#idk what this collab is called sorry

[ascorian]

sketches sketches sketches!!

#i drew a good portion of these in the train bc i have no time and/or place where i can draw peacefully. i want to do something notorious #купила фломики из фикспрайса. они супер #the swimsuit one is meiko module from project diva actually #POKEMIKU SLAYS #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #asahina mafuyu #niigo mafuyu #niigo #hsr kafka #hsr #meiko vocaloid #kaito vocaloid #vocaloid #vocal synth #kaimei #hatsune miku #pokemon #idk what this collab is called sorry

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

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

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

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

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

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

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

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

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

| Masterlist | Ask | Make Me Your Villain Collab | Taglist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

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

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

“It’s a little funny.”

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

That makes him pause. “There was?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strange how?” 

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

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

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

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

“Was it that awful?” 

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

“Angry?”

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

You hum in agreement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing comes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dr. Kim!”

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

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

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

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

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

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

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

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

“Is revenge worth it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you?”

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

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

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

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

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

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

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

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

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

“Because of the wolves?”

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

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t worried.”

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s very handsome.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Red.”

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

“Why?”

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

“Both.”

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

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

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

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

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

“I suppose that’s true.”

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

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

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

“Why have you come to the village?” 

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

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

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

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

“It is… not always like that here.”

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

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

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

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

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

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

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

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

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

“He was a hunter.”

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

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

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

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

“You must resent the woods.”

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

“Usually?”

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

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

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

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

“Like your family?”

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

“Really?”

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

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And who the hell are you?”

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

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

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

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

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

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

“Where are you going?”

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

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

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

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don��t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do not find him there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon. 

-

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

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

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

“Where am I?” 

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

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

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

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

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

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

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

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

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

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This village has a complicated history. 

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

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

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

“Who is Yoongi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

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

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

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

“I have questions.”

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

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His throat bobs. “You did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

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

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

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

“Which is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

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

“Well still. Thank you.” 

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

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

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

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

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

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

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

“Is this what you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses you. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

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

“You want to help?”

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

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

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

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

#namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon fanfic #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #werewolf namjoon #collab

[lonelystczennie]

Just a Collab

Chan x Plus Size Afab!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to just be another collaboration, so why can’t you and Chan seem to get each other out of your mind?

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive, partially proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely @bethanysnow for this request! I rewrote part of this like five times, but I’m posting it now cause otherwise I’m gonna lose my mind staring at it. I’ll use the other ideas in part two(if we want a part 2) idk, it's late and I'm tired.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Chan likes being prepared for anything, whether that’s rehearsing a song or choreography till he knows it by heart, or just keeping band aids in his bag in case one of the members gets hurt. He knows not everything can be planned, and even the things that can often go awry, so he tries to be ready for any possibility.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was you.

When the company had presented the opportunity to work with you on a collaboration, he’d agreed almost immediately, having been familiar with your work for a while, thinking it would just be a fun project. But almost immediately, that had proved to not be the case, though what it was he wasn’t quite sure.

“Okay, Jeongin, can we do one more take, just for security?” Chan asked through the mic into the soundbooth.

“Sure thing, hyung.” The younger member responded just as there was a light knock at the door.

“Am I interrupting?“ You asked quietly as you entered the studio, Chan's face lighting up noticeably at your presence.

“Nah, you're good, we’re just recording some backing vocals.” He said reassuringly, waving you over.

“Hi Noona.” Jeongin called, waving at you through the window.

“Hey, I.N.” You chuckled, waving back to him before he started to record.

You listened fondly as I.N. sang, slowly settling into the chair next to Chan, waiting for your turn in the booth.

“So, how come I haven’t got to sing with you yet?” You asked as they finished, bumping your shoulder against Chan’s playfully, making him let out a short burst of laughter.

“Because I.N.’s got a much better voice than me and I thought you’d sound good together.” He said, ears gaining a noticeable rosy tint as he spoke. “I, uhm, I’m just here as producer this time.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, you have an amazing voice.” You said sincerely. “I love hearing you sing.”

“Really?” He asked, casting a sidelong glance at you, surprised by your honesty.

You nodded. “Your songs were actually part of what I used to practice Korean.” You confessed.

“Noo, that’s soo embarrassing.” He whined, covering his increasingly red face.

“For you or me?” You chuckled.

“I don’t know.” He said, laughing weakly.

The two of you were interrupted by another quick knock on the door, your manager peeking in to grab your attention.

“Y/n, you have that interview in five minutes.” He reminded you.

“Crap, I almost forgot.” You said, turning to the two of them apologetically. “I’m sorry, I won’t be long.”

“No worries. We’ll be here.” Chan said easily, smiling softly at you, making you beam as you stood.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” You waved as you followed your manager out.

“Bye, Noona.” Jeongin called as he exited the booth, whipping around as soon as you’d closed the door to face Chan. “Why haven’t you said anything to her yet?”

“What are you on about?” Chan said, feigning ignorance. “You saw us, we talk all the time.”

“I meant how you’re both clearly into each other.” The younger said bluntly, not having the patience to beat around the bush on this topic.

“What?!” Chan spluttered. “No, we’re not!”

“Bullshit.” Jeongin snapped, surprising Chan further. He’d spent the past handful of days in the studio with both of you and had put up with enough lingering glances and the blushy comments to know that you were both in deep. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you.” Chan whipped up at that. Jeongin continued. “Anybody with eyes can see that there’s clearly something there between the two of you, why are you pretending there isn’t?”

Chan looked down, letting out a deep sigh. “It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled, feeling his heart slowly sink as he spoke.

“Why?”

“Because, what’s the point?” He said exasperatedly. “It’s a collaboration, it’s a temporary situation, she’s… She’s just gonna leave when it’s over.” The last words came out as a mumble as he glanced away again.

“It doesn’t feel like ‘just a collab’.” Jeongin said. “It feels different.”

Chan paused, unable to argue with him, despite wanting to.

It did feel different, you felt different, to him at least. As soon as you’d met, you’d managed to charm him instantly with your brightness and warmth. You were funny and caring, always managing to find something kind to say about everyone around you, not to mention you were stunning. The moment you’d walked in, it had taken him every ounce of concentration not to openly stare at you. You had this subtle confidence in the way you moved and held yourself that he found utterly alluring. Everything about you seemed attractive to him, the glint in your eyes, the softness in your voice, the plush shape of your hips…

You’d even managed to follow him into his dreams, catching him in his rare few hours of sleep, images so vivid, he could almost believe them to be real. The feeling your warmth surrounding him as he buried his face in the softness of your stomach before trailing lower, his hands gripping tightly onto your thighs as they clamped down around him-

He’d bolted up in his bed, heart racing and breathing unsteadily, unable to go back to sleep the rest of the night.

He shook himself, feeling his ears begin to burn again at the memory.

“I just… I don’t know.” He said uncertainly.

“Just think about it, please?” Jeongin said seriously. “You deserve some happiness too,”

Chan nodded slightly, biting his lip. “Yeah, okay.” He said eventually. “But only if the opportunity presents itself, I’m not gonna just drop that kind of thing on her.”

“Of course.” I.N. responded, just as you re-entered the room.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” You asked lightly, reclaiming your seat next to Chan, much to Jeongin’s amusement.

“Nothing.”

The opportunity ended up presenting itself in the form of dinner with you and guys that same night, since I.N. had so ‘graciously’ invited you over to the dorms to hang out and celebrate the finish of recording for the song.

Chan had been a bit nervous about you meeting all the guys at once, knowing how boisterous and overwhelming they could be sometimes, but you’d settled in almost immediately, laughing easily with Han and Felix, talking about art with Hyunjin, and cooing over pictures of Minho’s cats, though you mostly kept close to Chan.

You hadn’t even realized how late it had become as the two of you were talking until you happen to look around and realize the others had gone to bed, leaving you and Chan alone. You knew you should probably leave, but you were reluctant to do so, wanting to soak up as much time with him as possible. The past weeks of working together, both over video calls and emails, and the last few days in person, had definitely had an impact on you as well, and tonight had only solidified those feelings in your mind, making your looming departure all the more painful.

“You okay?” Chan asked gently, noticing your sudden quietness

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m just getting in my head. Nothing new.” You laughed dismissively.

“You wanna talk about it?” He offered, propping his head up on his hand.

“There’s not that much to talk about really, I’m just kinda feeling… I don’t wanna leave yet.” You admitted quietly. “I’ve had a really great time getting to know you guys, spending time with you.” You glanced at him briefly. “It just feels like it’s moving too fast, you know?”

He nodded, understanding all too well. “When do you leave?” He asked hesitantly.

“In a couple days. I asked for a few days off from schedules, thought I might do some sightseeing around the city, plus I know my friends would kick my ass if I come back without gifts.” You joked, making him laugh.

“Well, if you need a tour guide, I’d gladly help you.” He offered, seeing a chance.

“Really?” You asked surprised. “You’re not too busy?”

“Not with anything that I can’t get out of.” He shrugged.

“You don’t have to do that.” You said, ducking your head in an attempt to hide the flush in your cheeks.

“I want to.” He said, leaning in to catch your gaze again. “I like being with you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can while you’re here.” He said earnestly.

“Really?” You asked, half realizing the way you were both leaning closer as you spoke.

“Yeah, I like you a lot.” He admitted, his eyes flickering to your lips before he could help himself.

“Probably more than I should.”

“Chan.” You breathed.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer, smashing your lips to his in a feverish kiss. He let out a muffled sound of relief, hands instantly finding your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his grip as you wound your fingers into his hair, giving a slight tug and earning a low groan from him. He half pulled you onto his lap before you could help him out, swinging a leg across to straddle him as his tongue traced along you bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth, which you readily granted.

Eventually, you had to come up for air, chest heaving against his as you took in his disheveled state with hooded eyes.

“So maybe now you have a reason to come back?” He panted, looking up at you.

“I’m booking my next trip tomorrow.” You replied, letting out a shaky laugh as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

#bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x plus size reader #bang chan drabbles #bang chan scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x plus size reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fluff #lonelystczennie

[dailydegurechaff]

It's killing me so much I have to talk about it. Do the people know. Do they know that the men in Youjo Senki are fucking giants.

I talked abt it with a few friends on discord like last month or so, but I need to yell about it on tumblr where more people can become aware.

Using a few images as reference, I did a bunch of measurements by counting pixels using Tanya and Visha (who we have sort of canon heights for) as measuring sticks, and this is what i came up with:

the shortest of them are 6ft? why, studio nut, why

if you want an explanation for my color coding/what the asterisks mean/where the hell did i get these numbers, that's under the read more. but yeah. why are they so tall.

ok so it started upon receiving these two images from a friend (thank you Pumpkin) that give heights for Tanya and Visha

Using some reverse searching I was able to find that these two images come from a game collaboration with a game called Alice Gear Aegis. Whether or not you want to consider the info from a game collab as canon information is up to you, but to me it seems accurate, so all my estimates are based on this data.

Another friend (thank you Luna) provided me these two images that I could use as reference to make some pixel measurements. While the first is a a cleaner looking image, I opted to use the second because it included Lergen, Rudersdorf, Zettour & Anson. I don't really care about the background 203rd members (sorry.)

So I cleaned the image up to get all the lines roughly straight and made them easier to see with some color coding. This is where the color coding on my excel sheet above comes from. This is also the image I used for my pixel counts.

And from here I calculated some ratios. This is where a few discrepancies come into play. So on my excel sheet above I listed that depending on whether you use Tanya or Visha as a measuring stick, you'll get a variance of roughly 10cm/4inches. This is because they're technically not perfectly aligned to one another.

For Tanya shes 140cm tall and 281 pixels. That means 1 pixel is roughly equal to 2.0071cm. When we apply that ratio to Visha though, we should expect her to come out to roughly 321 pixels (160cm * 2.0071). She's 339 pixels though, which would be ~168cm (339px / 2.0071). But we know that's incorrect.

The inverse applies as well. Using Visha (339pixels & 160cm) as a measure, that would make 1 pixel equal to 2.1188cm. That means Tanya is expected to be roughly 297pixels (140cm * 2.1188). In the image Tanya is actually 281 pixels, which would make her ~132cm (281px / 2.1188). Which we also know is incorrect.

This is a weird discrepancy I'm not sure how to account for, so I just said fuck it and went with both options. I set up my Excel sheet to include columns for using both Tanya & Visha as a reference to provide two different estimates, you can choose which you think is more canon.

Personally I prefer to use the measurements calculated using Visha as reference because a 210cm/6'10" Lergen is offensive to my sensibilities. To put it into perspective, I measured the door to my bedroom as 198cm/6'6". I refuse to accept this man being taller than my door.

Ok finally the asterisks:

* Why the note on Koenig? On the image, it's a bit blurry but it looks as though Koenig & Lergen are aligned to the same (pink) line. But when I look at it closely, it really does look to me that Koenig is maybe 1 or 2 pixels shorter than the line. Granted that's not a lot, but there is a small difference so idk.

** Why the note on Anson? In the image, it kind of looks like he's hunched over/leaning down a bit, he's not standing perfectly straight. While he is aligned with Rudersdorf (Green) it could be he's actually a little taller if he stands straight.

#youjo senki #the saga of tanya the evil #not a daily post #non exhaustive list things ive learned from this venture: #im barely shorter than visha #lergen 100% bumps his head on door frames when he's not paying attention #im going to choose to ignore canon and believe that Grantz is NOT fucking 6 feet tall

[bivwifeybunny]

I here by request Foolish fluff that can allude to smut!

Maybe reader has a headache and Foolish ends stream early to comfort her and she starts feeling better and then things lead into the bedroom..

(Also may I have permission to write the smut part? Like you put out the fluff and then I give the part 2 that’s smut 👀)

My Special Girl

Pairing(s): Foolish x reader

Warning(s): Cursing, alluded smut (actual smut in the part 2 hehehe 🤭), mostly just fluff tho

A/N: RAHHH I'm finally posting a fic after.... uhhh idk but a LONG time. haha... yeah sorry about that. but HEY it's a foolish fic and that's something new. shrimpy here convinced me to start writing for him (it wasn't hard since i cant say no to shrimpy lmao) but yeah, this is a little collab I did with her. so as said in the ask, she wrote part 2 with the actual smut. I loved writing this and working with her honestly. she helped with a couple questions I had and was really patient with me (i took 11 days to finish this lol rip) so would def do again. also my first collab? im so excited for y'all to read this. anyways this is getting long, enjoy and the link for part two is at the end.

You already felt it coming on. The tension building behind your eyes and the strain forming at your temples. But you’d be cruel to deny him when he looked at you with that cute pout. So you walked off, popped an ibuprofen and came back, sitting next to him as you watched him play some Minecraft.

However, the ibuprofen was definitely not enough. Thanks to his bright ass lights, the less than cozy screaming and yelling, and the eye strain from staring at the monitors, your headache began to worsen.

“I thought Minecraft was supposed to be a relaxing game.” You groaned, eyes squinted as you struggled to keep up with the pvp he was doing.

“Maybe it could be, if Richarlyson wasn’t being such a little bITCH!” Foolish screamed, resulting in another wince from you. His fingers darted around, clicking away as he chased after the little pixelated egg.

And then came the barking.

The back and forth, screaming, barking, with the added touch of his way too bright lights and the blue light from the monitors made you groan again. You leaned your head down, your hand covering your eyes, trying to find some relief. He was so excited to show you his progress on the titan, and you promised you’d at least stay long enough to see it, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could take this.

