on Jimin’s shoulder to keep gazing at the photo, her question squashed around the smush of her cheek against the meat of his bicep. “Do you recognize who that is?” 

Jimin hummed, immediately shifting back into a more serious tone. “If that’s John–and he doesn’t look to be any older than his early twenties–it has to be someone from around the mid 1920s, maybe pushing the early 1930s…”  Jimin rubbed his thumb under his bottom lip. “Her hair is dark, but because it’s pulled up and the camera quality isn’t advanced enough to capture any texture, that could be just about anyone.” He pulled the image merely inches from his face, leaving no grain or pixel unturned. 

“While you look at that, I’ll keep going.” Namjoon unfurled the small white dress from his backpack, shaking out dust from the skirt. “Here it is–in all its glory.” 

Jimin flickered his gaze to the dress, his eyes lighting up in recognition, “That’s the one!”

“Was it where I said it would be?” Y/n asked, the smell of old linen and dust filling her with a sense of nostalgia. She ran her fingers over the edge of the dress, remembering how it felt to wear it as a kid. Jungkook's hand came up next to hers, running the embroidered flowers through his fingers, the side of his hand running into hers every so often–not that she minded. 

“Just about yeah. The only thing is the tote was absolutely ransacked. I had to dig through two of them–one of them didn’t even have the lid all the way on.” Namjoon shook his head, and passed her the dress. “It was–” 

“Ah ha!” Jimin jumped up from the bed, his face alight with recognition. “I got it!” 

Jungkook made a noise of surprise from the back of his throat, his fingers hesitating over her shoulder to grab for her. “What is it?” Y/n was the first to ask, eyeing the way he gleefully held the photo out for them to see. 

Jimin pressed his pointer finger to a spot on the photo that was warped from the spidery cracks in the class. “You see this?” The three still reclined on the bed all wore a similarly lost expression, and offered no guesses. Jimin shook his head and took a step closer, thrusting the picture into their faces for them to huddle around. “That! The door!” 

Y/n inspected the barely visible door frame in the background beneath his finger dubiously, feeling Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s faces hover against hers on either side with squinting eyes. “I guess…That is a door frame for sure.” 

Jimin deadpanned down at her, giving her thigh a light smack in jest, the skin stinging at the contact. “Yes–but that scratch in the frame,” he tapped it with his finger, and Y/n managed to see the miniscule stripe of gray on the wood next to John, “That is from Heidi and Inga from when they had fencing lessons with Adelaide. Heidi wrote about how it happened when the two of them were playing a game of chase with the blades–” He paused at the face Y/n made, holding a hand out to placate her disapproval. “It was a different time. They did all kinds of dangerous things back then. But it had been Inga who had gotten sword stuck in the doorway of her younger sister’s nursery!” 

Jimin said it like it was groundbreaking information, but the three of them stayed blinking up at him from below, unphased. 

“Which changes things because…?” Namjoon urged him to elaborate. 

“Because that would mean this was Candida and Alain’s room during our estimated timeframe. So we can deduce that this photo is of John and Candida!” The excitement that gleamed in his irises made her feel warmth bloom in her chest, and she wished she could kiss the smile that lit up his face–the only reason she didn’t was the audience they’d have if she did. 

The printer lit up, the mechanisms inside chugging along to drag ink onto the paper’s surface. The page floated down from the plate and onto the floor for Namjoon to peel off her rug, and his eyes flew from left to right, reading the message allowed. 

“Don’t say her name too much. She is a monster that brings nothing but evil with her.” 

Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat, dread pouring through her system for the answer of a question she has yet to ask. “What did she do?” 

Jimin stepped over to the printer, kneeling in front of it. “Do you know why they hid all of her information away? They wiped everything about her from the historical society.” The printer chuffed out a much longer message, another sheet running through the system and falling into Jimin’s awaiting hands. 

“She died when I was very young, so I can not give you much. They have always hid the story away–in part because I was young, and because they didn’t want word to spread outside of those in the house. 

