#JIMIN EXHIBITION IS COMING

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Jimin Instalación de carteles-Lonas publicidad de la exposición individual de Jimin en el lugar de la exposición.

JIMIN’s Solo Exhibition “The Truth Untold” in Seoul jimin 지민 전시 'The Truth Untold : 전하지 못한 진심'

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[bytemee]

۶ৎ STUNNER — yu jimin.

“my little angel in disguise..."

⌗ in which— you're a painter who hasn't picked up a brush in months. then one night at your best friends gallery, you meet a stranger who inspires you more than you ever thought possible. you don’t know her name. you don’t know that she’ll disappear before morning. you don’t know that when your hands finally remember how to move, how to paint, it’ll be her face staring back at you from the canvas.

but—when your best friend sees your finished piece, she says eight words that change everything:

"why the hell did you paint the princess?"

pairing. princess!karina x painter!fem!reader

warning(s). language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mild angst, kissing + implied nsfw but not explicit, happy ending.

word count. 5.7k

authors note. @bimkayd for u. i also have to update my masterlist...bad.

when creativity strikes, it strikes.

like, really fucking hard. and it always comes at the worst times—when you’re in the shower, when you’re half-asleep, when you’re five minutes away from an important meeting you don’t even want to be at. but for the past few months, it hasn’t come at all.

time blurs when you’re stuck in the same four walls, staring at blank canvases like you're trying to have a staring contest with them. the paints dry in their tubes, waiting for you to wake up from whatever this is—this rut, this drought, this fucking nothingness in your head.

yunjin tells you it’s a phase. "everyone goes through it," she says over the phone, her voice tinny with excitement, too busy preparing for her own gallery opening to properly pity you. “come to my exhibit tonight. it’ll help.”

so you go to her art gallery opening. you haven't been out of the house in weeks. you haven't painted anything worth showing in months. it's a miracle you can dress yourself and brush your teeth without collapsing.

the gallery is packed when you arrive, an ocean of well-dressed bodies moving in slow currents, sipping expensive champagne from delicate flutes and admiring the artwork. most of these paintings are by yunjin herself—all bold colors and abstract shapes—but there are a few others here, too, and you spend some time wandering around, looking at them all.

your favorite is a painting done in blues and greys, full of sharp angles and harsh shadows. the paint looks thick enough to feel under your fingertips. there's a small plaque in front of it that reads "untitled" and nothing else. you stare at it for what feels like hours, but it must only be minutes because when you look up, yunjin is standing beside you, smiling.

"do you like it?" she asks.

"i love it," you reply. "it's stunning."

she laughs. "that's what i was going for."

yunjin nudges you playfully with her elbow. “so? feeling inspired yet?”

you scoff, but it lacks real bite. “i don’t think staring at other people’s work is going to magically make me able to paint again.”

“maybe not,” she muses, taking a sip of champagne. “but getting out of your own head for once might.”

you don’t have the energy to argue with her. not when she’s right. not when she’s always right.

you then let her drag you through the gallery, introducing you to people whose names you’ll forget before the night is over. collectors, critics, other artists—everyone here looks effortlessly put together, as if they belong in a world you haven’t touched in far too long. you nod, you shake hands, you make small talk. it takes every ounce of strength you have just to act normal, as if you haven't been locked inside your own head for months now. as if there isn’t a black hole where your creativity used to be.

"your work is so… bold," says one woman, sipping from her champagne flute. "i love it."

"thank you," you say, hoping your smile doesn't look as strained as it feels.

you glance around the room, looking for anything that might distract you from this conversation. a familiar face. a bathroom sign. anything. but all you see are unfamiliar faces and unreadable paintings on the walls, and suddenly you feel dizzy.

claustrophobic.

you need to get out of here.

now.

"excuse me," you mutter, slipping away from the woman before she can ask another question.

you don't know where you're going, but it doesn't matter. as long as it's somewhere else. your shoes click against the tile floor as you weave through the crowd, eyes focused on the exit ahead, sliding out the door into fresh air.

the night is cool on your skin, but not cold. you can still hear the sounds of the city echoing off the buildings, muffled music from inside the gallery mixing with distant traffic and the occasional car horn. it's a beautiful night, perfect weather for an art opening. if only you could appreciate it.

you lean back against the wall, fishing your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket. they're crumpled up but still intact, thanks to the tin foil wrapper you put around them before heading over here. you've been trying to quit lately, but old habits die hard.

besides, you figure you deserve this one.

you light a cigarette and inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling slowly, watching as it curls and dissipates into the air. it tastes terrible—like ash and chemicals and bitter regret—but it calms your nerves, just a little bit.

and then the door swings open again.

at first, you think it's security. some guy ready to kick you out for loitering in the wrong place. but then you see her, stumbling out the back entrance of the gallery, looking flustered and annoyed. she's wearing an expensive-looking gown with a slit up one side, showing off her long legs, and heels so tall you'd trip over them yourself if you tried to walk in them. her hair is perfectly coiffed and her makeup flawless, but her expression says she wants to be anywhere else.

you stare, transfixed. she’s all contrast. elegance and frustration. poise and unrest. a picture-perfect masterpiece comes to life.

"do you have another?" she asks, motioning to your cigarette.

her voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you arch an eyebrow. she looks too perfect, too put together, to be standing here asking you for a cigarette. "you smoke?"

a pause. then, "no. never actually."

you laugh to yourself, not in a mean way, more like you're trying to convince yourself this isn't actually happening. "so why'd you ask me for one?"

"because i want to try," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "i want to try something new."

she’s so fucking out of place here. all that polish, all that perfection—it makes her look like a mirage, something that can't possibly be real. her hair’s perfect, her makeup looks like it was painted on by a master, and that damn dress? it’s made for a runway, not this alley. she’s like someone dropped a fantasy into a real, gritty world, and for some reason she ended up here.

her eyes don’t leave yours as she waits—most likely for you to respond, to offer the cigarette she asked for, to say something, anything—but you stay silent because your mind is working faster than your body right now, and you need a moment to catch up.

“you wouldn’t like it,” you finally say, once the gears have started turning again, your words sounding much steadier than you feel.

her eyebrow furrowed, her lips turning down just slightly at the corners. not quite a frown, not yet, but a near thing. you've never wanted to capture an expression on canvas as much as you do right now, her face in all its beauty and annoyance.

"why not?" she asks, sounding indignant, almost insulted. "do you not trust my judgment? my tastes?"

she seems to be talking herself into it, the challenge sparking something behind her gaze. and though her posture doesn't change, you can practically feel the determination radiating off her.

you laugh. "you're missing out on the exhibit, you know."

"i could say the same to you," she counters. "why are you out here?"

you could give her a simple answer, something about needing a break, needing air, needing to get away from the suffocating crowd of people who actually have something to show for themselves. but none of that would be the truth, so you simply shrug and say—

"—wasn't really feeling the whole art world pretentiousness thing."

"strange place to be if you're not a fan."

"my friend dragged me." you admit, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it out with the toe of your shoe.

she cocks her head to the side, eyes flicking down to the now extinguished butt before looking back up. it's her turn to stare at you. to take in your appearance—the plain button-up, dark dress slacks, and polished black leather shoes. if not for the tattoos peeking out from your sleeves and collar, you'd just look like another patron, dressed to impress and blend into the crowd.

"are you an artist as well?"

you smile at the question, "used to be."

her gaze softens, "used to be?"

"haven't painted in a while."

the pout is back, her eyebrows scrunching together as she stares at you, clearly processing this information, taking in your words and decoding them, working through their implications and how they fit into the context. she settles with, "well, do you plan to ever again?"

it's a simple question. one you should have a simple answer to, but life isn't simple. and art, well, art's a fucking mess. your shoulders rise before dropping.

"why not?" her eyes narrow. "have you given up?"

"not giving up." you tell her. "just stuck."

her lips press together like she doesn’t quite believe you. like she’s debating whether to push, whether to pry, whether you’re just making excuses.

"stuck how?" she asks, arms crossing over her chest.

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “you ask a lot of questions.”

“i like knowing things,” she says easily. “and i like understanding people. you intrigue me.”

it shouldn’t affect you the way it does. but those words—you intrigue me—they lodge themselves somewhere deep, twisting and turning like a key fitting into a lock you didn’t realize was waiting to be opened.

you glance down, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the pavement, considering how to answer. the truth is ugly. the truth is that you used to paint like your life depended on it—because, in a way, it did. it was your lifeline, your voice, your way of making sense of things when nothing else made sense.

and then, one day, it just—stopped. the inspiration, the fire, the need—all of it dried up, like a well you kept going back to, only to find it emptier each time.

"you ever look at something so much you forget what made it beautiful in the first place?" you ask instead.

she doesn’t answer right away; she just watches you, eyes flickering over your face. trying to read you is like a puzzle box. or a book. you wonder what kind of story she thinks she finds on your face. what she sees, besides the tired bags under your eyes and the slight tremble in your hands.

when she speaks, her voice is quiet. low. it carries across the distance between you and hits you right where it counts.

"i think everything can be beautiful again. if you look at it the right way."

"yeah?" you say, a little more bitter than you mean to. "that easy, huh?"

her lips quirk, not quite a smile, but close. "i didn’t say it was easy. i just think… maybe beauty isn’t lost. maybe it’s just waiting to be found again."

you swallow, forcing yourself to scoff lightly, to shake your head. "you always this philosophical, or is that just the champagne talking?"

she laughs, soft but real. "i haven’t had a single sip tonight."

"then what are you doing out here?"

"i needed fresh air."

your fingers twitch. she speaks again.

"and maybe you just need a new muse."

you wonder if she even realizes what she’s saying. if she knows that, somehow, without even trying, she’s already painting herself into every blank canvas in your mind.

the night unravels like a half-finished painting—smudged, chaotic, too many colors bleeding into each other. you don’t remember who kissed whom first, only that one second she was looking at you like she saw something worth figuring out, and the next, your hands were on her waist, and she was breathing against your lips.

it’s desperate. messy. her dress pools on the floor of your too-small apartment, and her skin feels like something you’re not supposed to touch but can’t help but reach for anyway. you don’t ask her name. she doesn’t ask for yours. it’s better that way.

and then, when morning comes, she’s gone. no note, no number, nothing. you don't have to guess if it was real or not because the memories are too vivid, too sharp, for it to be anything but. you lie there for a while, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over in your head.

the way she looked. the way she tasted. the way she felt.

your hands are itching, craving the feeling of your brush in your hand.

it’s not a choice. not really.

your body moves before your mind can catch up, reaching for the brushes, the paints, and the canvas that’s been gathering dust in the corner. the moment the bristles touch the surface, it’s like something clicks back into place—like an old wound finally scabbing over.

she appears in fragments first. the curve of her jaw. the slope of her neck. the way her lips parted like she was about to say something, only to change her mind. it’s obsessive, almost. you don’t even think about what you’re doing, only that you have to do it. the need rushes through you like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

you don’t know how long you sit there, lost in the act of pulling her from memory onto canvas. hours, maybe.

that’s how yunjin finds you.

she kicks the door shut behind her, dropping a bag onto the counter like she’s another name on your lease. "you alive?" she asks, but then she sees you—sees the paint on your hands, your clothes, your face. sees the finished piece propped up in front of you.

and she stops short.

"oh."

her tone is surprised, breathless, then she laughs, loud and disbelieving.

"oh my god," she says, eyes wide with something between amusement and shock. "why the hell did you paint the princess?"

you blink, exhausted. “what?”

she gestures to the painting like it should be obvious. “why did you paint the princess?”

your stomach drops. “the what?”

she stares at you. “you’re joking.”

“i—” you look at the painting. at her.

your pulse thuds in your ears.

“yunjin,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

it’s a joke. it has to be.

you wait for yunjin to laugh, to tell you she’s messing with you, but she doesn’t. she just stares at you, then back at the painting, then back at you again like you’re the dumbest person alive.

“you seriously didn’t know?”

your mouth is dry. you shake your head. yunjin lets out a sharp breath.

"oh my god. you—you slept with the princess, and you didn’t even know?” the words hit you like a punch. you stare at the painting—at her—but it doesn’t make sense.

princesses don’t sneak out of fancy events. princesses don't try to bum cigarettes off strangers in alleyways. princesses don’t have one-night stands with random depressed artists they meet in the back of art galleries.

you swallow hard, rubbing a hand down your face. “fuck.”

“yeah,” yunjin says, crossing her arms. “fuck.”

you stare at her, then at the painting, and then back at her. the gears turn in your head, trying to connect the dots, trying to fit this new information into the picture. "are you sure?" you ask, even though you know she wouldn't lie about this. "like, absolutely fucking positive?"

"of course i'm fucking positive!" she throws her hands up. "do you not pay attention to the news at all?"

your mind whirls with the new information.

it’s not that she was just some stranger slipping out before sunrise. she's a princess. a whole gorgeous untouchable, have you said untouchable? — princess.

and now she’s everywhere. on the news, in magazines, her face staring back at you from glowing screens and glossy pages. every headline, every camera flash, every fucking update on her. princess karina seen leaving in the royal car. princess karina attending an art gala. princess karina, princess karina, princess karina.

you try to forget. you try to be normal again—whatever that means. you go back to ignoring your canvases, sitting on the couch, flipping through channels you don’t really watch. you even let yunjin drag you out a few times, shove drinks in your hand, and tell you to move on already. but it doesn’t work.

because she’s still in your head.

so you chase.

not in the obvious way. not in the stupid, reckless, get-yourself-arrested-for-trying-to-climb-the-palace-gates way.

you chase in the quiet ways. the ways that don’t make sense to anyone else. the ways that make yunjin groan and say, “you are literally the most tragic idiot i’ve ever met. but i'll help you anyway."

and that's how you find yourself here. in a palace that is stupidly big.

like, what do you even do with this much space? big. it’s all gold and chandeliers and marble floors and suits of armor standing around, looking vaguely threatening. it makes your skin itch.

you don’t belong here. you know that. but neither did she, that night outside the gallery. and if she could slip out of this world for one night, maybe—just maybe—you can slip in.

yunjin had connections. she always did. you didn’t ask questions when she got you in, just pulled the sleeves of your borrowed suit down and tried not to look like you wanted to throw up.

you have a plan. it doesn't go smoothly.

"i'm sorry, miss. only those on the guest list may enter."

"oh, i—" you scramble to find an excuse. any excuse. "i am on the guest list."

the guard doesn't move. he doesn't even blink.

"what's your name?"

"uh—" your mind blanks. "it's a very long name. very, very long. with a lot of letters. like, a lot of them. you wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

the guard doesn’t look amused. or convinced.

"try me."

you throw out the first thing that comes to mind. "it’s, uh… y/n… the first… y/ln… the third."

silence.

then yunjin, from beside you, coughs so hard you think she might pass out. you nudge her with your elbow, but she’s already turning away, shoulders shaking.

the guard, however, does not laugh. he just stares at you like you’re the dumbest person to ever breathe.

"that’s not a real name."

"it could be," you argue weakly.

he crosses his arms. "it isn’t."

you exhale through your nose, willing yourself not to turn and run. not yet. not when you’re this close.

yunjin, finally recovering, clears her throat and steps in. "okay, okay, my idiot friend here—who, i assure you, is actually very harmless—just has a little bit of trouble with names. what they meant to say is that they’re a guest of lady yu."

the guard squints at you both, skeptical. "lady yu?"

"yes," yunjin says smoothly. "you know, lady yu. very high society. loves art. huge fan of… uh, brush strokes."

you resist the urge to slap a hand over your face.

the guard exhales, clearly debating whether dealing with the two of you is worth his time. eventually, he lifts a radio to his mouth, murmuring something you can’t hear. a beat later, he nods.

"you’re clear to enter."

you don’t ask how yunjin pulled that off; just grab her hand and pull her inside before the guy can change his mind.

and then you’re in.

the palace is even more ridiculous further inside. every inch screams money. gilded ceilings, more enormous chandeliers, even shinier marble floors that make you extra aware of how not rich you are.

you scan the room, searching, heart pounding in your throat. and then—

there.

at the far end of the ballroom, half-surrounded by nobles and dignitaries and all the kinds of people who actually belong here, she stands. regal. poised. effortlessly untouchable.

princess karina.

and she’s looking right at you.

you swallow. she arches an eyebrow. her expression shifts, then she's up and moving. in your direction. then, without a word, her fingers wrap around your wrist, firm but not rough, and she turns, pulling you with her.

you barely have time to process what’s happening before you’re weaving through the gilded halls, past guards who barely spare you a glance, past murmuring guests too distracted by their own conversations to notice the princess slipping away with some stranger in a borrowed suit.

she doesn’t stop until you’re deep in the palace, past the public rooms, past the private suites, past everything anyone else has a right to see. only then does she let go.

you swallow hard, rubbing at your wrist. "subtle."

she ignores you, crossing her arms. "what the hell are you doing here? you're not supposed to be here."

your throat feels dry. "i know."

"then why are you?"

you lick your lips, suddenly 1000x more nervous than you were standing outside the palace gates. "i—" you inhale sharply. "i tried to forget you. and i couldn’t."

"that’s unfortunate."

your chest tightens. "is it?"

she exhales softly through her nose. "what do you want, really?"

and it hits you, all at once, all over again. why you’re here. why you had to come.

you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. your eyes never leave hers. "do you know what it means to be a muse?"

that throws her. a small crease forms between her brows. "i—"

"it means you exist everywhere," you cut in before she can finish. "even when i try to ignore it. even when i don’t want to think about you. you show up in every color, in every stroke of my brush, in every painting i try to create. you are impossible to forget."

her mouth opens and closes. "that doesn’t—you can't—"

"it means you stole something from me," you continue, your voice growing softer as you close the last bit of distance between you. "something i didn’t even realize i was missing until you came into my life and showed me what it meant to feel alive again. you're my muse."

her breath catches at that, lips parting just slightly, as if to speak, but no words come out. you take advantage of the moment, reaching up to cup her face in your hands, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone. she leans into your touch, eyelashes fluttering against her skin, eyes falling shut for a moment. and then they open again, dark and intense and so, so beautiful.

she searches your face as her hand reaches up to rest against yours. you want to kiss her, want to tell her you want her in the simplest terms, in a way that even a princess can understand. you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers, and ask, "do you feel the same? was it real, what i felt between us?"

you barely whisper the question out loud, barely hearing her inhale as she closes the space between you. her lips brush against yours, featherlight but enough to make your stomach flip. “i can't be that for you,” she says against your mouth.

and your heart breaks. you know you were just a one-time thing, just a quick fling for her. it's the whole princess thing. you knew it would be complicated, but you couldn't stop thinking about her, and she's looking at you with such an intense look, a look that says she can't forget you either, and that has to be worth something, right?

you don't realize you said all of it out loud until she pulls away, blinking rapidly. "wait, no—that's not—that's not what i meant," she stammers, suddenly looking much younger and more vulnerable than you've ever seen her. "that night at the gallery, with you, was real. that was—it was the only time i've ever felt that way."