Luckily though, most of the screaming and barking stopped when Richas made a strategic retreat and teleported away. So you were able to look back at the monitor when he called your name.

“Okay, finally. Alright, alright, look.” Foolish grinned as he warped over to his titan build and began to glide over to it. “Now, I’m obviously not completely done but I’m so close, and I only really have- No, no, nO, NO!” He whined as a creeper dropped down next to him and exploded, ruining a part of the hand.

And unfortunately for you, that note struck the wrong cord and the pounding in your head grew past your limit. “Foolish, I’m gonna go lay down, okay?” You whispered, not only because of the throbbing in your head but also so his chat wouldn’t hear. You hurried off screen, heading back into his bedroom and crawling into bed after ensuring all the lights were off. You tossed the blankets over your head and buried your face into the cool pillow, hoping it’d ease the pain.

Meanwhile, as soon as you left, the doozers were all spamming things like “what happened to ___?”, “i dont think they were feeling well”, “they had their head down earlier”, “are they okay?” and so on.

Foolish, however, didn’t even glance at chat as he hurried off of Minecraft. “I think I’m gonna call it a day, guys. Sorry this was a shorter stream than usual.” He apologized for his 3 hour stream before quickly ending.

As soon as he was sure he ended, he rushed over to his room. He frowned at the dark room and the faint outline of your body curled up under the blankets. “Baby?” He called out quietly, climbing onto the bed next to you. He leaned over, propped up on his elbow and gently drew back the blankets. “What’s wrong?”

“Head hurts.” You muttered, eyes still shut tightly, jaw clenched.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey.” He whispered softly, turning you to face him before rubbing his thumbs over your eyebrows, a silent instruction to relax from your tense position. “Should’ve told me. I wouldn’t have asked you to come on stream if I’d known you weren’t feeling good. Did you take anything to help it?”

“Just ibuprofen but’s not working.” You answered, leaning into his touch with a soft sigh, making him smile.

“Well, here. Why don't we try a bit of this?” Foolish mumbled, pulling you on top of him. “Where does it hurt?” He asked, to which you muttered, “My temples ‘nd behind my eyes,” snuggling into his warmth. He nodded, moving his hands to your head and beginning to massage your temples gently, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You sighed in relief, relaxing your stiff position even more as he rubbed away all the tension, humming in a soothing, soft tone. You stayed like that for a while, letting Foolish work his magic while you cuddled him close.

After a little while he kissed your head again and moved his hands away, hugging you instead. “Feel any better?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He smiled softly. “And I hope you know I’m going to absolutely clowned on by chat tomorrow and it’s all your fault.” He teased with a playful smirk.

“I say it’s worth it. They already get to spend way too much time with you as is. It’s about time I stole you away from them for a little while.” You laughed, lifting your head to look up at him before smirking. “But if you really want me to make it up to you, I have an idea in mind I’m sure you’d like.”

“Oh ho ho ho.” Foolish giggled excitedly, meeting you halfway when you leaned up to kiss him. “Don’t mind if I do…” He smirked into the kiss, flipping you over. “But since my baby was hurting, why don’t you let me take care of you?”

Part 2 :D by @mentallyillcrustacean

Taglist: @jordyncandy @foxilia @lacunaanonymoused @remiwastaken

Foolish taglist: none yet :)

#wifey: foolish <3 #foolish x reader #foolish x reader fluff #wifey's moots <3 #shrimpy <3

[shoezuki]

Shoe im too sleep deprived to go zooming on all those screenshots and redownloadong the bird app, may i ask what is happening w the dream drama u posted? I love ur summaries, they make me laugh about things i am gratefully unaware of

My beloved anon im sorry it took me this long. But i am lazy. No other reason really. So i am now chronicling this dhit on my phone. And oh fuck dude is it a trip

SO. this fuckery began with quackity announcing the QSMP. He did so on the 17th of march and whatever the fuck. He mentioned it earlier than this (edit: just checked but the First announcements was the 10th)

And this is all great. New server that fucks. But what truly started all this. Was dream's tweet on his private twitter.

Im gonna try to be kinda impartial qnd jus. Explain it all as is but first i gotta say who says this shit lmao. So quackity announces his new project and is very passionate about it, he tweets more on his alt(?) About how much it means to him to bring his two languages spanish and english together. And dream on private is like 'wow cool! Guys dont get mad at me when i announce the same thing later tho haha' its just so weird.

But anyways. The usmp wasnt even A Thing. Only written instance of dream makin a multilingual server was in a tweet defending himself from copying quackity. (Altho he allegedly mentions in streams or whatever wanting yo do things w other ppl from other languages? But that shit dont count n im not diggin audio n videos out fuck that).

The actual, official announcement of dream makin a usmp was april 2nd (idk why this says the 3rd but whatever) wherein he announces the 'first multilingual smp' with a list of languages that will be on it such as portugese, spanish, english, russian, etc. And that it has live translation.

The same day, quackity releases a tweet labelling the qsmp as the 'first multilingual smp' and that he is introducing a live translation system to it. Mr beast connects that the usmp and qsmp are similar to which dream responds. Quackity doesnt respond, nor does he acknowledge the usmp at all.

Dream's response is essentially theyre different in that qsmp is spanish and english, he announced his live translator first, they had 'similar good ideas'.

So. This sparked a lot of drama and discussion. Because of the 'first multilingual' bit in that people began discrediting qsmp as it was 'only' english and spanish, and therefore was bilingual and not multilingual. Altho others countered thid by saying quackity himself called it a multilingual server in his streams. Not to mention the idea that the translator was copied but regardless both those things are kinda stupid arguments and just drama inspired by the comparisons.

More notably is that dream team were making fun of the 'first multilingual server' bit after this. Dream was liking some jokes at it as well

Dream also liked some. Vaguely sexual/romantic 'they should just kiss already' art of him and quackity?

Also after this dream started somewhat addressing/replying to quackity more. Quackity didnt respond to any of it.

Dream also tweeted this on his private the day after

Most narrowed in on the 'this wouldnt have happened without quackity' and was often interpretted as dream saying quackity HELPED him w it in some way or that there was more collab behind the scenes but we will find that to be false. Because. On april 27th. Dream dropped his magnum opus. Which i will include in one screenshot.

Anyways i seriously encourage reading the full thing here because its. Something. Theres so much. It is literally 1.7k words. A lot of it is repetitive but i will. Try. To summarize it.

Essentially dream is writing that he has been trying to contact quackity for some time now with no response. He has been messaging him about how theyve ended up with similar servers (therefore noting that neither one know of the other). This gets nothing. Dream tries contacting quackity more publically with jokes. Nothing. He starts going through secondary sources by talkin to ppl to message quackity for him (i think some people who dream knows that are on the qsmp. Unsure who) but quackity doesnt say shit. Dream is being absolutely ghosted.

Im also noting this last paragraph in his first tweet where he describes being 'taken back' when quackity announces the qsmp live translator after his usmp announcement, because he 'knew it would cause more drama'.

He says he messages quackity so they can plan how to deal with the 'vitriol' between the teo 'communities' and that the drama can be solved with 'communication'. He is ghosted. He also mentions that he puts the usmp 'on hold' in the 2nd tweet so it all can be dealt with and he can 'extend love and support to quackity'. Most notably he says that its alluded that quackity wouldnt let ppl who were on the usmp couldnt be on the qsmp which dream tries to say makes sense for quackity to do.

Theres apparently a fucking image limit on the tumblr app which ive hit so i am now not using images and speedrunning this shit. But im quoting this one thing exactly as its most important:

"That being said, I’ve seen the communities split against each other and have tons of hate build around this and around the speculations of peoples motives and friendships and so on, and it’s really really harmful to the community as a whole. I have seen more threats, doxing, fights, slander, and hate between a bunch of fan bases that I’ve seen in a very long time. I personally have experienced an elevated level of in real life threats & stalkers & even had the police involved in somebody showing up at my house, & even putting trackers on my family vehicles, surrounding this drama, for the first time since pre-face reveal. That’s really why I feel like I have to say something about it despite me wanting to avoid any kind of serious talk about all of this, especially even talking about communication publicly feels wrong but necessary in this instance. I never like to air out anything that feels or is private, but I feel like in this case it’s really important for my fan base to be aware of my intentions, motives, thought process, and how we got to where we are. I’ve always been a creator that’s very open with my fan base about everything going on in my life and this is a massive thing right now for my friends & me"

His last tweet begins with him saying he 'doesnt want anymore drama' and ends eith him saying he loves quackity and believes this is all just a miscommunication.

Now, obviously, shit blew up. Hes been ratiod a few times by people meming it. Ive seen many people on quackity's 'side' saying that the usmp doesnt even exist yet, dream is the one causing drama, etc. And people on dream's 'side' saying quackity is being horrible and needs address this because its caused dream to be in danger. Most importantly. Quackity didnt address it at all.

But then quackity announced he was going live in an hour. And a lot assumed hed say something. But he didnt. His stream was roughly 15 minutes long and it was entirely quackity announcing that he was introducing brazilian/portugese speaking streamers onto the qsmp.

Anyways. Theres a lot of details but my hand hurts now. A big thing is whether qsmp or usmp was 'first'. Imo theres a lot more pointing towards quackity having had this is store for a longass time, as he had been hinting and a project of his for months and more notably the qsmp is so organized and put together i doubt he couldve had it finished up 'after' dream as dream's nonexistent server was an idea he got after that squidcraft thing in early March i think?

More recently (i think today) i saw that quackity apparently took two emojis off his twitch that were dream roblox characters and i saw people freaking out in r/dwt2 about how quackity could be so petty? But ya. My condolences if youve read all this.

#fuck everyone this aint going under a readmore SUFFER. #anyways. opinion of the author: dream is fucked up hoohmygod. #dream #dream hate #dream neg #discourse #anon

[hotaru-morii]

A special Christmas gift

A/N - @hiraizens 's white Christmas collab! Thank you for hosting this, I haven't written anything in forever and this motivated me to write again!

Pairing - Dazai x gender neutral reader

Warning(s) - marriage? Ik some people aren't down for that but idk if it needs a warning

Throughout most of Dazai’s life, he has spent Christmas alone. For, he lived a mostly lonely life. He didn't even understand the point of Christmas, thought it was a pointless holiday. Spending time with your "romantic lover" I'm the freezing cold weather just seemed meaningless to him, as he never actually pursued a serious relationship with anyone to begin with. Sure, he had a couple of hook ups, and flirted with women to get what he wanted from them. 

He never even thought he'd end up in a romantic relationship with you. When he discovered that he had feelings for you while staring you down in the ADA office, he thought his feelings would eventually fade away, and that it was nothing serious, and that maybe he just wanted a couple of dates… but how wrong he was… he realized the more dates you guys went on, the more he actually wanted to start something serious with you. 

Now here he is, in a serious relationship with you. It's been about ten months since you two have started dating. This was his first serious relationship with someone. At the beginning, Dazai couldn't help but avoid eye contact with you, or push his hair back while you two were talking. Which was a foreign concept for Dazai, because with anyone else, he never had these bad habits. However, things started to slowly change, and while he might still have some of these bad habits, and definitely still has a lot of room for improvement, but your relationship with him has gotten better. 

You've spent seven years in a relationship with him, so it had to improve over the past few years right? Not only did your relationship with him improve, but Dazai's relationship with himself improved as long with it.

At the beginning, he couldn't help but not allow himself to be happy due to the intense guilt he felt deep down inside of him. Unfortunately, that self hate and guilt caused some serious problems in your relationship. Like how he sometimes would ghost you whenever he started feeling like the happiness he felt whenever he was with you, was something he didn't deserve. 

Thankfully, that did stop happening with time, but you couldn't help but feel awful whenever he'd suddenly disappear and not answer your calls or texts while he was gone. And rightfully so! You deserved some answers from him. Of course you understood that he needed alone time because not everyone liked venting their problems to others, and you respected that throughout your entire relationship. But you at least deserved an answer when he would leave for weeks, and once he even left for months… 

Of course you didn't just forgive him for his actions, you respected yourself more than that to just let him constantly ghost you and then come crawling back to your front door whenever he felt like it. But he did eventually apologize, made it up to you, and actually showed that he was sorry through his actions. He still doesn't tell you everything that happened in his childhood, and why he has so much trauma, but he told you the surface level details, and that was enough for you. 

And seven years later after all the rocky parts of your relationship, you can safely say that you're genuinely happy in the relationship you've been in for so many years. 

And he was too. After Oda's death the nightmares he had each day increased, and he'd spend more hours in the bar, drinking until it was the illegal limit. 

But he didn't have to come home to tons of alcoholic drinks after work anymore, and drink his depression away. He'd come home to you, and that changed him in many ways.

When he turned to look at you, you had your head held up high, looking towards the sky. Your gloved hands held out, trying to catch the snowflakes falling from the sky. 

You always loved the Christmas spirit, enjoying the Christmas decorations all around you, and most of all, being able to celebrate the holiday with the man you loved so much. 

You smiled widely when you finally caught a snowflake in your hands. "Osamu look! Isn't it pretty?" 

"I think f/n is cuter!" Dazai smirked, and you couldn't help but pout and blush faintly at his cheesey comment. You heard Dazai chuckle, and you immediately hid your face into his chest. 

"Osamu…" You mumbled. The snowflake in your hands dropped to the floor. 

Dazai placed a single hand on the to of your head, and the other was wrapped around your body, and smiled at the gesture. Dazai always smiles, but he rarely ever shows anyone a genuine smile.

He only ever smiles to hide his true feelings, and to hide who he really was on the inside. But with you, he could smile, and truly mean it. He didn't need to hide himself. Although he did hide himself from you during the beginning of the relationship, he slowly unmasked himself. He didn't need to put on his clown act anymore. 

"Hey," he begins. Capturing your attention. 

"What?" You asked back with a pout. 

"I got something for you." He digs into his pocket for a moment, but then stops. 

"But we already exchanged gifts this morning." You reminded him. Ignoring his sudden stop in movement. 

"Ah, yeah but I got something else for you." Dazai awkwardly smiles. It was much different from any other smile you've seen from him. Has he ever smiled like this before? You couldn't help but wonder… 

"You got me a second gift?" You asked. 

"Yeah! I just love my belladonna so much I just had to buy her a second gift!" Dazai chuckled. But you couldn't help but tilt your head in slight confusion. 

"Look f/n," He begins. "I… love you a lot, so I wanted to give you this." He grabbed out a small red box from his coat, and handed it to you. 

You take the box from his hand, and open it. 

When you saw what was inside the box, your eyes widened immediately. 

Dazai then got down on one knee, and held his hand out to you. 

"F/N, after seven years of being with you, I realized that I want you in my life forever…" He paused, and you felt your lips beginning to tremble. 

"Will you marry me?" He asked. 

Your eyes began to water at his question, and your slightly trembling lips turned into a smile. You wiped the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes more rapidly, and gave him an answer to his question. "Yes!" You told him with enthusiasm. 

Dazai's expression softened. He got up from his knees and embraced you, and you embraced him back. The tears from earlier are now overflowing, but you had a wide smile on your face. 

Neither of you said anything to each other, but Dazai knew that deep down, he's happy with the decision he made. Even though for most of his life he told himself that settling down with someone and getting married wasn't for him. 

But at this very moment, he couldn't help but smile genuinely, and feel a warmth inside of him that made him know that he made the right decision. 