Rumor has it she killed her children in their beds, and then she stabbed her husband through the heart with a kitchen knife when he tried to stop her. 

Whether or not she killed herself too is unclear. My mother always said that she must have, but my father always hinted that she didn’t, and died somewhere else under different circumstances. 

Stay away from her if you can. She is one of the most rotten of the bunch.”

The men around her erupted into urgent discussion, but Y/n couldn’t focus on anything other than what Clay had said to her in the ballroom. 

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you. We have been much too kind. Have fun with my cousin, she doesn’t show mercy–and she’s got more blood on her hands than most of us do. Spilling yours will be not more than child's play to one as well versed in death as she.”

Y/n knew from the hours she spent bent over the family tree that Candida was one of his cousins, and if what Bear said was true–she was royally fucked. 

Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn to the mirror in the corner of her room that clipped  parts of her bed and desk into its reflection, watching the back of Jimin’s head move as he asked a books worth of questions that the printer couldn’t even dream of keeping up with, or the way Jungkook was looking at her from behind with a knowing look. Everything looked normal, absolutely simple and ordinary. 

Everything except for the woman stood over Y/n’s shoulder, looking down at her like she had in the ballroom only this time with a visible face. Gaunt and youthful, she speared through Y/n with eyes that were still fully intact. Their surfaces wider and more bulging than necessary, with glowing rose gold irises swimming with malice and restrained hostility all pinpointed on Y/n. 

Y/n considered fleeing back into the bathroom to take Jimin up on his suggestion of getting sick, her stomach flipping and her intestines twisting within her abdomen.  Because if Jungkook could see her he most definitely would have said something. Which meant he couldn’t. Which meant she was on her own.

“Guys.” Y/n elevated her voice over the commotion, the woman’s golden eyes blinked to Y/n’s, daring her to say more with silent threats of violence and who knows what. The printer stopped moving, and Jimin snapped his mouth closed at once at her grave tone. “I think I need to tell you what happened in the ballroom.”

_________________________________________

March 24th, 1930. 

Some say that it is an overstatement to say that when faced with the atrocities that mankind is capable of, one feels like dying. I would say that does not even begin to scratch the surface of what it feels like. 

I clutch a hand to my ribs to keep my heart where it should be, and my other to my mouth to stifle the screams that would do me no good to set free. I found her in her room this morning when I had begun my rounds of waking the children up for their lessons, with her father cold and blue and unbreathing at the door, discarded like waste, or a pile of weeks old soiled laundry on the stoop.

The carpet will have to be removed. There is no scrubbing to be done that would possibly sop up so much blood and horror from its fibers. If it were me, this entire house need be gutted and rebuilt. It is now stained red with this memory. 

Her mother had the body clutched to her breast with the knife still in her hands that had crusted over with black and burgundy blood–of whom it belonged, I could not tell. While I consider myself a brave and valiant woman, I could not bring myself over Alain’s lifeless corpse, no matter how diligently Candida begged me to come to her aid. I could already see the discolored fabric of Madeline’s nightgown that had shifted completely from white to crimson, and the violet ring around her neck that had fallen back from her mothers bosom when she reached her filthy hands towards me. I could not see anymore. 

I left them there, running for the boys to flock them away from laying a curious eye over the scene before they could be haunted by it the way I will be for all of eternity. Youngho that poor boy–caught the tiniest snippet of red and burst into tears, and I am unaware of what Seonggi might have seen when I ushered him by after waking his father.

John, Leon, and Elijio had all arrived by the time I had taken my leave. As did most of the men of the house.

Whereas typically I despise the unnecessary attributes people ascribe to daily tasks, categorizing them into lines for men and women to fall into; I am ashamed to say that this morning, that was a man’s job to deal with. Not mine. Yet, like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, I will be the one to handle it–whatever it may take. 

I wish they would have never let it get this far. We all knew it would only grow. 

So long as I am alive, I will let it grow no longer. 

Adelaide Wörner. 