"but," like always

her gaze softens. "we can't. you can't just come in here like this."

she says the last bit as if you've done something wrong, and her hands pull back to her sides. you don't have it in you to care about her rules anymore. her hands fall to her sides, but you stay still, your forehead hovering near hers, your breath mixing.

"i don't care about protocol," you whisper. "i care about you."

"stop," she says, softer than before. "you can't just say things like that and expect me to—"

"expect you to what?" your voice rises, sharp edges showing. "feel the same? you already do. you’re just scared. and i get it. i do. but don’t pretend this didn’t mean anything."

"i'm not pretending," she snaps, taking a step back, composure cracking. "i haven't stopped thinking about you either, okay? but that doesn’t change the fact that this—us—it’s impossible."

"why? because you wear a crown and i wear paint under my nails?"

"because my life isn’t mine!" she yells. "because everything i do is watched and calculated and twisted into something ugly. if they knew you were here—if they saw us like this—"

"then let them see," you say, helpless and stupid and in love. "i'll stand in front of every one of them and say it. i'll tell them how i look at you like the sun rises in your mouth and sets in your goddamn spine. i don't care."

"well, i care!" she shouts, her voice shaking now, full of fire and something just comparable to fear. "i can't afford to want things. not like you do. not recklessly. i don't get to choose who i love."

it's quiet.

"you need to leave."

you don’t move.

"if you don’t, i'll call the guards."

you flinch, and she notices. her jaw clenches. it takes everything in you not to beg.

“don’t make me do that,” she whispers. “please. just go.”

your throat is tight. you nod once.

you turn, heart heavy, the room blurring at the edges. when you open the door, yunjin is waiting, quiet and still in the corridor, like she knew this was how it’d end.

you don’t say a word as she walks beside you down the long hallway, past the grand ballroom, and out of the palace. she doesn’t push for information or ask about what happened. she just lets you stew in your thoughts, and you are grateful. when you get back to your apartment, you collapse onto the bed. you don’t cry—you never really did, even in high school, and now doesn't seem like a good time to start—but you come pretty fucking close.

you lie there for hours. maybe days. hard to tell. just you, your ceiling, and the hollow space behind your ribs where your heart used to sit before she carved it out with a single sentence and left like it didn’t matter.

you tell yourself it was stupid to fall for her. she’s a fucking princess. what were you expecting? that she’d run off with you into the sunset like a fairy tale? that she’d burn her whole world down just to be with someone who wears the same hoodie four days in a row and forgets to buy groceries until you’re eating plain rice and mustard?

but it still hurts.

the gallery night is yunjin’s idea. she throws a flyer at your chest and tells you to “get a grip and make rent.” you roll your eyes, but deep down you know she’s right. you need something to do with your hands, something to keep you from climbing the palace walls like some deranged romantic with a death wish.

you don’t expect anyone to show up, but people come. some friends. some strangers. a few art freaks who talk way too much about your “use of longing and space.” you just nod along, pretending you're three seconds away from yelling in their face.

everything is her. every painting. every messy, unblended brushstroke. every fucking streak of white paint on the canvas because she wore that blue dress when you first met, and now it’s like your brain can’t forget.

the last person leaves, some guy who said a lot of things you didn't understand, and you don't really remember the specifics of it, but you're pretty sure you shook hands, and maybe he wrote down your name and contact info? you don't remember. but there are no more guests. so you’re cleaning up. closing things. mentally debating whether or not you can drink paint thinner and survive.

the door creaks open behind you, and you don’t even look.

“sorry,” you call over your shoulder, wiping your hands on a rag. “we’re closed. private event's over.”

no response. just the sound of the door shutting. then —

“are you always this rude to royalty?”

you freeze.

slowly, slowly, you turn around. and she's standing there, in a white coat with her arms folded against her chest. there are shadows under her eyes, like she hasn’t been sleeping either. it takes everything in you not to run to her. not to kiss her until she forgets all the reasons why she ran the first time. you settle for swallowing hard and clearing your throat.

“you could’ve just knocked."

“i did." she lifts her hand. “twice. and then i panicked and came in anyway.”

you stare. she fidgets.

she looks down at her shoes. looks back up again. looks back down again. like she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she's here. finally, she takes a step forward. you take a step back. it's reflex at this point, some instinct to keep her from getting too close.

"i came to apologize," she starts, sounding unsure, which isn't like her at all. "for—everything."

karina runs a hand through her hair. your throat goes tight at the familiarity of the action, at how much she reminds you of that night, that stupid dress, and the way she kissed you, indicating that she didn’t care what came next.

you exhale.

"don’t apologize," you say, because the words feel heavy and foreign in your mouth, because she's been living a life you can't even begin to imagine, because none of that matters if she's here, looking at you like this, and you have to believe in something. "you didn't do anything wrong. and if anyone needs to apologize, it should be me. i shouldn't have—"

"you were right," she cuts in before you can finish.

it throws you. "what?"

she swallows hard, glancing down at the floor, at your shoes. then back up again, holding your gaze this time. "i don't know much about art, but i know what you meant…for someone to be your muse." her voice drops low. "and i think you're mine."

you blink. "oh."

a pause. her cheeks flush, eyes widening in panic.

"was that—did that make sense? i probably sound like a—"

"yeah."

you nod, trying not to smile as you watch her rambling, trying not to stare too obviously at how her whole face is blushing now.

you want to tell her everything. to show her everything.

you settle for, "i mean, it does make sense."

it does. it doesn’t. none of this does, not in a normal way. it's the kind of thing you tell your grandkids about someday. or maybe a therapist, if you can ever afford one. either way, it makes something flicker deep within your chest.

you pause.

"so what do you mean, exactly?"

her lips purse. her eyes are pleading now. she looks younger. more human. not so much a princess anymore as she does someone trying to figure out how to tell the world to screw off. you're struck, again, with how much you love her. it feels like a physical ache in your chest.

"i want this," she says quietly, gesturing between the two of you. "i want this so much it scares me."

you're not used to this, to feeling seen by someone who isn't yunjin, and it throws you off. you clear your throat again, shifting from one foot to the other. "i want this too."

a pause. you try not to stare too openly at her lips. you fail miserably.

"we'll figure it out," she says softly. "together. whatever that looks like."

"together."

the word hangs between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. and then—

you don’t even realize what's happening until she's already moving forward, pulling you down to her level. you can smell her perfume. you can see every single detail of her face as she stares back at you. your lips are a breath apart. she hesitates.

"tell me you don't want this," she murmurs. "and i'll go."

your chest constricts, throat tight. you want to tell her it'll never be easy, not when you're you, and not when she's her, not when this could be so much more complicated than either of you are prepared for. but you also want this, want her, want to know what her skin feels like against your palms and whether or not the words i love you sound good when spoken aloud. you swallow hard, hands tightening on her hips.

"i can't," you whisper. "i don't think i've ever wanted anything more."

a smile flickers over her face. it's gone too quickly. "good."

her lips are on yours, soft and gentle, and everything in your life shifts back into focus, into place.

there are things you can't explain. the way she feels pressed against your chest, warm and perfect and yours, for now at least. the way your hands shake when you brush your thumb over the curve of her cheek. the way she tastes like starlight.

and there are things you don't have to.

[c0llisiion]

✦ C0LLISIION’s

KINKTOBER’24 ✦

♱ HEY GUYS! I have decided to participate in kinktober this year cus i realised i haven’t posted anything throughout September 😭 THIS IS MY FIRST EVER KINKTOBER SO IM REALLY EXCITED!

This kinktober will be strictly for BTS, STRAYKIDS and ATEEZ. In the span of a month, i will be posting short drabbles on the weekdays and not the weekends (to avoid burnout) excluding the first week, with a total days of 25. the first fic will be posted on OCT 1 and the rest will come in the following order.

Warning: some of the following prompt/kinks might be uncomfortable to some readers, so please refrain from reading further. Fics will be short drabbles and nothing more than that. Please be respectful and cooperative with me! Tysm!

✦ day 1 - namjoon : titfucking

✦ day 2 - hyunjin : hate sex

✦ day 3 - hongjoong : prostitution

✦ day 4 - hoseok : dubcon

✦ day 5 - bangchan : corruption

✦ day 6 - choi san : virginity

✦ day 7 - taehyung : breeding

✦ day 8 - jeongin : lactation

✦ day 9 - jimin : praise kink

✦ day 10 - lee know : humiliation

✦ day 11 - wooyoung : sensory deprivation

✦ day 12 - mingi : somnophillia

✦ day 13 - felix : noncon

✦ day 14 - lee know and bangchan : double penetration

✦ day 15 - seokjin : public sex

✦ day 16 - mingi, yunho, and seonghwa : moresome

✦ day 17 - yunho : spanking

✦ day 18 - seungmin : exhibition

✦ day 19 - yoongi : voyeurism

✦ day 20 - han jisung : deepthroating

✦ day 21 - changbin : panties

✦ day 22 - seonghwa : pregnancy

✦ day 23 - yeosang : face sitting

✦ day 24 - jongho : cockbulge

✦ day 25 - jungkook : masturbation

A/N : hope yall are excited as much as i am!! 😭😭😭 stay tuned!! <3

If you want to be part of the taglist please comment!!

[koryvaio]

"After Hours"

★pairing: jimin × f!reader

★★★ !! WARNINGS !! ★★★ +18!, MDNI!, slight exhibition?, slight dom!jimin?, overstimulation, one night stand, crying (lmk if i missed something)

★synopsis: jimin is your customer. what starts as harmless banter quickly turns into heavy flirting, leading to you riding him in the café’s locker room.

!NOT PROOFREAD!

feedback is very appreciated! ENJOY!!!

"can i get an iced tea?" asked the blonde man from the other side of the counter.

"sure. anything else to go with it?" you ask as a formality. people usually tell the whole order at once, but your boss insists that you ask the customer if they want anything else 'what if they want something else but feel like you're cutting them off and won't continue the order'. nobody thinks that, but you just comply and don't complain (you do complain, quite a lot, actually).

"no, thank you. that's all."

"can i get a name?" you were thinking about how you'd love to scream in your boss' face right now.

"Jimi–," he hesitates and this catches your attention. "Jim," he finally says.

"Ok, Jimi-Jim. This will be 8.99," you chuckle as you place his order. "One iced tea will come right away."

"Jim?" You say waiting for the blonde man to appear in front of you.

"Jim?" you say a little louder this time. The café was not so busy at the time, matter of fact it was almost empty considering it was almost closing time, so he should be able to hear you, yet he was nowhere to be found.

"Jimi-Jim?" you shout this time and he emerges from a seat.

"Sorry, I had my headphones on. I don't like crowded places," he apologises and places a 50 bill in the tip jar.

"Believe it or not, neither do I," you admit. "thank you for the tip. much appreciated!" You smile at him and he returns it easily.

"How come? You work in a crowded place," he takes a seat at the bar.

"Exactly," you respond. "I love my alone time after a long day having to deal with all sorts of people."

"if you put it like that, it makes sense," he concludes. "No wonder why my dad goes straight to sleep sometimes after closing the café. "

"Your dad owns a café and you're buying from the rivals? You're bold," you chuckle.

"can't really be rivals since it's on a different continent," he gives you a witty smile.

"another continent? you're a far way from home, then."

"kind of," he nods.

"are you here on vacation, or..?" After the words leave your mouth you find your question a little nosy and you do a mental face slap.

"sorry, that was nosy of me," you add in a hurry. "you don't need to answer."

"no, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I am just as nosy, if not worse," he grins. "To answer your question, I came here with work."

"How cool! I wish I could travel with my job too."

"it's exciting at first, then it's pretty much routine," he replies.

"I'll have to take your word for it."

he chuckles softly, and as he takes his drink, his fingers brush yours. it’s a little longer than necessary, but not enough to make you think too much about it. then, the smile on his face shifts, almost like he’s debating whether to say what's on his mind or let you be.

"why don't you leave this place? have you ever thought of it?" his voice is quieter now, less playful. he’s leaning in just a little, his gaze lingering on you a bit too long. he waits for your answer, as though measuring something about you.

you scoff. "everyday. but then i remember that i can't live off of dreams and i need money so i end up right behind this counter somehow," you lightly pat the bartop with your hand.

he plants his elbows on the counter, leaning in a little closer. "what if money wasn't a problem. would you leave?"

you raise one eyebrow, a smug grin settling on your face. "why? are you a rich CEO or something looking for a wife?"

a sly smile spread on his face. he didn't expect you to answer like that, but he didn't dislike it. "depends. would you be down for that?"

"sadly, marriage, be it of convenience or not, doesn't fit my idea of fun."

he hums in agreement. "then good thing i am not a rich CEO looking for a marriage of convenience, i guess."

"then what do you do for a living that implies this much travelling that you got tired of it?"

he remains silent, but not the uncomfortable kind. his gaze lingers, searching your face for something, debating whether he should answer or not. right when you think he is about to tell you, someone from behind him asks you for a lemonade. you take a quick glance at the clock on the wall behind you just to make sure you had time before closing.

"anything else with it?"

the woman shakes her head and before taking her drink from you she hands you a 20 bill, letting you keep the change.

you glance at the empty café, then back at him. "you know, technically we're closed. yet... i haven't asked you to leave."

he leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. "oh, so i am special?"

"let's just say you have piqued my curiosity."

"does that happen often? customers piquing your curiosity, i mean," he raises one eyebrow.

"not really," you say, maintaining eyecontact. "but then again, most of them don't make cryptic offers, nor do i allow them to stay past closing."

"so i am special," he grins, shifting in his chair.

"you don't meet a young, potential sugar daddy every day," you shoot back, tossing him a wink before taking off your apron and draping it over a hook behind the counter.

he watches your movements, head tilting slightly. "so.. what happens now? was that your subtle way of kicking me out?"

you lean over the counter, mirroring his smile. "would you rather we hang out in a closed café for the rest of the evening?"

he leans in, your faces now a few breaths away. "are you offering something better?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me. you're the one who likes making cryptic offers and loitering after hours, remember?" you tease him.

he chuckles. "silly me. i thought you just enjoyed my company."

"who said i don't? you're so charming I'm breaking protocol to watch you sip iced-tea," you chuckle, undoing your ponytail, letting your hair fall on your shoulders.

"argh," his eyes norrow, carefully watching your movements. "so all it took was a littile flirting and a generous tip?"

"please!" you snort. "if that were true I'd have a queue at the door and no time to watch you graciously sip your drink."

he hums, low and amused. "if it's not the tip, the only other option is my undeniable charm."

"along with questionable intentions," you add.

"questioable intentions you say?" he chuckles under his breath.

"curiosity does that to a girl, you know?"

"careful. curiosity is known for getting people into trouble."

you scoff amused. "so can staying in a closed café with a stranger."

"good thing you don't strike me as being afraid of a little trouble," he pauses, leaning against the counter. "at least as long as you're in control," his voice is low, and his eyes don't leave yours. not even for a moment.

"there's a balance, though. but you look like the kind of trouble I'd enjoy," your lips twitch, just shy of a smile.

"Cheeky."

"takes one to know one," you reply, leaning over the counter again, closing the distance between you.

he grins. "if i didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to out flirt me."

your gaze flickers from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. "and what if i am, Jimi-Jim? what will you do about it?"

his smirk falters for a split second, letting you know you unsettled him. "it's jimin, not Jimi-Jim. and I'm also torn on what to do."

you raise an eyebrow, amused. "torn? why?"

"i didn't take you for such a tease," he replies. his voice is lower than before.

"you don't know me."

"that can change," he says, his hand brushing over yours on the counter. "if you want to," he adds.

his touch is electric, sending shivers through your whole body. you lean in a bit closer, your breath softly grazing his face. his scent fills the space left between you. "i thought i made it clear when i let you stay after hours. but are you sure you're up to this, jimin?"

his lips curl into a smile, gaze locked onto your lips. "i thought you were already aware of my questionable intentions."

"oh," you pause. "so they are questionable?"

"if you want them to be."

"i see," you shortly say before crashing your lips onto his. he's a bit surprised, but he is quick to take control. his hand is now on the back of your head, tangled in your hair, tilting your head the right way so he can deepen the kiss. You tug at the collar of his shirt before pulling back, breathless "You're not the only one who has questionable intentions," you murmur against his mouth.

he kisses you again. less sloppy this time, his tongue teasing yours before sliding in without hesitation. his grip on your hair tightens, just enough to make your breath catch.

"you started this," he whispers against your lips. "don't get shy on me now."

you don't reply. instead you curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt and tug, dragging him to your side of the bar. he doesn't resist, his eyes locked on yours as he follows. his hands quickly find your waist, tracing the shape of you like he's trying to memorise it. his knee slowly nudges between yours, and you part them without hesitation, inviting him in.

with one smooth motion he lifts you on the countertop and your legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him closer.

"fuck–," he hisses looking at the windows. "can people see inside this place?"

"no, high-end clientèle," you murmur against his neck. " tinted windows."

"good," he says, voice low and rough. he grabs a handful of your hair, tilting your head as he places wet kisses from the corner of your mouth down to your collarbone.

your hands quietly slide under his shirt, exploring his warm skin, tracing the lines on his stomach, slowly lifting the shirt to expose his abdomen. your expedition comes to a halt when his hand catches your wrist, stopping it in place. "as much as I'd love to take you on this bartop," his voice is low, needy, but steady still. "i think my hotel room would be much more suitable. no risk of getting caught and better lighting," he pauses, brushing his lips against yours. "i want to see you."

"spoilsport," you scoff. "but you've got a point," you unwrap your legs from around his waist. "just let me grab my bag from my locker, it will only take a minute."

you slide off the counter, fixing your shirt before you walk off to grab your things. you know he's following you even before you hear the soft pad of his boots echoing against the tiled floor. the door clicks open and the locker room is quiet and faintly scented with coffee and vanilla. you take your bag that was left in a hurry on the couch and put it on your shoulder.

when you turn to face him, you see him shutting the locker's door behind him. "what are you doing?" you question him, raising an eyebrow.

"i realised patience has never been one of my virtues," he says, tilting his head slightly before closing the distance between you.