"Osamu!" You were still hugging him, but you looked up right at him. "I'm really happy that you asked me to marry you!" 

Dazai chuckled. "I am too." He then gave you a light kiss on your lips, causing you to blush lightly.

"Hey, let's go home there's something I wanna do with my fiance." He winked at you, only making your light blush even heavier. 

"Osamu…" You mumbled his name, but that only made him feel even cockier. 

"I know you're excited, darling." 

And perhaps you were, and you were excited to go home with your now fiance, but you wouldn't admit to him. But you would always be happy to admit that you married the man who was known as a suicidal maniac. The feeling of being ashamed to have married him would never occur to you… 

#fanfiction #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs fluff #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #dazai x reader #christmas special

[i-did-not-mean-to]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you so much @thenookienostradamus and @lordoftherazzles for the tag...

Let's see...

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 554 (with two not revealed yet as we speak...). Many of those are collections, though.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,986,915 (erm...yeah...well)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien (The Hobbit, LOTR, The Silm). (+ the odd AU or Richard Armitage movie)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Tumblr Imagines (Wild Mix of everything) , October 2022 Ficlet run (same), A key change (Remix Fic), Black (Thorin x OC), Silm imagines and ficlets (Wild Mix again)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, in due time. I struggle a lot with being overwhelmed at times (imposter syndrome, fear of not knowing what to say, comments heaping up), but I am so thankful for every comment that I do try to answer them all in a timely manner.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I've written about 1k fics; I do not remember all of them :s I generally don't write angst, so I really couldn't say. Sorry :(

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Everything? I am a Happy Ending person, so most of my fics (eventually) get a happy ending :D

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet (crossed fingers). At times, I get comments I don't really understand (autism ahoi), but I hope that people didn't mean anything mean by it :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? SMUT? ME? Noooo *cough*...Let's say it has happened! What kind? What kind do you want, baby? MF, FF, MM, trans characters, non-binary characters, threesomes, it has all happened. Sweet and tender? Check. Rough and dirty? Check. Dubconny and dark? Check. Just tell me what you want, and there is a good chance I've either done it or would do it :D

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have written one crossover for an event (where characters go into a whole different franchise). Otherwise, I am an AU bitch. Disney movies, musicals, you name it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Again, not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Once for an event. Otherwise, I think one could call what @cilil and @melkors-big-tits did for the calendar co-writing. In a way, many collabs with artists are co-written. Any event collab is co-writing (to me). Me stealing @cilil's ideas is co-writing. Me asking for ideas on the @fellowshipofthefics and @tolkienpinupcalendar servers is co-writing. So...yes...yes I have, and I've loved it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Ori x OC, Maedhros x Fingon, Eönwë x Gothmog

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Black. It's one of my first fics, and there's only a chapter or so missing...but I don't know if I'll ever finish writing that last chapter. There are a few more where I've written 1-5 additional chapters and never uploaded them...for reasons (?). By now, I am too ashamed and lazy to get back to them.

16. What are your writing strengths? Versatility and speed. I am a mediocre writer in my 5th foreign language, and I make no bones about it. Nevertheless, I am willing to give anything and everything a try :D

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am extremely wordy. It takes me too long to get to the smut. I refuse to describe settings and geography, so all my plots seem a bit floating and vague.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I avoid using languages I don't speak which includes Tolkien's languages. I am too afraid to make mistakes or to sound cringe to people who know better than me. As for RL languages...a word maybe, but a whole sentence (again) might feel contrived...IDK everyone does as they want, but I am not feeling it for myself.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Hamilton (and yes, those stories are orphaned and can never be traced back to me) Otherwise, the Hobbit LOL

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Monkey-business, because I really liked writing that fic. It's a kitschy Hallmark Christmas story featuring Ori (not interesting, I know). But that's my personal fave lol...

Hmmm, let's tag @maglor-my-beloved, @lathalea, @scyllas-revenge, @laurfilijames, @middleearthpixie, @littlesweetdressmaker, @legolasbadass, @urwendii, @cilil, @the-red-butterfly, @fishing4stars, and @elentarial to get a good mix of people :D

#og post #random reblogs <3 #fanfiction #writing #tag game #questions #writer questions

[k1ra0nloose]

!?SELFAWARE! MASTER POST!?

WELCOME TO THE HEADSPACE

the self-aware is an au where smg4 documents different alternative universes (aus) for a living while the others try to survive the apocalypse

you can ask about the au and you may also ask to be apart of my staff!!(if theres space)

its still imcomplete btw my employees are still helping me make the lore

MASSIVE CREDS TO MY EMPLOYEES @akitheasteroid @tophatwearingidiot AND @chaoticlad!! they really are the only thing keeping this au going so tysm to them<33

Disc annoucement

DESIGNS:

SMG4

SMG3 (made by chaoticlad)

Tari (made by Tophatwearingidiot)

Meggy (made by chaoticlad)

Melony (made by akitheasteroid)

Bob (made by tophatwearingidiot)

smg0 (made by tophatwearingidiot)

MAIN PLOT:

Hypotonic

Lost (by Tophat)

WHAT

FANARTS/OTHER COOL STUFF:

megari brainrot

tari sketches/ideas (by tophat)

silly short megari comic (by akitheasteroid)

selfaware!bob and viralvirus!bob crossover (by @bear-boi-5)

eggdog angst (by tophat)

some random megari doodle

Selfaware!smg4 vs hallow!smg4

tari doodles brainrot

Fear (by tophat)

i love batshit insane meggy tbh (by tophat)

MEGARI DOODLES (by tophat)

that- thats not straight (by tophat)

feral mf guides her blind gf (by chaoticlad)

MORE MEGARI DOODLES

SMG3- (by chaoticlad and tophat)

MORE MEGARI (by chaoticlad)

the smg4 crew!! (by chaoticlad)

Collecting data(Gone wrong

don't spoil the spoilers (by TOPHAT)

P A R I S I T E (by @katjustvibinglmao)

Random ass doodles (by TOPHAT)

I see though I'm blind (by TOPHAT)

SMG4 CREW DOOLES CAUSE WHY TF NOT (by akitheasteriod)

THE SAVIOR (by TOPHAT)

Huh.. familiar voices (by TOPHAT)

Neat! (By TOPHAT)

SELF AWARE MELONY BRAINROT WOOO (by akitheasteroid)

ah yes the big boss and her employees (by aki)

AFTERMATH SELFAWARE SMG4

corsovers woaaa??

COLLAB:

THE OG HERE!!

swap au (i think) (by @hamlos)

theodore!smg3 (by @lizaluvsthis)

Hallow au (by tophat)

sillies au (by chaoticlad)

singer au (by aki)

smg3 but cat (IDK WHAT AU THIS IS CALLED IM SORRY) (by @maymeowmoo)

apocalypse au (i also dunno what au this is called IM SORRY) (by @katjustvibinglmao

ASK:

the outset of selfaware!lore (asked by tophat)

my personal brainrot (asked by tophat)

your payday is nonexistant (asked by chaoticlad)

Selfaware!Smg4 meets their creators woa?? (Asked by happy chaos kid)

at one point (asked by aki)

#self aware au

[ere-na]

I get the disappointment re: the lack of bojere content. We were all expecting more, especially after finding out that JO would spend so many days with him. But I don't think Jere hates bojere, considering how much he himself has willingly and knowingly fed us bojere enjoyers. But I do feel like he is afraid that his involvement and presence throws a shadow over JO, and really wanted JO to have their proper moment in Finland now, and not make it about him. And having been to both shows, I think it was the right call. I feel like even bringing Häärijä on stage on Saturday, while cute, was unnecessary and a bit of a mistake. Sunday's show was the perfect JO experience and I'm glad they got to have it and that Jere was able to enjoy it from the audience for once. And also he is on vacation and kinda in between "eras" right now, and JO is also moving on from ESC, so I feel them playing Cha Cha cha now would have felt weird. Idk, maybe they'll do something in July, when Jere is back to work, so to speak. Or maybe they won't. But I'm happy they'll at least get to meet again fairly soon. Especially when I think about last May and Jere crying, because he didn't know if he'd see bojan again. 🥺❤️ And I'll continue to wish for a proper collab song, so that they would always have an excuse to perform together if the opportunity arose and it wouldn't be awkward (like playing just Käärijä or JO song would be, I think)

(puting under cut because I'm just waffling depressing shit)

man, anon, I don't even know why it's hitting me so hard. The weird thing is that I fully agree with everthing: him on stage would have been unnecessary and kinda setting a bad precedent, and I'm happy they keep their friendship private, as they should. (the friendship that is absolutely real and I never doubted that). But the timing and the way it was done... like the silence is so fucking loud. The only conclusion I can draw is that Jere regrets doing things the way he's done during JO Nordic Tour... Am I now a bad person that I enjoyed that content? Because whenever I had a bad day it was such a comfort to look up videos of Jere and Bojan... but if he regrets that those videos are public, I feel like I'm not allowed to rely on them anymore.. That we're not invited to Bojere anymore.

And again it's completely fine, they don't own us anything. But the christmas is gone and I don't know what to do now.. I keep reminding myself that I can't expect anything and honestly that's very depressing.

I also undestand that these are fully my personal issues, I'm most likely overthinking all this to oblivion and I'm also sorry for bringing all this up here. It would make me most happy to know I'm the only one feeling this way.

Oh and I love you anon, I hope you have a good day 💖

#personal

[strip4kaneshiro]

Differences between Luxiem, Noctyx, and Iluna I’ve noticed

It’s been a couple of months since I’ve first started watching Nijisanji and with me mostly watching Luxiem and onward, I thought I would share a couple of things I noticed. These may be wrong but I’m mostly going off of what they’ve directly told us so far, that and the power of context clues!! So if I get something wrong don’t sue me uwu. I can’t be there for EVERY stream for EVERYONE so sorry if I missed anything.

Out of all three, Noctyx has the best Japanese skills and the highest amount of fluent/semi-fluent speaking members (Yugo, Sonny, Alban ect) vs Shu and Ike

Luxiem is a lot more proper about organizing collabs and whatnot compared to the more recent groups

In terms of slang and age, I say Iluna is the most relateable to their demographic (not their target audience. Nijisanji EN stated that their stuff is mainly targeted at adults so I say 2004 and up).

Iluna is the most open about their ethnicities and Luxiem is the most open about their sexualities (Ik Uki is out-out but Mysta, Ike, and Vox have talked about it on stream like it was no big deal which we love)

Noctyx sticks to the entire “senpai, kohai, kyodai” thing the most from my experience. Iluna seems to be sticking to it also and following in their footsteps

All three of these groups are v much pro lgbtq+ !!! Like a lot (maybe it’s cause they are also fruity af)

I noticed that Noctyx plays the most fps games as a group. Ik Selen plays bunches of Apex, Valo ect but they’re the ones who do it the most out of everyone. Esp Alban and Sonny.

Iluna is doing a lot of non-game streams (both planned and already streamed). Scarle’s boba stream, Aia and Maria’s drawing streams ect.

Luxiem has done the most drinking streams so far, with Ike and Vox being the top offenders. ( Luca n Mysta are lightweights so I get why maybe they wouldn’t wanna do them often).

Noctyx has the deepest interactions with their lore, be it Uki w his lore based song or Fulgur with his literal lore fanfics (idk what they’re called but I watched the one w Alban’s voice acting in it and oh my god??? It’s so intricate)

Iluna’s geographical audience seems to be mostly western, while Noctyx and Luxiem have more overseas fans (Asia!)

Speaking of geography, Iluna is (mostly) the closest to each other, runner up being Luxiem. With Maria and Ren both being Australian and under the assumption the rest of Iluna live in NA. Ike, Mysta, and Vox also living fairly close to each other only leaving Luca and Shu in AU and the US.

Luxiem has the pickiest eaters :p NijiDab/NijiSus off collab proved them weak!! (Kidding kidding, but it was funny to hear Mysta and Luca refusing to eat the simplest foods hehejejejd can’t believe I can take them out with a pickle or vegetables in general.)

Noctyx n Iluna are so flirty with each other😭😭 Uki n His HOESSS bro. And Ren w his unintentional harem??? Why are psyborg and Ren/Aster like this ??? My god stop being in love on main (it’s really fun to see their dynamics tho, get you a friend that will treat u right!!)

Speaking of Iluna and their antics, they’re the most chaotic. Like my god, the constant back and forth banter and then the whiplash from every other member is outstanding.

#nijisanji en #nijisanji #luxiem #noctyx #iluna #vtuber

[sailoryooons]

Carmen | pjm x kth (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous. 

☾ Word Count: 10,277

☾ Genre: Supernatural, Smut, PWP

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

☾ Warnings: Hypnotized/compelled decisions and thoughts, implied manipulation, Taehyung is influenced a lot by the natural power/allure of vampires and it scatters his thoughts/makes him do things he normally wouldn’t, depictions of blood, intimidation, The Vibes Are Off, light depictions of anxiety, vampires showing off humans like pets sort of, biting/marking/bruising, explicit language, explicit sexual content, not using lube, spit play/using spit as lube, light degradation, blood play/drinking, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving), hand jobs, ass play, a lot of feelings and sensations, mentions of fear during sex, references to subspace, feeling overwhelmed during sex, crying, power dynamics but not explicitly dom/sub, blood lust, feeding frenzy, feelings of terror, Jimin calls Taehyung ‘Carmen’ sometimes - it makes sense in context, Taehyung is lured to the vampire den, implied obsessive themes (no stalking or anything), hair pulling, voyeurism, scenes of carnage and like a feed frenzy, terror at the end of fucking, idk its a vampire coven and Taehyung realizes whats happening at the very end so. 

☾ Published: October 27, 2023

☾ A/N: Happy Halloween to my baby bat @gimmethatagustd. I love you eternally, and I hope that we live a long and immortal life together. Please accept this as my love for you and I hope I am actually with you when this drops so that you can start screaming at me for hiding the fact that this fic was for you the entire time sofidjfogidjf. Also, Happy Early Birthday. I love you so much it’s actually disgusting and I need to be institutionalized. LARGELY UNEDITED SORRY. 

☾ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

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

Masterlist | Ask | Tag List | Song Inspiration | BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween Collab

The boys, the girls They all like Carmen -Carmen, Lana Del Ray

Taehyung knows the woman at the back of the lounge wants to take him home before his first song is over. He’s become better at picking them out early. Of course, most of the men and women want to take Taehyung home, especially when starts singing the slower, romantic ballads. He can see the way they sigh, melting in their seats a little, eyes wide and mouth open. 

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes his eyes keep straying back to her. She is beautiful, to be sure, but something is pressing in Taehyung’s mind as he starts his set, drawing his eyes back to her. Like an invisible hand guiding him each time, reminding him that she is there and watching. 

She stares at him with a pinpoint focus, her dark eyes tracking Taehyung on the stage as he walks slowly, mic in hand and singing the notes softly. His eyes keep drifting back to her, trying to make out her features. All he can garner is that her eyes are alluring and even from a distance, she emanates something. Huger. Power.

It makes his stomach flip. Taehyung likes those who want him, but he loves those who crave him. Usually, it’s the men who are hungry enough for Taehyung to chase him. To go after what they want. To whisper pretty compliments until Taehyung is so lavished in attention that he goes home with them. 

The woman at the back of the room looks like she can charm him - will charm him. It makes his lips turn upward as he croons softly into the mic, feeling the music of the band behind him swell, jazzy notes drifting. 