Hoseok eyed the torn-out page from the journal that lay on his dashboard, displaying itself atop a pile of others just like it tucked neatly into the flap of a thick folder. The engine rumbled beneath his seat, doing little to ease the agonizing ache that had settled into his lower back and hips from sitting all day. He let his head fall back against the headrest, peering off into the midnight tree line that was hardly visible this time of night from where he had parked in front of the estate. 

His fingers tapped a rhythm in time with the song he had pulsing on the radio, offering him a moment of his own, free from chatty passengers or bitchy guests. He kept his hands off the folder–he had no interest in its contents–not really. He just needed to finish out his agreement, and then he’d be free. 

With a frustrated sigh, he yanked the car keys from the ignition, slipping his long finger through the key ring and twirling it about to relieve his pent up energy. The yellow glow of the headlights clicked off in an instant, letting the darkness from the night close in on him and hide the words from his eyes he didn’t care to read again. Finally, from the far-off edge of the tree line, he watched Y/n and Jin step over the overgrown brush from the trail to the guest house, the two of them climbing the front steps without so much as a spare glance to him. 

He kicked himself for not joining in this time, but he knew better than to let himself get too close. While he was instructed to report whatever he could find out, they never told him he had to go searching for it. Hopefully after this weekend, he wouldn’t need to stay away anymore–he could just go back to spending time with everyone and pretend nothing had even changed. 

A laugh, cold and breathy tore from within. 

That was a joke. 

After a good ten minutes of sitting in the dark, the overhead lights flickered on, and the car beeped at him to let him know the passenger door had opened, the car shaking side to side as Jin dropped himself into the seat. 

“You have a good night? What took you so long to come back down?” Hoseok asked, not bothering to look up from the keys he swung around his finger.

“She slept most of the time. She’s still tired from everything. Then Joon was asking about where she was like he didn’t just see me take her to her room. He’s such a terrible liar.” Jin heaved a sighing breath, his eyes landing on the folder before picking it up to read it. “This again? I thought we already went over this?” 

Hoseok chuckled humorlessly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Jin shook the folder in his hands and gave Hoseok a sideways glance. “Are you going to be alright with this?” 

“What–like I have a say?” Hoseok shook his head incredulously with a voice laced in venom, swinging the keys about with more gusto, metal clanking against metal grating against his ear drums. 

Jin held his hands up in surrender, dropping the folder into his lap. “I was just checking in. I know it can be hard on you sometimes.” 

Hoseok stopped the swing of the keys with his palm, clenching them in his fist. He licked his lips to keep himself from saying something he shouldn’t–he knew his words weren’t safe with his friend, even if they were allies. Instead he schooled his features, jamming the keys in the ignition once more. “Let’s just go.” 

The car roared to life, and he flexed his fingers against the wheel at how second nature it felt to him now–sometimes he’d even find himself waking up from dreams with his hands turning non existent keys or gripping invisible steering wheels. And who would have he’d be here now, when he had always hated driving before it became a necessity. 

“You can trust me, you know. I’m still your friend.” Jin pushed, buckling his seatbelt. Hoseok refrained from responding, buckling his own seatbelt before Jin scolded him. 

Just then, Jin turned his cheek to glance towards the house, squinting towards small figures running along the backside of it. “We should go before they see us.” He tapped the glass as one of them stopped to peer over at them. 

“It’s fine.” Hoseok revved the engine, shifting the car into drive. “Let them see–let’s give them all another reason to hate me.” 

“Hoseok they don't–”

Hoseok lurched the car forward at a dangerous speed, silencing Jin with a shout from his own mouth. He didn’t have the patience to be coddled by him at the moment. While he had to give it to him that he did it from a well meaning place, it would do nothing but grind his gears further and further, adding oil to an already overused and balding cog on the train of thought that journeyed to self destruction. He wasn’t dumb. 

Jimin already hated him now. Which meant the rest probably weren't far behind. 