"clearly you've wasted all your patience on that iced tea."

"you're also a big tease. doesn't help my case," his lips ghost over yours.

you let your bag fall on the floor, arms sliding around his neck. "you call that teasing? oh, hon–" before you can finish your sentence his lips crash onto yours. his hands settle on your waist and pull you closer so gracefully like he's done this a milion times before.

he slowly walks back, guiding you with him. the small couch bumps the back of his knees and he sinks on it, his hands sliding to the back of your thighs, pulling you into him. you straddle his lap, caging him between your legs.

his hands slide up, undoing the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. one by one he parts them, his fingers brushing your skin, giving you goosebumps. he is clearly satisfied with the way your body reacts judging by his smug grin. he leans in, lips ghosting over your neck. then, he kisses the dip just above your collarbone as he slowly pushes the straps of your bra down your arms.

once you're completely naked from the waist up he leans back slightly just to take you in. "you have no idea what you're doing to me," he mouths, the words barely audible.

you press yourself down onto the obvious bulge in his pants, slow and deliberate."i might have," you say with a wicked smile.

"shit," he hisses. "don't do that again unless you want me to fuck you numb," he warns you.

you tsk and put a finger over his plush lips. "big talk. I just hope you fuck as good as you brag."

he smiles against your finger. his hand wraps around your wrist gently pulling it away from his mouth, but only after he kisses the pad of your fingertip.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark, full of lust. "never had anyone complain about my performance," he pauses. "in my book it doesn't count as bragging if it's true."

you lean in, hands on his chest, your lips just a breath away. "that is for me to decide."

"feisty," he says, his nose nudging yours.

your hands slide down to the hem of his shirt. he lifts his arms and his shirt is now lying somewhere on the floor behind you.

you graze the corner of his lips, but do not quite kiss him. "you haven't seen anything yet." then, you roll your hips against his, slowly. his grip tightens on your thighs, keeping you in place for a moment while he's catching his breath.

"you keep doing that, and you can kiss 'walking' goodbye," he says, clenching his jaw.

"Lucky me, I'm off tomorrow," you tease him, continuing your torturous pace as his hands guide you.

he lets his head fall back on the couch. "You're gonna be the death of me," he mutters.

you lean in and you can feel his hands on your ass now. "then die happy," you whisper against his ear. He groans, it's a low and needy sound. and for the first time you see his facade crack when he bucks up into you, unable to hold back anymore.

he places wet, open-mouthed kisses on the swell of your breasts, taking his time. his lips close around one nipple, sucking on it, making wet, sloppy sounds while his fingers caress the other, pinching it and rolling it between his fingerstips.

he pulls away slightly, letting you catch your breath. then, his other hand slides from your ass to the waistband of your trousers, undoing the button. "lift for me, baby," he tells you, not quite as a request.

you lift your hips and he tugs them down, dragging your underwear along with them with one swift motion. you lock eyes with him, and without a word, your fingers find his belt buckle and start undoing it. a smile curls on your lips as you pop the button on his jeans and drag them down along with his boxers, letting them pool at his feet.

as you straighten up he reaches for his scattered jeans and his hand slips into his back pocket before pulling out a condom. his gaze stays on you as the thin foil touches his lips, his teeth reaping it open with ease.

he holds it out to you between two fingers, one eyebrow raised. "will you?"

"lay back," you say while taking the condom from his hand. you sink lower and he doesn't hesitate to obey your demand. your touch is light, letting anticipation hang heavy between you as you slowly roll it on. his jaw clenches and you can tell that he has little to no self control left.

you settle over him again, hands on his chest to steady yourself. his left hand grips your hip firmly while with the other he guides himself through your folds slowly, teasing you until you can barely stand it so you groan, frustrated.

"you alright up there?" he smirks, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"would be if you'd get down to busin–," you don't get to finish. he suddenly slips into you without a warning reducing your sentence to a sharp gasp.

he stills, letting you adjust. "not so mouthy now, huh?"

"don't get ahead of your—, fuck!" his hips snap up roughly, cutting you off and pulling a hitched cry from your lips. "motherfucker." you cuss him under your breath.

"there she is," he grins. "i thought i fucked the wit out of you for a second," he sets a rough pace, each thrust hitting a deeper spot than the last, but your body meets his with a desperate need making the filthy sound of skin against skin echo through the small locker room.

he slows down and right when you're about to tell him to go faster he grabs the back of your thighs as he stands up. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and you barely have time to gasp before your back hits the cool wood of the door. "thought you had control over the situation?" he mocks you, his lips ghosting over your neck.

he pushes you harder against the door, the sensation sending a jolt through your body. his thrusts become rougher and more intense making you whimper, but he is unmoved by your whiny pleas. he then bites down your shoulder, not enough to hurt, but hard enough to make sure it will leave a mark. his lips then carefully caress the spot as if to soothe what he just claimed, but there was no mercy in the way he fucked you against that door.

his hand firmly grips your chin just enough to tilt your face towards him. "look at me while i ruin you," he says, breathless, but still smug. his forehead presses against yours and each swing of his hips pulls out sounds you didn't know you could make.

a wicked smirk tugs at his lips as he watches you fall apart around him, and feels the way you tighten. "that's it," he murmurs. "i want you to think of this moment everytime you step foot in this locker."

your vocabulary norrows to one word besides whimpers and broken moans–"jimin."

"that's right, baby. say it again," his voice is low and commanding, nothing like the flirty tone he used earlier. "louder," he adds with a sharp thrust that makes your breath catch.

that was the final nail in the coffin. all the heat coiled up in your belly snaps as your body trembles, walls clenching around him. he curses under his breath losing the rhythm for a moment before snapping out of it. his thrusts become desperate, reckless and so rough that they make tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

"fuck!" his voice cracks as he follows you over the edge, groaning against your neck.

he slows down, forehead against yours, catching his breath. seeing how wrecked you were his gaze softens. "are you ok?" he nudges your nose with his.

"mhm," you nod.

"are you up for another one, or was this too much?" he asks, searching your face for any flicker of doubt.

you don't reply, not verbally; instead, you kiss him. taking the hint, he carries you back to the couch and settles you on it, not breaking the kiss.

he pulls back slightly, just enough to discard the used condom as he reaches for another one in his scattered jeans. with a quick rip of the foil he rolls it on.

"still with me?" he asks, leaning back in.

your eyes meet his and you nod, reassuring him.

"good." he settles himself between your legs, hands hooking under your knees, pushing them back until you're open and entirely his.

this time he is more tender, taking his time. his hand caressing your cheek as he kisses your chest.

even though he seems so tender, his thrusts are anything but. they're deep and rough, making your breath catch every time.

he looks up at you, his eyes full of mischief as a wicked smirk tugs at his lips. "seeing you catch your breath every time i slide in.." he hovers over you, lips grazing your ear. "almost as good as the mess you leave behind when i'm done."

then, without a warning, he grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head, making you whimper quietly.

"look at you," he mocks you. "aren't you a squeaky, needy, little thing? you spent the entire evening pretending to have control," his lips brush yours. "but you love giving it up, don't you?"

you try to shake your head, to deny what he just said, a desperate attempt to hold on to whatever was left of your pride, but he thrusts harder. defeated, the only thing that you manage to get out is a broken moan.

"yeah," he mutters, watching your reslove melt. "that's what i thought." after proving his point he lets go of your wrists, his hand tracing lines from the swell of your breats down to your stomach then down to your sensitive spot. your body arches under his. he circles lazily, knowing exactly what he is doing.

"you're so fucked out already," he groans, deliberately slowing down to mess with you.

you can barely breathe, let alone speak, but the desperate clench of your body gives you away.

"i know you're tired, baby, but i know you've got one more in you. don't you? let me make you feel good," he pleas, kissing the corner of your mouth. "turn around for me."

your limbs feel boneless, but you obey. chest pushed into the cushions as you do. the moment you grip the armrest he's behind you. one hand grabbing your hip, the other one sliding up your spine tangling in your hair and pulling it gently.

"good girl."

he slides back inside you with a single, brutal thrust that knocks the air out of your lungs, feeling him even deeper like this.

"fuck, just look at you.." he girts, watching the way your body takes him.

he doesn't pull your hair hard, just enough to make your head tilt back so he can lean in, breath hot against your ear. "taking me so well....still think you were ever in control?"

you let out something between a moan and a laugh, not able to make out the clap back he's clearly baiting you for. your finger clutch the armrest tighter, feeling the waves building up again.

he presses a kiss on your shoulder, the contrast between the bite he left earlier and the gentleness now not lost on you. "almost there, baby," he encourages you. "one more."

your back arches and moans never stop leaving your mouth. he keeps whispering sweet nothings in your ear, feeling you clenching around him.

"fuck, you're driving me insane." you tremble beneath him, every nerve alight, every sound a raw confession. his hot breath fans across your neck as his hips continue their relentless pace.

with one last deep thrust he has you moaning his name as you come undone, feeling your desperate pulsing and clenching he is quick to follow, losing himself in you.

he collapses right beside you, lacing his fingers with yours. "excellent customer service. i will definitely become a regular," he smirks, kissing your temple.

you smile in response, too spent to bicker with him right now.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 18+

WHISPERED SECRETS Masterlist

Whispered Vows the Sequel: here

Summary: After four years, your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive? 

Pairing:  Sisters Ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader. 

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance. 

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Over use of the name baby. Squirting. 

A/N: I just wanted to say  thank you to everyone. I was so SCARED to post on here, not really knowing what I was doing. When I hit the post button, I wanted to delete it right away. I didn't expect anyone to read it, and when the first person liked it, I was so ecstatic. I want to thank all the readers, rebloggers, and the ones who messaged me. 

SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! SMUT!  

“Yoongs, can you zip my dress,” you yell from the bathroom. You wait, wait, and wait. You can't hear him anywhere in the apartment. “Yoongs?”

“I'm here, sorry,” he says, turning the corner and entering the bathroom and finally helping you do up the zipper. “Look at you. That dress is quite….clingy.” 

“You don't like it,” you smirk and look over your shoulder at him. 

“Oh, I do,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Why don't we just stay home tonight. I'll show you just how much I like it.” 

“Mr. Min,” you gasp. “You can't miss this event. What will Joon think if his partner isn't there?” 

Yoongi did it. He finally gave into Namjoon and has officially become a partner in Persona. His role at the company didn't really change that much. He still wrote, produced, and had his quiet little sanctuary. He just had to wear a suit every now and then for meetings. You couldn't believe it when he said that he was going to buy in and be a co-owner. You asked why he had changed his mind. His answers were always vague. You wondered if he had something up his sleeve. 

You, you loved your summer art program and learned so much. It was a lot of work, but it helped you grow as an artist. �� You were nervous about the art exhibition at the end of your program. Yoongi showed up happily supporting you. Your friends showed up, and your dad showed up with his new girlfriend. She was nice, and you enjoyed getting to know her, and much to your surprise, your mom showed up. You found out your dad had given her an invite. Yoongi didn’t want to leave your side when she showed up and made sure to cling right to you. You told him softly that you needed to be able to talk to her alone.  He left reluctantly with Lisa and Jimin, giving you the space that you needed.  

You noticed your mom looked brighter and was actually civil to everyone. She had complimented your pieces and asked how your program went. She then apologized to you and said that she was proud of you. She went on to say how she started therapy and needs to learn how to love herself again so she can love you properly like she always should have. She told you how she always had a dream to travel and take pictures when she was young but never had a chance since she married young and then soon after had you and your sister. She's now taking your lead and is going to go for it. You hear your sister is upset about this, now your mom won't be at her beck and call anymore. You unblocked her that night. 

Yoongi had asked you if you would now finally apply to go to school full time. You surprised him by saying no. He wanted to argue, but you wouldn't let him. You loved your experience, but you loved him more. WIth his new role and your whole workload, you didn't have much time with him. You loved your job, and you loved your office with the parking lot view that you now shared with Seungkwan. You were happy to just do your drawings for you. You think you might open an Etsy shop or some form of online store and try to sell them one day…but not now.  You were happy, and he finally conceded.   

“Fine,”Yoongi sighs and kisses you. “Go get a necklace, and I’ll help you put it on.” 

You roll your eyes at him and enter your bedroom. You stop dead in your tracks and look at the bed. There was a plate with rolls on it sitting on the end of the bed. You stare at it in confusion.

“What's this?” You ask him.

“Early birthday present,” he calls out from the bathroom. 

You take the top roll off the pile and plan on shoving as much of it in your mouth that you can. However, you don't….you can't.  Upon taking it, you revealed a black velvet box. One much like your ring currently on your finger came in. You can't move. You feel frozen looking at it.  Arms come and wrap around your middle. Yoongi plucks the box from the plate and turns you in his arms, lovingly staring at you. He smirks and strokes the smooth skin of your cheek. Slowly, he drops down onto one knee. It's real, you realize. This is really happening.  He pops open the box, and you almost faint as you see what's inside. A huge square cut diamond ring placed beautifully on its cushion. It's huge…huge, you think it's bigger than the one your sister had worn all those months ago. Is this why he finally decided to partner with Namjoon? 

 “It's been almost a year since I found you again. I never believed in fate but that night when I saw you again. That night changed everything, ” he said softly. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hand shook just a bit. “I don't ever want to lose you again. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you say quietly. He slips the ring on your finger, and it's a perfect fit. Throwing your arms around him, the two of you fall to the floor. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he murmurs against your lips. Pulling back, he gives you a questioning stare. “You really didn't know about this?” You shake your head no. “Hmm, Lisa and Jisoo came with me to pick it out. I guess I owe her one for keeping a secret.” You laugh and kiss him again. 

Jisoo, Lisa, and Seungkwan all coo over how gorgeous your ring looks on your finger. The diamond sparkles and shines under the lights of the hotel lobby where the four of you gather. 

“I can't believe you guys kept this a secret!” You exclaim, looking at them. 

“I didn't know,” Seungkwan tells you.

“That's because you have a bigger mouth than me,” Lisa snarks. “I'm going to find Jimin.” Blowing you a kiss, she struts off and leaves Seungkwan pouting. 

“I’m going to go find Yoongi. I'm sure he's loving all the conversations forced on him right now,” you tell your other two friends, hugging them goodbye. 

Yoongi hates these events. Industry insiders all kiss each other's ass to get something they want. It might be a charity event, but social climbing will come first. It's the worst. Fake smiles, fake laughs. You've had to fake awe and excitement over some big names before, and Yoongi loves you for it. Supposedly…..you're charming. You spot him engaged in a conversation with two unknown men. They were good-looking, of course, and you silently cursed your boyfriend…fiancée for being in this damn industry. When you reach them, you slide your hand up his chest, smiling at his guests. 

“Sweetheart,” he says and widens his eyes a bit. You get it….game on. “This is Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan. They own Darling Media, and they're looking to partner together for future projects.” 

“Oh wow,” you gasp and giggle. “It's so nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Jeonghan says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. You giggle again, and it seems to do the trick. 

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, clearing his throat. His eyes definitely did a once over, and Yoongi definitely glared a bit. “We found a new, talented artist who we think would be an asset to Persona.” 

“Who,” Yooongi asks the handsome man. 

“His name is Kai. I believe that he is friends with Jimin. I’m surprised you haven't scooped him up already.” Seungcheol explains.  You try not to laugh, and you feel Yoongi stiffen.  Out of everyone trying to make it in music, they found Kai. This is the funniest thing you think you may have ever heard.

“The famous model and commercial actor?” You asked with an excited smile on your face. 

“Yes, that's the one,” Jeonghan answers. “ We have some great ideas for him, but we would like him attached to the record company first. Then, we can talk…maybe about long-term contracts?” 

“Oh, Yoongi, they have such a good eye for talent. Kai is so handsome and talented,” you gush.  You feel Yoongi pinch your butt kind of hard. Ow!

“Yes, my love, they indeed do. Why don't you give me a call on Monday?” He ends the conversation by handing them a business card. As they walk away, you wave coyly at them. “You think that's funny?” Yoongi hisses in your ear. 

“It's hilarious,” you laugh, and Yoongi takes your hand. He gently pushes you to move forward, and the two of you walk toward the exit of the room. He pulls you down the hallway and into a shallow alcove just tucked on the other side of a statue.  Your back hits the wall, and he leans over you. Trapping you in the small space as he places his hands on either side of your head. 

“I'm not writing for him. Your boyfriend will have to find another company,” he snarls at you.  

“Yes you will,” you say, sliding your hands around the back of his neck. “You will write him a hit song and make him very famous.”

“I’ll write him the worst song I can think of,” he says, bending down and capturing your lips with his. “I'll tank his career.”

His hands are everywhere, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Your head leans back against the upholstered wall. You can feel your hair go staticky Yoongi though, he has no care in the world that you are in public and some important people could catch the two of you. His hands start to creep under your dress, hitching your leg over his hip when someone clears their throat. Whipping around Yoongi hides you behind him. You pull your dress down and pat your hair, trying to smooth the static. You look over his shoulder, and your eyes widen. It's Mingyu…with your sister. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, blushing. “Umm, I…we were hoping that you would be here Y/N. Your friend Lisa said she saw you come this way.” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Yeah,...I…i'm…here,” your voice is small, and you think you sound stupid. 

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says, holding out his hand professionally. Mingyu smiles politely and shakes it.  You see Yoongi clench his jaw  a little as his eyes fly between Mingyu and your sister. 

“Kim Mingyu, it's nice to meet you again,” he says as he introduces himself. Mingyu looks at your sister, and so do you. She looks around at the room, staring at the different paintings on the walls. Basically, she's just trying to keep her eyes off of you and Yoongi. Your eyes sneak a peek at her finger. She still has her engagement ring on. 

“What can we do for you?” Yoongi asks stiffly, pulling you into his side. Unconsciously, you let your left hand rest on his chest, and you realize just how tense he was. You see Mingyu nudge your sister, and she sighs.

“The wedding invite we sent you came back,” she said, barely giving you a glance.

“Oh,” you say softly. “Oh, umm, I don't live at my apartment anymore.”

“That's good,” Mingyu says. “It was an honest mistake. We pushed it back to next fall after we had a little…chat.” He gives her another nudge, and she opens her clutch and blindly hands you a wedding invitation. 

“We would love it if you could attend,” her voice was robotic, like she practiced that over and over again. 

You look at the pretty invite in your hands and then look at Yoongi. He gives you a slight shrug. You know that he will go along with whatever you want to do. Mingyu smiles gently at you. You think that he has good intentions, and honestly, you don't want to ruin this relationship for her.  Looking back at her, she's staring hard. Her stare is burning a hole right through the ring on your finger.  Mingyu seems to notice as well.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise. When's the special day?” He asks.