He loves this. His mother told him that he was born to sing. Her little songbird. His mother is dead now, but he lives on through each velvet note, warm voice pouring over the patrons who watch him with dazed expressions. 

Taehyung feels powerful this way. He could lead them all around the room, he’s sure of it. He could get them up, one by one, and lead them straight into destruction. He’s sure of it. 

Except for that woman at the back of the room, whose presence scrambles Taehyung’s thoughts. He finds it hard to perform, her presence like a weighted stone on his thoughts at all times. He nearly messes up the words to a few songs he is so enchanted. 

Still, he does well. La Vie is one of Taehyung’s favorite places to perform. The clientele is high-end, the staff likes to give him free food and drink along with a decent amount of cash for his performances, and he’s growing a steady income here. 

The only problem with La Vie is that its clientele are often repeat customers, and Taehyung has grown weary of seeing the same faces he’s taken to bed already. The faces who think they own him now, who think that just because they’ve had a taste, they can have a fit whenever his eyes stray in another direction.

And his eyes do stray. 

In the middle of his set, Taehyung takes a cool sip of water while the band plays a fast tune. He nods his head, feeling the rhythm and snapping his fingers. The stage lights are low but he feels the heat through his long-sleeved shirt and slacks, sweat dripping down the back of his neck slowly like a phantom finger. 

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Constantine staring. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he feels the sudden flash of irritation, the urge to curl his lip in annoyance. Constantine is the exact problem that Taheyung has with La Vie, except that he’s the one who got Taehyung the gig - and the manager. 

Taehyung’s throat tightens as he walks back to the stage to finish the last half of the set. The last of the songs are slower, dreamy romantic songs meant to soften the crowd before they dismiss from the lounge for the evening. The sooner he ends the show, the sooner he’ll have to field Constantine’s seeking questions and fawning. 

It presents a problem if Taehyung wants to talk to the woman at the back of the room. 

He decides not to think about it too much. Instead, he closes his eyes and sings his way through the rest of the song, voice carrying old jazz classics and his own written music. Some people would call his smooth voice haunting. Others call it hypnotizing. Taehyung doesn’t know where he stands on the subject, and he doesn’t care so much. He just likes to sing and he likes people who watch him sing. Who listen. 

There are those who come to his performances at high-end restaurants and lounges to watch him, and those who come to hear him. He prefers those who like to hear him, but any will do at the end of the night when he wants to roll around satin sheets and drink rich wine that he doesn’t have the pallet for. 

When he sings the final note of the night, it hangs in the air. This is one of Taehyung’s favorite moments of each night. It’s the last breath before his spell is broken, a moment frozen in time where all eyes are on him, the crowd so entranced that it takes a long pause for them to realize he’s finished.

The brief silence is chased with thunderous applause and people standing. He grins, feeling his chest swell with pride, blood sizzling in his veins as he bows low at the waist. He’s one of the few artists who can get this stiff, rich crowd to stand and cheer, and he knows it. 

He steps to the side and gestures to his band, the applause continuing as they each stand and bow. Though most people might feel tired after a performance, Taehyung is buzzing. He feels the adrenaline pumping through him, and after he steps down from the stage and polishes off ice-cold water, he immediately wants something harder to keep the buzz going. 

Drinks wait for him on the bar top. It’s crowded at La Vie but people make room for him at the bar. An original speakeasy from the prohibition era, it’s low-ceiling and dimly lit, offering a romantic and mysterious air hanging in the room. Taehyung places a folded wad of bills into a glass tip jar, saluting Yoongi behind the bar. The bartender nods, gracious for the tip and a confirmation that the glasses of neat are on the house. 

Taehyung knocks back the first glass. The whiskey burns down his throat. He hisses as it goes, feeling the sting in his nasal passage. He blows out a slow breath and grins to himself, pausing before he sips the next drink to shake hands with a string of patrons complimenting him. 

None of them catch his eye the way the woman at the back of the room has, though. Taehyung sees lingering looks from husbands and wives and smirks at a group of giggling women who are shy and blushing and biting their lips as they compliment him, and he feels a slight spike of irritation when Constantine takes the stool next to him.

Instead of speaking to him, Taehyung focuses on sipping the drink. It’s smooth and perfect, with a hint of orange rind that Yoongi probably burned and waved around the glass. Taehyung looks up to see the bartender cast Constantine a pitying glance before making another drink. 

“You sang well tonight,” Constantine prods. “You have such a way with the crowd.”

“Well, I supposed that’s my job.” Taehyung’s comment comes out flat. He glances at Constantine from the corner of his eye to see that he’s frowning. 

Taehyung is full of mistakes, but letting the manager of La Vie fuck him is by far one of his biggest. He usually has a rule that he doesn’t fuck the people who can interfere with his work, but he made an exception. 

Constantine is beautiful, but a bit of a fool. He inherited La Vie from a long line of family members who have kept it running, and it’s through long-term patronage and reputation alone that it’s lasted this long. Well, that and his two only successful ventures in hiring Yoongi as his main bartender who doubles as his piano player on weeknights, and Taehyung as the late-night performances most evenings. 

People don’t come to La Vie because it’s well-kept or because of Constantine’s good business acumen. They come because they want to hear Yoongi play and then watch him behind a bar all night, sweat running down his neck, dark eyes always filled with a potential promise of more. They don’t get it, of course. Yoongi doesn’t sleep around as Taehyung does, but still, the bartender and pianist is loved and lusted after by most of the patrons. 

Then there’s Taehyung. The warm opposite of Yoongi’s distant, unattainable beauty. Taehyung is full of life, accepting praise greedily, willing to flirt his way through free drinks and extra tips, especially if it lands him in the bed of someone he has been eyeing all night.

Until he broke his rule for Constantine. Pretty Constantine, who said that he was on the same page and that sleeping with Taehyung would be a casual thing. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s fault for not seeing how mystified the lounge manager was after that first night tangled in sweaty sheets followed by a hot shower the next morning. 

Now, he’s between a rock in a hard place. Offend Constantine and risk being ousted. Keep letting him take Taehyung to bed, and he’ll never escape. 

“Your eyes are beautiful tonight,” Constantine murmurs, dipping his head to catch Taehyung’s attention. “I’d bet they’d look even better rolling in-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a dark, feminine voice cuts in. “But I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”

The hair stands up on the back of Taehyung’s neck. He knows it’s the woman who watched him from the back of the room before he even turns around. When he does, he is mystified. Her eyes are lined heavily in kohl and her eyes are dark as a storm sea, pinning him to his place with their intensity. Her skin is umber and smooth, her face so flawless it leaves Taehyung reeling.

There is something uncanny about her. Taehyung can’t put his finger on it. Her eyes are narrow and sharp, her lips plump and breaking into a slow, knowing smile. She looks like the cat who ate the canary, tilting her head to the side as she continues to examine Taehyung with a feline-like gaze. 

“My name is Evangeline.” She reaches out a small, smooth hand. Her nails are filed into a point and painted a wine red. For a moment, Taehyung has the silliest thought that they look like the color of blood as he shakes her hand. He’s surprised at how cold they are, his palms tingling when she lets go. “I have not heard someone sing Ella Fitzgerald like that since… well, perhaps Ella Fitzgerald.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “Do you have Ella hidden somewhere that you can listen to her sing whenever you desire?”

“Would that I could. But that’s what… oh what is that spot app, again?”

“Spotify?”

Evangeline grins, revealing wicked, blindingly white teeth. “Spotify, yes. That little intricacy does quite a good job at catching the sound of old artists, but there is nothing like it live.”

Evangeline’s voice is like velvet. Even Constantine goes silent next to Taehyung, staring up at the woman as she slides next to Taehyung. She leans against the bar close enough that he gets the barest hint of scent like jasmine and amber. 

A shiver slides through him as she sips a glass of the darkest wine Taehyung’s ever seen. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth when he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know most of the patrons by heart.”

“You wouldn’t have. I have not been to La Vie in a long time.” 

Taehyung realizes that she speaks with a specific articulation that hints at an accent. He can’t place it, but it’s like the sweetest music to his ears. “You’ll have to come more often, perhaps.”

“That eager to see me again?”

“I like to pride myself on repeat customers coming to hear me. It would be a shame to know you didn’t find my performance compelling enough to see another.”

“Hmm. Pride isn’t very becoming.”

Taehyung bites his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. “Spoken like a woman who can relate.” 

Evangeline is quick-witted. The rest of the world seems to fade as Taehyung talks to her. It’s strange - he cannot remember what the conversation is about, and he can’t remember Constantine leaving. He doesn’t even recall the patrons leaving the bar until it’s just Yoongi wiping down the counters, eyeing Taehyung wearily as he says goodbye, following the woman out of the door.

Blood rushes through Taehyung’s veins. It’s cold outside, winter fogging his breath. His skin tingles with the sudden temperature change, muted by the soft glow of alcohol in his system. He looks up at the sky, hot breath fogging as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with that sharp air. 

Something about being drunk in the middle of the night during winter is magical. He can’t explain it, feeling himself smile as he drops his gaze back down to the woman next to him. For a second, he swears her face is sharper than he remembers, a look so hungry in his eyes that it makes his pulse skip.

When he blinks, she’s smirking at him, tilting her head. Taehyung realizes he is drunk, but he craves Evangeline. Wants to hear the way that dark voice of her pants against him, wants to feel her sharp nails on his skin, raking down-

“Have you ever been to the opera house on ninth?”

Taehyung pauses at her question. He feels his brows furrow as his drunk thoughts turn from thoughts of kissing Evangeline to puzzling out her question. “That exclusive club that was made out of the old opera house? What’s it called again…”

“Sanguine.”

He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Sanguine. No, I haven’t. It’s by invitation only and it’s the most exclusive club in the city. I hear it’s open all hours, though.”

“It is.”

“Wait, are you a member?” 

Evangeline sticks her hand out. Taehyung meets her gaze and it feels like he falls forward into it. All thoughts fade from his mind. There is no sound, save that of a high-pitched ringing. Everything but the glowing, otherworldly woman has faded to the back. He only sees her. 

Taehyung lifts his hand, but he doesn’t remember thinking about doing it. He places it in hers, and she laces their fingers. Her hands are bitterly cold, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t either, skin tingling, gaze heavy on her as she tugs him along.

“Want to see it?”

He can’t form words. Suddenly feels like he can’t remember how. He nods his head instead, following her. His first few steps feel heavy and he stumbles like he has had far more to drink than he remembers. Normally, it might be cause for alarm, but Taehyung is unbothered as they walk, Evangeline’s eyes pulling him along as she walks backward. 

The world passes by but Taehyung doesn’t remember it. He is somewhat aware that his cheeks and nose are sticking with cold and that his eyes are watering from the temperature. He tilts his head upward, a little dazed and confused about where he is until he sees the golden glow of the opera house.

Sanguine. It is a massive building of white stone and ornate pillars. The architecture confuses him, a blend of Greco-Roman pillars and gargoyles he’d expect to find in a gothic church. The building is a wonderous feat of dark windows, ornate carvings in the stonework, and height. 

“The gargoyles are a bit terrifying,” Taehyung announces, staring at them fixated on top of the portico over the entryway. “Why the gargoyles?” 

“Some lessons are hard to learn.” 

Suddenly, Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of them. The two snarling beasts seem to be a bad omen and he finds himself frozen to the spot, forgetting all about the woman next to him or the invitation to see the exclusive inside of the most prestigious clubs in the city. All he knows is that suddenly, a feeling like doom has tiptoed up his back to rest on his shoulder. 

Taehyung takes a step back. The gargoyles look so much more like people when he stares at them. Twisted humanoids, crouched while screaming at the sky, showing fangs. His heart beats so hard that he feels his pulse in his throat, panic welling up inside of him, ready to spill out and overflow.

“I’m drunk,” he blurts. “I should go home. I-”

Evangeline’s cold hands grab Taehyung’s face and pull him down to her. Her lips are pressed against his and he doesn’t remember what he was worried about. His heart speeds up for different reasons now, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into her kiss, his hands going to her hips to pull her in closer. 

She tastes like dark wine and something else - a bit like iron and salt. The kiss is slow and dizzying and when she pulls away, Taehyung is eager to follow her into the dark halls of the opera house.

The lobby is dark inside. No light comes through the windows, leaving Taehyung in a complete abyss as Evangeline shuts and bolts the door behind him. A tingle slithers up Taehyung’s spine when she bolts the door and he suddenly feels like he’s never going to leave the opera house again. 

A soft din of voices and music trails to him from the doors leading to the main theater. Evangeline takes his hand and leads up toward the door. He still feels dizzy from the kiss, willing to follow her wherever she goes. 

For now, that’s the main seating area of the theater. She pulls open the heavy door, the rush of gentle voices and piano hitting him. Leading him through the door, Taehyung blinks as his eyes adjust from complete darkness to low light. It’s so dim that it takes him a moment to make out anything at all, eyes drifting up toward a massive chandelier with flickering, gold bulbs. 

The inside of the theater is like nothing Taehyung has ever seen. It has been transformed into a massive lounge with a wooden bar on the far right, manned by two bartenders. Velvet couches, chaise lounges and chairs are placed around the main floor, groups of people dressed in formal wear and dripping with jewels draping themselves over the furniture. 

Everything screams opulence. The interior still has the same baroque, elegant beauty that seems like the original design, mixed with the new additions like the bar and furniture. On the stage is a piano, a young woman playing with her eyes closed, and a cluster of people around her, gazing at her with what Taehyung can only describe as hunger. 

Evangeline leads him into the room. He feels the eyes on them as they go, glancing around nervously to realize that there is an odd mix of people in the room. There are those dressed formally in draping gowns and tuxedos, all of whom are unnaturally beautiful. Taehyung finds that his brain buzzes when he looks at them, each individual otherworldly and… cold. 

The other groups of people look like Taehyung. Starry-eyed and dressed in varying degrees of plain clothes. He wonders if they are guests as well, people brought into the fold by elegant patrons like Evangeline. 

Trepidation settles deep in Taehyung’s gut as Evangeline takes him to the bar and orders him a drink. He is tired, eyes heavy and worn at the edges. The momentary surge of adrenaline after she kissed him is wearing off, and Taehyung feels the layer of dizziness slipping off, replaced by anxiety. 

In an attempt to take the edge off, he sips his drink. Evangeline begins introducing him to groups of people, linking her arms with his and pulling him around the room. Taehyung gives her friends a dazzling smile, though he is overwhelmed by the dark eyes that meet his. The cold handshakes. The almost predatory way that the others smile at him. 

He cannot pinpoint what about the crowd is making him nervous, but as Evangeline tells someone about his singing ability, Taehyung realizes that she’s bragging. Showing him off. Pulling him around the room and gesturing to him with words like look what I found and isn’t he just darling? 

Normally, Taehyung preens with pride under the compliments and the pretty words. He loves it when people are enthralled by him, swept away by his talents. Now, something about it feels off. They don’t look at him with wonder on their faces and awe in their eyes- they coo at him. Look at him like they want to eat him whole. Like he is something they can possess. 

Only one person introduces himself and looks at Taehyung curiously instead of with lecherous intent. “Hoseok,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand. It’s firm and cold. “What do you like to sing?”

It’s the only time he’s been asked a question tonight. Hoseok is hauntingly beautiful, with dark eyes, a slim nose, and cheekbones that seem carved by Strazza. He is dazzling to look at, and Taehyung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he says, “Jazz, mostly. Sometimes classical, but that was mostly in my younger days in school.” 

