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taleasnewastime · 2 years

Text

The feeling’s slow to fade

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

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

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

Word count: 26.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tofu,” you scold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s 7:20, Jin, she’s hardly late.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it all fell apart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I need money.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh –”

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

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

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

“Where is Jungkook anyway?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This day just gets better and better.

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

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

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

Another shiver runs down your back.

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

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

“It’s weird.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

“But what if it’s not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A car didn’t kill that fox.”

“Ok then another animal.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to pick up any medicine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it also you at the old cottage?”

Your eyes snap back to Seokjin, “huh?”

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

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

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

“I might go.”

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

“Go … where?” Namjoon asks.

“To the old cottage.”

“Why, exactly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to die.

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

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

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

“You alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

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

“Well I asked first.”

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

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

“We?”

“In the bookshop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Next time don’t go off on your own.”

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

“That’ll take some convincing.”

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

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

“Do I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, yeah.”

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

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

“I never laughed at your grades.”

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

“It was never like that. I told –”

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

“Is that what you’ve –”

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

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, because it’s my fault.”

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

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

“You didn’t need to.”

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

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?”

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

“But we’ve only just got here.”

“And there’s clearly nothing here.”

“We’ve not even looked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think it struggled?”

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

“I found a way out.”

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

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

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

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

Together you walk silently back through the woods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What you buying?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d go seeded if I were you.”

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

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

“I can if you want.”

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

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

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

“I’d go cloudy apple too.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you really want, Yoongi?”

You walk a few steps before he says anything.

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

“I’m great.”

“You don’t look it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

“What are you doing after this?”

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

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

“I thought you thought it was all bullshit?”

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

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

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

He nods. “I’ll follow you.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

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

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

That bitch.

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

“He must realise I hate you.”

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

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

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

“He’s cute.”

“Tofu,” you manage to mutter.

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

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

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

“You alright?”

“I didn’t know you liked cats.”

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

“Something like that,” you mutter.

“Well, I like cats.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could contact them and ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Used to be one,” you correct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was just a creepy –”

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

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

“And you wanted to check I was ok?”

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

“We’re not exactly friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he says nothing.

“Does that not creep you out?”

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

“What is this? A therapy session?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have Tofu to help, it’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flick to you as if sensing your stare and you dart your focus back to your hand, face flushing.

“I’ve got some black jeans on and this top says Fear of –”

“Yeah, not now,” Seokjin snaps as if he’s the only one allowed to get the laughs Yoongi’s currently gained from the table. “For Halloween.”

“Right,” he replies flatly, though you think you hint a smile in his tone. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Oh my god. Y/N, help me out here?”

“Uh, I was going to do Jen Walters,” you pause and when everyone wears blank faces you continue. “You know, She-Hulk?”

“You’re going to paint yourself green?” Seokjin’s face lights up like Christmas day.

“No,” you crush his hopes. “I’m going as Jen Walters. The human form. You know, big shirt and … never mind.”

“Yeah, sounds boring.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you smile and look back at your cards.

“I’m surprised you’re not going as the killer.”

Your smile drops as quickly as it appeared. You don’t look up at Seokjin, don’t want him to see that he’s gotten to you, it’ll only encourage him. But it’s too late. However small your reaction, he’s seen it.

“You could bring a dead animal, have blood splattered all over you and –”

“Alright Jin.”

To yours and seemingly everyone’s surprise, it’s Yoongi that cuts Seokjin off. Yoongi looks at him with a hard gaze while Seokjin looks back with his lips twisted into a smile. Your heart pounds for so many different reasons as you watch whatever is happening unfold.

“What?” Seokjin sounds innocent enough. “I was just saying it would be a good costume.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t funny.”

“Who said it was a joke?”

There’s silence from Yoongi, his glare seeming to harden which only makes Seokjin’s smile widen.

“How is that all going by the way? Gotten any closer to catching the killer?”

All eyes turn to you and you heat from within. You know their feelings about this and you know they don’t align with yours. No matter what you say, they’ll tease you for it.

“You don’t care, so why should Y/N tell you?” Yoongi once again comes to your rescue and you’re too relieved to question it.

“Maybe you can tell me then? You have been helping, right?”

Yoongi flashes his eyes to you, something like guilt crossing his face, though you’re not sure why he would feel guilty.

“Can we just play this game?” Jungkook cuts everyone off. “I really wanted to get home by 8 for bake off.”

“Is that who you’re going as?” Taehyung jumps in. “Paul Hollywood?”

Jungkook just pouts his lips a little as if to stop his smirk and shrugs. Picking up three of his cards he announces, “three tens,” and places them in a pile in the centre of the table.

You don’t even bother to look at your own cards to check how that affects you. You’re too busy looking at Yoongi and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Are you dressed as Tofu?”

Yoongi looks down at himself, then back at you. “Isn’t Tofu white?”

He has a point. Still, the small amount you’ve had to drink coupled with his all-black outfit, little black cat ears so soon after meeting your cat makes you question it. Or maybe it’s just the surprise of him wearing something besides his normal outfit. You can’t recall Yoongi’s previous Halloween outfits, but you’d put him down as a wear normal clothes and say he’s Ross from Friends sort of person. But here you stand, at the annual Halloween party, being proven wrong.

“Yoongi’s met Tofu?” Jimin hands you the drink he left you to make. “When?”

He sounds way too interested and you feel a little sorry for Yoongi given the smile Jimin’s shooting him. The smile only adds to his outfit, the half red, half blue hair really makes him look like a psychotic Harley Quinn.

“The other day,” you cut in, attempting to save Yoongi but only put the spotlight on yourself.

“Yoongi came to your house?”

“That is where my cat lives, yes.”

“But Yoongi was there?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

Jimin looks back to Yoongi, something unspoken goes between them, something you don’t understand. You take a sip of your too strong drink to cover your awkwardness before Jimin is looking back at you.

“No,” he says with a smile, everything about him screaming that the word he’s just said is a lie.

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Well I need a new drink,” you lift your still full cup up, eyes flicking between Jimin’s beaming smile and Yoongi’s flat face. “I’ll see you weirdo’s later.”

Before you make it out of earshot Jimin’s already on Yoongi.

“You went to her house?” He half screams and you resist the urge to look back at Yoongi’s expression.

“It was nothing.”

“But –”

You don’t catch anything more. Jungkook’s appeared in your face making that horrific slurping noise as if about to spit on you. You push his shoulder, fingers running along the exposed skin on his chest. Does his V-neck really have to be so large?

“You’re not Chris,” he makes the same joke he’s made a hundred times. And like every time before you don’t laugh.

“And unfortunately, you’re not Harry Styles.”

Jungkook just beams at you. “Harry Styles wishes he could be me.”

You hum, smirking into your drink. You have to admire the boys confidence. And his costume is pretty cool or would be if he wasn’t incessantly making spitting sounds as if he’s going to spit on Chris Pine.

“You should have brought a goat,” you say.

“And what are you anyway?” His eyes trace up and down your shirt covered body, disapproval on his features.

“She’s my Sophie of course,” an arm wraps itself around your back.

“It’s a crap Sophie costume. Isn’t she, like, an old woman?” Jungkook continues to judge.

“Nah, she’s as gorgeous as this lady here.”

You roll your eyes as you look up at Taehyung. “Is one drink all it takes for you guys to turn into utter sleaze balls?”

“Ouch,” Taehyung laughs, his arm only brining you closer into his side. “Thought you wanted me to show you the world?”

“Isn’t that Aladdin?” Jungkook says flatly.

Taehyung brushes the comment off. “Same difference.”

“Well, thanks Howl,” you say, slipping out of Tae’s arms. “But I think I’ll give it a miss.”

“You know who he is but not me?” Jungkook shouts after you as you walk away, sounding genuinely offended. “At least let me know if you see Chris!”

You look over your shoulder laughing as you shake your head at them. Eyes drifting you see Jimin and Yoongi still stood talking where you left them, the latter’s focus is purely on you. It makes you stutter the way he doesn’t hide the fact. His flat features would have once caused a pang of anger to shoot through you, as if annoyed he would be staring at you with such dislike for doing nothing. Now, knowing Yoongi better, you can’t help but wonder if the look isn’t dislike at all. Instead of a pang of anger, you only flush and whip your head to look away from him. Your heart still leaps, though the feeling is nothing like annoyance.

You spend the party trying to avoid Yoongi. Once you would have done it because you had no desire to be around him. Now, it’s because you can’t trust your feelings.

You drink, have one too many of Jimin’s ‘special’ cocktails that taste like pure alcohol. You laugh at Seokjin trying to convince everyone why dressing as John Tucker is the best outfit. You watch as Olivia walks in dressed as Chris Pine and Jungkook finally gets to spit on her lap, it’s gross and yet Olivia laughs like it’s the best joke they’ve ever made.

For what feels like forever, you have fun. Sure, there have been glimpses of fun since your dad passed, but tonight you feel fully free of everything. For once there is no guilt or overbearing thoughts of something you should be doing instead.

You manage to avoid Yoongi until late in the night when, stood alone, someone comes to stand by you.

“How you getting home?”

You twist to look at Yoongi, a smile still on your face. For once it doesn’t drop when you meet his flat face.

“Huh?” You glance to where you see people leaving; is it already that late? “Oh, I’ll just walk.”

He raises an eyebrow, gives you a look to let you know that’s not an acceptable answer. You flounder, search for something to say to distract him.

“Did you see Namjoon scuttle?”

“Scuttle?” He questions and you beam, mission success.