“Umm, it just happened today. We really haven't had time to talk about it yet,” you explain. “Thank you for the invitation. It really does mean a lot but…I don't think it's a good idea if I come.” You look at your sister and say her name softly. she looks at you warily. “I'm sorry I couldn't be the sister you wanted but you're my sister and I still love you. Mingyu seems great, and I'm happy for you. I wish you all the best.” 

“Thanks,” she whispers. Her eyes look shiny, but she quickly blinks them away, and you wonder if you imagined it. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you again,” Yoongi tells Mingyu, shaking his hand again. “We have rounds to make and then home to celebrate.” Yoongi brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it. 

“Goodbye,” you tell them and once again walk away with Yoongi's hand wrapped around your own. 

The door to the apartment crashes open as you two stumble in lips attached. You almost fall, tripping over your feet. Yoongi is quick to catch you. He pulls his mouth from your own and drops kisses onto your neck. 

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asks, worried you might be upset about seeing your sister. 

“Please, Yoongi. I want you…more than anything,” you whisper into the dark room. 

Reminiscent of that fateful night almost a year ago, Yoongi picks you up, and you wrap yourself around him. Holding on for dear life, as he quickly gets you to the bedroom…your bedroom…the one you share. 

Dropping you on the bed, he dives for your neck  again as you lie completely back on the bed. You welcome all his kisses and touches that he gives you happily. Wet, open mouth kisses start at your ear and slowly make their way to your chest. Yoongi nips at the exposed skin of your cleavage.  His hands take the fabric covering your breasts and tug it down just below your breasts, exposing you to the cool air of the room. You run your fingers through his dark, soft hair and gently pull, earning a groan from his lips.  You look at him, and he smirks up at you with a heated gaze.  Yoongi sticks his tongue out, and as you watch, he starts to rapidly flick your nipple. You close your eyes and arch your back a little up to him. You are hoping that he will give you more than that. 

“Look at me,” he demands softly.

You open your eyes and watch as he takes your peaked nipple between his teeth, giving it a slight tug. You feel that familiar jolt shoot down your body. You try your best to rub your lower half against him to find some sort of friction for relief, but he won't let you  have it. He chuckles and moves away just enough that you can't find what you need.

You huff and push him backward. He has to catch himself from falling off the bed, earning a giggle from you. You guide him down to your previous position and straddle his hips. Your hands fly to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them as quickly as you could. Upon finally getting it off, you brace yourself on his chest and press your mouth to his. His hand goes into your hair, holding  you to him. Your tongues dance together, breathing each other in. Souls connecting.

Your hips start to move on your own, barely touching the hardness still caged in his pants.  Unfortunately,  the dress stops you from opening your legs as far as you need to feel him fully, and you let out a frustrated groan. Yoongi's hands fly to your dress and lift it up over your hips, bunching it at your waist.  He grabs your waist and presses you down so you can rub against him the way you need. 

“You need me that much, huh?” he asked, letting out a breathless chuckle. You nod your head and press kisses to his neck. “I always need you too, baby.”

You sit up on him, trailing your fingers over his exposed chest. Yoongi hands gently rub your legs as he gazes up at you as you smile down at him.  You stretch your arm behind you as far as you can to pull the zipper of your dress down. Yoongi reaches up and pulls the front of your dress down completely. Exposing you further to his gaze. Sitting up immediately, he sucks your nipple into his mouth, and his hand massages your other. Your head tilts back as you hold him to your chest. His hands wander around you and travel up and down your naked back before attempting to pull your dress the rest of the way off down your hips.  Due to your position, he is unsuccessful in his mission.

“Lie down for me, baby,” he tells you when he pulls away from you. 

You bite your bottom lip and do as he asks. You watch Yoongi undo his belt and fling it across the room. You hear it hit something and fall to the floor. His hands make quick work on the rest of his clothes before they tug your dress the rest of the way off. Kissing your calf, he drags his tongue across your leg and up your inner thigh. Lightly, he bites at the sensitive skin, licking the red marks that he leaves behind. Settling down between your open thighs, his fingers toy with the inner hem of your underwear. His dark eyes flicker up to you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N. I'll give you anything you want,”  He slowly moves your underwear to the side, and your eyes never leave his. “The wedding of your dreams.” A slow lick up your dripping pussy. “A home to call our own,” A kiss to your clit. “I'll give you the world if you let me.” His tongue starts drawing lazy circles around you. Your breathing starts to grow heavy and your eyes threaten to close but you don't let them leave him. “What do you want, baby? What do you need?” 

“Just you,” you whimper. 

Yoongi smiles at you and pulls your panties off. Diving back in between your thighs, his mouth is relentless on you. Tongue flicking back and forth on your clit as his fingers seek entrance into you. Your back arches as he is successful and pumps two fingers in and out of you. Yoongi sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning around you. Your hands fly into his dark hair and hold him to you. You hold the back of his head desperately, trying your damnedest to get him as close as you could. Pulling off you, his fingers still work their magic working your wetness out of you. His mouth attaches to your nipple for a quick second before giving your other breast the same treatment.  Grabbing his face you pull him down to your mouth. Lips meeting in a chaotic clash of tongues. A kiss full of want and desire. A kiss of craving.  A kiss of pure unadulterated neediness. 

“I need you now, Yoongi,” you say quietly against his lips. 

He stares at you for a moment while biting his bottom lip. Fingers massaging your innermost spot. Bending down, he kisses your lips once, twice, three more times. Yoongi pulls his fingers out of you, and he reaches down and takes a hold of himself. Tapping the head of his cock against your clit makes your neediness worse. Your hips start squirming trying to get him into you and it only makes him laugh quietly at you.

“You need this, huh?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you. You nod your head eagerly.  

Running the tip along your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, Yoongi starts to slowly roll his hips. Entering you slowly until he is fully inside of you. “I've always thought about you. I had always wondered what happened to you.” His hips start to move at a calm pace. “If you ever found someone who loved you,” you shook your head at him and pulled him down closer to you. He allows you to, and he brings his weight on his forearms. “You didn't ever love anybody else?”

“No, I've loved you since I was seventeen. I've always loved you, ” you tell him honestly. 

Yoongi presses a hard kiss against your lips. His hips pick up in pace, fucking you into the matress. You pull away with a gasp, pressing your head back into the pillows. Your hands grab his sides, fingernails slightly digging into his skin. He moans at the feeling and buries his face into your neck.  The sound of his hips slapping against our own echo throughout the room, his panting breath in your ear. It feels so overwhelming, loving someone like this, making love like this. Something you could only feel with him. 

Yoongi adjusts both of you. He moves to sit on his knees and brings your own  to your chest, holding them there.  You hear him gasp as he slides in deeper, hitting all the spots that make you see stars. This may not be your favorite position, but the noises he makes are worth it. You'll start stretching every day for those noises. You bring your own arms around the back of your knees, taking over for him. Pulling them back just a little further and closer together.

“Fucking, shit. Do you feel how deep I am?” he moans, leaning back slightly, his thrusts never stopping. The change in angle makes his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again. “Do you need more?” he asks, he sounds like he's struggling himself.

“Yes,” you cry out. Your cries become louder as his fingers rub your clit quickly. The tightening in your stomach winding so tight your body is wanting to get away from it. You feel that familiar heat that starts to take over, your skin getting flushed, heart pounding in your ears.  Your core starts to tighten around him. 

“There you go,” he hisses. “Let go, baby, let go for me.”

You do. You let go, You finally let go of all the self-consciousness, all the self-doubt. You let go of every insecurity that you have ever felt. There's a high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your body tenses up.  You've never felt this pleasure before so deep. So, deep inside of you that you think you might pass out. You feel like you're floating, and you're not coming back down. You think you can hear him reach his end as he swears, but it sounds so far away and muffled. You feel so…high.

“Breathe,” you can hear a voice. “Y/N, baby, breathe,” it's Yoongi. You snap back to reality,  spotty vision clears, and your eyes land on him. His dark hair is sweaty and sticking up in all different directions.  He looks just as dazed as you feel with his mouth agape. He's breathing hard. He can't look away from you. 

“You….came really hard…uh,” he tells you and looks down. You look down as well, and your eyes widen. He is definitely wet as is the bed, and…you don't think it's from him. While it doesn't look like it does in the few adult videos you've seen, you know exactly what happened. Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.

“I'm sorry, that's gross,” you say, turning red. “Eww…I…” Yoongi dives on you, crushing you with a kiss. 

“ I can't wait to make you my wife, damn,” he says, going in for more kisses. Pulling you up out of the bed as he flings you over his shoulder. Yoongi gives you a quick slap to your ass laughing. “You better believe that's going to happen more often. Let's shower.” 

“Yooonnnngiiiiiii,” you screech happily.  Yeah, you finally let go.  You're going to give him everything. 

A/N: So, now that we have reached the end, I have an announcement.  Thanks to the wonderful Anon who asked about drabbles, I had come up with a few ideas about the future of the characters.  As of right now…….I'm about 4 loosely written chapters into a SEQUEL!!! However, I'm not super happy with the way it's going so….I think I will take my time and try to rewrite them. 

Secondly, I was writing another story before I started the sequel. I have 6 chapters done on that one. I'm thinking I might drop a teaser to the Whispered sequel next week if I can get on a clear path of how I want it to go. So, everyone….stay tuned.

Tagged Reader:

@marimarvelfan, @unicornbabylover,@minghaosimp, @seoullove96, @iheartsvt, @babyitscoldoutside

[redrose10]

Hello! :3 Can I please request mutual pining with Joon and the prompt "Dont look at them, look at me" something very fluffy maybe at a museum? Thank you!! 💜💜 have a great day!

Hi, I hope you like this!

<Six Annoying Cupids>

Namjoon x Reader

Warnings: None really, a couple swear words

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

The cold winter air was a little more brutal than it had been lately. Thankfully you were only a few steps away from the Art Museum so you would be able to get out of the wind and snow and warm up a little.

“Y/N, third time this week huh?”, Jimin pondered from behind the customer service counter. He handed you your ticket and your receipt, “Have fun. Namjoon is in the nature wing today.”, he mischievously smirked making you walk away with a blush forming on your cheeks.

Sure you really don’t care THAT much about art. It was nice and you liked looking and learning from time to time. Like six months ago when you came here with your cousin for the first time. You learned a lot, saw a lot, but you also met someone. His name was Namjoon. He worked as a curator and would often be in one of the different sections of the museum offering up his expertise on the various pieces. He was tall and muscular and had beautiful dimples that made your stomach feel full of butterflies every time he smiled. Ever since then you might have been coming to the art museum once or twice or maybe six times a week. You had a bit of a crush on him, but you were way too afraid to tell him because you were certain it would end up in a rejection.

_______________________________________________

“Heard that chick is here to see you again.”, Yoongi said smacking Namjoon on the back while Jungkook snickered, “She’s definitely got a thing for you.” Namjoon’s cheeks reddened at the thought. He thought you were really cute and loved talking to you about art or even just things like the weather or the crazy manager at your job. He started noticing the days he spent with you he left work a little happier, a little less stressed, and more optimistic about the next day. He has wanted to ask you out on an actual date for a while, but had never quite worked up the courage too afraid to scare you off and stop you from coming to the museum any more. “I mean if you’re not gonna ask her out I certainly wouldn’t mind taking her off your hands.”, Jungkook said. Namjoon glared at him, “I regret the day I got both of you jobs here. You guys don’t even have any experience as security guards.” They laughed along before walking off to finish up the rest of their hourly walk through.

_______________________________________________

“Are you finally going to confess to Namjoon?”, someone spoke next to you causing you to jump slightly. “What? No.”, you scoffed and relaxed once you realized it was just Taheyung, one of the other curators and a good friend of Namjoon’s. You walked over to look at the next exhibit and he trailed behind you, “I don’t know why you won’t just tell him that you like him.”

“Because I don’t like him like that. I like talking about art and things with him. That’s all.”, you spat feeling a little done with the situation.

“Riiiggghhttt.”, he laughed, “You could talk about art with me. I’ve worked here longer than him, but you never do. You never bring me coffee or snacks or dinner or tell me to make sure I button up on my way home because it’s cold outside.

Here Joonie! I brought you a coffee. It’s a dark roast!

The cafe had a new hazelnut filled croissant. I got you one to try too!

I hope you’re hungry Namjoon! I made dinner and just thought I drop off the extra for you!

Namjoonie can you please explain to me the history behind this painting even though Taehyung is the one who curated it and has offered to explain it to me over two hundred times, but I always turn him down!”, he mocked you with a high pitched voice and exaggeratedly fluttering eyelashes. You could feel your cheeks heat up, either from anger or embarrassment you weren’t really sure, but you sent him a side eye before walking away into the next exhibit.

_______________________________________________

Namjoon was supposed to be explaining the history behind this painting of a snow capped mountain, but all he could focus on was the entry way behind the couple standing in front of him. He wondered if you really were here today or were his friends just messing with him. You were always dropping off little snacks or drinks or even dinner and he wanted to reciprocate the favor. And you always made sure to tell him to stay warm or get home okay.

One time he tried to tell you to get home safely, but got too nervous and stumbled over his words telling you to get a safe home instead which led to him forcing Yoongi to come up with a bullshit story about home security and thankfully Yoongi was a great bullshitter so you didn’t seem too confused by it. However, he was so embarrassed he sat in his office for the rest of the day.

“I saw your woman talking to Taehyung a few exhibits over.”, Jin said while sweeping up a gum wrapper on the floor. Namjoon tried to hide the little perk up in his spirit at the mention of you. “First off she’s not my woman. She is her own person. Secondly she can talk to whoever she wants.”, he declared. “Well she’s also not yours because you refuse to tell her how you feel. We see the way you stand a little straighter and have a little smile when you know she’s here. You bought a whole new wardrobe instead of the same gray cardigan you’ve been wearing for the last three years. You wear cologne, the expensive kind. And we constantly notice you scanning the room looking for something…or someone.”, Hoseok walked over with his broom to add to the conversation. Jin snapped his fingers, “Yeah and I heard from Taehyung that lately you’ve been really focusing on getting art with flowers because SOMEONE happens to really like flowers.” “Yeah maybe I’ll buy that SOMEONE flowers myself.”, Hoseok snorted earning quite the belly laugh from Jin also.

Namjoon could feel his irritation growing, “I happen to really like flowers. Lots of people like flowers. They’re pretty. They symbolize lots of things. Flowers are just great okay. So what?! I want to add more floral pieces to the museum. Sue me!”

Jin and Hoseok stared with wide eyes never having seen Namjoon so worked up.

“Do you think Y/N likes roses or daisies better so I know what to get her when I ask her out on a date?”, Jungkook asked coming out of nowhere scaring everyone.

“Jungkook go pretend to secure something or something.”, Namjoon ordered, “And this building has three floors and is over 100,000 square feet…why are both of you sweeping the same little corner?”, he questioned to Jin and Hoseok who quickly scattered in opposite directions while Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

_______________________________________________

An announcement came over the speaker reminding people that the museum would be closing in one hour so you moved through the next few exhibits fairly quickly hoping to find Namjoon.

When you finally did he was talking to an elder gentleman and pointing at a sculpture of pandas while explaining the history behind it in great detail. You loved how passionate he was about his work.

Patiently you waited for him to finish before walking a little bit closer hoping to get his attention. Of course he noticed you almost immediately greeting you with a smile, “Did you enjoy your time here at the museum?”

“Yeah of course. I always do. I’d really like to know more about this painting over here.” Happily he walked over with you and began explaining the history behind the piece.

Slowly the two of you made your way through the last remaining bit of the museum ending up by the cafe/gift shop. Namjoon checked his watch before leading you over to the small coffee bar, “I know it’s nothing fancy or anything, but can I buy you a coffee?” You nodded, “Yeah that sounds nice.”

With your drinks in hand you took a seat at one of the empty tables, thankfully the lounging area was empty since it was getting really close to closing time.

But it didn’t take long for you to hear some whispers and snickering coming from somewhere near you. When you looked around you spotted six men fighting for dominance to be able to see better around the door frame. You also very clearly heard Taehyung grumble something about Jimin standing on his designer boot and Jin demanding to know who pulled his hair.

“I think we’re being watched.”, you chuckled. “Yeah don’t get your friends jobs at the same place you work. It sounds like a great idea, but it’s really not.”, he sighed. Then he nervously fidgeted with earlobe, “So uh Y/N I was wondering…”

Your heart was already beating quite fast anxious to hear what he had to say, but then you heard a loud thud followed by a resounding shhhh which scared you half to death. Both you and Namjoon looked over to see Jungkook quickly scrambling up off of the floor before shoving Hoseok and hissing something about pushing him over too far. Realizing they were caught, Jin and Hoseok walked in and pretended to wipe down the already clean tables and sweep at nothing on the floor. Yoongi and Jungkook walked around the room with brightly lit flashlights which were useless since all of the lights were still on. “Security check, got a complaint about someone suspicious.”, Yoongi nodded at you before they returned back to looking around the room with their lights. “We just need a little pick-me-up! It’s been a long day.”, Jimin and Taehyung pointed at the little cafe before quickly walking over to the very clearly irritated barista since it was three minutes til close.

Namjoon cleared his throat, “Um Y/N as I was saying…”

You couldn’t help, but look at the six nosy men all scattered around the room being painstakingly obvious no matter smooth they thought they were.

“Y/N.”, Namjoon whispered, “Don’t look at them, look at me. Please. Because I’m running out of the courage to ask you this.”

You nodded letting him know he had your full attention. He grabbed your hand, “I like you Y/N. I like you a lot and I would like to take you out on an actual date to a nice restaurant or something. That is…if you would like to go out with me of course.”, he added at the end with his cheeks bright red.

“Yes of course, I’d like that!”, you exclaimed almost a little too enthusiastically unable to hide your excitement.

The room filled with cheers and claps making you and Namjoon both giggle and shake your heads at them. “I think they’ve been trying to get us together all night.”, you chuckled. “Yeah.”, he huffed, “Like six annoying cupids.”

[bts-preference]

13. His ideal first date

Namjoon: His ideal date would be a long walk on the beach followed by - Sike! It’s a trip to an art museum. He would enjoy strolling through the different exhibits, stopping at pieces that catch both your eyes along the way. While he is somewhat of an art connoisseur, he doesn't need you to be, too. And while he would definitely look at whatever is front of him (painting, sculpture, artifact, etc.), he would also sneak a glance to see your reaction to the piece (and then sneak another glance because he thinks you are too cute).