“Divine.” Hoseok’s gaze slides to Evangeline. “You know he’s… his type.”

“Well, he didn’t find him.” 

Taehyung doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The pianist on stage stops playing and Evangeline takes Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward the stage. “Come on,” she gushes. “Let them hear you.”

He lets himself be pulled. Taehyung feels a coil of nerves in his stomach as she yanks him on stage and pushes him to the middle. The room quiets when they see them and Evangeline claps her hands, drawing the full attention of the lounge.

There’s no spotlight, but Taehyung feels hot under the weighted gaze. Again, his instinct tingles, trying to make him aware of something. He just doesn’t know what. He shoves down the feeling and tucks his hands into his pockets, giving a shy grin as Evangeline talks about his voice. 

The crowd of patrons lean in a little when she steps off the stage. Their gazes are sharp as razors and he can’t help but feel like a shy lamb among a pack of wolves. 

Licking his dry lips, he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Evangeline stands near the side of the stage, not a great point of attention as he sweeps his gaze out into the room. He fixes his eyes on the glowing red exit sign above the door and opens his mouth, taking in a deep breath before he starts a slow Sinatra number. 

His voice carries over the hushed silence, deep and swelling. He smiles a little as he sings, watching the face go from hungry to mystified. The whole room seems to lean in, people from the back moving toward the stage, drawn in by him. 

Taehyung goes right into the next song, feeling his anxiety melt away. His audience is wrapped around his finger, their eyes following him as he trails around the stage, more engaged. He makes eye contact with some of them, still flinching internally at the sheer darkness of their eyes, but still singing nonetheless. 

When Taehyung finishes, the room erupts into gentle clapping and whispered praise. He feels pride well up inside of him, flushing with pleasure as he bows at the waist, grinning under the sweet applause. He stands up and starts walking toward Evangeline, who looks at him with a smile like the sun. His heart beats a little faster, grinning widely as she claps for him excitedly and-

“Sing another.”

Taehyung realizes the room is silent. The hairs on his arms stand on end and it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room suddenly. Evangeline’s eyes flash silver for a moment, but when Taehyung recoils and blinks, they’re back to normal, though she looks put out as she steps back from Taehyung. 

Slowly, Taehyung turns to look at the edge of the stage at the owner of the soft voice and his world stops. Whoever this man puts the rest of the beauty in the room to shame. Taehyung feels his pulse race, meeting the dark, sultry gaze of the man who spoke to him. 

Something calls to Taehyung. He steps toward the man, dazed and confused, staring, staring, staring. The man has the most beautiful face Taehyung has ever seen. Round cheekbones with a chiseled jaw, plush lips tinted rose, and siren eyes that glitter as he drinks Taehyung in. This is the son of a god or a god himself, Taehyung thinks. A creature of myth and legend.

“What do you want me to sing?” Taehyung asks, barely recognizing his own voice. His ears are ringing and his thoughts are syrup-slow. 

The man smiles and Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. The man is not dressed in formal attire like the rest of the patrons. He’s dressed simply in black jeans with tears in the knee, a black turtleneck tucked into the waistband to show off his tapered waist, and a necklace that looks to be made of thorns. 

Even dressed casually, he outshines every person in the room. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Taehyung. 

A flush works up Taehyung’s neck. He feels a tingle slide down his spine and a lick of pleasure curl in his stomach at the man’s gaze. His fingers twitch and his mouth feels dry. He licks his lips, trying to think of the man’s question and what his answer should be. 

“Can’t Help Falling In Love, I think.” 

The man grins and Taehyung sees stars. “You think? Or you know?”

“I know?”

“Are you asking me?” 

Taehyung shifts back and forth, shame coloring his cheeks as he looks at the floor. Effortlessly, the man jumps up on the stage. He lands silent and lithe as a cat. Taehyung’s eyes widen as he approaches, his gait smooth, footfalls unheard. “I’m only teasing, sweetling. What’s your name?”

“Taehyung.” 

The man stops right in front of Taehyung. He’s shorter, but somehow Taehyung feels small and delicate in his presence, wavering as the smell of orange blossom and something darker washes over him. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and he fights the urge to lean in closer to the man, to brush his fingers across his skin. 

“I’m Jimin.” Jimin reaches out and brushes his fingers across Taehyung’s cheekbone. His touch leaves a trail of tingling cold. Taehyung closes his eyes, breath catching. Whatever this spell he’s under, he can’t shake it, gone with just a touch. “I want you to sing for me, Taehyung.” 

“Okay.” 

Jimin steps away and Taehyung makes a sound, protesting. His mind is warring between confusion at his reaction and the need to be near Jimin. The duller part of his thoughts is careening, telling him to pull it together, to stop and leave. But the desire shaken awake by Jimin is so much louder, commanding Taehyung’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing to where Evangeline is standing. “I’ll be right there.” 

Taehyung watches as Jimin glides over to the edge of the stage. He whispers something to Evangeline that Taehyung cannot hear but he watches the change in the woman. She ripples with anger, her lip curling up in a snarl. Jimin says something else to her and in the blink of an eye, her head is bowed, her shoulders coming up as she steps back, cowering. 

When Jimin turns around, he gives Taehyung an encouraging smile. The effect is instantaneous. Taehyung feels giddy inside, joy bubbling up as he returns the smile shyly. Gone is the anxiety, gone is the strange feeling of being paraded around. Now, all he can think about is Jimin’s dark eyes, the way they track him as he moves to the middle of the stage again. 

As Taehyung starts the song, he wonders if this is what Elvis was singing about. If wise men were right and that only fools fall in love. Can love at first sight be a thing? As Taehyung sings the song softly, looking at Jimin every so often, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet, he thinks perhaps this song was written about Jimin. 

It isn’t rational. Taehyung knows this and yet barely acknowledges it, watching Jimin’s eyes shine with something as Taehyung finishes the song. For a moment, no one claps. Taehyung looks nervously around the theater, watching as the eyes of the crowd look at Jimin. Once he applauds, the rest follow. 

Taehyung lets out a relieved breath, smiling and bowing shallowly. Jimin approaches him again. It occurs to Taehyung that Jimin walks like a jungle cat, smooth and somehow lethal. 

“You have the most exquisite voice,” Jimin says gently, shaking his head. “You are a rare treasure, Taehyung.” He holds out a hand. “Join me?” 

Taehyung starts to reach for Jimin before he hesitates, eyes glancing up over Jimin’s head at Evangeline, who looks murderous. “You are far too precious for her,” Jimin growls. “It is insulting that she thinks she could ever have you.”

Instead of answering, Taehyung just nods. His eyelids feel heavy, his heady swimming like he’s buzzing off a fresh glass of liquor. Jimin links their hands together and tugs Taehyung along. As they pass Evangeline, she doesn’t dare look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor. 

At the foot of the stairs, Hoseok is standing, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. He shakes his head when he sees Jimin, falling into step with him. “I told her.” 

“Thank you for alerting me,” Jimin tells Hoseok. Jimin turns over his shoulder where Taehyung is trailing a footstep behind. “I would have missed out on him.” 

Hoseok breaks off from them, walking toward the bar. Someone takes up the piano again as Jimin leads Taehyung out of the main theater and to a stairwell. He says nothing, following Jimin’s lead in silence, steps heavy. It feels like he’s underwater, everything dull around him. 

Except Jimin, who is sharp and bright and alive in his mind. 

Jimin leads Taehyung down a hall and through a door. It opens up into a balcony suite. What was once a private box for watching the opera has been turned into a luxurious room of sorts, making Taehyung raise his eyebrows. 

A lounge area is in the middle of the suite, and there is a single bed tucked into the corner. A wet bar is placed at the back, along with a doorway that leads into a refurbished bathroom. Taehyung pauses as Jimin drops his hand, looking around to appreciate the velvet drapery on the wall and the ornate decor in the room. 

It feels like he has stepped back in time, a mix of modern and Victorian meshing in a way that Taehyung finds wonderfully elegant. Jimin goes to the wet bar and retrieves two glasses, pouring them a finger of whiskey each. Taehyung walks toward him, looking out at the lounge beneath. 

“It’s designed like a bedroom?” Taehyung inquires, eyes drifting back to Jimin, who smiles as he brings the glass up to his lips. His sharp eyes pin Taehyung to the spot as he sips. “Do you… live here?”

Jimin shrugs. “Sometimes.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Instead of answering the question, Jimin gestures for Taehyung to walk with him, leading him to a rich, crushed velvet couch that overlooks the lounge. Taehyung takes a sip of the whiskey but it’s Jimin who makes him feel drunk and cottony.

He sits next to Jimin, limbs stiff. Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s awkwardness, tsking at him as he leans over and pulls Taehyung toward him, pressing their thighs and sides together as they watch the party unfold below. Butterflies flutter in Taehyung’s smile as he looks at Jimin, who is watching Taehyung with rapt attention. 

Being so near Jimin is difficult. This close, he’s even more beautiful than before. Taehyung doesn’t know how it’s possible. Jimin’s lashes are long, framing his beautiful eyes. His dark hair looks silky and soft, tucked behind his ears as he regards Taehyung with a fond expression. 

Heat climbs up Taehyung’s neck and between his legs, a heady feeling sinking deep in his stomach under Jimin’s gaze.

“What?” Taehyung asks, looking down at his lap and chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s never felt so bashful under someone’s gaze before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Jimin tuts. “You were quite confident on stage earlier. I believe the entire room fell in love with you.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders and Jimin laughs loudly. “Now you’re humble? You are a delightful creature, Taehyung. Tell me, have you ever been to the opera?” 

“No, but I’m familiar with some.”

“What about Carmen?” Jimin asks. He reaches forward and drags a finger across Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung holds back a groan as Jimin starts tracing patterns on Taehyung’s thigh. “Have you heard of that one?” 

“I’m familiar with the Habanera.” 

“Ah yes. It’s about a woman named Carmen who everyone is in love with. She entrances men with her vitality and sensuality. A man named José falls madly in love with her at first sight, abandoning the army, his wife, and his children for her.” 

Taehyung finds it hard to listen. Even through the fabric of his pants, Jimin’s touch is tantalizing. Taehyung’s legs widen a fraction, his spine tingling. He leans his head back, feeling breathless as Jimin’s tracing gets higher and higher, teasing Taehyung before his touch moves toward Taehyung’s knee again. 

“José, of course, is not the only one in love with Carmen. She is infectious, tempting everyone she comes into contact with.” Jimin leans toward Taehyung, so close that his breath ghosts across Taehyung’s throat. He feels his heart speed up as Jimin lowers his voice and continues, “You remind me so much of Carmen. Charming everyone around you with a simple look, with the sound of your voice. So addicting without even a taste.” 

“O-oh.” 

Jimin presses his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung nearly drops the glass in his hand, placing it next to him on the couch as his breathing hitches. Jimin runs his nose up Jimin’s too-hot skin, making Taehyung squirm. 

“I fear I have the same weakness as José and you have hypnotized me like Carmen.” 

“Me?”

Jimin nips Taehyung’s ear and Taehyung lets out a throaty, moan. Jimin’s breath across his skin is maddening, colors swimming behind squeezed-shut eyes. His dick hardens in his pants, blood pumping through him, arousal unfolding like the slow-blooming petals of a flower. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know the effect you have on people.”

“I do,” Taheyung admits. 

“Look at me.” 

It is a command. Taehyung obeys, turning his face to look up at Jimin. Jimin’s pupils are blown wide, hypnotizing, and alluring as he looks down his nose at Taehyung. Desire stirs so strongly in Taehyung that he parts his lips open, making a small noise as Jimin’s touch on Taehyung’s thigh turns to a solid grip, fingers digging in. 

“Do you want me, my Carmen? Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” Taehyung breathes. “Please.” 

“Ask, then.” 

Jimin’s eyes are so hungry that Taehyung is lost in them. Jimin is on his knees on the couch now, pressed against Taehyung. It feels more intimate than anything Taehyungh has ever felt and they’re barely touching, Jimin gripping Taehyung’s thigh, his mouth hovering inches above Taehyung’s.

“Ask,” Jimin growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere in Taehyung’s chest. Jimin might be smaller than Taehyung but the power that emanates from him is intoxicating and sweeping, making Taehyung shudder.

“Please,” Taehyung says again. “I want you. Will you have me? Please.”

Jimin’s grip is iron. “Of course I will. You’re mine.” 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s as Jimin steals a searing kiss from him. Taehyung gasps into the kiss, melting into the couch as Jimin licks into the wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin is all-consuming, his lips sliding against Taehyung’s hungrily, his tongue brushing against the ridges of Taehyung’s mouth.

It’s just a kiss and yet Taehyung loses himself in it. It’s needy and torrid, their teeth clicking together, lips sliding. Taehyung grabs the front of Jimin’s shirt, uncaring if he wrinkles it as Jimin presses Taehyung into the back of the couch, straddling him. Jimin’s fingers tangle in Taehyung’s hair, pulling harshly. 

The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung moan. Jimin hums, his devilish mouth moving from Taehyung’s lips to his jaw, biting and sucking harshly at the skin. It feels so good. Taehyung just lies there and takes it, hissing as Jimin’s teeth pinch and pull his skin, followed by Jimin’s soothing tongue, rough and wet.

The ache in his dick grows, especially as Jimin puts weight on it, sitting in his lap and leaning and rolling his hips forward, pressing into Taehyung’s cock and driving him wild. He feels out of control, like the room is spinning and Jimin’s kisses are going straight to Taehyung’s veins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as Jimin licks hungrily at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin drags his blunt nails along Taehyung’s scalp, sending sparks down his neck and spine. “Please.”

“Please what,” Jimin pants, mouthing at Taehyung’s collarbones. “Tell me what you need, my wonderful Carmen.” 

It should be strange to be called by another name and yet, Taehyung shivers at the rasp in Jimin’s voice. Every single part of him is suddenly alive like his nerves are exposed to Jimin’s hands and mouth. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he felt like this with such simple touches. 

Perhaps never. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung breathes. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Jimin smiles against Taehyung’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll fuck you.” 

A thrill goes through Taehyung as Jimin grabs him and slams him against the couch. His world spins and he’s suddenly facing the ceiling of the suite, panting and delirious as Jimin pins him down, littering his skin with bites and sloppy kisses.

Some of Jimin’s nipping hurts but it adds to the pleasure, Taehyung barreling straight into a slow, pleasured haze as Jimin pulls Taehyung’s shirt off roughly. Cool air kisses his flushed skin. Taehyung claws at the jacket on Jimin’s shoulders, pushing it off of him until he’s free of it, Taehyung’s hands seeking the flexing muscle of Jimin’s arms. 

Jimin’s hand goes to Taehyung’s throat. His hand is small but it squeezes pleasantly as Jimin kisses down Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung grinds up against Jimin, trying to relieve the pressure aching in his cock, a whine leaving his mouth. He feels Jimin’s breath across his skin as he laughs before fixing his mouth on a nipple, making Taehyung keen.

The stimulation is too much and not enough. It feels like Taehyung is ripping at the seams - burst at the seams from the pressure mounting inside of him. What has Jimin done to him to command his body? 

“Everyone can hear you,” Jimin teases, flicking his long, wicked tongue out to tease Taehyung’s already abused nipple. He drags his tongue across Taehyung’s chest, leaving a wet trail of spit as he goes. “Can hear you whining like a little whore. Is that what you want?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Jimin’s teeth scrape against his other nipple. He nods his head, unable to form a verbal answer to Jimin’s question. 