“Yeah, you know,” you pincer your hands in a crab like motion. “Scuttle, like the crab he was dressed as.”

“Oh,” he elongates the word. “Was that what he was?”

You giggle. You actually giggle at something Yoongi said. And it wasn’t even that funny a joke.

“God, I’ve had way too much to drink.”

He lets of a small, huffed laugh. “I’d don’t know whether to be offended or not?”

You laugh again, this time swaying a little because of it. As if on instinct, Yoongi’s hand comes out to steady you.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “I can walk home alone.”

“You’re on my way.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then it’s not much of a detour.”

“In a place this small it really is.”

He levels his gaze at you, clearly done with coming up with reasons and is just going to try and scare you into agreeing. It doesn’t work. But you still find yourself stopping from putting up a fight. It’s an effort to argue and not any other reason that you don’t continue to push.

Yoongi stands by your side as you go round and say goodbye to everyone. Surprisingly nobody comments on it. You thought Jungkook would for sure make some sarky comment, but maybe he’s had one too many too as he just pulls you into a hug and whispers something about having a good night but making sure you’re safe. Maybe he is concerned about the mysterious thing killing animals after all.

You walk in silence. Your focus on your feet as they move through the pitch-black night.

“Did you have a good night?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are tinted with colour from the cool night air when you look over at him. His gaze is set forward, avoiding eye contact after the awkward question. You don’t think anything of it.

“Yeah. Hoseok even let me try on his astronaut’s helmet.”

“Wow,” you look at him, catch the smile he’s trying to hide. “That’s a big word for you.”

You laugh, the tension between the two of you instantly disappearing. Once that joke would have rubbed you the completely wrong way. Now you find yourself wanting him to keep talking.

“Says the man dressed as a cat.”

He hums, the noise deep, developing in his chest and vibrating through his throat. Fuck. Has Yoongi always had that low a register? It’s not something you’ve picked up on before. Not in this way anyway. Not in a way that makes you look at him like you’ve never seen him before. The smirk growing on his face tells you he knows you’re looking at him.

You clench your jaw, eyes darting from his face up.

“Hey! Your ears have gone!” He reaches up, mock shock on his face as his hands go to his actual ears. You giggle, again, and gently slap his arm. “Your cat ears.”

“Oh right,” he says as if he didn’t know that the whole time, the wide smile on his face telling a different story, one that says he’s proud of the reaction he got from you. “They were making my head hurt.”

“Oh,” you pout, looking back in the direction of your house, you’re nearly at the top of your lane now. “I thought they looked cute.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond and you think nothing about what you’ve said.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, possibly one of the better Halloween parties Liv has thrown.”

“Really? You weren’t a fan of the 80’s themed one?” You say it in a teasing way. No one was a fan of the 80s themed year. Firstly, there was a theme that wasn’t just Halloween. Secondly, it was back before you all went to university when everyone drank way too much, Jimin didn’t know his limit and threw up in the first twenty minutes, Taehyung following close behind merely at the sight. It all went downhill from there.

Yoongi only laughs at the memory, shaking his head at you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way …”

“Always a great start to a sentence.”

You pause, before deciding to just go for it. “I never really took you as one to enjoy parties.”

It takes him a second but he laughs at your words, a small huffy laugh that implies the words aren’t a surprise to him.

“Because I’m a cat hating, party hating, fun hating sort of guy?”

“No, it’s just …” you look around as if in search for the words, though mainly are trying to avoid Yoongi’s stare. It’s not unkind, it’s just interested and a little intense. “I don’t know, we didn’t really get on growing up.”

“We didn’t?”

You look at him, eyebrows raised in a really? expression. He smirks back.

“Ok, you didn’t get on with me.”

He frowns a little at that one. “I didn’t?” This time it does sound like a question, not an attempt to joke.

“You hated me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true …”

“You changed seats so we weren’t sat by each other in class. You used to boast whenever you got a question right that I didn’t. I’m pretty sure you mocked my choice in shoes one time.”

“Ok, maybe I was a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” The word throws you.

“Well, yeah?” He throws back as if it’s obvious. “I mean you had it so easy.”

“Easy?” Another word you weren’t expecting. This one never being something you’d associate with any part of your life.

“Yeah. You just walked into school one day wearing the uniform like … well … like you did and everyone instantly liked you and then you were sitting next to me and I had no idea how to talk to you. Then you just made it all worse by being so good at literally every subject. You were perfect.” He shrugs, looks across at you and you swear your mouth is popped open as wide as your eyes currently are. Frankly, you’re unsure how you’re still walking. “I was jealous, Y/N.”

You were perfect.

You must have misheard or not understood. But the words, said in Yoongi’s deep tone, just keep cycling through your mind.

You were perfect.

You would never have thought Yoongi would say those words. Because surely that’s not true. He hated you. He would leave whenever you arrived, looked angry when his friends invited you to stuff, was annoyed when you got better marks then him, looked disapproving when you turned up with your tie in the perfect knot and your skirt floating mid-thigh. He hated you.

You were perfect.

But he was jealous? All this time you’ve read his emotions wrong. He was jealous of the girl who felt like she struggled to fit in, who’s mum had just passed away, who was awkward and hated her hair and the spots she’d get across her forehead, who thought every girl in school was prettier and funnier than her. Who thought the boy currently walking beside her was far smarter than her. He was jealous of her?

“This is you, isn’t it?”

He knows it is, but your far away look and the fact you haven’t turned down your lane makes him ask. You look at him, mind still whirling trying to work out what it all means, and nod.

He’s back to being awkward as he continues to do as promised and take you to your door. By which point you’ve at least made up your mind that Yoongi isn’t as bad as you thought, that maybe you need to give into the fact that you like him more than you make out. If he can admit he was jealous of you – which you still can’t get over!! – then you can admit you like him.

“So, uh, goodnight?” Yoongi says when you manage to unlock your door. Your turn to face him, endeared by him clutching his hands and looking awkward. He once thought you were perfect.

“You don’t want to come in to see your biggest fan?”

His eyes flick over your shoulder as if half considering it. “I should head home.”

“Oh come on,” you reach out and grab his wrist, encouraging him into your house. He doesn’t put up much of a fight to stop you. “I’ll find my dad’s scotch and everything.”

“Oh … you don’t have to –”

“It’s only going to waste in the cupboard anyway.”

You’ve dropped his hand now and while he awkwardly stands by the door watching you, you’re a riot of movement around the kitchen.

“Honestly, it’ll be nice to see it enjoyed,” Yoongi still doesn’t say anything as you grab two glasses and a half empty bottle of scotch. “I hate the stuff. But still find myself having a sip from time to time,” you pause, even having had a drink you find it hard to admit. “It’s probably weird, but it helps me remember him, helps me feel closer to him sometimes.”

“It’s not weird,” Yoongi is quick to reassure you.

You nod, thankful even if he’s only saying it to be kind, and then lead the way to the living room. Setting the glasses down, Yoongi says nothing as you pour large, nearly half full glasses of Scotch. When you settle into the sofa you take your glass with you and find yourself twisting to look at Yoongi.

He’s staring down at the amber liquid, watching as it swirls around the glass. When he looks up at you his face is flat but everything about him is soft.

“Will you tell me about him?”

It’s asked in a way that tells you to say no if you want to.

But the feeling that comes over you is utterly mad because you find yourself wanting to answer him. It’s mad because you never answer that question; not when he was alive and struggling, not when you were the only one there to help him through it, and certainly not since he’s passed. Every time someone has tried to broach the topic of your dad with you, to see if they could help when he was battling cancer, see if you were ok when he was passing away, see if they could do anything when he was finally gone; every time, no matter who it was you’d push them away with a none answer. And yet here you are, wanting to answer. Which is mad because it’s Yoongi. The man who you thought hated you, that you disliked, that you’re now not sure how to feel about. Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened to the two of you recently, extreme circumstances pushing you together despite your feelings. Or maybe it’s because he's someone that you’re not as close to, someone you feel you could talk to and then not have to see again.

Like most emotions you feel, you know the reason you want to open up to him, you’re just not ready to acknowledge it.

“He was really funny,” you start, and it takes Yoongi a second to realise you’re not saying no. As you talk, he takes a sip of the Scotch, his face warming and his body relaxing as he listens to you. “But in the way most dads are. He loved to embarrass me. I remember once I got 100% in a test, and he would tell everyone who would listen about it. I found it really embarrassing but now looking back I can see he was just really proud of me. He was the same when I got my place at university. He didn’t cry or tell me he was worried; he smiled the whole time he drove me there and left me in my new flat. It must have been hard though, driving his only child off to a new life leaving him all alone. But he was so excited and he obviously didn’t want me to worry about him.”

You pause as you take a sip of your drink, wincing against the strong taste. It helps soften the tightness in your chest though.

“He sounds like he really loved you.”

You smile at Yoongi, sadness still in your eyes. You’re putting on a brave face like you always do when this topic comes up. But for once you don’t deflect, you say what’s actually on your mind.

“I think that’s why I feel so guilty,” you start, finding your glass of Scotch easier to look at than Yoongi. “I hardly came back here, left him all alone while I was out building a career. I even pushed him away at times, used to cancel coming home and say I couldn’t do weekends when he asked to visit. All because I was trying to build a different life.”

You pause again, take another, much larger, glug of your drink. It goes down easier this time and when you look at Yoongi he just sits patiently waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sure you know my dad had cancer,” Yoongi gives a gentle nod as you expected. “He didn’t hide it from me. He didn’t even know he had it until he went to the hospital for something else. But I just wonder if I hadn’t moved away, if I hadn’t pushed him away, if I’d seen him more, maybe I’d have notice something wrong. Even if he hadn’t realised, maybe I would have. Maybe he’d …”

You trail off, not able to say the words. Tears fall down your face and your throat matches the tightness in your chest.