Jin: A first date at an arcade is an obvious choice in his opinion. He thinks it would help with the first date nerves, and he could easily match your vibe - if you are not good at arcade games, he would share his tips and tricks to get the highest score, cheering you on along the way. If you are a game lover, and just as competitive as him, then it's game on (literally). Depending on your comfort level, he would begin waging silly bets, like winner gets a kiss on the cheek (but wouldn't that make you both winners?).

Yoongi: This might actually be a second date idea, but he would love to have a date where you cook dinner together. After choosing the recipe together, he would have fresh ingredients delivered before you arrive. And with music playing softly, and wine poured, you would first pore over the written recipe, debating whether to follow the instructions exactly or if you can take creative liberties. And as you begin prepping, you find that you both move around each other in a perfect, in-sync rhythm, like you have always cooked together.

Hoseok: He would want your first date to be unique, so not really thinking it through, he would suggest an escape room. However, halfway through, he would remember that he is absolutely useless when it comes to solving escape room riddles. Sensing his embarrassment as the escape room attendant lets you out, you would reassure him that it was OK ("we were so close, Hobi"). And not wanting the date to end (because you still had a lot fun), you ask him if he would want to get ice cream with you before calling it a night.

Jimin: He always imagined a picnic on the beach would be a memorable first date. He would bring lunch, making sure to pack some of your favorite snacks (if he knew those already). On the way to the beach, he would give you control of the AUX. At the beach, he would spread out a blanket before making a show of presenting what he packed for lunch. Throughout the date, he would find himself scooting closer to you. Noticing this, and feeling bold, you would rest your head on his shoulder, and he would wrap an arm around you in turn.

Taehyung: Even though he is not a coffee drinker, he thinks you can never go wrong with a classic coffee date. If the weather is nice, you sit would out on the cafe's patio. With iced Americanos in front of you, you would alternate between comfortable small talk (taking your time with getting to know one another) and people watching as they pass by. At the end of the date, he would give you a small peck on the cheek. And just before you are about to part ways, he turns around and asks, "Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

Jungkook: Knowing how competitive he can be, he would have second thoughts about suggesting bowling as a first date, but would change his mind when he spots you (already wearing a pair of bowling shoes). Like Jin, he would follow your lead - if you are equally as competitive, hope you can keep up (and be warned, he's going to show off all night now)! Otherwise, he would see it as a chance to get close to you - "this is how you should throw the ball," he says with one hand hovering over your hip, while his other hand guides yours.

[inkedwithcharm]

Almost Yours | Kim Seokjin

Chapter 18 (Final)

The clinking of glasses and the low hum of laughter wrapped the dinner table in warmth, like a song you didn’t realize you’d missed until it played again. You were at your favorite rooftop restaurant with Jimin, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Seokjin. The city stretched out beneath you like a dream, but your whole world sat right across the table—smiling, radiant, and at ease.

Six months had passed since you started dating Seokjin again.

Six months of healing, of rediscovery. Six months of quiet moments and loud laughter, of him showing up at your office with your favorite drink, or you sneaking into his to tug him away from his desk and remind him that life was more than deadlines and boardrooms.

You no longer tiptoed around your love. You no longer wondered if it was the right time. It just was.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, mouth half-full of grilled squid. “Remember that one time—Jimin swore he’d be calm at karaoke and then climbed on a table during ‘Butterfly’?”

“It was emotional!” Jimin protested, laughing. “We all cried.”

“Yeah, but you cried upside down,” Hoseok teased.

Laughter bubbled around the table again, easy and unforced.

Seokjin sat beside you, hand resting on your knee beneath the table. His thumb brushed slow circles through the fabric of your dress—barely there, but grounding. He was talking with Hoseok about something he saw in a recent gallery exhibit, but every few seconds, his eyes would slide back to you. Just to look. Just to smile.

You leaned into him for a second and whispered, “You’re smiling too much.”

“Impossible,” he murmured back. “Not when you’re next to me.”

The night air was soft, carrying the smell of grilled meat and faint cologne. Your hair moved with the breeze, and Jin gently tucked it behind your ear without breaking his conversation. It wasn’t flashy or loud. It was just right.

Later, as dessert arrived, Jimin glanced at you and smirked.

“You two are disgustingly happy, you know that, right?”

“Get used to it,” Seokjin replied smoothly, sipping his wine.

You looked at Jin, and he looked back at you like he already knew the words you weren’t saying.

Earlier that week-

You had waited for him outside his office, sitting cross-legged on the couch in his executive lounge with your laptop, pretending to work. He had been in a meeting that ran over, but when he walked out and saw you curled into his space, his entire posture softened.

“I’m being kidnapped,” he said dramatically, dropping his briefcase.

“Willingly,” you added.

“Desperately,” he corrected, walking toward you and bending to kiss your temple.

You stood, slid your hand into his, and whispered, “I miss you.”

“I saw you this morning.”

“And?”

He grinned. “And I miss you too. Let’s go.”

Sometimes you ate dinner out, sometimes at your place, sometimes his. Sometimes you fell asleep in his car after long days. Sometimes you woke up together and he made the worst scrambled eggs and insisted they were gourmet.

Everything wasn’t perfect.

But it was peaceful.

Now

As the night wound down, the stars stretching over the rooftop, Seokjin reached for your hand openly and interlaced your fingers.

“Should we get going?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

As you stood, Jimin grabbed your wrist gently. “You’re happy,” he said, looking at you with eyes full of knowing.

“I am.”

“You deserve to be.”

You squeezed his hand. “So do you.”

In the elevator, you leaned your head against Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I don’t want this to end,” you murmured.

“It doesn’t have to.”

He kissed your forehead.

And it felt like the truth.

You walked into his apartment, took your shoes off side by side.

“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” you asked, curling up on his couch while he pulled off his blazer.

“Every time I look at you,” he replied honestly.

You leaned your head back, watching him move through the kitchen like he belonged everywhere you were. He opened the fridge, pulled out a tub of strawberries, and walked back.

“You know,” he said, sitting beside you and lifting one to your lips, “I remember exactly how you like your food. Still.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, taking the strawberry between your teeth.

He watched you with that soft, reverent gaze that made your heart ache and heal at once.

“I love you,” he said, almost like it surprised him. “I’ve always loved you.”

You smiled.

Your phone buzzed just as you were falling asleep curled into him.

A message from Soojin.

“It’s happening. I’m at the hospital.”

You sat up, eyes wide. “She’s giving birth.”

Seokjin blinked, barely awake. “Now?”

You nodded, already reaching for your shoes.

“We should go.”

He grabbed his coat, already alert.

“Let’s go meet her baby.”

And as he held the door open for you, you felt it again—that rush.

That everything had broken before.

But this?

This was finally becoming whole.

The hospital hallway smelled faintly of antiseptic and newly brewed coffee—a strange combination of beginnings and exhaustion. The lights were dim, the world quieter than usual, like everything knew something sacred had just arrived.

Seokjin was beside you, one hand tucked inside his coat pocket, the other lightly brushing yours now and then, as if asking without words whether he could hold on.

“She said Room 314,” you whispered.

He nodded, matching your slow, quiet pace. His steps were always measured, but tonight they felt especially careful. Like he didn’t want to ruin something too delicate to name.

You hesitated at the door.

“She’s your sister,” Jin said gently. “It’s okay.”

You took a breath and knocked softly.

A tired but warm voice called out: “Come in.”

You pushed the door open slowly. The scene inside was tender: Soojin lay propped up against crisp white pillows, her dark hair a halo of soft disarray. Her fiancé stood beside the bed, holding a small bundle wrapped in pale blue. His smile widened when he saw you.

Soojin’s gaze lifted—her eyes glassy with fatigue but brimming with something new.

“You came,” she said, voice hushed.

“Of course,” you replied, stepping inside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just pushed a whole watermelon out of my body,” she said with a small laugh. “But good. Happy. Tired.”

The room held a peaceful kind of silence.

Seokjin stepped in behind you, offering a respectful nod.

“Hi,” Soojin said softly to him.

“Hi,” he replied, just as gently.

There was no tension. Just quiet acceptance.

Then your sister turned toward her fiancé and nodded. He carefully brought the baby over to you.

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked.

You nodded slowly, overwhelmed. As the newborn was placed in your arms, the world narrowed to the soft weight resting against your chest. Tiny hands curled, his breath warm and steady against your collarbone. Your throat tightened unexpectedly.

“He’s beautiful,” you murmured, unable to look away.

Soojin watched you for a moment, then glanced at Seokjin.

“Would you like to hold him, too?”

Jin blinked. “Me?”

She smiled gently. “He’s really calm. I think he’d like you.”

You looked at Jin and silently handed the baby to him. He held the child with reverent care, eyes wide with awe.

“He’s… so small,” Jin whispered.

“And strong,” Soojin added. “He gripped my finger like he already knows he has my heart.”

There was a beat of silence as Jin carefully rocked the baby.

Then Soojin said something that surprised you both:

“You two look… right,” she said softly, like she wasn’t even sure if she meant to say it aloud. “Not just here. I mean, together.”

You turned to her, unsure how to respond.

She smiled faintly, not quite at either of you—more like at the picture you made standing there, quiet and warm, surrounded by hospital walls and the scent of new beginnings.

“I know it’s not my place,” she said, voice low but sincere. “But I hope… I really hope this time, you two find something that lasts. You deserve that.”

Seokjin didn’t speak—he was still too caught in the moment, eyes on the newborn in his arms.

You met Soojin’s gaze. There were no apologies anymore. No resentment. Just two women, no longer girls, who had made mistakes, who had healed in different ways.

“Thank you,” you said simply.

Later — in the hallway

The hush of the maternity wing settled around you and Seokjin like a soft blanket.

“That was unexpected,” you said, leaning against the wall outside the nursery window.

“She’s different now,” Jin replied, hands still clasped as if remembering the weight of the baby. “She looked… happy. Like she found her peace.”

You nodded. “It’s strange. I didn’t know how this would feel. But I think I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you let me come with you,” he said.

You smiled, watching him from the corner of your eye.

“There was a time I thought we’d never speak again,” you admitted.

He looked at you. “There was a time I thought I’d never deserve to.”

You didn’t answer that. Instead, you watched a nurse pass by, pushing a cart of fresh linens.

Seokjin’s fingers found yours then. He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

As you both stepped into the elevator, a subtle lightness settled between you. The kind of quiet shared only between people who had been through the hardest parts and found each other again.

You glanced at him.

“I saw the way you held him,” you said. “You’re going to be a great dad someday.”

He looked at you with something warm, almost shy, flickering in his eyes.

“Only if the mother is someone brave enough to love me after everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The elevator dinged open.

Neither of you moved.

You were still learning how to start again. But here, in this stillness—beneath hospital lights and second chances—was something whole forming between you.

Something that felt… like forever.

The night air was cool as Seokjin opened the car door for you. The city skyline shimmered in the distance, lights dancing softly like they were celebrating something unseen. You settled into the passenger seat with a quiet smile, still warmed by the memories of the evening— the way Seokjin never left your side, his presence steady and sure.

He slid into the driver’s seat beside you, his fingers brushing lightly against yours when he buckled in. “Ready?” he asked, his voice laced with a kind of joy that felt contagious.

You nodded. “Yeah. It was a good night.”

“It was,” he said, pulling out into the quiet road.

The drive home from the hospital was quieter than expected.

Not awkward — just full. Like there were too many words still suspended between you and Seokjin, too many thoughts still unfolding in the warmth of the night and the memory of your sister handing him her newborn son like it was always meant to happen.

He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the console, fingers brushing against yours when the car turned.

“You were quiet back there,” he said gently, eyes still on the road. “Everything okay?”

You nodded slowly. “It’s just… a lot. She’s a mom now. And I guess I didn’t realize how much it would hit me.”

His thumb traced soft circles over the back of your hand.

“I liked seeing you hold him,” you added quietly.

He smiled — that soft, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “He’s really tiny. And he peed on me.”

You laughed, finally breaking the quiet.

“He did not.”

“He did. Ask your sister.”

You turned to look at him. “You were still smiling.”

“Because it was a good moment,” he said. “Because it felt like… maybe someday I’d want something like that. A family. Not now, but maybe.”

You blinked, the weight of his words settling gently into the quiet spaces of your heart.

Then he added, a bit more shyly, “And maybe I want that with someone who makes me want to rush home from work just to hear how her day went.”

You looked at him.

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Maybe someone I could cook for more often. Cuddle with on the couch. Someone who already makes every space feel like home, even if she hasn’t unpacked a single box.”

Your heart skipped. “Are you…?”

“I’m saying,” he said carefully, “that if — if — you’re comfortable, I’d love to have you live with me.”

He glanced at you, his voice suddenly smaller. “No pressure. I just—want to wake up with you more than just some nights. I want to see your coffee mug next to mine. Hear your laugh in my kitchen.”

You stared at him for a moment, then reached for his hand.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

His face lit up. Like he was fifteen again. Like nothing else mattered.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah.”

You barely made it through the door before his lips found yours.

He was clingy in the softest ways — wrapping his arms around you from behind while you brushed your hair, trailing kisses down your neck when you tried to change into sleepwear. Every time you turned, his eyes were already on you, as if trying to memorize every detail of this version of you — the one that chose him again.

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” you whispered as he gently pressed you down onto the bed.

“I’m not doing this because I have to,” he murmured, voice husky. “I just want to love you.”

He took his time — worshipped your skin with kisses, murmured I missed yous against your shoulder blades, fingertips exploring like he was tracing constellations across your body.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, voice breathy against your lips.

“I just want you,” you said, and it was all he needed to hear.

The way he moved above you — slow, controlled, eyes locked on yours — it felt less like desire and more like coming home. Every thrust was matched with kisses, every moan met with words of love.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into your neck. “You’ve always been mine.”

You held him tighter. “I never stopped loving you.”

Afterward, he didn’t let go. He cradled you to his chest, whispering soft promises, tracing circles on your back.

You woke to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of his humming. He peeked into the room in his pajama bottoms, hair tousled, grin sleepy and wide.

“I made pancakes. But I’ll remake them if they’re ugly. You deserve pretty pancakes.”

You sat up, watching him — this man who once broke your heart, now offering you burnt breakfast and soft kisses like it was the only truth he knew.

You smiled. “They’ll taste good, even if they’re ugly.”

He sat beside you, kissed your temple, and whispered, “I still can’t believe you said yes.”

“I can’t believe you waited this long.”

He pulled you closer. “Let’s never waste another second.”

And in that sunlit room, with sleep still in your eyes and your heart still beating too fast — you knew: you weren’t just in love.

You were home.

There’s a softness to mornings now.

You wake to the sound of Seokjin humming in the kitchen—something low and warm, like a secret melody only meant for you. The scent of coffee fills the air, mingled with toasted bread and the faint citrus tang of fresh oranges. You blink against the morning light filtering through the wide windows of his penthouse—the one you now share.

Your home.

You shuffle out in his oversized white shirt, sleeves past your hands. Jin turns around the moment he hears you.

“Good morning,” he says, setting down the pan and meeting you halfway. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips—like he still can’t believe you’re here.

“I love waking up like this,” you murmur, arms sliding around his waist.

He grins. “Me too. You, wearing my shirt, stealing all my attention before I even finish breakfast.”

You laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You like it.”

“I love it.”

Breakfasts are slow. He insists on plating things nicely—tiny sprigs of herbs, avocado sliced like art. “I want every meal with you to feel like a date,” he says one morning, and you nearly choke on your orange juice because who says things like that and still manages to sound sincere?

Seokjin does.

You both slip into your days easily—coffee together, then parting for work. Sometimes he insists on driving you, kissing your hand at red lights, grinning when he catches you smiling out the window. Sometimes, you take the train because he leaves earlier, and you text him a picture of the empty seat beside you: “Missing my favorite passenger.”

Evenings are warm—Seokjin cooking (or you ordering in when he’s too tired), slipping into soft clothes, falling asleep mid-movie on the couch. He’s clingy in the most endearing way—always reaching for your hand, your waist, your cheek.

“I like touching you,” he confesses one night while you’re folding laundry, “Not just… physically. But because it reminds me this is real. That you’re here.”

You cross the room and kiss him. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t expect living together to feel like this—so light, so easy. You’re used to heartache, to waiting, to doubt.

But now… there’s only the present. His laugh from the other room. Your shared playlist echoing in the hallway. Quiet talks before bed—about the future, about how you once thought this would never happen.

“You’re my home,” Seokjin says one night, his voice low, head resting on your shoulder. “Even before you moved in. You always were.”

Later that night, you both lie tangled on the bed—legs intertwined, hearts syncing with each breath. The city hums outside. His hand finds yours under the covers.

“Do you think it’ll always feel this good?” you whisper.

He looks over at you. “No,” he says honestly, brushing your hair away. “I think some days will be hard. But I know, no matter what… if it’s with you, I’ll want it.”

You kiss him then—slow, deep, grateful.

And in that quiet, sacred space between two people choosing each other again and again, you realize…

You’re not just in love.

You’re finally safe in it.

You switch off the bedroom light, the soft click echoing into silence.

Seokjin’s hand is still intertwined with yours beneath the covers, warm and firm, as if even in sleep he’s afraid to let go. His breath slows, falling into rhythm with the quiet night.

You turn slightly to face him in the soft moonlight that spills through the window. His face is calm, his lashes casting gentle shadows on his cheeks, his lips parted slightly in sleep. You remember a time when even seeing his face like this—unfiltered, unguarded—felt like a memory too far away.

But now he’s here.

You share the same space. The same bed. The same future, if you’re brave enough to step fully into it.

You watch him for a while, gently brushing your thumb over the back of his hand.

And as Seokjin’s breathing evens out beside you, you stare up at the ceiling with your heart full.

You think about everything—ten years of silence, the years of wondering, the ache of what could’ve been.

For so long, Seokjin had been the story you never finished… the page you folded, the goodbye you never got to say properly.

Almost yours, you used to think. He was almost yours.

But lying here now, with his hand in yours, his scent on your skin, his quiet I-love-you still echoing in your chest, you finally realize:

He’s not “almost” anything anymore.

He’s yours.

And this time, you are his, too. Fully. Fiercely. Finally.

The End.

[slaaverin]

https://x.com/BOYPOP95/status/1936787912143597824

Are his parents really divorced like antis are saying? I don't wanna believe it because you won't feel a precious person like him is coming from a broken family.