“Hmm,” Jimin hums, tongue lashing. “Good boy. Let them know you’re mine. They’ll wait for us to have our fun before they start.”

Taehyung has no idea what that means. He doesn’t ask. Instead, his hands slip down Jimin’s stomach and under his shirt, touching his skin. Jimin is cool to the touch, his stomach muscles flexing under Taehyung’s inquisitive fingers. He grabs at Jimin’s hips, but his fingers slip away as Jimin sinks lower down Taehyung’s body, nipping and sucking as he goes. 

Opening his eyes, Taehyung watches with heavy lids as Jimin settles between Taehyung’s legs, looking up at him. His hair hangs in his eyes, which glint wickedly as his nimble fingers work the zipper on Taehyung’s pants. He can’t look away from Jimin, hypnotized by the movement, but the way Jimin grins and pulls open Taehyung’s pants, leaning forward to lick at the damp spot on Taehyung’s briefs. 

Taehyung’s head drops back and he moans loudly, feeling the pressure of Jimin’s wet tongue through the thin fabric. Jimin mouths at the crown of Taehuyng’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight to him. He grabs the back of the couch with one and presses his first to the mouth with the other, biting as he bucks his hips.

“So sensitive,” Jimin coos. His hands grab the top of Taehyung’s pants and the elastic band of his briefs and pull hard, making Taehyung yelp as Jimin unclothes him in one fell swoop. “Think you can take it?”

Taehyung nods quickly, making himself dizzy with the force. Jimin laughs and reaches out, gripping Taehyung’s shaft and pumping him slowly. Jimin’s touch is electrifying, Taehyung’s hips canting upwards to fuck himself into Jimin’s palm, head lolling to the side. 

Jimin spits loudly, coating Taehyung’s cock with spit, his hand gliding firmly to the base of Taehuyng’s shaft. “Just like that,” Jimin whispers. “Fuck yourself into my hand.” 

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He does so vigorously, chasing the feel of Jimin’s tight, wet fist and the cool feel of his skin. When Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue kitten lick the tip of his cock, he clenches his teeth, slowly his wild thrusting to allow Jimin’s mouth to explore. 

It’s hard not to bust immediately. He feels his orgasm looming from the barest stimulation. Suddenly it’s like Taehyung is back in high school having his dick sucked for the first time, trembling and trying not to come as Jimin suckles the head of Taehyung’s dick, mouthing at it greedily. 

The room feels like it’s spinning. Taehyung cannot hear beyond the balcony. All he can hear are the wet sounds of Jimin taking Taehyung into his mouth, sucking generously, tongue brushing on the underside of Taehyung’s shaft. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung with a wet pop. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, tongue flicking against Taehyung’s frenulum. Taehyung feels wrecked already, sagging and boneless, unable to do anything against the onslaught of Jimin’s mouth. “Sounds so sweet, just like you sing.”

Slowly, Jimin drags his tongue south. He strokes Taehyung lazily with his hand, mouthing at Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they’ll break as he grips the couch, overwhelmed by the stimulation, crying out, muscles squeezing, head spinning, blood roaring. 

“Such pretty sounds,” Jimin murmurs again, dragging his tongue upward. “Sing for me, my Carmen.”

A broken sob sound leaves Taehyung’s mouth as Jimin takes Taehyung to the back of his throat. The wet heat of Jimin’s mouth is an inferno, his throat tight and soft and oh god he’s swallowing. Taehyung lashes against the couch, hands shooting to Jimin’s hair as his throat constricts tightly around Taehyung. 

He feels the spit sliding down his shaft, his stomach so tight and his dick so hard he knows he’s about to come any second, every atom buzzing. 

“I’m gonna-” he can’t finish the sentence, shaking his head back and forth. His heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might die before he hits his peak. “Fuck, Jimin. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Jimin redoubles his efforts. Squeezes Taehyung’s balls with his hand, letting Taehyung shove his hips forward, Jimin’s throat squeezing Taehyung until he’s coming hard. Jimin takes it in stride, swallowing down Taehyung’s cum. 

And he doesn’t stop. 

Taehyung’s hands start to push at Jimin. Tries to pull him off Taehyung’s cock, tries to scoot away. The pleasure morphs into overstimulation. It hurts so good that Taehyung is collapsing into the couch, kicking and bucking and crying as Jimin keeps going, his hand pumping, mouth sucking. 

If there is a god, there must be a devil. And if there is a devil, Taehyung knows that he is between Taehyung’s legs, working him to another orgasm somehow, driving Taehyung to madness as he goes. Jimin pulls off Taehyung’s dick with a sticky sound, moaning sweetly at the mess Taehyung has become. 

“You can take it,” Jimin coos. “I know you can. You said you can.” 

Taehyung nods. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open, watching as the ceiling swims into picture, a little blurry from the tears. He takes deep, shuttering inhales, his lungs rattling as he does. When he looks down at Jimin, he wishes he didn’t open his eyes. 

He almost doesn’t recognize whatever it is that is laving at his weeping cock. Jimin’s face is crueler somehow. More beautiful, but terrifying. Taehyung swears the veins around his eyes are darker and the scrape of his teeth is sharper. 

The orgasm must have made him delirious. It’s the only explanation, especially as Jimin works him hard again, Taehyung aching to explode once more. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung and crawls upward. Taehyung thinks Jimin looks like an apex predator for a single, terrifying moment. And then Jimin is kissing him, making Taehuyng’s thoughts turn to white noise as Taehyung presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, tasting spit and cum and something like iron and salt.  

Something pricks Taehyung’s mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, his mouth filling with a warm, metallic substance. Jimin’s kiss becomes frenzied. The force of it startles Taehyung, fear wiggling its way into his mind as Jimin presses down on him. 

Jimin becomes overwhelmed. A force that Taehyung cannot escape, completely trapped and helpless, still dizzy and uncoordinated from the overstimulation. It excites him. Taehyung realizes with mild terror that he likes this feeling, likes being overpowered and pushed to the edge. 

He lets Jimin suck greedily on his bleeding lip. He’s too focused on the ache between his legs and the mind-melting way Jimin makes him feel to realize that Jimin is hyper-fixated on his bleeding mouth. He kisses Jimin back as best as he can, though it’s more of a slide of lips and tongue than an intentional kiss. 

“Turn over for me,” Jimin grumbles. He’s already gripping Taehuyng and trying to turn him over. Taehyung struggles to make his limbs work but manages to flip, mostly due to Jimin lifting him and turning him, once again showing how strong he is. “Gonna work you open for my cock.”

A pathetic sound escapes Taehyung’s mouth. His cheek hits the soft velvet. It’s grounding, feeling the gentle scrape of it against his sensitive skin. His cock is pressed tight between his stomach and the cushions, but it’s less invasive than Jimin’s hungry mouth, a brief respite. 

Wet lips trail Taehyung’s spine as Jimin descends. Taehyung’s breathing is ragged and heavy, gulping down cool air as he trembles under Jimin’s rough mouth. He likes that Jimin doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. That Jimin keeps Taehyung to his word, driving him into a manic state. 

Taehyung still feels like he’s on the edge of that mania when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip between his ass, seeking. He flinches when Jimin brushes against his tight rim, the muscles clenching, afraid. Jimin laughs but doesn’t push it, instead peeling Taehyung apart to spit noisily. 

A gentle sigh drips from Taehyung’s mouth. He feels the spit slide, the sensation heightened. Jimin’s finger traces after it, circling Taehyung’s asshole lightly. His toes curl at the light stimulation. It feels good, but it’s hard to control the muscle's instinct to reject and contract. 

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He leans forward, his fingers pressed firmly in the seam of Taehyung’s ass, his mouth pressing butterfly-soft kisses to Taehyung’s spine. 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s instrument. Jimin works him open slowly and gently, at ends with how he was driving Taehyung to madness minutes prior. The swing to gentle and soothing has Taehyung confused and reeling, his brain trying to keep up with the sensations tingling through his body. 

When Jimin slowly breaches Taehyung’s tight ring of muscles, he lets out a pathetic keen. Taehyung is too loose-limbed and fuzzy-brained to do anything but take it. The intrusion burns for a second, but levels out to be pleasurable. 

Cold liquid slides down Jimin’s fingers, easing the slide. Taehyung sighs, relief unfurling slowly as the burn goes quiet and all that’s left is the stretch and the pressure of Jimin working Taehyung’s walls open. Toe-curling pleasure sweeps through Taehyung. He bites his bottom lip, lifting his ass in small, half-hearted twitches to meet the push and pull of Jimin’s fingers.

“Mhmm,” Jimin encourages, teeth scraping Taehyung’s shoulder blade. His breath is cool on Taehyung’s warm skin. “Take what you want, sweetling. Open yourself up for me.”

It smells like sweat and orange blossoms, Taehyung’s skin covered in their mixed scents. His sensitive cock drags against the fabric of the couch, sparking pleasure and pain as he fucks himself into the palm of Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s fingers are small but do the job, pressing against the most sensitive parts of Taehyung, making his breath ragged. 

Everything feels like it’s on fire as Jimin pushes in another finger. Taehyung feels the wet schlick of lube or whatever Jimin has used to make the slide easier. He feels fuller, moaning like a whore as he chases the electric feeling under his skin, coming alive under the careful press of Jimin’s fingers. 

“So good for me,” Jimin whispers, biting Taeyung’s ear. His breath is hot against the side of Taehyung’s face. “Gonna take my cock so well, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Jimin swears. “I can’t wait. This is what you do to me.”

Jimin pulls his fingers out. Taehyung complains, feeling the empty gape. Jimin shushes him and presses his clothed cock against Taehyung’s ass, letting him feel how hard Jimin is. Taehyung grinds his ass against Jimin’s crotch, making the other moan. 

A shirt flys past Taehyung. He realizes that it must be Jimin’s turning and angling his head to see the man in question. He is utterly divine, his compact body graceful and deadly, lined with muscle and delicate lines. Jimin undoes the belt of his jeans and pulls them down, palming himself over his briefs as he kicks out of his pants. 

Taehyung can’t help but stare, lips parted. Jimin is a vision, his face still masked in something lethal and terrifying that makes Taehyung excited and afraid all at the same time. The mixture is intoxicating, sending his thoughts somewhere distant and fuzzy where all he can do is watch Jimin pull his briefs down to reveal a thick, leaking cock. 

On instinct, Taehyung scoots toward Jimin. The other laughs, giving Taehyung a quick, harsh smack on the ass. His skin stings where Jimin’s hand connects, earning a whimper. Jimin tuts at Taehyung, fisting his cock leisurely as he does. 

“So needy,” he grumbles. “So hungry for cock. You’re just like Carmen, you know? Addicting, needy, breaking down my will to give you whatever you want. This must be how Jose felt, ready to give her everything. Pliable. So willing.” 

“And you? How do you feel?”

Jimin’s gaze is dark and heavy. Taehyung holds his breath, pinned to the spot. He feels Jimin’s cockhead nudge the tight rim of his ass as Jimin settles behind him, looking at Taehyung so intensely that Taehyung feels as though he will wither away. Ashes to ashes. 

“Like I want to give you the world.” 

“Please.”

“You have to give it back. You have to be mine.” 

Taehyung is nodding before Jimin even finishes his sentence. Taehyung will give him anything he wants, as long as it means Jimin will push forward and relieve the aching weight of Taehyung’s needs. He is filled with so much carnal desire he thinks he would do anything Jimin asks of him. 

“Yours,” Taehyung agrees. He tries to push back and spear himself on Jimin’s cock, but Jimin’s grip is iron, holding him in place. “Yours.” 

That’s all it takes for Jimin to sigh, pleased. He pushes in slowly, Taehyung gasping and grabbing the couch at the intrusion. His walls flutter around Jimin’s cock. It’s a tight fit, a slow, pleasure-filled agony that ripples through him. 

Taehyung is hyper aware of how full he feels. It is perfect, his mind turning to static as he lays his face down on the couch, breathing strained and heart hammering. Jimin praises him gently, coaxing Taehyung to calm down with gentle kisses on the back of his neck, shoulders, and head. Jimin is fully seated, his hips pressed to Taehyung’s ass. It feels good, the pain retreating and leaving nothing but bliss in its wake. 

Jimin pulls out, the rough drag of his cock sending Taehyung into a spiral before Jimin snaps his hips forward again. Taehyung lets out a desperate sound, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as Jimin starts to fuck him slowly. 

It feels hot. Jimin cages Taehyung in, his chest pressed to Taehyung’s back, humid air trapped between their bodies. Jimin’s skin is cool to the touch, such a contrast to the warmth radiating from Taehyung. The mix of hot and cold only heightens the sensations, everything feeling sharp and powerful. 

Jimin’s teeth scrape Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung doesn’t know why, but he leans his head to the side, giving Jimin free access to litter his throat with sloppy kisses. Taehyung feels broken under the weight of Jimin’s thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pushing deeper into Taehyung until it’s pressing against the deepest part of him, making Taehyung kick his feet as the pleasure builds.

It’s so good it hurts. Taehyung is reeling, having never felt like this when being fucked. Jimin chuckles darkly against his ear, tongue licking the shell of Taehyung’s ear before whispering, “You take it so well.” Taehyung whines in response, pushing his ass back to meet Jimin’s hips as best as he can. “Such an eager little slut. Everyone can hear you getting fucked - do you like that?”

Taehyung nods his head. Jimin grabs him by the hair, pulling Taehyung upward so that Jimin’s chin is slotted on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s neck cranes painfully and he opens his eyes, looking at Jimin’s side profile. 

“I said do you like that?” 

“Yes!”

“Come here, let’s show them.” 

Everything goes off balance. Jimin picks Taehyung up off of the couch like he’s a ragdoll, spinning him so that his feet hit the ground and he’s pushed up against the balcony railing. He barely has the coordination to plant his feet on the ground and grab the railing before Jimin is pressing back in, splitting him apart for everyone to see. 

Taehyung casts his head back, eyes closed. He doesn’t want to look down, doesn’t want to see the faces of the onlookers as he moans loudly, feeling flushed and breathy as Jimin fucks him hard. Taehyung sees stars behind his eyelid, laying his head back on Jimin’s shoulders, his hands gripping the railing as Jimin hammers into Taehyung’s prostate. 

It feels like Taehyung’s blood is on fire. Something like glee unfurls in him at the thought of everyone below seeing how perfect he is for Jimin. That Jimin chose Taehyung and no one else. That Taehyung is the perfect, pliant partner for Jimin. He doesn’t want to see their faces - he’s too shy for now - but he silently revels in the fact that they’ll know from this moment forward that Taehyung is Jimin’s in some capacity. 

His mind hasn’t caught up to what exactly that capacity is, blinded by the way he teeters on the edge of coming again. 

“This is going to hurt at first,” Jimin whispers against Taehyung’s throat. 

There’s a brief moment of confusion. Taehyung is unable to think beyond the thick, heady haze clouding his mind, but then searing pain rips through his neck. His eyes fly open and he gasps, too shocked to scream properly where he feels blinding pain throbbing from the side of his throat. 

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to Jimin’s face, digging in his hair. Jimin’s mouth is pressed against Taehyung’s throat and it takes a moment for Taehyung to realize Jimin is biting him clean through the skin. 

Panic shoots through him. He clutches at Jimin’s hair, pulling tight at the strands to pull him off. Jimin doesn’t budge, his mouth fixed to the tender flesh of Taehyung’s throat. Then Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue. The subtle pull of his mouth, the drag of his blood. 