It’s how you always feel when you even think about your dad, let alone talk about him. The guilt and feeling like you never did enough. As if you wasted the time you could have had with him. He did so much for you in his life and you took it all for granted. You feel so rotten. And it’s why you never think about it.

You try and push away all the emotions now, conscious that Yoongi is still sat watching you.

“Sorry,” you smile despite the tears rolling down your face.

“Don’t apologise.”

As you wipe your face Yoongi shuffles closer. You don’t even jump when his hand comes into contact with your knee. It’s done so gently and feels so comforting you let him leave it there.

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I don’t know where you keep them.”

You laugh, spit flying out your mouth. It’s gross but Yoongi is still smiling at you, his thumb now rubbing soothingly on your knee.

“I just … you asked me what my dad was like and now I’m just laying all these unwanted feelings on you,” you laugh again, this time it’s hollow and Yoongi doesn’t join you in it. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he gets you to drag your eyes back to him and does something that shocks you. His spare hand reaches out and wipes away some of the tears you missed, you jump a little at the touch but not enough to get him to stop. “I told you not to apologise.”

You nearly apologise again but manage to stop yourself and just end up nodding instead. Catching the slip, Yoongi smiles at you, his one hand still on your face, the other on your knee.

It doesn’t feel weird, if anything it takes you a while to click who you’re currently sat with, who’s hands are currently on your face and on your knee, who you feel comfortable with and don’t want to pull away from. But you do realise who it is, and however comfortable it feels, part of you thinks how weird it is.

Slowly, you pull away. Part of you wanting to stay in his hands, gaining his comfort. Part of you not wanting to upset him. Part of you still feeling a little weird that you are feeling all of this towards Yoongi and that he’s so willingly giving you this affection.

He doesn’t look offended or upset as you pull away and wipe a hand across your face, he just lets you go. The distance between you increases, but only marginally. There is no longer the length of the sofa between you like when you first sat, though he isn’t holding you anymore, his knee still grazes yours and if you wanted to you wouldn’t have to reach far for his hand.

“Anyway, that’s all in the past.”

Yoongi looks unsure for a second, doesn’t seem to know whether he should say anything that might upset you more or just leave it and let you gloss over everything. Secretly, you get what you want.

“I never knew him, so I realise how this will sound, but you know he’d be proud of you, right?” He pauses, waits a second as if expecting a reply. “And all that stuff, the guilt you feel and the sadness, you really don’t have to apologise, I’m happy you told me. But you shouldn’t feel guilty. It sounds as if he got everything he wanted. His daughter going off into the world and making something of herself. If he really did go round shouting about how great it all was and how proud he was, doesn’t that tell you how happy he would have been to see you achieving everything you did?”

He's right, you know he is. And having opened up for the first time about your guilt, it’s the first perspective outside of your own that you’ve heard. It’s one you’ve not considered or at least one you’ve not let yourself consider.

You sniffle, the noise not cute or delicate. You’re past caring.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

He reaches out and lightly squeezes your knee, though this time his hand doesn’t linger.

“You know, you’re really not so bad,” it’s easier than you had imagined to admit. “I can see why everyone’s friends with you.”

“And here I’ve been hoping you’d be the one to convince them to leave me alone.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the blatant lie for the purpose of comedy. A smile returns to his face as he looks at you and it makes your chest tight for a different reason. Your focus goes to your empty glass. It’s a good distraction, leaning forward to fill it back up, topping Yoongi’s up as you go.

“So, what do you think?”

Even though he’s already drunk plenty of it, he takes a long, slow sip to savour the flavour and give you an honest opinion. You watch as his lips pucker, his Adam’s apple bobs and then his tongue runs a slow trail along his bottom lip. You feel flushed when his gaze finally levels on you.

“I think your dad had good taste.”

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart stutters when you notice it, but it truly drops when you look fully up at it.

Of course you’re right by the graveyard.

Of course that’s where you see a shadow like figure darting away from you.

Of course it’s night time and a mist has settled over the village.

Of fucking course.

A deep breath and you’re heading into the graveyard. You contemplate telling someone but then question who you’d tell. If the last few days have told you anything it’s that nobody believes you, or even pretends to show an interest in this.

Well, that’s a lie. There is one person.

It’s at the first noise that you break. It’s only a bird taking flight from the trees but you jump so high, your heart nearly giving out, that you decide to give in. Yoongi hasn’t been that bad recently. Maybe it won’t be so bad telling him.

“Y/N?”

He sounds surprised. His pitch high, you can almost picture him looking down at his phone as if double checking he didn’t misread the name. The mental image almost makes you smile if it weren’t for the more powerful thought that you’re calling Yoongi. Min Yoongi. The guy you’re supposed to hate, who’s supposed to hate you and therefore not answer your call. Especially sounding so –

“Y/N,” his tone is firmer, the question gone.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you stumble over your words, eyes scanning the misty graveyard. “It’s just that, well, it’s probably nothing. And sorry for calling you, you’re probably really busy and don’t need me disturbing –”

“What is it?” He cuts you off.

“Right, sorry,” you say these two words slowly but the following coming in such a rush they sound like one word. “I thought I’d let you know I think I saw something in the graveyard and just in case I die or go missing someone should know where I went so yeah that’s where I am the graveyard.”

“Hang on. Slow down. You’re where?”

“The graveyard.”

He curses before you hear some background noise. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he’s doing.

“I didn’t call to get you to come here,” your voice has lost its fear at least.

“Stay where you are.”

“Yoongi –”

It’s your turn to curse at your phone. The fucker hung up on you. The cheek. The fucking ego on that man to think you always need saving. He has some sort of hero complex, that at least might explain why he’s always trying to help you.

You click on your phone, about to call Yoongi back, but are cut off by a branch snapping and when you look up you see something moving in the shadows.

Blood running cold, phone forgotten, you start to move towards it. You’re too loud though, the thing pauses long enough to look at you – at least you think that’s what it does, the dark doesn’t help – and then it’s moving a lot faster in the opposite direction to you.

Cover blown, you shout after it to stop as you try and run after it.

Whatever, or whoever it is, is too fast though. Every one of your steps seeming to be three of theirs.

“Wait,” you shout into the darkness, your breath coming out in a thick fog of white.

You really need to get in better shape. Only a short distance covered and yet you’re panting as you come to a stop. The thing is gone. At least out of sight in the dark foggy night. But there’s something else. A weird smell in the air. When you get your breathing under control you realise what it is.

Your blood runs cold as you stand straight as a rod. Despite the fear you head towards the smell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wonder around the graves. You find it where you saw that thing, only making you more certain that whatever that thing was, was what you’re after. It’s smaller than the deer you saw in the cottage, but bigger than a fox, but its body is so disfigured that you can’t tell what it is.

You feel sick.

“Y/N.”

You’d nearly forgotten you’d called Yoongi, nearly forgotten he was going to come here. At least this time his appearance doesn’t make you jump.

“Y/N,” his voice is louder and when you look over your shoulder you can see his silhouette outlined by the streetlights behind him.

“Here,” your voice is hoarse, but his head still snaps in your direction. You don’t watch as he stomps in your direction, can just hear his annoyed mutters as he gets closer.

“- told you to stay. Assumed that would be clear enough to mean the entrance of the graveyard not the fucking darkest spot. What if something had –” he cuts himself off when he comes to your side. You expect him to question what he’s looking at but he remains silent. You guess it’s pretty obvious what it is.

“I saw whatever it was,” you say, drawing Yoongi’s attention to you. “I chased it but it –”

“I’m sorry,” his tone it tight, terse and gets you to look at him. His features are just as stern. He looks livid. “You did what?”

“It ran off before I could see what or who it was.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” his tone almost has you stepping away from him in surprise. It’s been a while since you heard him speak to you like this.

“Oh right, sorry. Didn’t realise I had to wait for you to arrive before I went and found out what’s been causing all this.”

“Do you have a death wish or something?” It’s a rhetorical question, still he continues before you can answer with a snarky comment. “I asked you to stay put and wait for me. Not run headfirst into trouble.”

“Yeah, and what help would you have been?”

“Probably none. But at least we would have been together.”

Together. The word feels so weird to associate with you and Yoongi that it makes you pause. Both of you stare at each other through the white fog created by your breath.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Yoongi’s voice is softer, still tense but less accusing now. “Shall we leave?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, take one last glance as the dead animal before nodding your head.

Yoongi waits for you to lead the way, closely following behind you. He doesn’t leave your side until you’re safely back at your house. Even then he looks reluctant to leave you.

Yoongi doesn’t appear at your weekly shop. You don’t bump into him in the street. It’s the week off for your games club.

What once would have been a week you’d have loved, now seems weird.

You don’t miss him, but you notice his absence. You find yourself looking for him when the door opens in the grocery shop. You find yourself looking over your shoulder when walk to work. You find yourself listening to Seokjin a little more closely, just in case Yoongi’s mentioned. Everywhere you go, you look for signs of him.

He’s not mentioned. He’s not there. And strangely, you feel it. Even Tofu reminds you of him now.

All of it only pushes you more into working out what’s going around town.

There haven’t been many dead animals in a while, but that doesn’t comfort you. You’re on edge all the time, waiting for something else to turn up. You fear this time it won’t be an animal that you see, which only makes you think about the whole situation more.