If there's mom, there won't be dad. If there's dad, there won't be trace of mom. Why is it like that when all other members are spotted with both mom and dad. Recently JK went for dinner with his PARENTS. Tae's parents came for his MS ceremony. Hobi's parents were at his concert. Jin's whole family was there when Tom cruise called them. Yoongi's dad and mom was sitting together in their elder son's marriage pics.

While Jimin's ?

"It's the room my dad stays when he comes" - shows a room with a single bed, so his mom don't come or they don't come together?

Bouquet sent separately to dad exhibited in cafe when it's PARENTS day, not dad's day. What's the need to sent a bouquet addressing both separately? Jikook themselves are senting joined wreaths now while he names his dad and mom separately ?

During his MS ceremony his dad came and was spotted in ceremonial pics. Later they posted a pic along with his brother. If they are hiding their faces, why not include mom too ? Or simply she wasn't present ?

Now his mom's bday. I'm taking Jikook as an example again. They haven't missed a single bday since the day they met. But his dad was 'too busy' to attend a family dinner which his son arranged for his wife's birthday? He make time to hug all fans coming to cafe and meet with all politicians, but couldn't make to this dinner. He might be busy but definitely not busier than his superstar son lol

All pics, all incidents everything shows his dad and mom are seperated, which is not bad but wierd for someone who preach love and charity like Mr.Park and sad for poor JM who's stuck between this.

My parents divorced when I was 4, I didn't die, having 2 sides of family isn't such a big deal I'm not even sure why people are talking about it, that's their business and if it's true Jimin doesn't seem traumatized 🙄 so why care so much about his internal family affairs I swear people should mind their own

[jimin-updates]

Jimin’s The Truth Untold is coming to New York!

The exhibit will run from May 31 through June 29:

We are so happy that more fans will get to experience Jimin’s genius up close - and as always, incredibly jealous of those fans, too 💜

[nikonladyz4]

I was going to put this in your comments, but my rant just got too long, so I decided to send it as an ask.🙃 Please humor me.

Thank you for posting your comment about Jimin's appearance on WeVerse recently. I'm actually astonished that Jimin is the one who went through the difficult experience, yet people (fans?) seem to think the difficulty they experienced due to his absence is more significant and important. Jimin likely went through a more difficult experience than he'll ever tell us - at the frontlines of rough assignment. He had to walk away from his career, where there have already been numerous interruptions at its height and in his youth. He was away from most of his family and friends. He has to readjust to the new phase of work and life. But he takes time to comfort fans in their "distress". Not just now, but throughout this entire experience. (Songs, letters, messages, etc.) New fans I can maybe understand because they don't know him as well, but existing fans should know that Jimin often takes time to get his products out and carry out his long thought out plans. (Re: He took almost a year and half to create all the products for his 2 albums.) Jimin was the last one to get a Spotify account then blew that out of the water once he had one (2nd highest and fastest rise). He had the least writing credits, only to add 2 albums worth of writing and composing (& producing) credits to his list when the time came. Before FACE came out, people kept asking anxious questions like "Can you show us your back tattoos?" He kept telling them to just wait for him. Be patient. Then there was a double page back tattoo picture in his album photobook, a huge, wall-sized back tattoo photo in his exhibition, and full on display of all of his tattoos during his and JK's travel series, Are You Sure?! Fans should always keep in mind that they do not know all the information that Jimin knows. There may be many reasons Jimin has not performed yet. Trust that whatever they are, Jimin will ultimately get things done and shine just as brightly due his own effort and design as well as the TRUSTING support of his fans. In addition to his past successes, have the results of his 2 current albums not proven anything? (first #1 Hot100, longest charting KPop song) One possible answer could be that Jimin may not feel totally prepared (in his estimation) to tour just yet. He likes to be overly prepared, overly rehearsed, etc. in order to feel comfortable presenting what he wants to show, which he said is always the best possible show for fans. He has said this out of his own mouth. I appreciate that Jimin does things on his own terms yet still cares enough about other people to address their concerns as well. As I often say, he's special. I hope his fans continue to trust him and give him the space and freedom to experiment and to operate in his own time and way without adding additional stress to his already stressful situation. Believe me, no one's standards are as high as his own for what he would like to show. The most fans can do is support & encourage him while staying out of the complaining, hostile conversations, allegedly on his behalf.

Thank you for sending this ask and being willing to stand by your statement with your name. You so elegantly expanded on what I said and you hit the nail on the head. We as fans talk about what we “want or demand” from Jimin and the members instead of wishing or requesting what we would like to see or receive from their music. These men have gone to hades and back while coming up through the last 12-15 years as artists and then having to stop at the peak of their careers to serve their country. They have all put their blood sweat and tears into developing their music as a band and as solo artist with their own individual colors. Jimin and the members have earned the right to work at their own pace and under the terms they desire. We as fans have to be patient with them and allow them the freedom to do so. Our wishes and desires should not supersede what they are trying to accomplish or achieve. We should not be dictating that they leave the company they built. They are intelligent, educated and experienced men with legal counsel to help them make the best decisions for themselves and their career. We don’t truly know what is happening behind the scenes unless they choose to tell us. We should be positive and supportive of our bias and the members at large.

[aricastmblr]

HYBEINSIGHTtwt X 23sept2024

[HYBE INSIGHT] 지민 전시 'The Truth Untold : 전하지 못한 진심', D-18 🌟

지민의 10월이 다가옵니다. 🎨 지난 전시와 마찬가지로, 중구청의 공간 후원과 함께 전시장 옆 ☕ BACHI COFFEE 카페(명동 아트브리즈 1-2F)에서 Postcard 증정 이벤트가 진행됩니다. 📸 지민 전시 포토존, 그리고 3F에 준비되는 다양한 지역 프로그램에도 많은 관심 부탁드립니다.

🗓️ 10/11(금) 서울 명동에서 만나요!

🎟️ Ticketing KOR: https://tickets.interpark.com/goods/24011915 Global: https://globalinterpark.com/en/product/24011915

📍 Location 전시장: 서울 중구 명동8나길 38, 르메르디앙 목시 빌딩 이벤트: 서울 중구 남대문로 52-20, 명동 아트브리즈

지민 #Jimin #Jimin_MUSE #Jimin_FACE TheTruthUntold #전하지못한진심 #HYBEINSIGHT 💖🎤🌸

[HYBE INSIGHT] Exposición de Jimin 'La verdad no contada: La verdad no contada', D-18 🌟

Se acerca el octubre de Jimin. 🎨 Al igual que en exposiciones anteriores, se llevará a cabo un evento de entrega de postales en la cafetería BACHI COFFEE (Myeongdong Art Breeze 1-2F) junto a la sala de exposiciones ☕ con el patrocinio espacial de la oficina de Jung-gu. 📸 Solicitamos su interés en la zona de fotografías de exhibición de Jimin y los diversos programas locales preparados en el 3er piso.

🗓️ ¡Nos vemos en Myeong-dong, Seúl, el 11/10 (viernes)!

🎟️ Venta de entradas ESP: https://tickets.interpark.com/goods/24011915 Global: https://globalinterpark.com/en/product/24011915

📍 Ubicación Sala de exposiciones: Edificio Le Méridien Moxy, 38 Myeongdong 8na-gil, Jung-gu, Seúl Evento: Myeongdong Art Breeze, 52-20 Namdaemun-ro, Jung-gu, Seúl

지민 #Jimin #Jimin_MUSE #Jimin_FACE

TheTruthUntold #전하지못한진심 #HYBEINSIGHT 💖🎤🌸

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 9

BTS x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlist-Spotify

word count: approx~20k

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A/N: Many hugs and kisses to you all who send me messages and leave comments!!! I read all of them, I promise. Here comes chapter 9 in all her large glory. My wife is waiting behind me all snuggled up to read over it, so you already know that she'll catch my typos where she can.

See you on the other side~

Love Delyn

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Previous recap

Y/n wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, or if it was just the residual weird energy from the empty exhibit: but she could’ve sworn she counted three sets of shoes instead of two reflecting off of the glass they whizzed by. Her ears must’ve been playing tricks on her too. Because while waiting for Jimin to set up the locks on the front door, there was certainly another indented set of large boot prints that crunched at a low decibel behind them up the dirt path back up to the estate. She gripped the flashlight tightly from her sweater pocket, but whoever it was decided to stay otherwise unseen. 

And this she decided fell in their favor. For if they crossed her now, she would find a way to end them on the spot with her light if she could.

Y/n was able to lay a band-aid over her festering anger that had closed in on her mind with a tooth-rotting level of sweet coffee and a breakfast pastry from the cafe. Jimin retained his kind and upbeat attitude throughout their meal as if nothing at the historical society had even occurred, and she was trying to not let it get under her skin and reignite the anger she tried so hard to smother. Although the universe works in mysterious ways, because it seemed he was now the one growing increasingly antsy as seconds ticked by. His phone kept buzzing ceaselessly from his pocket no matter how hard he tried to ignore it as soon as they had chosen their seats, creating quite the thorn in his side.

Once that didn’t seem to be enough for whoever was trying to reach him, a shaggy head of another much younger tour guide started peeking around the cafe entrance at Jimin. Jimin was kind to a fault, but Y/n could tell his strings were being plucked by the subtle irk of his brow even if he tried to stay present in the way she described the landscaping plans for her first week. Ultimately, the kid at the front wandered into the convenience store to stand on the other side of the glass next to them, and knocked on it to get his attention. 

“Eli–I’ll be out in a minute.” Jimin regarded him sternly through the glass, and it was unknown if the young kid could even hear him. He seemed to understand enough, and with a nervous tug of his collar Eli (as Jimin had referred to him) retreated back to the front. 

Jimin sighed and smacked his hands on the tops of his thighs, with his eyebrows raised into his hairline and a miniscule roll of his eyes. “It’s almost like I called out of the tour schedule for a reason.” He stood from his seat and started piling his trash onto his empty plate. “Are you done?” 

His hand gestured to Y/n’s empty cup and she nodded, watching as he swiped it from the table to carry over into one of the trash cans. He returned, running a hand through his hair and snatching his still half full drink from the table. 

“I can’t wait until I work almost exclusively at the Historical Society.” He groaned, his eye twitching when it caught Eli peering at him once more. 

“When will that be?” Y/n couldn’t hide how amusing she found his disgruntlement. It must be Karma making itself known, and it satisfied any remaining frustration with his lack of clarity for the time being. 

Jimin regarded her with an unamused scowl. “When I finish my masters program next month.” 

“Oh–you didn’t mention you were still in school?” Y/n returned with a tilt of her head. 

Jimin shrugged, suddenly a bit timid. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable about it. School seemed a bit touchy for you.” 

“Nonsense,” Y/n waved at him with her hand. “I can be disappointed in myself and proud of you at the same time. We will have to celebrate!” She wiggled her eyebrows up at him. 

“That sounds nice.” Jimin licked his lips, his teeth finding purchase on the plush of his bottom one. “Just us?” His eyes were magnetic, pulling her without mercy. The possible implications of her words dawned on her with a nervous swallow.  

Y/n flushed, fumbling with her next words. “I-if that’s what you’d want. But I’m s-sure everyone else would like to do something for you as well.” 

“Hmm. If that’s what I want?” Jimin’s voice dropped an octave, and he leaned in much closer to her than he had been previously. 

“Yeah.” Y/n squeaked. “But don’t you want a graduation party or something?” 

“That does sound fun–I can’t resist a party.” He clicked his tongue, and retracted himself from her space. “Can I choose both?” 

Y/n didn’t trust her vocal cords to follow her brain’s commands, and nodded instead. 

“Then that sounds exactly like what I want. A party and another date.” He took a sip of his coffee, his cheeks fighting back a grin around his straw. 

“Jimin!”  Y/n felt her cheeks grow warm. 

The devious grin on his face only doubled in size. “And just so you’re aware, this-” he gestured with a finger at the two of them “-doesn’t count as the other date you owe me. I have something special planned for that one.” 

Jimin strutted his way to the front, leaving her alone with her cheeks aflame at their table. Y/n needed to up her teasing game, she couldn’t keep letting them all mess with her this way. Maybe the impact was multiplied at how stark the adjustment was from being such a hermit back in D.C, to now being surrounded by kind and affectionate people at all times. Her friends shouldn’t be eliciting such states of disarray from her, and she assured herself that she would grow out of it come summer time when she grew accustomed to their ways. 

Y/n flipped out her phone, opening their group chat and tapping out a quick message. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Don’t be mad pls :( 

[Morning Glory🌼]: I’m alone at the cafe and need to get back to the estate. Is anyone around? 

Y/n waited, but after ten minutes still no response came. Time was ticking closer to one o’clock, and she didn’t want to be late for her planned meet up with Hoseok. Plus she had a lot of subdued rage she needed to take out on some dirt and an overdue nap and would like to have time to do so with Namjoon. Y/n debated just making a run for it–or at least a speed walk for it–back to the estate. They would never have to know, she reasoned. I could just say Jimin came back or something. 

 As if on cue (or maybe he had cheated and used his extra senses to feel for her up-to-no-good thoughts), Yoongi wandered up to the counter and leant his elbows on the smooth surface. He scanned his eyes around the perimeter of the room, fleeting over hers once and bringing them to meet the preppy cashier. 

Yoongi ordered his drink and leaned up at the counter in a mirroring image of how he had the first day she had seen him. Same pose, same uniform–same mild yet inscrutable expression draped across his features. He nonchalantly tried to meet her gaze again, and used a subtle tug of his chin to gesture towards the lobby. Y/n understood, rising from her seat and sidling past him. 

Y/n didn’t let her eyes wander, or even let her body angle itself in any way towards Yoongi as she left so as to not garner suspicion from any prying sets of eyes in the lobby (namely one set of spying almond shaped eyes and another friendly yet sly ones that huddled with Eli near the steps). She skirted across the lobby, and down the red carpeted hall to the restrooms, and waited on one of the waiting area loveseats for Yoongi to make his way over. She passed the time in the only way she knew how to: by checking the few and far between notifications on her phone. 

[Jungkook]: Has someone gotten you yet? 

[Jungkook]: Don’t do anything reckless, I can be there in ten. 

The weight settling into the sofa next to her pulled her head up from her phone to tuck it hurriedly back in her pocket. Yoongi took a long dragging sip from his iced coffee, and pulled the cup away with an exaggerated sigh. 

“Your cloud looks all fucked up. I can’t tell what kind of storm is rumbling in your head–Your mom piss you off that bad?” He took another slurp from his cup, his eyebrows rising up at her from over the lid. 

“A whole lot has already happened today. I’ll have to do a huge debrief before we get started later.” Y/n gripped both of her knees in her palms, flexing her fingers in and out over them to release her tension. 

“Mmm. About that.” Yoongi cocked his head to the side and pulled out his own phone, probably attempting to make it look less like they were conspiring–even though that is exactly what they were doing. “We are going to have to pick a new meeting spot. The camera’s Mariah installed are in the foyer, and you can see the edge of the landing. If we are all scuttling across it like rats in a line every night, she will notice.” 

Y/n hummed in agreement, already thinking up a few suggestions of her own. 

“I feel like one of our rooms would be best. It’s much easier to get Jungkook and Namjoon over without seeming too out of place. But I’m wondering if your conniving mind can think up any other schemes.” Yoongi fought to keep his mouth flat, hiding the beginnings of a smirk with the rim of his cup. 

“Well…the greenhouse is pretty neutral territory. She can’t get angry with you or Jungkook showing up there–and if we plan it out right she won't even know that’s where we are all headed. The only problem is that my normal body guard is out of commission if there’s cameras, which leaves me vulnerable most of the day outside of work.” Y/n bit her lip, her head falling back against the pale golden wall with a groan. “And to top that off, we’d have to somehow get back into our rooms without raising suspicion or running into my dad.” 

Yoongi sucked on the back of his teeth, sighing through his nose. “That’s true. Timewise it might be best to stick to one of ours.” 

“Wait!” Shot forwards–a new idea brewing in her brain. 

“Uh oh.” Yoongi inspected her face, his tongue sticking out slightly from between his teeth. “That face spells trouble.” 

“The terrace! We can use the terrace to get back and forth! Jungkook and Namjoon can go to the rooftop and use the roof’s attic entrance. The indoor stairs are in our linen closet.” 

Yoongi thought the plan over in his mind. “Smart. I like it.” He jabbed his thumb in her direction, looking lightly peeved. “You have to ask the kid to do it though–he won’t do it if I suggest it.” 

“Will do. I’ll text the group chat when I have a free minute.” The boost of energy she got from her idea made her temper fizzle to a low hum.  

Yoongi didn’t comment on it any further, so Y/n tipped her head back again and her eyes closed. The position suddenly made her lack of sleep from the night before unavoidably apparent to her. “Not to be an annoying coworker, but couldn’t this conversation have been an email or a phone call?” She cracked one suspicious eye open to look at him. 

“It could’ve.” He chuckled, and bounced his knee. “But I got your text and happened to be around. Wanted to make sure you weren’t being bothered by anything.” 

“Ah. So you were worried about me.”  Y/n felt a smile weasel its way onto her features at his covert kindness. “That or you just missed me.” 

Yoongi choked on his coffee, and coughed a few times to regain his composure. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, darling.” 

“I think I will tell myself that.” Y/n made herself more comfortable on the sofa, keeping her head back but angling it to face him head on. “What does my cloud look like now?” 

He typed something into his phone, then clicked it off and placed it face down between them. His small black eyes seemed to capture her within them entirely. If Y/n focused in hard enough, she could almost feel the cool rush of his welcoming waves seeping into the fissures of her being, and ebbing the parts of Y/n forward that they wanted to see. Y/n stilled, feeling a rush of nerves as it went deeper. How far could he decide to pull from if she let him? Did she even have to give him permission? Yoongi’s eyes quivered with something unspoken as they completed their check-up. 

“Looks like…” He leaned in a bit closer to her to keep his voice a whisper, their noses almost touching. “Looks like you’re being a little shithead.” 

“Rude!” Y/n shot up straight, flinching away from him and taking the edge of her sweater to smack his thigh with. Her outburst pulled out a few squeaking laughs from him, disturbing the hair tucked behind his ears to fall forward and into his face in delicate tresses with the shake of his shoulders. The picture perfect image had her cheeks rising in temperature.  

“Okay, okay. Honest answer.” Yoongi held up a finger signaling her to wait while he took another swig. He took in the flavor with a few smacks of his lips. ��You look like you’re starting to turn yellow.” 

Y/n just blinked at him, unsure of how to answer. “Yellow?” 