The pain fades into something else. His neck tingles, fire replaced with numbness. Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as a high unlike anything else hits him. Jimin is still fucking him, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming savage as he takes deep swallows at Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung is vaguely aware that Jimin is drinking his blood. He can’t process beyond that acknowledgement, too caught up in the euphoria glittering through his veins, turning his blood to molten lava. His head falls forward, too heavy for him to hold up, eyes closed and sinking into the feeling. 

His orgasm comes swift and hard. Every muscle in Taehyung’s body squeezes tight with a force he’s never felt. It feels like he might collapse in on himself, a star going supernova before it implodes, sucking everything inward. 

Jimin lets go of Taehyung's neck, gasping as he feels Taehyung squeezes his cock. The wet gurgle of a moan from Jimin’s mouth makes Taehyung turn and look at him. Taehyung is bent over the railing now, sweaty chest sliding back and forth as Jimin’s hips jostle him. Jimin is standing straight, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips to hold him in place as he fucks him viciously, chasing his high. 

But what freezes Taehyung in place isn’t the powerful body driving him into overstimulation. It isn’t the beautiful, lithe lines of Jimin’s chest and arms or the beautiful way his eyes drink Taehyung in. It’s the blood running down Jimin’s neck and chest that startles him. The crimson smear across Jimin’s mouth, which is parted as Jimin tilts his head upward, tongue coming out to run across his bottom lip. 

A glint of white catches Taehyung’s eyes and his heart stops. Two fangs, stark against the wine-red mouth filled with blood - Taehyung’s blood. His heart skyrockets for a whole new reason and he tries to think but his mind is too slow. Sluggish. Still crawling through the high that Jimin’s bite injected him with. 

“Jimin?” it comes out slurred and terrified as Taehyung watches Jimin lower his face, eyes finding Taehyung. He still looks beautiful with the lower half of his face colored in blood, but he is terrifying, and destructive. Taehyung thinks he might die of fright even as his stomach flips with arousal again. “What…?”

“Look at them,” Jimin grins, mouth a red gash. He grabs Taehyung's hair and forces the boy to turn toward the scene below. “Look how they waited so patiently for me to start. To fuck, to feed. They waited for you - to come and bleed. They don’t indulge until you’re done, my sweet Carmen.” 

It takes several moments for Taehyung to piece together the tableau unfolding beneath him. What appears to be a mess of blurry images and sounds morphs into something else, the edges of his clarity sharpening as Taehyung blinks through the fog of pleasure. What he thought was going to be patrons looking up at the balcony as he’s ravaged is not at all the case. 

Below is unleashed carnal energy. He sees bodies writhing. Scarlet ribbons of blood flowing down necks, in between thighs, down shoulders. His eyes sweep the landscape of bodies fucking and thrusting and bending, of screaming of pinning down, of biting. 

Vampires. 

The word suddenly comes to Taehyung in a moment of clarity, the word ringing out so clearly in his mind that he jerks upward underneath Jimin’s grip. The vampires below chase the humans in the room. Taehyung realizes that all of the patrons dressed in finery are slamming people dressed in plain clothes to the ground and onto furniture, fixing their mouths on them, and ripping their shirts open. 

“Oh my god,” Taehyung breathes, finally breaking free of the murky mist of lust. “What are you?” 

Jimin presses against Taehyung, slamming his hips in deep one more time as he comes with a feral growl. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair and his mouth is rough against his ear. “I’m yours,” Jimin answers, voice low. “I’m José and you are my Carmen.” 

Dizziness sweeps over Taehyung, feeling like darkness is racing up to greet him. “Yours,” Taehyung agrees, slow blinking as Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder again. “Your Carmen.” 

-

PERMANENT TAG LIST: 

@wobblewobble822 @idkjustlovingbts @teddytaee @jknoah @veronawrites @bts-ruu @tumeperds @ashtonkeller @ivyrosewater @secfir @hoseokshobagi

Please note: typically I would reblog with my tag list, but this drop is scheduled while I am traveling and I am unable to reblog and tag, so I’ve just done it as part of the main body. 

#vmin smut #jimin x taehyung #taehyung x jimin #taehyung smut #jimin smut #bts smut #member x member #vampire jimin #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jimin fanfic #minors dni #minors do not interact #happy halloween!!!

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Adlers Manager Dating Kageyama

Sorry this is so late, I've had major writers block, and yeah, anyways here we go. This is for the Can I Speak to the Manager? Collab by @momochimo

He's so quiet, like he just watches you after you come onto the team

He's just trying to figure you out

You always go out of your way to talk to him and ask him how he’s doing, like you’re always waiting at the door to greet him

He always keeps his answers short, not to be rude, but he’s awkward and anxious

He does look forward to talking to you though 

Unrelated, but he has women throwing themselves at him all the time

He's not inexperienced, but he prefers to have a steady relationship

His love language is an act of service and quality time. Like he prefers gestures, like lemon slices in his water, making sure you have his favourite snack in your bag on trips, making sure you have a blanket because he gets cold, his hands especially

He takes time to get used to physical touch, but he prefers small acts of pda, like sharing a jacket pocket or hand on the small of your back

He is definitely caught off guard with his feelings, but literally everyone but you can tell

He courts you before actually dating you

Things like leaving a sandwich in your bag, but not telling you who it’s from

Is super eager to meet and talk to your sibling/family/friends when you bring them to practise, even though he barely talks to you

Offers to stay and help you clean up after

Honestly it takes you a while to figure out that he's courting you, but once you do, you two have a talk

BOOM YOU’RE DATING

Now there aren’t any rules against it, but you two keep on the downlow

They have a game against the Jackals and he's super nervous and excited

From across the court, as the Jackals walk in, Hinata clocks you two

You’re not event standing near each other, he’s warming up, and you’re talking to coach

Like he just yells: “wow Kageyama, your S/O is so nice! Are they getting dinner with us after?”

The whole team just whips their head to Kageyama and is like “huh???? Who????” 

Kageyama blushes and pulls his jersey up to his nose

Hinata, just points and goes: “Your manager over there,” then turns to Kageyama and “Why are they surprised? Do They not know?”

Like cute head tilt

Kageyama is fumbling for an answer when you walk up and place your hand on his back

“Are you okay? You don’t look too well…” Like you don’t fully know what is causing him to look this way

“He’s fine”, Hinata waves off your concern, “Just embarrassed. I’m Hinata, it’s nice to meet his partner. I don’t know how you put up with him.” He paused hearing Meian call him, “I have to go.”

“Nice to meet you! Good luck!” You call after him

“Why didn’t you tell us you were together?” Ushijima asks 

This is why he gets extra attention!” romero yells, you just roll your eyes

“Idk, it’s new to us. And we wanted to make sure that it’s real before we say anything. We also aren’t sure how the pr team will react, so we just haven’t. But this isn’t the time, we talk about this at dinner. Okay?”

There are low hums of begrudging agreement, so you clapped your hands to get them moving

They’re all so focused on the game kageyama in particular has it out for Hinata for outing you two

Adlers ending up winning

After thanking everyone for the game, Kageyama runs up to you

You drop what your doing and he pulls you into a hug

“Tobio, what are you doing?”

“Celebrating.” He says against your lips

#canispeaktothemanagercollab #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama imagine #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #kageyama fluff

[golbrocklovely]

have you seen the crowd on twitter trying to get Sam and Colby cancelled and sued for 'not doing enough'? It's wild and makes no sense to me, they're doing plenty, they don't need to give us everything, what are these people on?

i'm happy someone sent me this bc i do have some opinions on it lol

see the thing is, it's not even that they "aren't doing enough", ie related to xplrclub, it's that they aren't talking about things that matter. the main two being palestine and george/wilbur being creeps.

to be mad at them for all three of these things, as if somehow they are all on the same level is ridiculous and such an online take, it's not even funny.

but here, i'll break down how i feel about all of this.

as i've stated before, snc don't have to comment on palestine. i know a lot of fans want them to say something but reality is nothing will change if they say free palestine or ask for a ceasefire. snc do not hold that much power, they aren't besties with the president. stop asking influencers to do something. this genocide has been happening for a long time, well prior to the october attacks. it's not snc's job to inform the public on worldwide news. it will not change what is currently happening. palestinians are being murdered and you are making this about snc. stop doing that. who you should be truly angry at is our government and the fact they keep giving OUR TAX DOLLARS to the idf. be upset at that. call your congressmen. donate. stop making this about snc, oh my god.

(and if anyone reading this doesn't agree with me, that's fine. but just know i'm not gonna change my mind on it. who cares what snc think about a genocide??? do your part, help out how you can, and keep it moving.)

the george and wilbur thing…. look, i get fans wanting them to unfollow them, but most likely that's not gonna happen. not bc snc support them, but bc snc never do shit like that. they don't get involved in things that aren't related to them. and this is one of those instances. why do they need to denounce two ppl they aren't friends with and only collabed with, max, twice? you wanna be upset with them about this, go ahead. but don't hold your breath.

also it would be incredibly idiotic for them to comment on something like this. and again, you are making a situation that has nothing to do with snc about snc. stop doing that.

xplrclub. imma be honest with you, this is the one that i find hysterical, just bc of how far fetch it is.

i read the original post that started all of this, or at least that was recently created about all of this. i'm also on xplrclub and saw a fan asking basically all of these questions, and then getting a reply from a mod telling them that snc have account managers that probably tell them when to comment on things, and then when that wasn't a good enough answer, said fan asked for an admin. and idk what happened afterwards.

but let me make it abundantly clear: you can't sue snc for "not doing enough" lol that's just not a thing

first off, they haven't even been charging us for a while. so you're not paying for any of the content as of right now. which i think has caused ppl to think that xplrclub has always been free. but now that they plan to charge us in 2 weeks times, ppl are upset that this is all the content they're getting. but snc laid it out loud and clear on the site of what we're getting: multiple camera roll vids a week, a podcast and livestream a month, and a giveaway a month. and then exclusive content like once a week i think. that's all laid out on the site. if you don't want to be charge $19 a month for that… then don't sign up. it's an exclusive club for a reason. not every fan can afford it. you're not owed a spot in xplrclub. sorry. that's just how the world works.

but what makes all of this even dumber is these fans want to sue snc or at least let them know that "without your fans you would have nothing" as if snc don't already know that. and they're talking about "all we need is 40% of ppl on xplrclub to leave, and then they would have to shut it down, which means we can sue them bc we're not getting what was promised to us"

again, not how any of this works. not to mention, any fans that believes this 10000% wasn't around when metalife shut down in like three days time with basically a paragraph and an email notice lol but that being said snc also gave refunds to those that were charged for the month it shut down

if snc lost a huge amount of subs on xplrclub, they're allowed to shut the site down then if they weren't breaking even or were losing profit from it. the only reason you would be allowed to sue them is if they weren't giving you any content but kept charging you anyway. or if somehow there was a data leak and ppl's card information got out there. that would be a reason to sue. but that has not happened, and most likely won't as well.

not to mention, but there are over 1000 members on that site as we speak. 40% would be a significant dent, sure; but not enough to close the site down. there would still be hundreds of ppl on the site. you would need over half of the users to dip out, and baby that just ain't happening lol

there was also this whole argument about how if snc were sued "tv and film laws" are really difficult and they would be in a lot of trouble and all i gotta say to that is……… wut???? snc aren't on tv or film???? do you guys think they are characters or something, actors acting in their vids??? when snc call their content "movies" they don't mean literal movies, they mean length wise, babe. like i want to give some benefit since i know some of these fans are really young and don't know better but like… google is a thing.

i just…. it's always something with this fandom, you know. there can never be complete peace. i can't have a single day of fun without there being some shit storm brewing on the horizon. i'm so totally done with it lmao

#ask #personal #snc bs

[iraprince]

If you're sorta making this into a vtuber account i might as well ask you, with those pngtuber models, do you have a guide on how to get started with them? Also, do characters need to have humanlike face proportions to be able to like, work correctly? What if you wanted to make a bird, where the mouth is like really long and beak shaped? Would that be a problem for the honk stuff?

God this looks incomprehensible, sorry

not incomprehensible at all! whenever i get a chance i would definitely love to put together tutorials, both quick step-by-step guides and longer videos (bc idk about you but for me, the ideal is when BOTH types of tutorial exist lmao!!!)

in the meantime, there are tons of tutorials that already exist on youtube for pngtubing, and a few for setting up in honk specifically, but i'm not sure how many exist for best ways to actually draw the model and organize parts (layer organization etc) and stuff like that bc i didn't look for those when i was getting started. when i get around to it any guides i make will probably be more about that than the tech stuff, bc other people already have the tech covered!

honk has documentation/guides of its own, and the community page on itch.io can be really good for troubleshooting specific issues. honk is my primary recommendation if you want to get into pngtubing -- the program is paid ($12 USD) and model setup is a bit more laborious, but only in the beginning, and i think the liveliness of the lip sync and the eye tracking is well worth it! a downside is that honk doesn't currently have gif support, which a lot of other pngtubing programs do have, but there are plans to add it in the future.

this is the method i've used for setting up a discord reactive pngtuber (the second method on the page, "stream kit reactive images" - i know it may seem like a lot of steps, but if you take your time and follow the instructions closely it's not so bad! i am NOT tech savvy and still figured it out, so anyone can.) you only need discord and OBS to run this setup, and you can fiddle with it to do collabs (multiple people's pngtubers all on screen at the same time, lighting up and talking while you're in a discord call! fun for multiplayer games), but of course it can also be your main setup with just you alone in a private voice channel as your mic input.

and a good middle ground between honk and the discord reactive setup would be a program like veadotube mini! it does the same thing as the discord reactive setup (display a talk sprite when you're talking and a silent one when you're not), but in a self-contained program on your computer just like honk. i haven't used veadotube myself, but i see other pngtubers mention it as their program of choice.

i do have one video up of myself rigging my model in honk -- i wouldn't call it a guide or a tutorial though, because it's very informal and we also ran into a pretty annoying bug that made the process go less smoothly than i would have hoped :') (also the first few mins of video are muted bc my music got dmca flagged lmfao but the important stuff is all there!) but anyway if you just want a quick look at how a model looks getting put together in the program you might find that interesting.

you could ABSOLUTELY do something like the bird u described in honk, it's really really flexible. the way honk works is u just have to have different images drawn for different lip synch mouth shapes (try googling "animation lip sync mouth shapes" and check out the image results for an idea of what i mean), assign them to different consonant/vowel sounds in the program, and it automatically matches it up for you with voice recognition. so imo the challenge in that case would be an art challenge (figure out how you want to draw lip sync shapes with a beak), not a technical/program-specific challenge. but if you didn't feel like fucking with all that, you could just repeatedly use the same open beak image for all the sounds, and it would just make the beak open and close when you talk!

i haven't tried making a honk model where the mouth breaks the silhouette, which might be the case with a bird character like that depending on how you have the head angled, but theoretically i don't see why it would be an issue. a regular pngtuber would be really straightforward as well!