Once a few miles out with some of his pent up frustrations burnt out of his system, he gradually came to a legal speed (more or less) much to Jin’s relief. They only had a few miles left to reach their destination, and he just wanted to get the night over with. Of course, as kind as he always was, Jin couldn’t let them sit in silence–and it made Hoseok chuckle at the hypocrisy of his own disgruntled thought. That was usually his hat to wear: the annoying one that didn’t know when to shut up. 

“What happened with you at lunch? You almost blew our cover.” Jin clicked open the glove compartment, pulling out a small black flask and a rosary from the bottom where he had stashed it one of the previous nights. 

Hoseok did a double take, caught off guard by his question. “What do you mean?” 

Jin furrowed his brows, his lips pressing into a small frown. “At lunch. With Y/n.” 

Hoseok looked intensely at Jin, being sure to over-articulate himself for further emphasis. 

“Jin–I was never at lunch today.” 

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Next chaper

Dreikäsehoch: A teasing (sometimes condescending) term of endearment for young children.

taglist: @kokoandkookie @rkive-joonie @singdancedreampray @erescheese

[chaoticace2005]

Why Valentino needs to chill the fuck out (AKA a list of complaints on the pissbaby):

(By Velvette, the only one here with a braincell)

(Her list for Vox (to stop obsessing over Alastor) here)

1. I can’t stop you from being a dick to your employees but STOP RIPPING UP MINE

2. Can you keep your obsession with Angel Dust in the studio? Bringing him up elsewhere makes Vox think he can bitch about Alastor and I don’t need anymore of that.

3. Bringing up the Radio Demon to win an argument just makes everyone suffer.

4. I know therapy is a lost cause with you but seriously?

5. Figure out whatever the fuck you and Vox have going on. You’re not dating but you have Radio Demon- related foreplay and Vox gets jealous whenever you bring up “Angelcakes.”

6. I’ll blow my brains out if I hear the name “Angelcakes” again.

7. I don’t want to keep replacing lights after you run into them head first

8. I don’t want to keep having to spend money buying mothballs so you won’t eat my clothes.

9. When you get pissed you get horny, and I’d prefer if you didn’t fuck anyone on the kitchen counter.

10. Or my closet

11. Can you stop crying about the fact I have (gorgeous) hair and you don’t? Not my fault your head looks like an egg

12. Also weird pheromones? Can you keep that stuff inside you until we need to make more Love Potions? The whole place stinks

13. Your rage bedazzling has begun to get out of hand. I took a shower and rhinestones came out of the tap.

14. STOP FIRING BEDAZZLED (OR ANY) GUN INTO WALLS. AND STOP SAYING ITS FINE BECAUSE YOU LIKE HOLES.

15. Chasing down your employee who is staying with the PRINCESS AND KING of HELL isn’t the best idea.

16. Also, again, Radio Demon. And he may be an ancient prick but Vox is so insufferable.

17. Seriously if anyone gets to kill you it’s me. And since I can’t nobody can.

18. We keep having to replace phones because of your tantrums.

19. And employees

20. And TV screens for Vox

21. When you get angry you put things in the top shelves which is really a dick move.

22. At this point I’m starting to worry if you’ll take the name “pissbaby” seriously given your recent fixation and I do NOT want to deal with that.

23. I know tormenting employees can be fun, but also Angel Dust gets us a lot of money. And if he finds a way to opt out then I’m making sure the financial loss comes out of YOUR funds.

24. I don’t want to go to any more shitty overlord meetings alone because Vox is busy having a mental breakdown and you’re busy looking up new forms of torture.

25. Unlike that Carmine hag I am NOT a wrinkly old mom so STOP making me act like it.

25. Apparently you can only be so “problematic” in Hell and you’ve definitely passed that point

26. Seriously? Do you know how often #CancelTheVees is trending? #CancelValentino is FINE but then you go dragging me into this shit…

27. I’m tired of being the responsible one. Why don’t you two old fucks get your shit together?

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

Yes, we have a lot of December left, but I don't think anything else I want to check out will air before 2024 hits (it's cdrama so caveat is - you never know.)