He nodded. “Usually when you’re happy or energetic, you’re green. When you’re upset, it’s gray like a storm cloud–or red if you’re pretty riled up like you were a few seconds ago. I’ve only seen yellow a few times when you’re either hungry, it’s early in the morning, or after a particularly tiring session. So I’m assuming it means you’re depleted or tired in some way.” 

“Huh.” Like a plant. Y/n thought to herself with a small smile.

A few beats of silence passed between them, and Y/n enjoyed the time just being near him without all of their spiritual obligations. The large potted plants and quiet nature of the hall they were in aided in making a more secluded atmosphere for their little pocket of peace. Yoongi kept his knee close enough to brush against hers, and his hands busy with his phone while they waited for Jungkook to arrive. 

 “So…Do I owe you a quarter for that reading?” 

_________________________________________

Jungkook wasn’t able to linger after dropping her off at the front of the estate–even if it seemed like he had wanted to. Unfortunately he was still technically on the clock until his lunch break, and with her mom and brother still frantically packing inside they assumed she would be safe enough to walk from the entrance to the ballroom on her own. He made her confirm three separate times that she had her flashlight before he left, and each time she would pull the handle out of her pocket for him to see in an effort to appease his worriment. 

Y/n weaved through the movers and the last of Roland’s belongings piled at the edge of the hall, and down towards one of estate’s ballroom entrances. Y/n hesitated outside the thick brown double doors, her mind racing with thoughts of what kind of condition she would find him in on the other side. With a huff of forced confidence, Y/n pressed down on the golden handle.

“What are you doing?” 

Y/n’s mother’s voice cut her off, hauling all of Y/n’s attention to where she had snuck into Y/n’s peripheral. 

“I’m going to hang out with Hoseok–does that pass your rules, or am I not allowed to see him anymore either?” Y/n found it impossible to reign herself in. Nevertheless, despite the harsh contents of her words she was able to keep her tone impassive in some impressive feat. 

“No that’s–” Her mother stiffened, shifting the box in her hands to hold most of the weight on her hip “-that’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that Roland and I are going to be leaving in about an hour just in case you wanted to see him off.” 

Y/n’s grip tightened on the thin metal in her hands. “Thanks for letting me know. I will be sure to.” She didn’t stick around to hear her mother’s response. The urge to get away from her completely knocked out any anxiety she felt about seeing Hoseok again, and she darted through the ballroom doors at a speed that impressed even herself. 

The ballroom was just about how she remembered it: a vast golden and elegant enclosure. Grand crystal chandeliers fought with the natural light streaming through the angled glass ceiling for which could bathe the room in the most light. Similar wall sconces to the ones out in the hall lit up the edges of the space, leaving no corner of the glittering space untouched by light. The few tables left in the room were pushed against the wall and vacant of any decor or clutter. Just dotted with simple flourishing bouquets. At one of the tables, Hoseok sat curled over his phone with one ankle crossed over his knee. The elevated foot shook with enough speed to take off into the sky if it wasn’t attached to his leg, and it comforted Y/n to know that perhaps he was just as nervous as she felt after their last interaction. He hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, and Y/n let her eyes rake in his features: the smooth curve of his nose angled downwards, and his hair forming loose ringlets with the length he let it grow to around his ears and neck. 

The clang of the door shutting behind her grabbed his attention. Thus with the visage only comparable to the warm afternoon sun emerging from where it had temporarily hidden itself behind the passing of clouds, his expression brightened with her arrival. Likewise, his radiant smile dispersed the clouds crowding in her nervous system. 

“I was worried for a moment that you might’ve stood me up.” He only half-joked, and made no move to rise from his seat yet, letting her walk to the tableside first. 

“I wouldn’t do that–not without letting you know first at least.” Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets, and switched her weight from foot to foot as she stood in front of him. 

He laughed. A real, lively laugh that he couldn’t seem to find within himself yesterday. 

“Such an oxymoron–cold-hearted and considerate at the same time.” Hoseok bounced to his feet, tossing his phone aside onto the white tablecloth and shaking his hands out. He took a few long strides towards the center of the reflective floor, and spun on his heels to raise his eyebrows at her. “I guess you can put together why I had us meet up here.” 

Y/n feigned innocence with a shrug of her shoulders, and plucked at the threads of the table cloth near her hip. “I’m not sure. You have something in mind?” She looked up at him, being sure to keep her eyes as innocuous as possible. 

“I promised you a dance, didn’t I?” He held his hands out in an exaggerated shrug. 

Y/n bit her lip to keep a grin from crawling up her cheeks. “Oh yes that’s right. Forgive me for my memory is hazy–I’m not good at remembering things.” 

“Uh huh, sure.” He rolled his eyes playfully, and held out a hand for her to take. “C’mon. I have my phone set up and connected, you just gotta hit play.” 

“I thought you were sick?” Even though she was teasing him, she still did as she was told: tapping his screen and hitting the play button on the center of his screen. The flourishes of guitar and piano of a song unknown to Y/n floated down from the speakers around the room, and she took little time in taking his hand. 

“I’m feeling better.” Hoseok gave a sharp tug, pulling her into his chest and splaying his hand on her waist with much more confidence than he had a couple weeks prior. He led them in a slow rhythmic step, taking her from side to side with the subtle expertise she had expected from him within their first dance. 

“Already?” Y/n kept in time with him, adding a slight bounce to their movements.

“Nightquil is one hell of a drug.” He giggled through his own answer, and Y/n’s followed shortly behind. Y/n let the topic drop for now, choosing to hone in on his music choice. 

“What’s the reasoning behind this song? I haven’t heard it before.” Y/n Let herself inch closer to him if that was even possible. 

Hoseok gave a disapproving click of his tongue. “You definitely have. My mom played his stuff all the time when we were kids.” 

This had Y/n eating any other response she could’ve come up with, letting her auditory system take the controls with the intention of combing through each motif and melody for anything recognizable. When the chorus hit, the lightbulb within her brain lit up in sync with Jo Duck Bai’s emotional vocals. 

“Ahh. Yes I do remember this one–not in great detail–but It’s striking a chord if you will.” 

Hoseok blew a hefty breath of air through the corner of his mouth. “Jeez–You’ve been spending too much time with Jin.” 

“Never! If anything I haven’t been spending enough time with him.”  Y/n scrunched her nose up at Hoseok with a grin. 

He brought their joined hands up to tap one of his long fingers on the tip of her nose. “There’s that smile I like to see.” 

Y/n suppressed a squawk of surprise from spouting out from her throat, and turned her head to the side to avoid his glinting eyes. “Whatever.” 

The song came to an end, being replaced by the plucking guitar and whirring strings of the next. Y/n thought he was going to pull away–his hand slipping from her waist and his other tugging slightly from her fingers the give away. He surprised her instead, and used his hand to guide her into a twirl into a new step.

“I thought you had said a dance.” Y/n let the hand on his shoulder fiddle with the shoulder seam of his shirt where it had come to rest again. 

He shrugged, and tilted his head into her line of sight as a way to force their eyes to meet again. “I figured I owed you more than just one.” Behind the glow of the yellow lights ricocheting off his amber irises, she could see the implicated apology behind his words. His hand tightened its hold on her side to keep her in place, but she didn’t intend on going anywhere if she didn’t have to. 

Hoseok paraded the two of them gracefully around the room, letting the song take over from the lull in their conversation. At some point in the song, Y/n could hear the unmistakable tenor of Hoseok’s own voice layering beneath Nat King Cole’s. An effortless resonance just barely loud enough for her ears to follow; but a welcomed surprise. His voice had always been a delicacy that he would only treat her too on rare occasions, and she wished more than anything that he would do it more often. Y/n brought her head down to rest on his shoulder, the vibrations of his voice soothing over her ears. Hoseok tipped his onto the crown of her head, each word he murmured now directly against her. Her eyes felt heavy, but she kept them open in fear she would fall asleep standing against him if she let them drop. 

The last few measures of the song ticked by, but they didn’t make any moves to stop. Hoseok stayed at the same pace, letting her head fall heavier onto his shoulder with each sway throughout the next song. He did however, stop singing much to her dismay. 

“I love when you sing. You underestimate how lovely it sounds.” Y/n’s words were slurred against his shoulder, and she swapped to her other cheek so she could face him while still keeping her head in place

“You’re tired.” Hoseok stated plainly, ignoring her compliment entirely. Y/n couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or not by his observation.

Y/n hummed, forced her head upright to prevent the impending embarrassment from if she were to drool onto his shoulder. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“And yet you still came to dance with me.” He noted, more to himself than to her. 

“I missed you.” She confessed, her fatigue making her lips loose. “And I was worried that you would still be sick from yesterday. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay.” Hoseok breathed out a sigh, his eyes becoming haunted by something he obscured with a turn of his head. “And you won't have to worry about missing me. I’ll make sure we dance together at least once a week. Unless you get sick of me.” 

“I could never get sick of you.” Y/n gave her best shot at an ardent look, but the power behind it was muted with the tired sag of her eyelids. 

“Convincing.” He snickered, untangling themselves from each other and guiding the way back to his phone to turn off the music.

Y/n followed after him with dragging steps. “I’m sorry–For some reason I feel like I just can’t keep my eyes open. It just hit me like a ton of bricks.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead to try and wake herself up. 

“Don’t worry about apologizing. I’ll walk you upstairs if you want to rest?” he slid his phone into his back pocket and stretched his arms out above his head with a yawn.

“I would accept the offer–” Y/n stopped with a yawn of her own “-but I should say goodbye to Roland before I lay down and I don’t want to keep you waiting.” 

“Nah.” Hoseok waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t mind hanging around a few minutes while you do that.” 

He led them toward the set of double doors she had entered through, and down the hall on their left towards her brother’s room. There were no more movers for them to dodge, and Y/n concluded that they must’ve gotten the last of it out by now. Hoseok paused a few meters away from the door, letting her go into Roland’s room on her own similar to how Namjoon had that morning. 

Y/n crept around the corner, her mouth already formulating her goodbyes. However the room in front of her was now utterly void of any trace of her brother. It even looked as though it had been dusted and vacuumed. Y/n shivered, the involuntary comparison to the disappearance of her late sister intruding into her brain again. And just like before, she swallowed it down and looked for her brother. These were feelings she had already processed–but like the therapist her parents had forced her to see had told her: stressful events and strikingly similar circumstances could trigger them to resurface when she least expected it.  Therefore like she had been taught to do by the same therapist, she took three deep breaths, and brought a finger to tap at the crevice between her lower lip and her chin while she looked. 

Roland wasn’t in the room, and neither was her mother. She brought her phone out of her pocket to check the time– 1:26pm. She had only been in the ballroom for maybe twenty minutes–her mother had said they weren’t headed out for another hour–surely she would know better than to just vanish with her brother?

 Y/n turned out of the room and back down the hall, her finger still passively patting against the spot on her chin moving down to the area below her collar bone (another spot her therapist had taught her to tap). Her explanation being about the locations being connected to the nervous system or something along those lines–something Y/n couldn’t be bothered to remember at the moment. All she cared about was if it worked. 

Hoseok followed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her quick exit. Y/n led the both of them towards the entrance way, but there were no boxes. There were no movers. There was no one–not even the men putting up her mother’s stupid cameras. Maybe they had gone into the kitchen to prepare lunch for themselves, Y/n reasoned. They were scheduled to leave right at the estate’s normal lunch time, so that would make sense. Yes. Perfect sense. Y/n’s three fingers increased their speed on her collarbone, and she wandered across the dining room and through the traffic door into the kitchen. 

“Come on! Let’s check in the kitchen. Maybe she went to get a snack or something and fell asleep at the counter!” Hoseok led the way forwards, with Jimin and Y/n hot on his heels.

“Guys–we should really get mom and dad up. What if something happened?” Amelia’s e/c eyes shook, and her voice was unsteady as she brought up the rear of their unruly search crew. She trudged after them, clutching her quilt around her shoulders. 

The three younger children didn’t listen, pushing open the swinging kitchen doors to find the kitchen insipid and vacant. 

“Are you sure you checked your bathroom?” Hoseok gave Y/n an accusing raise of his eyebrow. “And under her bed?” 

“Of course I did. I checked those first, I’m not stupid.” Y/n crossed her small arms over her chest with a huff.

Jimin took sleepy, trawling steps around the kitchen perimeter.  His hair was sticking up in every direction from sleep, and his puffy cheeks bent forwards to stop and look down into the kitchen sink. A few drops of water dripped from the spigot, and he stretched a short arm out to press down on the faucet and halt the trickle. Hoseok and Y/n bickered, while Amelia hovered at the door, looking over her shoulder repeatedly for any sign of their youngest sister–leaving his moment of deliberation unseen by the rest. Jimin stared at the small puddle on the bottom of the sink’s basin, his brows pulled together in thought. Jimin turned his messy dark hair to the arguing duo across the room.

“I think we should wake up your parents like Amelia said.” Jimin’s bare feet padded over back towards the kitchen door that led to the hallway. “Maybe she had a bad dream and went to sleep with them.” 

The kitchen was empty. 

Empty save for the first straggler cook organizing the ingredients for the lunch selection of the day. At Y/n and Hoseok’s intrusion he raised a brow, but Y/n could only muster a few apologies before retreating back into the dining room. 

“Let’s check out front…?” Hoseok offered, already starting towards the front door. He pushed open the door to find the mover trucks gone. The only sign that they had been there was the tire tracks in the gravel, and the many sets of shoe tracks that scuffed the pebbles out of place. 

They were gone. And her mother had deliberately made sure she hadn’t been able to say goodbye. 

_________________________________________

Y/n retreated into the safety of her room. Hoseok had walked her up with an apologetic frown and a promise to come get her once food was served. Y/n wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault she had missed their departure–that it was all on her mother. And she would. But that would come later, after she had more time to regulate herself from looking like a drifting weeping willow. Y/n couldn’t help her thoughts from assuming the worst of her mother; for what reason did she have to prick at a wound all of them shared? She would’ve definitely known better.

She typed a short message to her group chat, saying she wasn’t feeling up for lunch and that she wouldn’t be joining any gardening excursions today. Encouraging them all not to panic or jump to any demonic conclusions as to why she won’t be showing up. Y/n tried to take a nap, but every position she tried just felt off and uncomfortable. Her eyes drew over to her closet, where Matilda's photos were hidden at the back of her shelf. 

Y/n knew–logically so–that Roland was not dead. That they had left to take him up to New York for his fancy new and expensive school that would shape him into whatever man her parents desired him to be. He would come back once and for all after he graduated–maybe even have a partner–and he would start his apprenticeship under her father’s careful eye. Then he would take over the hotel, have a few kids of his own, and most likely die of old age. 

But the human mind is funny at times, it has its own special way of warping our sense of reality into believing the worst with the utmost conviction. Of jumping to conclusions and making you forget the leaps that you had to take to get there, using rope made of excuses and hooks smelted from built up fantasy to make the delusional seem sound with each leap. To find any reason to justify the stressor it had been exposed to without even considering the option for the truth. 

And that’s the island Y/n was currently stranded on. Her eyes vacant as they looked at the ceiling, but her mind somewhere else entirely. She had given up on the tapping. It didn’t work at the moment, and therefore she didn’t care for it. Her phone had buzzed a couple times from its spot on her nightstand, but she didn’t feel like texting anyone any further. 

It was good for her then–in its own way–that instead of a few short buzzes, her phone shuddered with the extended pulse of a phone call. Y/n fumbled for the box, wanting to silence it out and throw it back out of her sight until she was able to rest. But the name lighting up her screen caught her off guard. 

Jin. 

Y/n swiped to answer the call, bringing it to lay flat over her ear so gravity could do most of the work for her. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” Y/n asked, keeping her tone even. 

“Yeah, everything is fine.” Jin chirped at her from the other line. “I just had a feeling you might need a pick me up. You want to go into town with me to run a few errands?” 

“I…” Y/n was still exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and wash away all of her racing thoughts in time for tonight’s debrief and spiritual ventures. But she didn’t want to say no either. Y/n didn’t realize how long she had hesitated, because Jin must have sensed her apprehension. 

“If you’re busy that's fine! We can always plan to go another time…” Even through the crackling of the receiver she could hear his dejection. 

“No! I’m not busy, and I want to spend time with you. I’m just exhausted and don’t know if I can handle going into town today.” Y/n picked at the skin of her lip absentmindedly, tugging at it until it started to bleed. 

“Ahh. I understand.” There was a muffled shuffling sound on Jin’s side of the line, and his voice returned a few beats later. “How about this: We do something more relaxing together, and I do one of my errands with you?” 

“Like what?” Y/n rolled onto her stomach, letting the weight of her head fall onto a pillow below her. “You aren’t planning any sort of payback for the horse excursion, are you?” 

Jin chuckled, and kept his voice friendly. “No–don’t worry. I have to run to the store to get some stuff for dinner tonight. The cooking staff is off duty so it’s on us to figure something out. And I’m going to assume from your tone that the Adelaide isn’t of any interest to you tonight.” 

Y/n sighed. “You guessed correctly.” She plucked at a loose thread on her pillowcase. “What’s the ‘something relaxing’?” 

“I’ll give you two choices.  One: we go to the guest house and spend some time enjoying the nice day in the sunroom.  Two: we can bake something for dessert tonight.” Jin listed, followed by another shuffle on the other end of the line from him swapping the phone from one shoulder to the next. 

Y/n debated both options, making a short list of the pros and cons for each. A sweet treat sounded good–but so did enjoying the great outdoors. The only thing about the guest house that pushed it into the realm of least favorable was its proximity to the lake; which did not sound great at the moment. 

“Let’s bake something. And then I’ll help you with dinner.” Y/n decided, rolling onto her side so she could sit up. 

“That’s what I was kind of hoping for myself.” She heard the distant sound of his fingers snapping on the other line. “We can head to the store after you come down and get some lunch?” Jin phrased his words as a question, but Y/n knew it wasn’t. 

Y/n scrunched her face up at the thought of food. “I’ll have a snack or something after a short nap, but I had brunch not too long ago at the cafe.” 

Jin found the promise of something better than nothing, and they traded goodbyes with the intention to leave in roughly a half an hour. This meant Y/n had enough time for a cat nap to try and regain some energy and reset her mind. She curled up onto her side, and hugged one of her pillows closer to herself in a chokehold to bury her face into. She focused on taking a few deep breaths to lower herself down into the first few realms of sleep. 

The four children had shoved Amelia to the front of the group. They knew that their parents would react better to her than if one of the three trouble makers stood in front. The girl in question raised her small fist up to knock on the door, her braids dragging over her makeshift blanket cape and brushing upon its edges with each knock. 