The police have gone quiet, not that they were doing much in the first place, but they at least were looking into the abandoned house in the woods. And then there was the graveyard. Maybe it’s moved to another location to sleep, but whenever you try and think of somewhere it could sleep, there’s nowhere.

When you think of all the times you saw dead animals, the time you saw whatever it was in the graveyard. There’s a thread. Thin, but a lead none the less.

You have a plan.

He wasn’t best pleased when you didn’t tell him last time you did something like this. You could text him your plan, or call him, or just not bother saying anything at all. Still, you find your feet walking towards Yoongi’s shop.

The lights are still on and as you approach the glass door you can see Yoongi’s shadow moving around in the back room.

You pause only a beat before knocking on the door. As expected, Yoongi’s head pops out from behind the door to the back, his lips popped open in that way you’ve grown to know is his thinking face. It’s cute.

The thought jolts you. Maybe it’s why you give an awkward wave of your hand, forcing a smile onto your lips as Yoongi tries to smother his as he heads to the door. He doesn’t unlock it before he opens it.

“It wasn’t locked.”

“I noticed,” you say through your forced smile. He makes it hard for you to like him.

“Ok, well you know for next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“You coming in or ..?”

“No.”

“Ok,” he pauses, waits for you to explain. As always, his patients outlives yours.

“I, uh, I’m going back to the cottage in the woods.”

His head cocks to the side, surprised. You carry on before he can get annoyed.

“I thought I’d tell you. Only because, you know, you seemed pretty pissed off last time I didn’t.”

A nerve ticks in his jaw. But he just nods his head, his hand slipping from the door.

“Give me a minute.”

And with that he turns and leaves you standing alone at the door.

You fiddle with your fingers, shift your weight from foot to foot. Yoongi’s quick to grab a jacket and appear back at the door. His reaction is expected at this point, but it doesn’t make it easier, the way he comes so easily without question. Especially given the fact that you so easily came here. You’re not one to easily ask for help.

“You alright?”

You force the smile back on your face, not sure if the gesture is reassuring or makes you look more manic. “Yep, good, great. You?”

He hums, you definitely need to chill out. Any second now and he’s going to call it a night before it’s even begun.

Yoongi locks the shop, tests the handle to double check and then you’re both walking.

“What you been up to recently?” You shoot a look at him as if his question proves he knows how much you’ve been missing him this past week. He doesn’t look like he’s been secretly watching you or hearing things through your friends, he looks like he’s genuinely interested.

“Uh, just work,” it’s awkward and it gains you a small smile from Yoongi.

“And works made you want to go back to the cottage?”

It throws you, like most things Yoongi says. It puts you on edge even though he says it lightly, the smile still on his lips.

“Oh come on,” he laughs the words. “Did Jin tell you the police had been back?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what’s changed?”

Your whole demeanours changed since first seeing him. You’re on edge, preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. You knew he wouldn’t be happy about this, you just hope he won’t talk you out of this.

“Nothings changed,” you say flatly. “I still want to find out whatever’s happening.”

“And you always have to do that when it’s pitch black out?”

He laughs at his joke, you only clench your teeth. His laugh continues as he looks at you, low and light, but meeting your pissed off makes him realise you’re not on the same page.

“Hey,” he mutters, hand coming out clasping your wrist, bringing you both to a steady stop. You don’t look at him, but also don’t pull away. “Let’s go later, when it’s light out. Come back to mine and we’ll have a cuppa.”

You shake your head. No. Being stubborn has never been one of your best traits.

“I have a theory,” you admit. He waits, hand still holding you in place. You take a breath before explaining. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But I was just thinking about it and every time I’ve seen an animal it’s been at night, or just as the day’s started. And when we last went to the house it was night and there was nothing there. I just thought, maybe, it hunts at night and if we went now, in the morning, we might see it.”

“Ok,” he says gently. He doesn’t point out that if you waited a couple of hours like he suggested your theory might still be proven. Maybe he sees how anxious you are to do this, how you couldn’t sleep last night after thinking the theory, how the minute you could class the day as starting you got ready to go. His eyes roam your face for a second, his fingers holding onto you for a second longer before letting you slip away “Let’s go now.”

Both of you walk in silence as you head towards the path that’ll lead you to the house. Slipping into the trees the day only grows darker.

You’re lost in thought as you walk. You’d not considered your plan this far in advance, maybe a small part of you had thought Yoongi would stop you, but there he is next to you. Your thoughts turn to whether your theory is right. If that happens then you’re about to come face to face with whatever is doing this. And then what?

As different scenarios flash through your head you get distracted. The darkness, your distracted mind and the tree roots littering the path is a combination that has your feet tripping. Your hands go out to break your fall and while it stops your from hitting your head, it doesn’t stop the pain.

Your hands and knees bang into and then scrape along the ground. The pain starts in your right knee but it flares brighter in your hands. Yoongi is down by your side before you can lift them up to inspect the damage.

“You ok?” There’s no hint of anything but worry.

His one hand is light on the small of your back, while the other goes to your hands as you lift them from the ground, not quite touching but hovering around them, unsure. There’s a sharp intake of breath as you turn them palm side up. You can’t see any cuts, but that’s more because there’s too much blood to see where it’s being produced.

“Let’s get you up.”

Yoongi’s hand moves from your back to your hip and though you don’t need his help, it’s nice to have his support as you scramble up from the ground. You know he’s a one step at a time sort of guy and you also know with how bad this cut is what his next words are going to be. It’s why, when you’re stood up, you turn your hand away from him, push it down to your side as you stand facing him.

“It’s ok,” you say before he can speak.

A frown forms between his brows. “We should go clean that.”

“It’s fine.”

“There was a lot of blood.”

“And yet, it’s fine. We should keep goi–”

“You must be joking if you think we’re still going.”

“Then call me Nicole Byer, because clearly I’m fucking hilarious.”

“I don’t know who the fuck that is,” Yoongi says flatly. “I’m not taking another step unless it’s in the direction of my house.”

“Relax,” you say despite clenching your own jaw. “It doesn’t hurt that muc- ow!”

You accidentally brush your hand against your leg causing a flash of pain. One of Yoongi’s eyebrows quirks, a sign of him letting you know he’s right. Your jaw only clenches tighter in response.

You’re about to protest further but the sound of a branch snapping behind you stops you.

Yoongi’s eyes shoot over your shoulder as you grow tense. There’s another snapping twig, closer. You can only watch Yoongi’s reaction to whatever is playing out behind you. The way he tenses, his eyes wide, his skin losing all its colour, only terrifies you.

You open your mouth, about to ask what’s happening as you start to twist. Yoongi’s eyes snap to you. He lunges, takes the step to close the distance between you and closes his arms around you.

“Shhh,” he whispers into your hair.

There’s no comfort in this embrace. It’s all fear and tension. You want to know what he’s seen, need to know what’s going on. As if predicting this, Yoongi speaks again.

“Don’t move.”

Despite the words you do the opposite, Yoongi’s hands tighten around you in response.

“What is it?”

He shushes you. Not rudely, but in a quiet way, a panicked way. It only makes you want to twist in his arms more, which only makes his grip tighten.

“Y/N,” he mutters, his lips right by your ear. “Please, for once, listen to me.”

“What is it?” You whisper back.

“Nothing.”

It takes a second for him to reconsider. And then before he can clarify his hands are on your hips and moving you from his front to behind him, his whole body a shield as another branch snaps, the closest one yet.

You can see it now. Over Yoongi’s shoulder, hidden behind his back.

It’s like nothing you’ve seen before. More human than animal. But less human than anything you’ve seen.

It’s walking slowly towards you. Its movements distorted, head jolting from side to side with every step it takes, arms held out limp in front. It’s wearing clothes but they’re ripped and torn showing scarred skin underneath. Its head, if you can call it that with hollow sockets where eyes should be, thin to little hair and a flattened nose, lifts in the air.

It’s stops then. The action should feel comforting, if only a little, but it moves its head around as if sniffing the air.

And then it looks right at you.

Body no longer moving, you feel like your breath has stopped. Yoongi’s grip tightens on you, his whole body tensing as if he’s readying to fight.

The blood on your hand, you realise. The cut that you created only moments ago is what has brought it here. It kills animals, devours them presumably for food. And now it’s sniffing the air as if it’s about to do the same to you.

And while you’re utterly petrified at whatever that thing is and what it might do to you, the strangest sensation washes over you.

You don’t want Yoongi to die.

Sure, you also don’t want to die. But he told you to run while he was going to stay and fight. He’s now protecting you like a human shield. He’s now gripping you as if he’s feeling exactly the same way about you.

Oh god. Do you like Yoongi? Like, more than like Yoongi?

The answer doesn’t have time to form in your mind as the thing jerks, drawing your attention back to it. Yoongi pushes back into you, clearly also shocked, but in doing so he knocks into your hand, pain coursing from the cut there. He must realise, hearing you suck in your breath or maybe from your body language, because his hold on that side of you softens.

Both of your focus still on the thing and waiting to see what it’s going to do.

To your surprise, and utter relief, it takes one last sniff, turns and then runs away. Both you and Yoongi stay where you are for a second longer, just in case. But only a couple of seconds pass from it disappearing from view to Yoongi letting you go enough to turn and face you. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs your good hand and starts to lead you out of the woods and back to his place.

Your hand is clutched to your chest as Yoongi tears around the room. You thought you’d seen Yoongi mad before, but it was nothing in comparison to this. You can’t even take in his home, which you’ve never been in before, due to your eyes tracking his every movement, unsure what he’s going to do next.