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it's not on the list. This was a pretty good cdrama year, all in all.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

30 legend of twin flower - Not dignifying that drama with capital letters, as the only capital that should be associated with this is capital punishment - which is what watching this feels like.

29 Dominator of Martial Gods - sounds like a bdsm gay porn title. Would probably be better acted and written if it was.

28 Beauty of Resilience - you'd need a lot of said resilience to sit through this incoherent, barely acted mess. The thing that I remember the most other than my annoyance is all the jingly-jangly head gear on JJY. Perhaps they could have sold some of them and spent the money on a better script.

27 Divine Destiny - if you think you have too many brain cells and want to get rid of some, boy do I have a drama for you!

26 Wanru’s Journey - honestly it's probably tied with SEL - I mean it's worse but it has actors who are nowhere as well known and a fraction of SEL's budget. Still, this is a big fat nope. I will not say what I think of Aoi Rupeng's "acting" or I'd have to put money in the curse jar.

25 Snow Eagle Lord - Gulinazha's stone face, nonsense plot, terrible CGI. Take your pick as to why this is terrible.

24 Scent of Time - it was uneven but fun but then that ending was dumb enough to destroy the whole thing. Show me on the doll where common sense hurt you, makers!

23 Royal Rumors - Jeremy Tsui and Meng Ziyi are utterly wasted in this nothing trifle of a drama.

22 Legend of Anle - I had high expectations but alas. This is the drama version of color beige. There is nothing offensive about it but nothing good either. Mediocre actors are mediocre, good actors become mediocre, this is just a waste of our finite time on planet earth.

21 Romance on the Farm - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like this wholesome slice of farming family life, but it's tailored to trigger every one of my "nope" opinions.

20 Back from the Brink - if I were 12, it would be my favorite thing. I am not 12.

19 Journey of Chong Zi - objectively a terrible drama with plot holes the size of Mars and a leading lady whose face has apparently frozen when the wind changed. But I am a total sucker for the trope of upright shizun falling for his demonic disciple and going mental so here we are. Objectively, garbage, subjectively my precious!

18 Love you Seven Times - just call poor Ding Yuxi "Atlas," he carried this mess so hard.

17 Blooming Days - trashy dogblood harem fight fun throwback. It's not that great (and the fact that it was shredded doesn't help) but it's probably the last gasp of that genre for the foreseeable future, so I am grading on a curve.

16 The Starry Love - a fun fantasy where the secondary OTP stole the thunder but overall a really solid fantasy xianxia romance.

15 The Longest Promise - it could have been better - the secondaries were unbearable and there was too much of them and what they did with Alen Fang's character still gives me rage fits, but the main couple was impeccable and lovely and I rooted so hard for them.

14 Chang Feng Du/Destined - visually gorgeous, solidly acted, impeccable first half. Bland as hell second half. Win some, lose some.

13 Circle of Love - this drama is a nonsense trash heap on fire. After a typhoon hit it. It was also the most entertaining, addicting drama on this whole list.

12 Hidden Love - the sole modern on this list, this story has barely any plot but it made me care about the young, decent lovers so hard.

11 Choice Husband - starts out wacky, continues with angst and blood and happy ending. I loved it, but I've always had a soft spot for melo and schemers turning devoted.

10 Pledge of Allegiance - bromance, super solid acting, visuals, a really dark take on officials and the world. Insanely underrated.

9 Provoke - a truly fun Republican revenge and love tale, showing that short format can be wonderful.

8 Gone with the Rain - some of the secondary characters are rage-inducing (hi there, cardboard boy!) but the scheming, ruthless, vulgar FL is amazing and her slowburn with her age gap general who is delighted by her out-there-ness is great!

7 Wonderland of Love - Fei Wo Si Cun goes wholesome and the result is surprisingly entertaining. Battle couple, glorious visuals, a fast paced plot. It's the first Xu Kai drama I enjoyed in years (and he plays a rare cdrama ML it would be pretty neat to pair up with in rl.)