#vtuber #pngtuber #i wanna tag this something memorable so i can find it again if someone asks lol #idk uhhhh. #save #ALSO forgot to mention this but i don't want to actually do tutorials until my own workflow is uh. more optimized #because right now it's really hacky and stupid sometimes lmao!!! it works but i dont want to like. kind of Teach ppl to do stuff in a way- #-that's unnecessarily complicated or obtuse just bc i happen to be plowing my way through without a care #vtubing help

[onigirintarou]

First Friend w/ Miya Atsumu

His Ma was right. Making friends as an adult was definitely trickier than making friends as kids, and even then, that was something he could never get quite right without Samu by his side. But he had promised, and Atsumu was anything but a promise breaker.

fluff + some angst but mostly just Miya twins brainrot 

Word Count: 3.1k (idk how this got this long. this was supposed to be atsumu x reader and it still sort of is at the end, but my feels for the twins could not be contained so it’s more of a love letter to their relationship)

A/N: Part of @suckerforsugawara‘s A First Time For Everything collab. Thank you for letting me join! And I hope you have a wonderful birthday month 🥳

Miya Atsumu was eight when he began to recognize the differences between himself and his twin.  Adults always preferred Samu to him, that was always a given. His aunties and uncles always said they could distinguish between the two – they just needed to look for the boy who was running around like he had ants in his pants and they immediately knew that it was Atsumu. He remembered his uncle ruffling his hair and calling him his ‘precious little troublemaker.’ Other relatives and family friends weren’t as kind and also called him a troublemaker, but he knew what they meant when they accompanied their words with a frown.

On the other hand, most people never had anything bad to say about Samu. He figured it must have something to do with how they could leave his brother alone and not come back to find the room looking like a tornado had gone through it (in his defense, he really hadn’t meant to make all that mess; he just wanted to see how long he could keep the ball up for).

He could acknowledge that he was definitely not the most well-behaved child. He didn’t like to admit it, but he could see why the adults preferred Samu to him. Samu didn’t start bawling at the drop of a hat. Samu didn’t start screaming when things didn’t go his way. Samu knew when to be quiet.

That was okay with him though. He didn’t need the adults to like him. He had Samu and their Ma. They were all he needed.

He loved his Ma and he’s sure that his Ma loved him. She did her very best but he still remembered the one time that she had snapped at him. With tears in her eyes, she had asked him why he couldn’t be more like Samu. For a boy who was only eight years old at the time, he could still recall how at that very moment, his Ma had reminded him of the Koi swimming around at the temple pond with her mouth opening and closing as if that would help push the words back into her mouth.

“But I’m Samu, Ma. And he’s Tsumu,” his twin had responded for him.

Their Ma had scooped the both of them up and wrapped them in her arms. Atsumu hadn’t even realized he was crying until his brother and Ma were wiping the tears off of his face.

“Don’t be such a crybaby,” Samu had said which he thought was rich coming from his brother who just seconds ago had been sniffling and still had the evidence of tear tracks on his face.

“I’m not!” he had protested as he weakly stuck his tongue out at his twin.

Their Ma had let out a wet laugh before giving the two of them a kiss on their foreheads. “I’m so sorry, loves. I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I know that you’re Tsumu and that you’re Samu. I don’t ever want you to be anyone but yourselves.”

“Okay Ma!” both twins had shouted in unison before both of them laid a kiss on each of their Ma’s cheeks with the hopes that this would make their Ma smile and stop crying.

Since then, Atsumu had taken his Ma’s words to heart. He was going to live life unapologetically as Miya Atsumu. If people weren’t fans of him then that was their loss. He didn’t need them. All he needed were the two people that his then tiny arms had wrapped themselves around. 

═════════

At the age of 10, he and Samu had just discovered their love for volleyball. That summer, the twins breathed, slept, and ate nothing but volleyball. So what if his classmates and the other kids at school looked at him like he had a screw loose in his head? He and Samu were gonna be the best brothers on the professional volleyball scene and no snot-nosed brat’s mean-spirited gossip and judgement were going to get in the way of that. If they were gonna be scrubs, then he was gonna treat them like the scrubs that they were.

So why did it bother him when Samu had sat him down and told him that he was going to be nice? Atsumu had nearly choked on his rice at the thought. 

Living with his twin, Atsumu had firsthand experience and knew that Samu was as much of a jerk as he was. In fact, he’d even say Samu was a bigger jerk. Atsumu knew how to start a fight and would often find himself inadvertently initiating squabbles with his peers due to a careless word or two. However, it was Samu who often ended fights, whether that be with his fists or even just a pointed look that was accompanied with a single raised eyebrow. 

And being nice? What was that even supposed to mean? Did Samu even know how to be nice? If being nice meant lying, even lying by omission, then he’d say his twin knew how to be nice. And on reflecting on himself, Atsumu thought that he was nice enough. He knew his spikers’ preferences and was nice enough to set it to them exactly how they wanted it.

Alright, some would say that wasn’t the exact truth, but Tsumu knew that his sets would improve their individual skills as well. Wasn’t that nice enough? He was looking out for them in the long run, after all.

═════════

At the age of 11, he and Samu had been put in different classes. When the teacher asked them to partner up, Atsumu was usually left-behind. Everyone’s last choice and oftentimes, not even a choice that anyone had taken.

This time was no different as their history teacher had asked them to partner up to do a presentation. Desks had been pushed together and conversation started flowing. However, Atsumu had found himself once again sitting alone.

“Miya?” the teacher had called and Atsumu had hesitated. Despite being in this class for a couple of months without his brother, being called by his last name was something that was still unfamiliar to him.

“Yes, ma’am?” he steeled himself for her upcoming question.

“Do you have a partner?”

Atsumu liked his teacher, really he did, but surely by now she should have realized that he did most of the assigned work by himself. Academically, Atsumu wasn’t stupid. In fact, he even preferred getting the work done by himself so he could do it on his own schedule.

“No ma’am,” he responded. The look of pity she sent his way nearly made the tips of his ears flush in embarrassment.

“Do you even have any friends?” one of his classmates had sneered just loud enough that Atsumu knew the words were meant for him to overhear.

Atsumu simply raised a single eyebrow, a trick he had learned from his twin. “’Course I do,” he answered simply.

“Oh yeah?” the boy shot back. “Osamu doesn’t count. He’s your brother.”

That afternoon, Atsumu had spent practice sending sets to his spikers that they could easily get to. After the fifth consecutive easy set, he could tell the others had sensed there was something off about him, but no one had bothered to ask. They were probably just relieved he wasn’t forcing them to jump higher to reach the ball. He really was wasting his time playing with this bunch of scrubs. 

On the way home Samu had nudged his shoulder and all his hope of sleeping off his classmate’s words faded away. “Oi, what’s been up with you today?”

Tsumu recalled shrugging in response but his brother had sped up to stand in his way.

“Can we be friends even if we’re brothers?” the question finally came out in a whisper.

Samu had given him a look as if he had lost his mind. “What kinda question is that?”

He had been about to shrug again but Samu had placed his hands on both of his shoulders. “Quit doin’ that,” his twin had reprimanded. “We’re not friends.”

At this, he had turned his head away from Samu, afraid that he was going to start crying if he looked at him.

“Yer such a crybaby,” Samu had said before tightening the grip he had on his shoulders.

Atsumu tried to hide the sniffle. “You just said we weren’t friends!”

“Oh my God,” his brother sighed in exasperation. “We’re brothers. Twins! That’s better than friends, ain’t it?”

Slowly, Atsumu turned to look at his brother who had a look of murderous intent on his face.

“Now tell me who the idiot is that planted that idea in your head?” Samu had demanded.

He had shaken his head. “I don’t know his name.”

Samu had nearly slapped his own forehead in irritation. “It’s two months into the school year, Tsum, and ya don’t know your classmates’ names?”

He had squawked indignantly at that. “I’ve got more important things to remember than that ya know!”

His brother simply rolled his eyes and let go of his shoulders. “Sure ya do.”

The next day, Atsumu had been woken up by Samu who had hit his face with a pillow and told him that he was going on ahead for some class duties. Atsumu had simply rolled over and covered his face with his blanket, a decision that he had started to regret, as he had to practically sprint to get to his morning class on time.

Thankfully, he had made it with a couple of minutes to spare and was about to set his head down on his desk when a shriek of surprise from the front of the room shocks him out of his reverie.

In walked the boy from yesterday with a split lip and what looked to be the beginning of a black eye starting to form.

At dinner that night, Atsumu pushed his pudding cup towards his twin. He had noticed the bandages around Samu’s knuckles at practice which confirmed his earlier suspicions. It really made his decision to skip his daily dose of sugar easier to stomach.

═════════

Atsumu would say that his high school years were miles better than his earlier years. Samu and him were on on a team that consistently made it to Nationals. Things were different than they were back in middle school. His teammates were actually his friends. For the first time in his life, he could definitively say that he had friends.

He had managed to rope Ginjima into a couple of schemes with Samu and although Suna instigated a fair share of fights, he knew that the tired-looking boy also cherished their friendship if the amount of Facebook poke wars that Suna initiated counted for anything. Then there was Aran, Omimi, and Kita who had also burrowed their way into his life, acting like concerned and often overworked older brothers. Inarizaki was a tight-knit family.

So when the time had come for him to leave Inarizaki and Hyogo behind and start a new life in Osaka, he could freely admit that he was scared. This would be the first time in his life without Osamu, and despite promises to check in every other day, he knew that his brother would need to start prioritizing his own goals and he couldn’t do that if he was worried about how Atsumu was going to fare in the big city by himself.

To put his brother at ease, he had told Samu that he was going to make friends – specifically, he promised to make friends outside of volleyball. Samu had laughed at this which had earned him a quick shove.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been told I can be quite charming when I want to be!” he had defended himself.

In response, his stupid brother had only continued to cackle. “Good luck makin’ friends when I’ve only heard Gran call ya charming.”

“I’ll show ya!” He had pledged. “I’ll make tons of friends and introduce ya to them.”

Samu had simply grinned in response. “I can’t wait.”

It was now a month into living in Osaku, and Atsumu would say that he was getting used to living life with his teammates. Some of them were also living in the same team-provided shared apartment which had made it easier for Atsumu to befriend his teammates.

Some would say that familiarity breeds contempt, but for Atsumu, living together with his teammates kept the waves of loneliness at bay. He found himself accompanying Barnes and Inumaki on their trips into the city which also helped him familiarize himself with his new home. He worked out with his captain Meian. He also often had lunch out with Bokuto, outings which he would never disclose to his nutritionist due to the amount of spicy ramen challenges the two of them had participated in.

Osaka was slowly starting to become a second home. The konbini across the street no longer sent a pang straight to his chest with memories of pestering Samu or Suna to buy him a popsicle during the sweltering summer months in Hoygo. He also found himself sleeping past the alarm that Samu had set for years which led to him actually waking up refreshed because he had woken up to his own alarm and as a result, had gotten a couple of extra minutes of sleep. Sure, he missed his Ma and Samu’s cooking but Bokuto had shown him to enough restaurants that his dining options were only limited by how many lies he wanted to spin to his nutritionist.

However, despite this feeling of slowly becoming settled, he hadn’t found the time to fulfill his promise to his brother. All of his friends in Osaka were either on the team or worked for the team. He still hadn’t managed to make friends outside the team.

His Ma was right. Making friends as an adult was definitely trickier than making friends as kids, and even then, that was something he could never get quite right without Samu by his side. But he had promised, and Atsumu was anything but a promise breaker.

This is how he found himself seated across a table from you.  The ramen place he had frequented was surprisingly busy for 2:25 on a Tuesday afternoon. So when you had shown up, the waiter had directed you over to his table as it was the only one with an empty chair.

“I’m sorry about this,” you apologize. “I can always come back another time if you’re not okay to share a table,” you had offered.

When you look at him expectantly, he had to force himself to respond as he felt his brain short circuit at the shy smile you had offered him. “No worries,” he finally replies despite the fact there were indeed many worries. Nonetheless, he gestures for you to take the seat across from him.

With that settled, the waiter gladly takes both of your orders and leaves to cater to the other tables around you.

Atsumu doesn’t really do too well with silences and he finds himself bouncing his knee to help shake off his growing anxiety. “I don’t usually eat with strangers, but I figure if we introduce ourselves to each other then we wouldn’t really be strangers, now would we?” he babbles. “I’m Miya Atsumu, but you can just call me Atsumu.”

You grin and introduce yourself in return. “So we’re not strangers now. I’m glad because my parents always told me never to talk to strangers,” you respond and he can feel the weight on his chest lighten as he chuckles.

Before the two of you can continue to converse, the waiter returns with your food.

“Itadakimasu,” the both of you say in unison before digging in.

He must have done something wrong because you’re looking over at him with a furrowed brow and concern evident on your face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask. “You haven’t taken a single bite.”

He looks down at the unused chopsticks in his hand. “Oh, it’s nothin’ really,” he replies. “It’s just that I’ve never seen someone look so excited to eat. I think I finally get what my brother was sayin’ now.”

You can feel your face start to heat up. Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?

He smacks his forehead at your reaction. “There I go again, ruinin’ things. I really just meant that you look cute when you’re eating. Like you’re really enjoyin’ it,” he trails off. “...And now you probably think I’m a creep, don’t ya?”

This time, your cheeks are flushing for a whole different reason. “Nah, it’s alright, Atsumu. You’re right, I am pretty excited to be eating. I’ve been wanting to try this place for so long that when I heard they were having a big special, I just had to come by. Plus, I skipped breakfast specifically for this,” you explained.  

He exaggerates wiping the sweat off his forehead and shoots you a grin before diving into his own bowl.

You can’t help but giggle at his antics. “Now you’re the one who looks absolutely famished.”

He chuckles along with you. “I’ve got a brother at home so if I didn’t eat fast then I wasn’t eatin’ at all.”

You beam at him. “Sounds like what my siblings would say about me.”

He snorts and with the ice sufficiently broken, the both of you share your meal with pleasant conversation interspersed in between.

To his shock, the conversation flows easily between the two of you. Sure, he puts his foot in his mouth sometimes, but you don’t seem to mind even a little bit as you laugh good-naturedly as he flounders to come up with an excuse. It wasn’t his fault. You made him nervous and this was the longest he’d held a conversation with someone without any ulterior motives to rile them up and throw them off their game. If anything, you were the one throwing him off of his game.

To his complete disappointment, the time with you was already coming to an end as the waiter was already coming over to hand you both your bills.

“Hey, I can take care of it,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “Ma would have my ass if she found out I let ya pay for my meal. Actually, let me get yours. A thank you for puttin’ up with me.”

Your hand reaches over to his elbow and he stills. “There was nothing to put up with, Atsumu. I really enjoyed being able to meet and spend time with you today.”

The sincerity in your voice shocks him.

He chuckles wryly. “Please, ya don’t just gotta be sayin’ that to be polite. People have told me I can be a lot.”

You frown and he thinks that he’s done it now, but the words that leave your lips shock him in the best possible way “Sure, you may be a lot more than people bargained for but that’s their problem. For me, I’d say this was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“Really?” he breathes. “Even if I talk too much, say things I don’t mean in the heat of the moment, and can’t cook to save my life?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this, but he only knows he needs to lay it all out there.

You nod. “Yeah, well, I’d obviously put you in your place,” you tease. “But it’s not like I’m perfect either.”

This is it, he thinks. He’ll take the plunge. “Would you want to be friends with me?”

Your grin has him going stupid. “I’d love that.”

His fingers are already itching to dial his brother’s number to tell him the news.

“You can call me Tsumu then. That’s what my friends call me.”

Taglist: @snowcoveredkiss​

#afirsttimeforeverythingcollab #i will always be emo for the miya twins #miya atsumu #miya osamu #haikyuu #angst #fluff #miya twins #atsumu x reader #hazel.writes