He tears open a cupboard door so forcefully you think he might rip it off from the hinges. You bite back any words you might have; you don’t want to add to his annoyance, but your hand is also throbbing so badly that you just want something to help with the pain.

“Why do you keep doing it?” He spits the words out as he searches in the cupboard for anything to help mend you. “Why do you care so much? You always hated this place and yet you’re so fucking obsessed with that thing.”

You tuck your hand a little closer, blood dripping onto your already ruined top. Your stare is firm when he twists round to look at you, bandages in his hands. His look is like thunder, still you hold it. Tension rises as neither of you break the stare or the silence in the room. When Yoongi speaks it’s soft, almost croaky with emotion.

“You could have gotten us killed.”

Your eyes drop at the words. Maybe it’s the shock setting in that’s making him lash out, but he doesn’t need to say it out loud, you were both there and you both know you were only there because of you and that thing only came because of your blood. You almost killed him. And what’s even more confusing is he was going to act as your human shield.

There’s a deep sigh before the sound of feet shuffling towards you. A scrape of a chair before you see the tops of Yoongi’s feet. When he sits his legs are framing yours, his knees almost touching yours. Still you don’t look at him.

“Let’s see it then.”

His voice is gruff and doesn’t inspire you to give over your injured hand. Yoongi must realise, he’s much more observant than you thought. Shuffling closer his knees press into yours as he lays his hand face up on your lap so you can see it.

You look up at his face. There’s a pleading look in his eyes, like he really wants to help you.

Reluctantly you lay your hand in his, keep your eyes on his face so as not to see the cut. Yoongi looks down at it and lets out a sharp hiss. The noise makes you start to pull away but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and stop you.

“It’s ok,” he mutters, his free hand trying to sort out the things he needs.

“It doesn’t sound ok.”

“There’s just more blood than I expected.”

“My now red shirt didn’t allude to that?” Your tone is snappy despite the attempt to joke.

“It’s ok though,” he pauses, looking up at you with a smile. “I don’t think I’m going to have to cut it off.”

You flush, have to look over his shoulder to stop the tightness in your chest. It’s a terrible dad joke, something Seokjin would say, and yet you find it loosening you.

“I’m going to clean your hand,” he goes back to his muttering. “It might sting a little.”

The wipe touches the outside of your palm, as far from the cut as possible. Yoongi works it over your skin in gentle swipes, getting closer and closer to the cut. He pauses before he wipes the cut and then, holding your hand firmly in his, he runs the wipe over it. Instinctively you try to close your hand, but Yoongi doesn’t let you.

“It’s ok,” he says, gently. “Just a little more and then it’ll all be over.”

He continues, muttering about how he has to do it to stop any infection, how the cuts not that bad but maybe you should go to the doctors in the morning and keeps repeating how close to finishing he is.

He doesn’t say anything as he puts some cream on your cut and then wraps a bandage around your hand. It gets a little unnerving. You liked his gentle mutters, found comfort in it. But the silence is horrible, worse even then when he was slamming the cabinet doors. At least then you knew how he felt. Now, you have no idea.

“Thanks,” you say as he twists away from you and starts to clean. The only thing that gives you a little hope you haven’t completely messed this up is that he hasn’t drawn completely away from you, his knees are still firmly pressed into yours.

You nudge your leg into his. His movements stall for a second, not much but enough to create another spark of hope. Still, he doesn’t look at you, just continues to clean. Or maybe he’s just pretending to clean.

You move to knee him again, a little harder, a more distinct movement to tell him you want him to look at you.

The smile that was starting to grow drops as Yoongi pushes away to stand.

Eyes wide, you follow his movements. Heart pounding in your throat you watch as he runs a hand down his face.

Maybe you misread everything. Maybe these feelings aren’t two sided. Maybe Yoongi is genuinely just being nice. But how could you have read this all so wrong? As if to answer the question you silently watch him for any signs.

He goes back to cleaning up, winding up bandages, creating a neat little line of safety pins, something for the sake of nothing. He’s avoiding you; being near you, looking at you, talking to you. Everything. And it only makes your heart pound that bit harder.

You should leave him to it, you shouldn’t push him. But something makes you reach out and take his wrist, the same gesture he’s done to you so many times before. It gets him to stop his movements if nothing else. But he doesn’t look at you, just stares down at the counter.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name. It’s spoken like a question, one you’re not even sure the meaning of.

His eyes flick to you, his body still facing away from you, your hand still wrapped around his wrist.

An unknown confidence sparks inside you despite the fact your throat tightens. You swallow before slipping your hand lower. Yoongi lets you lace your fingers with his, his eyes tracking the movement before they look back at you, a small frown now between his eyes. You try not to worry about how your actions could be a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” the words are said as gently as his name was.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to apologise.”

You nod, not sure what he wants you to say instead. He doesn’t enlighten you to what he does want and the fact only makes you more desperate. There was a time, not so long ago, when you wouldn’t have cared what Yoongi thought of you, in fact, him ignoring you would have been welcomed. You would have done anything to push him away. But now, you don’t want that.

“Yoongi,” your voice sounds pleading as you push yourself to stand. He doesn’t back away, doesn’t pull his hand out of your grasp, so in the end you’re chest to chest with him, bodies not quite touching.

“I don’t get you,” he says, and though it’s not what you want to hear, you’re so relieved to hear him talk that you just want to hear him continue. Because you can’t lose him too, all your other friends didn’t believe you, they left you to do this alone, only Yoongi stayed by your side and now after one mistake, you can’t lose him too. “I don’t get why you keep pushing this.”

You know why. You may not have realised the day you saw that dead bird in your kitchen or when you started to realise that wasn’t an isolated incident. You didn’t read into it, probably because it was too painful to admit. But now you know why. You just can’t seem to admit that to Yoongi.

Your eyes dart over his shoulder. “Because that thing is killing animals in –”

Panic. That’s all you feel as Yoongi shakes his head and starts to pull away from you. Heart hammering you chase after him, scramble to reattach your hands.

You can’t lose him too.

“Because so many things have died in my life, so many people, that I can’t risk any more dying.”

The words fly out of you. They ring around the room in the silence that follows. Neither of you are moving anymore. Yoongi stopped at your admission and you followed suit not long after. His brow is furrowed even though you thought he would have guessed that was the reason why, just wanted you to admit it, show you trust him.

It pains you to carry on. But it’s as if now you’ve said one thing, you can’t stop.

“Because my mum died. And then my dad. And honestly, I can’t let anyone else die,” your voice is pained, starting to take on a husky quality as the emotions start to build in you. “Because that thing is starting to kill bigger and bigger things and who’s to say it won’t be Jin next, or Liv … or you.”

It doesn’t look like it was the answer he was expecting. But as soon as the first tears slips out of your eyes he’s back on you, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest, lips by your ear as he tries to sooth you.

“I can’t … let … anyone,” your words stop coming out, throat closing as tears continue to fall down your face and sobs wrack your body.

Yoongi pulls you tighter against him, letting out a soothing shush in your ear.

“It’s not going to kill anyone. I won’t let it.”

You nod, even knowing Yoongi has no power over that. Your throat is too tight to speak.

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

It doesn’t feel that way but you want to believe him regardless. You trust him and over the past few weeks you’ve started to rely on and lean on him for support. Even if he can’t do anything, maybe it’s best you start letting someone in, help hold the load that’s been weighing so heavily on you. Together, that’s the words Yoongi used and it’s one you need to start believing in.

Your breath comes out as a shudder as you pull away from Yoongi’s chest, just enough to be able to look into his eyes. They’re full of concern as he flicks between yours, deep gorges of worry lining his forehead.

Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. You’re hardly even breathing as you stare at him from what feel like a breath away.

A tension rises between the two of you, one you’ve felt before, but this time there’s nothing causing it to break and you find yourself not wanting to break it.

It’s you that leans in. It would feel like a risk but knowing everything Yoongi has hinted at about how he feels – or at least felt – about you and after growing so much closer over the past few weeks, you’re confident he wants this as much as you do. And you know, or at least can guess, that the first move will always have to come from you. There’s too much troubled history between you and Yoongi seems like one of those guys that wouldn’t be able to read a sign if it was right in front of him.

He’s still when your lips touch his and you’d bet if you opened your eyes you’d see him looking back at you. Lips curling at the edges at the thought of how affected you’re making him, you push further into him, take his bottom lip between yours and tug it gently.

You feel him gasp, his fingers tightening on your hips. You smile again as you start to pull away. But Yoongi’s finally woken up from whatever shock possessed him. He chases after you, so eager that he pushes too much of his weight into you causing you to have to step back.

Still in his arms you laugh as your lips pull apart. How have you gone from Yoongi slamming doors and shouting at you that you nearly killed him, to this? It’s surreal.

Holding you steady in his arm Yoongi attaches his lips back on yours. There’s no laugh on his lips and he effectively kisses yours away.

There’s so much want in his kiss. His fingers curling around to your back, tugging you impossibly closer as if he needs more and more of you, wants to make sure he’s not missing out on a single thing.

All your thoughts simmer down until only those of Yoongi are left. The feel of his hands, so large, on your back. The push of his legs against yours. The taste of his tongue as it pushes against yours. The feel of his slightly chapped lips. The smooth plane of his nose running along yours, dragging along your skin as he twists and turns his head to get the perfect angle to kiss you. The coolness clinging to his hair as you tangle your fingers in it.

Every part of him is a contrast. And every part of him you want more of.