6 My Journey to You - that ending is infuriating (and I am OK with open endings if done properly) but what a visual feast, probably the most gloriously shot drama on this list, and that's a tough competition. Also it packs a hell of a lot of couples and familial and adversarial relationships into its slim running time; assassin lady won over by a gentle man is my favorite trope and so this is extra great.

5. Till the End of the Moon - the ending is a rage-inducing disaster for me, but this drama was the most incredibly emotionally intense, visually eye popping experience. It was deeply flawed but when it was amazing, it was like nothing else in its visuals, its characters and its narratives. It took insane risks; some paid off and some did not, but it was glorious.

4. Story of Kunning Palace - I don't often care for reverse harem stories but this one was such fun - the main OTP was glorious (strong FL, unhinged ML) but honestly everything about this was just so excellently done.

3. The Ingenious One - the most adult drama on this list. Smart protagonists, intelligent plot, emotions that felt true, this is a revenge and a mystery and found family and goes into so many directions you do not expect (Su Mengyu's PTSD after his first kill - that is something you never see in dramas, definitely not prolonged and profound - not like this.) If I was to say which drama was objectively the best on this list, as opposed to favorite, it would be this.

1 (tie) Lost You Forever 1 - this is an exquisite emotional jewel of a story about damaged people moving forward, with damage always present - their past informs their present and always will. The narrative about Xiao Yao and three very different men in her life makes me think that it's an equivalent of a neutron bomb going off right before the main narrative starts and now we are watching the survivors wander in the wreckage. This is very high fantasy setting but it's one of the most emotionally human narratives out there.

1 A Journey to Love - everything I ever wanted - assassins, ride or die adult OTP with genuine believable conflicts, great and complex secondaries, beautiful fights. Oh, and yeah Liu Shi Shi domming the hell out of every man in a ten mile radius, as she should.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie between Lost You Forever Part 1 and A Journey to Love. LYF1 is a bona fide art piece but it's only part 1 and who knows if part 2 will be any good (seeing the huge ep number cut, I have my doubts) and so it's incomplete. AJTL is an old school wuxia romance with incredibly competent, adult people in love and great cast of secondaries. I can't pick.

WORST DRAMA

romance of twin flower - this is a drama that should not exist. If I could hex everyone involved with it, I would. It's a terrible, stupid, shrill, badly acted drama to start with, but where it really is catapulted into stratosphere of horror is that is took my very favorite non-danmei web novel of all time, a smart and complicated tale with incredible protagonists and turned it into that barftastic abomination. Peng Xiao Ran kept making horrible drama after horrible drama but I kept giving her a chance because of Goodbye My Princess but after this disaster, I've had to accept GMP was a fluke and she is on my "if she's in it, I am out” list. Ding Yuxi is not that far yet (his performance in Seven Lifetimes was the one thing carrying that mess afloat) but he's on freaking thin ice. Anyway, I like to pretend this drama does not exist.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

It was hard because there were so many I loved this year - Deng Wei's traumatized, gentle Seventeen from LYF1 (if someone told me I'd swoon and weep for a character played by Deng Wei, I'd have told them to examine their brains asap), Liu Yuning's incredibly capable, deadly, contained Ning Yuanzhou from AJTL, Zhang Linghe's unhinged Xie Wei from SoKP, Chen Xiao's schemer with a heart Yun Xiang from TIO.

But ultimately, it couldn't be anyone else but Luo Yunxi as Tantai Jin/Demon God/Ming Ye/Cang Jiumin in Till the End of the Moon. He was everything - a demon, a saint, a martyr, a monster, a tormented abuse victim, a savior, joyful, unhinged, smart, pitiable. It was the cdrama performance of the year for me. Luo Yunxi even in a mediocre role is impressive but in a complex (series of) role(s) designed for his strengths, he is a force of nature.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever Part 1). Once again, there were runner ups - Bai Lu's smart a little evil FL in Kunning, the gloriously unhinged assassin domme Liu Shi Shi in AJTL, Esther Yu's assassin longing for a different life in MJTY etc etc etc. But Xiao Yao's damaged, difficult, very self-aware woman stole my heart. I was skeptical going in because I haven't enjoyed a Yang Zi performance in a long time, but she was the wounded beating soul of this incredible drama.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Where do we start? How about all of Seventeen's (LYF1) monster family? His brother, who tortured him for years physically and emotionally to such a degree his body is a horror map and his personality is permanently altered because "mommy liked you better." Psycho mother who created a situation where the kids were going to turn on each other and "let's get my grandson raped" grandma. Where is a well-placed meteorite when you need one.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xiao Yao/Seventeen, LYF1. Yes, a ship of characters played by Yang Zi and Deng Wei is my favorite. Leave me alone, I am on my tenth helping of crow already. They are both incredibly damaged, barely functioning survivors who find what they need in the other - he finds a savior and someone who sees him as a man and rebuilds himself around her and she finds someone who will always put her first and only, and subsume himself in her. Is it healthy? No. Does it make sense for them and is it making them slowly functional? Yes.

Runner up: Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL - two adults, so competent, so chemistry full. She has so much damage and so little normalcy but is so strong and he is oddly gentle (in between murders) and incredibly self-reflective. They are each other's mirrors and I love them.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Mingyu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenious One - the idealistic merchant who wants to join jianghu until he sees its horrors firsthand and a slave entertainer who wants security but decides she wants him more. They are gorgeous and glorious and wholesome and I adore them.

Runner up: Liu Gong Quan/Ming Zhu, The Ingenious One - that drama was a shippy gift, especially impressive considering it wasn't even romance-centric. He's the officer who has to bring down her treasonous father but loves her. Delicious.

Another runner up is Chao Feng/Qian Kui, the angelic good girl and the scheming bad boy in The Starry Love. They stole the drama from the main OTP for me.

NOTP

Scent of Time endgame. What the hell was even that. It made NO sense.

FAVORITE SCENE

So many good scenes this year - Tantai Jin taking apart Li Susu in prison in TTEOTM, the OTP fighting in perfect sync and insane rhythm in the gorge battle in AJTL, Chen Ruoxuan's character stopping the execution in Pledge, Yan Lin's coming of age in Kunning, the poison/antidote "gamble" in MJTY, Cang Xuan detoxing in LYF1. But I think ultimately, me being who I am, my favorite scene is Xiao Yao kissing Seventeen's damaged, scarred knee to show he is in no way inferior for her. AAAAA!

In terms of pure jaw dropping visuals tho nothing will ever beat Ming Ye’s battle against the Devil God in TTEOTM.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL. He's sexy as hell (that height, that way he moves in battle) but he's also so incredibly competent, so adult, so self-reflective and so attracted to a woman for her strength. He also gets whumped on the reg. Anyway, my hormones are ready.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You) - I loved the unhinged, brocon poison boy. He was everything. Also Yan Lin (Kunning) - talk about sunshine; I totally got why all these people felt they needed to save him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

My Journey to You - what the HELL was that ending?

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

legend of twin flower - that is, stab it with scissors like it stabbed the novel until it's dead.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Till the End of the Moon - they clearly cut stuff to fit into the new regs about runtime and it made the last 1/5 rather abrupt. Gimme!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

The emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country!

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

This is the year of a ML who yearns to be dommed by his FL. Long may it continue.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The Legend of Anle - the novel had a great plot, the cast were all actors I either enjoy a lot or somewhat and we got - whatever that soggy piece of wonderbread toast was.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

LYF1 - I only checked out to mock because nobody could explain the story to me and nobody in the cast did anything I like either ever or in years. And then I fell utterly and completely in love and had to eat so much delicious crow.

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

Ancient Love Song is the only one on that list. It looks really good, I just need to brace myself.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctoress - best slowburn and pining and glorious character development and adult leads.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Anticipating any nonaired cdrama is a mug's game but if they air, I will definitely check out all the Fox Matchmaker dramas, LYF2, JoL2 and The Last Immortal. If Prisoner of Beauty ever is allowed out of the vault (dubious), it goes on the list too.