You push into him, too hard to begin with so that he has to take a step back. You laugh while Yoongi remains serious, hands on your hips dragging you back onto him. His lips steal your laugh, swallowing it as his hands start to roam your body. Laugh turning into a moan, you arch up into him, try and silently encourage him as your own hands wonder the panes of his body.

He’s solid. Far more than you thought he would be.

You shift, your thigh grating along his body. You’d not noticed before, your bodies pressed fully against him, but obviously not there. He’s hard. And now you’ve felt it you realise how much he must be straining in his pants. While Yoongi tries to twist away, get back to the position you were in where you couldn’t feel him pressing into you, you try to chase the feeling of him. Because, damn, is that how turned on he is from making out with you?

“Stop,” he pulls away, hand firm on your hips to make sure you follow the command, the other going down to his crotch to adjust himself.

You smile at him, glance down at where his hand is to see what you’ve only felt until now. When you look back up at his face, he’s finding it hard to hide the amusement he’s feeling.

Pushing forward you steal a kiss before he can stop you.

“Do you have a bedroom in this place?”

The question should be obvious but it seems to throw Yoongi off, the hand on your hip tightening as his face quirks in surprise. Your heart squeezes.

“You know, so we can …” you drift off, not quite able to spell it out so plainly. Still Yoongi doesn’t say or do anything, your words seeming to freeze him. “Unless you just want to continue making out in your kitchen?”

His eyes flash to your lips then just as quickly go back to your eyes. Colour lights his cheeks. You think he’s going to chicken out, think you’ve moved too fast or said something wrong, read him wrong, but then he’s moving. He nearly grabs your injured hand, but just as his fingers graze the bandage wrapped around your hand he pulls away. You laugh as you hold out your other hand. Back to being serious Yoongi takes your hand and leads you through his house.

You catch glimpses of his house as you head through his hall and up his stairs. It’s not much smaller than your house, a narrow hallway leading to some steep stairs. There aren’t many photos, not a lot to tell you about the man in front of you. A few pieces of art, even fewer photos, all on white walls; clean and tastefully placed, rather than the more chaotic and colourful approach you take.

It’s very Yoongi, you realise. And the fact that doesn’t worry you tells you everything.

As soon as you walk through Yoongi’s bedroom door, you’re back on him. Tugging his hand, you get him to twist towards you before you push into him and place your lips back on his. Even as your tongues tangle you don’t stop moving. Your hands go under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth yet hard panes there. You feel his muscles go taught as your hands go higher.

You smile against his lips, satisfied with the reaction you gained. Your hands start to go higher but stop when Yoongi’s hands take a handful of your ass. Gasping you pull away from him, pulling your hands out from under his top you lightly slap his chest.

“It’s a good ass,” he defends, as if that would help.

You hit him again, still soft but a little harder so that you push him backwards. He laughs and when you go to push him again, he takes your wrists in his hand. He easily tugs you back into his arms, keeping your hands pressed between you as he gently kisses you.

Nipping and tugging, he pulls your lips gently between his teeth before kissing the spot better. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips but when you open up for him, he doesn’t go in. He’s teasing you and while it frustrates you, it really turns you on.

Building you up to a point where your hands are tugging to be out of his grasp, he finally lets you go.

You tear at his clothes, struggle for a second to find the hem to his top but when you do you break away from his lips to tug the material over his head. Making the most of the opportunity, Yoongi rids you of your top in a similar manner, his eyes roaming your chest appreciatively. Rolling your eyes you reach behind you and remove your bra, giving him something to actually look at. Colour tints his cheeks but his eyes don’t move away.

“You just going to stand there?” You smile, working at the button of your jeans.

Your trousers are halfway down your legs before Yoongi comes back to himself, the colour remaining on his cheeks as his hands go to his trousers.

“You got a condom?” You say when you’re both naked and your lips are back on each other, the back of your knees touching the bed.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters but doesn’t move from the spot in your arms.

Too transfixed by him, it takes a second for you to do anything. “Are you going to get it?”

He hums against your lips. “In a minute.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Yoongi. Still neither of you break from each other.

A minute passes and then another. Hardly any time but enough time for you to want more.

“You going to get that condom?” You say against his lips, only gaining a hum in response.

It feels like torture to pull away from him. You let your legs dip beneath you as you sit down on the bed behind you. Yoongi’s hands fall away from your side, your lips feeling cold without his on them. Now much lower, your eyes are level with one of Yoongi’s other attributes. Only having seen it straining against his trousers before now, you can’t help but admire his hard, thick cock. You don’t even realise you start to lean towards it until Yoongi steps away, a deep laugh leaving him.

His hand wraps around himself as you continue to watch. Dragging your eyes up to his, you curl your lips into a smile. He doesn’t react, his face flat as he stares down at you. You swallow, swear a pool is starting to form between your legs. And then he nods his head to the headboard, and you know you’re dripping.

He’s silent as he drifts away from you, cock still wrapped up in his hand. Your eyes track him as he walks to his draw. He pauses before looking over his shoulder at you. Fuck. He doesn’t have to say a word to get you shuffling back up his bed.

The draw opens and as Yoongi walks back over to you he rips open the foil pack, dumping the rubbish on the floor but keeping the condom rolled up as he crawls onto the bed. Your breathing feels heavy and laboured as he crawls towards you and then knees either side of you, shuffles over you. He stops only when his knees are level with your hips.

You watch, breathless, as Yoongi kneels over you and rolls the condom down his length.

Is this happening? Are you really about to have sex with this guy? It’s not even that, are you really about to have sex with Yoongi? The guy who hated you, who you disliked, who you couldn’t even be in the same room with only a few months ago.

Even as you watch him rolling the condom on. Even as you’re lay naked beneath him. It’s hard to believe.

“Hey,” the word makes you drag your eyes up to Yoongi’s face, now full of concern rather than lust. “You sure you’re ok with this?”

You nod, then realise that you should verbalise your feelings. “Yeah.”

“We can stop. We don’t have to go any further.”

“I want to,” you reach a hand up and he leans in so you can more easily run your hand along his jaw. It’s a contrast to all the heat between you up until now. “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either.”

You feel like you mean it in different ways. The way Yoongi says it doesn’t make you think he means he can’t believe he’s about to have sex with the girl he hated not so long ago. No, he looks like a man who’s dreams are all coming true.

Yoongi leans down, chest resting on yours as his lips touch yours. Slowly, deeply, with so much love that you try not to read into, you kiss each other. Tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing, lips pushing and pulling.

You reach down between your bodies but before you can get to where you’re aiming, Yoongi’s on you. In that all familiar way his hand encompasses your wrist. He doesn’t even have to break the kiss as he drags your hand back up your body and pins it over your head. The whine you let out is halfway between pleasure and dissatisfaction. You want more and you want it now.

Yoongi is slow to give it to you. His hand pinning one of yours above your head, the other injured one he’s more careful with.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You’re so drunk on him that you can’t comprehend the words just yet. Arching up into him you just try and let him know how much you want him too. Still, he takes his time with you.

Kissing you for another excruciatingly long minute, Yoongi finally reaches down to grab the one thing you want. He never breaks the kiss as he runs his tip between your folds, but when he comes to rest at your entrance. Forehead pushing against yours, his breaths are heavy as they mingle with yours, chest heaving so much that it dips low onto yours.

He doesn’t push into you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kiss you or move. Just looks down between your bodies breathing so heavily you begin to wonder whether it’s him that’s not ok with this.

His hand now loose on your wrist you easily pull out of his grasp. Gently your run your fingers through his hair, his eyes flicking to yours at the gesture. You don’t rush to speak, let the moment linger for a second.

Eyes now on yours, you don’t even get a chance to speak before Yoongi’s pushing into you. Just the tip to start. In and out in slow yet satisfying motions. Your eye contact never breaks. Even as he starts to push deeper into you, even when the pleasure becomes so much you have to fight to keep your eyes open, your contact never breaks.

Pushing your feet onto the bed you angle your hips so you can push up into Yoongi every time he grinds down into you. Deepening how much Yoongi goes into you, increasing the pleasure, which seemingly only gets Yoongi to stop.

“Fuck,” he elongates the word as he comes to a stop fully in you, his eyes closing and head dipping. “Please don’t do that.”

It takes you a second. He doesn’t want you to help him? Only wants you to lie there looking pretty? But then it occurs to you.

“What, this?” You say as you clench around him.

He lets out a low growl like sound, his jaw tight as he angles head to look back at you.

“Just give me a minute, ok?”

You smile, at least it seems that one thing hasn’t changed, your joy for winding him up hasn’t diminished. “You going to come so early?”

A nerve in his jaw ticks, his eyes darken.

“And what you going to do, huh?” You carry on when he doesn’t respond. “If I don’t stop?”

You wait a second and then smirk as you clench around him.

“No, seriously,” he says, voice strained as his chest buckles in towards you. “I need a second.”

You bite back your laugh because that’s not going to help this. Hand going to his head you run soothing lines across his scalp, pushing him to relax into the crook of your neck. It’s flattering, honestly, because even though you’re not gaining much physical pleasure right now, Yoongi being so affected by being inside you is such an ego boost.

Slowly, as if not wanting to move too fast too quickly, Yoongi begins to move again. His head remains where it fell on your skin, his forehead pushing into you, lips hovering just over your skin, breath coming out in huffs that fan out across your skin.

His pace builds. From long, slow movements, to faster and quicker thrusts. Your head falls back, you can’t stop yourself from arching up into him, your hips gyrating into Yoongi on their own accord. This time he doesn’t tell you off, doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

“I’m going to come soon,” he admits more breath than words.

You can’t even speak, words losing all meaning before they can leave your mouth. Instead you hum out your agreement. You’re so close, his tip running along every seam within you.

He shifts on the bed, skin becoming slick with sweat, he adjusts his knees either side of you so he can thrust deeper but slips as he does so. Though not graceful, it pushes him into you at such an angle that has you groaning out.

“Oh,” he says in his own bout of pleasure, pausing just long enough to feel you loosen around him before thrusting into you again, trying and succeeding to hit that same spot. You twist in pleasure beneath him, the coil in your stomach knotting and tightening. “That’s the spot?”

You don’t respond, can’t respond, as Yoongi leans over you hold your hip on the side of your injured hand and your arm on the other side, pinning you in place as he thrusts again. He makes it harder to move, puts you in a position you’re at his mercy. You’ve let him know your weak spot and he’s going to use it against you.

The moans fall from your mouth of their own accord as Yoongi punctuates every spot by making sure he hits that spot within you. Every time you can flutter your eyes open you see his own face contorted in pleasure, screwed up in a way that lets you know he’s fighting every instinct to come.

Reaching a hand between you, you sloppily place a finger on the bunch of nerves to help you get to your release. With every thrust you feel Yoongi’s skin on the back of your hand. With every thrust the coil in your centre tightens and tightens.

“You close?” Yoongi can barely get the words out, his hips never stopping for a second. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You let the question go unanswered again. Unable to answer him. But yes, you’re so fucking close. And as if spurred on or maybe just growing impatient or possibly just chasing his own release, Yoongi dips back down onto you, his hips flush with yours as he puts more power behind each thrust. One, two, three, four short but powerful thrusts is all it takes for you to come. And on the fifth Yoongi stutters and comes in the condom.

His hips continue to move, slower, shallower, as he mumbles words you can’t hear against your skin.

Too tired to move, you both stay like that for a few minutes, when Yoongi finally pulls out you’re already half asleep. You try to rouse yourself, you should head home but Yoongi’s hand grazes your forehead.

“You should sleep,” he mutters.

Too tired to protest or think much about where you’re with, how significant it could be to stay the night, you fall asleep.

The last thing you’re aware of is a light press of lips on your temple.

A twig snaps.

Your heart hammers as you look around the woods. It’s so dark but the moon is bright tonight and it’s letting you see the outlines of the trees around you, but nothing else.

Another twig snaps. This time louder. Closer.

You twist, heart hammering as you look behind you.

There’s nothing there and it only terrifies you more. There’s something out there, watching you, getting closer and you can’t see it.

Snap.

You twist a final time and there it is. Limbs disjointed. Movements jolty. You watch as that thing takes another slow step towards you. It’s still far away, but it’s getting closer. You would twist and run but when you try and move this time you find you can’t. Looking down your feet are in thick, wet mud.

Panic sets it. Withering and pulling and fighting you try to escape the mud keeping you trapped while that thing gets closer and closer.

Snap.

You want to scream, but your voice catches in your throat. Silent and stuck you become a victim to whatever it wants to do to you. You can’t escape.

You watch in horror as it tilts it’s head in that now familiar way, seeming to sniff the air. You expect it to twist away like it did before. Expect it to be repelled rather than attracted to your scent. What you don’t expect is its head snapping in your direction.

You finally let out a scream as the thing comes running towards you.

You wake with a jolt. Feel sweaty in the bed from the dream you just had. Heart still pounding from what you’ve just witnessed.

Just a dream, you try to reassure yourself, despite it feeling so real.

The next thought that goes through your head is that this isn’t your bed. The arm draped over your waist isn’t something you normally wake up to. And yet it doesn’t add to your panic, if anything it helps calm you down.

Twisting, you roll over so you’re facing the person next to you.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy with sleep, barely open as a smile transforms his face.

“Morning.”

Your stomach flips at the dark husk that is his morning voice. Yoongi’s hand tightens on your hip, his fingers rough on your skin but so nice. It brings back flashes of last night, only heating you up more.

“Hi,” you whisper back causing Yoongi’s smile to broaden.

A silence falls over the two of you, not awkward or weighted but comfortable. Yoongi’s fingers steady on your hip, a small comforting movement on your skin. Sleep still heavy on your brain, laying in bed, in Yoongi’s arms, you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

That is until you shift, the initial aim to get more comfortable, but your leg bends and pushes a little too close to Yoongi. You feel him, not quite erect but still hard.

Every nerve in your body comes alive, the point on your leg that touched him retains the feeling. Even though you touched him all last night, had him inside you, have now slept in his arms, you still feel unsure how to react. Do you call it out, try and be sexy and cool, two words you’d never associate with yourself? Or do you pretend nothing happened, something you once would have done but now unsure if that’s how you should be?

Yoongi, the ever-patient man, let’s you think it out.

“It’s weird,” you say, surprising both of you by speaking so calmly as well as the actual words. “I would never have thought I’d wake in bed next to you.”

Even though the words come out as rude, Yoongi smiles, his fingers squeezing your side. “The Min Yoongi.”

You giggle, shuffling closer into him, though careful to avoid anywhere your leg touched earlier.

“I’m pretty sure my fifteen-year-old self wouldn’t believe this is happening either.”

It’s something he’s alluded to before, something you’ve never pushed for more information but now you have the chance.

“Because he hated me?” You say it with a smile, a hint of a joke, but it’s a serious question you want to know the answer to.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I would have used.”

“It’s what I always thought.”

“I guess I was a bit of a dick with all the nerves I felt around you.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t believe me?” He says. When you nod your head he hums in thought, the hand on your hip pulling you even closer to him so that his hand can rest on your back, your chests ghosting each other, your faces only inches away so that you could hear each other even if you whispered. It’s like, even though you’re the only two in the room to hear whatever is spoken, you want to make sure these words are only for the other. “Jimin mentioned there was a new cute new girl who started before I ever met you. He thought anything with a heartbeat was attractive, so I didn’t think much about it, until you walked into that first lesson.”

You can’t smile at anything he’s saying. It all feels too real. Probably because it is real. All these things he’s hinted at in the weeks you’ve been getting to know him and yet it still feels strange to have such a shift in what you believed to be real.

“I don’t really know what I thought. I’ve never really reacted that way at just the look of someone. You just looked so beautiful and perfect and my hormonal self really struggled when you started to walk towards me and I realised you were going to sit beside me,” he smiles as your heart pounds. “Fuck,” he chuckles the words. “Let’s just say I wish I had a pillow.”

“So you asked to move seats?” Your voice is raspy, but neither of you draw attention to it.

“You really I think I could have sat next to you when that was my first reaction to seeing you?”

You laugh, “what did you tell Miss Talbot to get her to move you?”

He shrugs, the colour tinting his cheeks telling you a different story. It warms your heart thinking of that boy you knew from school doing all of this.

“I just can’t believe it,” you say. “I can’t believe you actually liked me.”

He hums again, his eyes flicking over your face. “I think I more than liked you.”

“You had such a funny way of showing it.”

He groans, closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing into yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. You can only laugh.

“I was an awkward fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t know how to react around beautiful girls.”

“How did you ever pull?”

“I hardly did,” he mutters into your neck.

Your heart clenches, your hands going to the messy strands of hair on his head. “Still, I really did think you hated me,” you pause then add, “even when I moved back, I thought you hated me.”

He pulls away from you, holds his weight so that he’s resting above you. His eyes are intense now, no longer half closed and sleepy, but instead are awake and dark.

“I’ve been a dick,” he repeats, no excuses made. “Can I make it up to you?”

You watch as his eyes flick to your lips, a clear message of how he hopes to make it up to you. It’s still weird, still takes you a second to comprehend just who this is and what you want him to do to you.

It’s so different from last night, at least the start when you were the one who was having to push him. That shy, nervous guy is gone now.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He’s slow to lean down into you. Slower still to move his lips against yours. Nose pushing into you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. There are so many emotions behind everything he does, as if if wants to tell you things without using words.

Even when he pulls another condom out, rolls it on and pushes into you, his movements are slow. His lips reattach themselves as he rolls his hips into yours and you try and not think too hard about the fact that all of this feels like way more than just sex.

The bell tingles and for the first time it doesn’t fill you with dread. What you do feel though, is nerves. They’ve been pumping through you before you even saw Yoongi through the window, well before you decided to come here after work, to be honest they started nearly as soon as you left his house this morning.

The door closes slowly behind you. Your focus purely on Yoongi and the way his eyes drag slowly to yours. They’re indifferent to start, start to warm in welcoming a new customer but then burst with shock before settling on what you think is joy, even if he does school his smile down from the beam to a small curl of his lips.

“Oh hey,” your eyes shoot left at the voice, not realising Olivia was even here. “You’re here.”

Her eyes flick to Yoongi, a question on her face that reads what the fuck is going on? when she looks back at you she plasters a smile on her lips.

“Don’t see you here much.”

“Oh right, hi Liv,” you say, not having thought too much about the fact you’d have an audience for this. Turning to Yoongi you’re surprised he’s moved from behind the till, stepping towards you with that same small smile.

“Don’t you have some stock to deal with in the back?” Yoongi asks Liv, predictably she doesn’t move.

As you step towards him you can’t help but remember that this is the first time seeing him after the night you spent together. It was only this morning, but you didn’t do too much talking before you left his place. You heat, try and fail not to suddenly be awkward. Yoongi’s smile only widens, clearly picking up on your behaviour and is clearly very amused by it.

“Hey,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s smile twitches, his eyes alive. “Hi.”

“You ok?”

“Yep,” he pops the p. “You?”

“Uh-huh,” you smile like a fucking teenager who’s in front of her crush.

“Did you come here for anything in particular?” Yoongi’s tone is playful. “Need my help finding anything?”

You laugh, light and gentle. Your mouth opening to come back with some retort. The words never leave your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” it’s Olivia that speaks this time, dragging your attention to her but failing to get Yoongi to stop looking at you. “What the fuck am I watching right now?”

You heat for a second time, find it hard to drag your eyes back to Yoongi even as you can feel his focus still on you. This whole thing is weird enough without Olivia being here.

“I – uh –” you look back at Yoongi for help, he only raises an eyebrow as if also wondering the same thing. “Well, I’ve come for a book.”

You look back at Olivia and smile, though you’re sure the gesture looks more manic than reassuring. Olivia frowns, eyes flicking back to Yoongi with that same unsure look.

“Ok,” she elongates the word as her eyes drag back to you and your still manic smile. “I guess I have work in the back to do then.”

She hesitates a second, reluctant to go as if waiting for you to shout out for her help any second. Slowly, she drags her feet along the floor in the direction of the back room.

“So what book do you want?” Yoongi’s tone is all amusement and cheek.

“Lord of the Rings?” It’s the first book you think of, one that causes Yoongi’s lips to pop open for a second before he nods and starts to lead you around the room.

He takes you to the corner furthest from the open door leading to the back room. His back to you as he searches the shelves you build up the courage you need.

“So, uh, I didn’t actually come here for a book.”

He turns, his face still alight with amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, though his tone suggested that was pretty obvious.

“Well that’s good because I don’t have Lord of the Rings in stock.”

Your eyes flick to the travel books he’s lead you to as if betrayed by something you didn’t even want. The smile is wide on his face when you look back.

“Who doesn’t stock Lord of the Rings?”

“I can order it in if you want?” He lifts an eyebrow, a laugh on his lips. “But I thought you didn’t come here for it?”

“Right,” you flush, eyes darting away from him. The only way you think you’ll be able to ask him is if you don’t keep eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to mine for food tonight?”

Your eyes flick back to his face to gage a reaction. The smile doesn’t fade, his eyes don’t dim. He still looks immensely happy and your heart softens in relief, worry seeping away as if he may answer any other way.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That would be nice. I can get to you by 7?”

You nod, a smile to match his taking over your whole face. Back to being crushing teenagers you stand for far too long just smiling at each other. The only thing to break you being Olivia dropping something heavy in the background. You jump in the air as you hear a loud ‘sorry’ that doesn’t sound very apologetic.

Flushing you look back to Yoongi who still looks like he couldn’t care any less by the rest of the world. As if, as long as you’re stood in front of him, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“Right,” you mutter. “Well, great, I guess I’ll see you later?”

Yoongi nods, you nod back and then remembering the audience flash your eyes to the back room before darting out of the shop to safety.

Tofu darts out the door when you open it. Yoongi’s stood with a bottle of wine and a large bunch of flowers. You awkwardly take them off him, the items getting in the way enough that all you can exchange is a small half-hug. You flush and ramble about having to find a vase as you lead Yoongi to the kitchen.

“I didn’t even ask if you ate meat,” you say, horrified as you put the flowers in an inch of water in the sink. You look around at the nearly finished meal. “Or if you have any allergies. I mean do you? Because we can order something in or I can run to the shop and get –”

Your words trail off when you turn and look at Yoongi leaning against your counter, a wide smile on his face.

“It looks and smells amazing,” he says.

“It’s just roast chicken.”

He hums, then says in a sweet yet sarcastic tone, “just,” as if there’s nothing throwaway about what you’re making.

“Well,” you say, drifting off and turning away from Yoongi’s gaze. You’re so unused to this Yoongi. Or at least having to interact with this Yoongi like it’s a normal thing. “Shall I pour some wine?”

“Tell me where the glasses are and I’ll do it.”

You look over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “A proper gentleman,” you tease before telling him where he can find them.

You fall into an easy rhythm as you both get on with your own tasks. Yoongi pouring the wine, you managing the food. It’s easy, feels normal. It’s nice.

“Here you go.”

You turn to be given a glass of wine, gladly accept and gulp a large sip. The two of you fall into easy conversation about your days.

There’s a weird noise, a meow that’s high pitched and more a warning than anything. Still half concentrating on Yoongi you flick your eyes over his shoulder.

You see it. Through your kitchen window. It’s in your fucking garden.

You go still before the panic fully sets in. Yoongi’s still talking, his back to the window he’s completely oblivious to what you’re seeing. But that thing is all you can see.

It’s seen something, you can tell. Your heart hammering in your ears, your breath shallow, your mind is slow to catch up to what you’re seeing.

And then you realise.

Your first instinct is to go for a knife you left out to cut the veg. Sharp, powerful, you don’t think any of this through as you start to walk to the door.

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s words are slow to come to your ears, but as you’re slow to head to the door, he’s faster to work out what’s going on. “Fuck.”

Your hand is nearly on the handle when Yoongi stops you. You fight against him, are deaf to his words begging you to stop.

“It’s Tofu,” you blurt. “It’s going for Tofu.”

Yoongi’s hand slackens enough for you to pull out of his grasp. Banging the door open you rush outside, Yoongi hot on your tail.

“Tofu,” you scream as if your cat is like a dog and would run to you. He doesn’t, his attention is solely on that thing. Cornered, Tofu’s fur stands on end, back arched, tail bushy to make him look as big as possible.

Heart still pounding, adrenaline coursing through you, you start towards that thing. You scared it off once, maybe you can do it again.

Something stops you. A tight hand wrapped around your wrist. When you turn to look at Yoongi it’s with betrayal.

“Give me the knife,” he says

“I’ve got this,” you bite back, trying and failing to escape his grasp.

“Give. Me. The. Knife.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he warns.

You look at him, glance over your shoulders to see the thing nearly on top of Tofu. His small furry body starting to shake in the corner of your garden. It’s not stopping. If you don’t do something now it’s going to get him. When you look back at Yoongi you’re sure it’s with desperation.

“Please,” you mutter. “Let me do this.”

His hand slackens, his face softening. You know he’s not happy about this, but he can see why you want to do it. You’ve opened up so much to him, more than anyone else. Still, he doesn’t let you go.

“Please,” you plead.

He shakes his head and your heart drops. But then he releases your arm. Before you can turn and carry on your mission he says, “we do this together.”

You nod though really you have no plan and no time to come up with one. In the time Yoongi stopped you, all your confidence has gone. Your adrenaline is still high but fear is starting to creep in.

“Hey!” Yoongi screams, he gains your attention but you’re not sure it’s done anything to that thing. “Over here mother fucker!”

You’d laugh if this were a different situation, but as it is your face stays steady as you look back towards Tofu. That thing is now looking at you, it hasn’t moved this way but is at least looking, head cocked to the side in an almost unnatural angle.

“Hey,” your voice is croaky, and you have to cough a little to clear it. “Get the fuck away from my cat.”

It comes out clearer. The thing turns and looks fully at you now. And then it starts to move.

“Y/N.”

There’s a flash of white fur as Tofu takes the opportunity to run. The thing is moving straight for you now, faster than you’ve ever seen it move before. It’s why Yoongi shouted your name. It’s why you held up the knife, the only thing you could do, hardly enough time to do anything else.

You scream, guttural, more like a war cry than from terror.

You stick your arm out, feel and hear the knife penetrating skin and then muscle and eventually the cracking of bones. There’s a screech from the monster, high pitched and full of pain. It flails it’s arms, catching your arm and ripping the skin. Still, you manage to hold the knife tight, your own screaming mixing with its. Blood sprays out of it and from your arm. Your injured hands gives a twang of pain as you bring it to grip the knife, twist as you pull out and then stab it again.

This time it pulls away. Movements more disjointed but slow as it slinks away from you. Blood pouring from the wounds. You don’t want to watch but you also can’t look away. You did this, you need to watch the consequences.

Slowly, but eventually, it stops moving. The world is silent and the thing is dead.

There’s blood everywhere. Not quite splattered like the bird you first discovered was, but this time it’s all over you.

Twisting to the side, you throw up all over your lawn. Yoongi’s almost immediately there to hold your hair back and rub your back through the whole thing. He whispers words you hardly hear, things about how it’s ok, how there was no other choice, how he’s going to stay with you for however long you need him. You think that might be forever, and you think if you asked he’d agree.

You remain on the lawn far longer than you should before Yoongi coaxes you inside for a wash. He takes care of everything, the long-forgotten food, Tofu still hiding outside, and you.

It’s all over, you let yourself think as you fall asleep in Yoongi’s arms that night.

“You can’t place a Jack on a King.”

“It’s the same suit.”

“Yeah, that means fuck all.”

“They’re both picture cards.”

“Have you even played this game?”

“Pretty sure I’ve played it more times than you.”

“You do realise this isn’t cheat, right?”

“Y/N,” you try to dampen your smile as you look over at the man whining at you.

“Seokjin?” You ask back in a sarcastically sweet way.

“Can you tell your boyfriend to fuck off?”

You hum as you look over at Yoongi, that smile becoming hard to hide. You open your mouth to say as much but Yoongi leans in and kisses your words away. Pushing his shoulder you laugh before he can kiss you again.

“I preferred it when you two hated each other,” Seokjin groans as he fishes his Jack off the pile. You and Yoongi are too consumed by one another to hear.

#Yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi fan fiction #horrorwoodcafe22 #btswritingcafe #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga fan fiction #suga x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff

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