The first knock triggered no movement from within the room–it was ungodly early after all–for the sun had only just started to turn the sky shades of a gray blue. Amelia looked back to her cohorts with uncertainty, but they urged her to knock again. And she did. This time, they heard a few soft murmurs, and the sound of soft feet padding across a rug towards them. Her mother pulled open the door, wrapped in a silk robe and her hair up and away. 

“What’s wrong, my loves?”  Her mother’s voice was rough from sleep, but still held her usual air of warmth. “Is something wrong?” 

“Is Matilda in there?” Jimin piped up from the back.

Mariah looked disoriented, her chin jerking to the side and her face pulling inwards. “No–what is this about?” 

Amelia piped up from the front, her eyes beginning to water. “Y/n can’t find her anywhere. We already looked everywhere Mama.” 

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Their mother’s eyes darted to Y/n’s, a brief flash of panic shown in with them gone and camouflaged as soon as it came.

“We looked everywhere. The ballroom, the kitchen, the study–even under her bed. I don’t know where she is.” 

Mariah pushed forward and out of her and their father’s shared room. She retied her robe tighter around herself, before leading the parade of children down the hall and back towards the kitchen. All four of the children ran into each other, one after the other, as her mother made an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh my god…” Mariah brought one delicate hand up to her mouth, and four children’s heads leaned out from behind her to see what had caught her attention. 

“Mama, what is it?” Amelia spoke first, one of her small hands tugging at Mariah’s elbow.

Jungkook stood on the bottom step, probably having been woken from their commotion. His unruly curls turned to stare intently at the red wooden door that led out to the front steps. The front door was slightly ajar, barely open in a way that made it easy to miss when one walked by. But Y/n was sure it had been closed when they had passed it earlier, a funny feeling settled into the pit of her stomach at the sight. 

“Mom, that wasn’t open before….” Y/n’s young voice cracked, and she came forward to stand next to her. 

Mariah didn’t acknowledge Y/n’s comment. She walked up to the door and went to grab onto the handle, her eyes still glued to the spot where Jungkook stood. Jungkook blinked, breaking their locked gaze and her hand froze in mid air above the gold metal. Without warning, she yanked it backwards and held it up to her chest in her other hand as if it had been burned. 

“Nobody touch anything. Get everyone up.” She spun on her heel and all but ran down the hall back towards her room, shouting as she went. “Anselm! Ans wake up!” 

The image suddenly flickered, and a weight fell heavy onto Y/n’s feet and threatened to pull her underneath the floorboards. She looked downwards towards them, to find her normal grown up feet shuffling below her. She shot her gaze up once more, only to find her sister and friends gone. The echo of her mother’s calls reverberated throughout the empty halls as if she were still there, but a long ways away. It was at this moment that she realized it was no longer a memory–but a dream. 

The floor rumbled beneath her feet once. Y/n snapped her head towards the direction of the basement door, another rumble tumbling out from behind it. She inched towards it, her hands fiddling with her sweater in search of the flashlight, but obviously there was none. This wasn’t real. 

Footsteps bounded up the obscured basement steps, the wood creaking under a heavy weight. The rush they were in gave her no time to react to their approach before they were already upon her. Something heavy threw itself against the other side in a crazed flurry, the door rattling on its hinges and barely holding itself in place. The thing on the other side ceased its futile attempts when the door showed no sign of buckling to its weight, and Y/n could hear the ragged sound of its breathing wheezing in and out of its diaphragm.

Y/n watched, unable to tear her eyes away as spindly, weathered, and gray digits writhed out from beneath the door. Stretching on and on–much longer than any one human’s fingers should. They curled in on themselves to claw at the door with a gnarled fervor, and Y/n took quick steps backwards towards the front door with each desperate grab they made. 

“Wait-” Their voice, a sound comparable to tornado winds or a speeding train, scraped against her eardrums. Earsplitting and whistling. “Come find me.” It moaned out, and pushed it’s paper-thin hand further outwards. 

“Please.” Its hands retracted from beneath the door and out of sight. With it she heard the slump of something burly against the frame that shook the wood with such power the floor rattled with it. 

It’s breathing labored on, but it spoke no more. The handle clicked and clanked with the motions from the creature on the other side fiddling with its latch, but it did not open. Y/n knew it was a dream, yet she also knew this wasn’t just her mind conjuring up a monster on its own. So she did the only thing she could think of to do–even if her heart begged her not to. 

“Who are you?” 

The tinkering noises abated, a leaden stillness left in its wake. She heard the creature take in a deep, rattling breath. “It matters not.” 

“How am I supposed to find you then?” Y/n countered, keeping her knees bent and ready to run at a moment's notice. 

Her mother’s distant cries bounced about the empty house, and they made Y/n’s skin crawl with memories she wished to forget. Y/n hesitated as the next sorrowful howl came again, the tone different than how she had remembered. Was it her mother that she was hearing?

The metal door knob fell to the floor with a thud and rolled across the floor, stopping at the edge of Y/n’s shoe. 

“If you were to know who I was, you would come to hate me too. I am wretched.” Its sob keened from its throat like nails on a chalkboard. “I am…” 

The door groaned in protest and dawdled forward, sweeping in a half circle and ricocheting off of the wall behind it. All Y/n could see was black. No creature stood before her and naivety made her willing to believe it had left. 

“I am…” 

Y/n retracted her thought immediately, as a monstrous and hulking shadow moved within the dark. Its features were utterly imperceivable. Just smokey, vague and humanoid.  She fell backwards, tripping over the knob in her tush to stand back up. Her mother’s cries encircled her like the calling of crows in the early morning sky and she clamped her hands over her ears to stifle the sound. 

“They call me the Devil.” 

_________________________________________

Y/n’s alarm blended in with the sound of the phantom wails as it pierced her ears. Y/n lurched out of her comforter to grab it and pummel the sound off, dropping it back onto the nightstand to give herself a second to come to. The dream played through her mind, and she let it. She needed to remember each small detail they gave her, collect each crumb she could if she were to make any real moves against them. 

She vaulted out of bed in the direction of her desk, and scrambled for a notebook and a pen to document her dream while it was fresh in her mind. Y/n scrawled out each detail she could in a bullet point list as both a means to distract herself from the residual terror of the dream, and to record it for later reference. Once she finished, she couldn’t bear the thought of ruminating on it any longer–she wanted to leave any thoughts of her sister behind at the moment–she needed to in order to move forward with her day. 

She unhooked and a small crocheted bag to toss her flashlight and phone in for safer keeping while she was out of the house, not needing anything more than that for their plans. Y/n only gave herself a ten second once over in the bathroom mirror to make sure she was borderline presentable, not caring to give any other thought to her appearance. Y/n wobbled on her feet, her thirty minute nap merely a drop in the bucket towards her lack of sleep from the night before. Maybe the nap made her reaction time worse, but it did help her regain control of her mind–with or without the nightmare. 

Y/n made it to her door with full intent to practically run down the hall towards the dining room. Calling one of her friends up here just to walk her to the stairs would garner too much suspicion on the cameras or the others at lunch. At least running through the halls was nothing too new for her mother to flag as out of the ordinary. She swung the door open with gusto, her first step striking the floor with power that quickly dwindled to nothing with the oncoming sounds from her right.  

Y/n stumbled over her feet and fumbled for her flashlight in her bag, not ready to mess around with anymore creepy things around doorways so soon after her vision. Taehyung took in her floundering state with wide unsuspecting eyes. Clearly they had startled one another with little expectation for the other to be leaving their rooms at the same moment. 

“Oh–Hi.” Y/n choked out, her fist clenching around the flashlight in her bag before letting it drop from her fingers in relief. 

Taehyung smirked at her from across the hall, and slowly shut his door behind him. 

“Hi.” 

They stood at an impasse, Y/n unsure of what to say and he seemed to wait for her to speak first. 

“I’m heading out to the store with Jin, do you need anything?” 

He gave her a once over, his chocolate brown eyes glowing with mirth at her. “No, I think I’m alright. Though, I thought you had promised we’d go somewhere together the next time you skipped into town?” 

“Shit–you’re right.” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Jin and I are leaving now, but we are going to be scrapping dinner and dessert together afterwards if you’d like to join us? Unless you’re busy.” 

He laughed and started forward down the hall at a languid pace, clearly waiting for her to follow. She did so without hesitation, glad to have company instead of having to race against invisible enemies down the stairs in her lonesome. 

“No need to say sorry, I’m just messing with you.” He flicked a loose wave out of his eyes, and their arms skimmed against one another as he lowered it back to his side. “I’d be delighted to join in–for the dessert part at least. Cooking is still something I’m working on.” 

“You can’t cook, but you can bake?” Y/n sent him a disbelieving sideways glance, not trusting her face not to heat up if she looked at his face for too long. 

“Yeah, I know it’s usually the other way around. I think baking is just more…” Taehyung brought a hand up to grasp at the air, his striking features taking on a more passionate shape. “More finite, and artistic for me. I feel like you can be more creative with colors and flavors, but still have the comfort of having exact measurements to follow.” 

Y/n nodded, and they rounded the corner onto the landing. “I can understand that.” They started down the stairs without any rush, their shoulders bumping periodically with their descent. Y/n landed at the bottom first, shuffling around to look up at where he trailed a few steps back. “What’s your favorite kind of dessert?” 

Taehyung stopped on the last stair to think and he puckered out his lips to think. Leaning onto the thick banister on his left as he did so. “To eat or to make?” 

“Both.” Y/n shrugged. 

“Hmm.” He tapped his fingers against the shiny wood beneath his arm and made rhythmic clicking sounds with his tongue against his cheek. “If I’m eating it, anything strawberry, or macarons. If I’m making it, I love working with fruits or experimenting with new flavors. Trifles, tarts, posset; anything I can decorate and make pretty.” He took his free hand, and wiggled the fingers gently towards Y/n to give feather light touches against her shoulder. 

She giggled at the tickling sensation, and leaned her cheek into her shoulder to cover it from his onslaught. Taehyung’s boxy grin made an appearance, and he mimicked her giggles.

 “Cute~” He cooed after her, and skipped down the last stair towards the dining room. 

Y/n trailed after him, but her smile was consequently wiped from her face when her eyes found Hoseok seated at the table. His face was gloomy and unreadable, and he made no effort to hide how he tracked Taehyung’s movements around the dining room table and to his awaiting meal. And it wasn’t just him: everyone in the dining room seemed peeved on some level. The air felt heavy with agitation.  She skirted her attention to Jin who was still working on finishing the last of his plate, and decided to sit next to the empty seat near Hoseok while she waited for him to finish eating. 

“You alright?” Y/n asked him, pulling out her chair sinking into its cushion. 

He nodded, clearing his throat as he did. “Yeah I’m fine.” Hoseok turned to regard her over his shoulder, his smile strained and his knee shaking where he promptly pressed it against her leg. “Are you feeling more rested?” 

Y/n curled her lip and held up her hand in a so-so motion. “Eh. I had some weird dreams but I was able to get some sleep, so I can’t complain.” 

Hoseok hummed and picked up his fork to fiddle with it between his fingers in a rapid seesaw motion, and kept his leg pressed firmly against her own even if he didn’t make any other comments. Y/n took note of everyone who was left at the table, the atmosphere feeling tense–like she had interrupted something she shouldn’t have. Taehyung was just beginning to tuck into his sandwich and was just as oblivious as her to whatever had gone down; Namjoon was trying not to give her obvious red-faced glances; Jimin was avoiding her eyes as if almost pretending she wasn’t there, his jaw flexing from how hard he was gritting his teeth; then there was Jungkook: His eyes dark as they bored into her, and his face dour. 

Jin set his silverware aside with an overexaggerated sigh of satisfaction. “I’m all set to go then Y/n. I just need to grab a jacket.” He hoisted himself out of his seat and lumbered around the table towards the foyer. 

“O-okay!” Y/n scooted herself out of her chair to follow, not interested in sticking around for whatever strange energy had been created in the dining room before her arrival. “See you guys later…” Y/n gave a timid wave to those left at the table, earning her a chorus of mumbled farewells and waves.

Y/n shivered the discomfort off, tearing her phone from her pocket to type a message into the ‘The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers’ chat while she waited near the shoe hutch for Jin to grab his jacket and sneakers. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: What the fuck was going on in there? Was it related to Roland? 

[Zoltar]: What? What did I miss? I’m not allowed to be around for lunch anymore. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: If I knew I wouldn’t be asking, now would I? 

[Zoltar]: 🤷

[Zoltar]: I don’t even know what you’re referencing to begin with. I got nothing over here at the hotel.

[Morning Glory 🌼]: You always answer so fast. Do you actually get any work done? 

[Zoltar]: 🤷🤷🤷🤷

[Zoltar]: Someone’s always gotta be ready to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. Two seconds too late and you could be following a lead out of the country if we aren’t careful. 

“Ready?” Jin held the front door open for her in one hand, and held a baseball cap folded in the other, a stiff smile keeping his features in place. 

“Sorry-yeah.” Y/n tucked her phone into her bag next to the flashlight, and hurried through the open door. 

Jin slid on his hat once they were out into the air, fidgeting with it to sit over his head at the angle he wanted. They walked side by side at a leisurely pace down the gravel path around the base of the hotel, and straight down the driveway to head towards the front gate. Y/n nibbled on her lower lip, and kept her hands in her pockets while she walked besides him. Y/n took the risk to probe at Jin. 

“What happened in there? Everyone seemed pretty off.”

Jin glanced back over his shoulder to watch for any oncoming traffic when they made their way to the roadside, propelling himself forward once he realized the coast was clear for them to walk alongside it. 

“They just got into a bit of a spat. Nothing they can’t handle–you know how they can get with each other sometimes.” Jin explained. He pulled out his keys and spun them on the tip of his finger.

“Oh.” Y/n rushed to keep up with his long and quick strides. “Was it about anything serious?”  She recalled even Jimin’s standoffish nature and forced a frown from her face. 

“No.” He veered them to the left and into the residential parking area. “They’ll be fine, don’t worry too much about it.” 

Jin pressed a button on the key fob, and a flash of lights and a beep responded from a silver suv in the middle of the lot.  Y/n took it as her signal to drop the questioning, she had no interest in raising Jin’s suspicions towards her this afternoon. She rounded the back of the car to the passenger seat with Jin on her heels. His hand beat hers to the door handle and tugged it open on her behalf, letting her hop in and shutting it for her. 

Y/n sunk into the leather seats and notched her seatbelt into place by the time Jin slid into the driver’s side door and started the vehicle. Acoustic guitar trickled from the speakers at a low volume, filling any empty space and making some of the tension disperse from Jin’s wide shoulders with each pluck of the strings. They let the music do most of the talking for the first few minutes, neither of them knowing exactly how to start a casual conversation with each other without any specific purpose or Hoseok to buffer things between them.

“What are you thinkin’ of for dinner tonight?” Y/n tried first, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer. 

Jin jolted in his seat, having been lost in his own thoughts far too deep to remember he even had a passenger. “Oh-Right.” Jin leaned to check his mirrors to clear his next turn onto the main road. “We usually agree on something together on these nights–clearly that’s not happening.” Jin scoffed and righted the wheel to keep them going straight. “Anything you want in particular? You have behaved the best so I’ll let you have the most say.” 

Y/n snickered, thinking of a response. “Now I could really go for some roasted vegetables…” 

“Now that’s something I can work with.” He took one hand off the wheel to point at her with enthusiasm. “What else?” 

“You choose. Unless you think you can’t handle that.” Y/n teased, and leaned herself against the window to rest her head on its cool surface. 

“I can handle that.” A small plush smile grew on his face. 

The supermarket wasn’t too busy, which let them keep their pace at a casual stroll with no need to push anyone out of the way. Jin had settled for chicken stir fry, and sheparded her around the store to the different vegetable selections. He let her choose what went in it, only giving her a sneaky side eye one time when she suggested cauliflower knowing full well that he hated it. 

“I’m trying to keep the peace here Y/n–You and I both know it won't end well for you if we keep this childish competition going.” He snatched the white head of cauliflower from her hand and tossed it carelessly back onto the heaping pile of others. 

“For me? What about you? I’ve learned a thing or two while I’ve been away,” Y/n puffed out her chest, “You’d be surprised.” 

Jin rolled his eyes and dropped a bag of multicolored peppers into the cart. “I doubt that. Nothing surprises me with you hooligans anymore.” 

“That’s a lie–shall I reference our recent trip into town?” Y/n lifted a hulking container of strawberries into her hands to inspect its contents. “Can we make something with strawberries tonight? Taehyung mentioned them and now I have a hankering for a strawberry tart or strawberry cream cake.” 

Jin came to her side and grabbed the container from her hands to give it his own once over. “Sure. That sounds good.” He tossed a total of three containers into the cart, and swung back around to point a finger at her. “I knew something was going on between you and Hoseok the moment I first entered the car that morning and you two were huddled up like little flies rubbing your hands together in the front seat. If I would have known better I would have been able to see the little horns growing out from your foreheads the entire drive there.” Jin held up two fingers on the top of his hat to imitate devil horns, and gave her a pointed look. 

“We were not huddled like flies! We were just sharing confidential information!” Y/n refuted. Even if she knew it was a lie: Jin had made comments multiple times that day about them being up to no good.

“Sharing confidential information and conspiring–same old, same old.” He slid his fingers down from his hat to track fake tears down his cheeks. “You’re just embarrassed that I caught you in the act. Because like I said: Nothing surprises me.” 

Jin took hold of the cart and steered them forwards to the meat sections and Y/n glared at the back of his head while she followed, already thinking up ten different ways she could try and surprise him or get him back for real. 

“Ah ah ah–” He held up one finger and wagged it at where she dragged her feet behind him “–enough of that. I can virtually hear your thoughts.” 

Y/n stretched out a long, irritated groan. “How? How do you know that’s what I was thinking of?” 

“Because like I said,” Jin billowed open a meat grocery bag, and tucked a package of chicken thighs into it. “I’m the oldest. It comes with the job description.” He laid the bag into the cart and pat it gently with his hand, gracing her with a sarcastic smile. 

They grabbed the rest of the ingredients Jin deemed  necessary for dinner and their decided on dessert–strawberry shortcakes–and loaded them into the car.  She felt grateful for the distraction, and she was glad that she had decided to take him up on the offer. The bubbling cauldron of feelings from the day had a lid placed over them for the time being. 

The ride back to the estate was much less awkward with the ice having been broken. Y/n wrestled a container of blueberries from the bags in the back and into her lap, prying the lid off and tossing one into her mouth. Jin held his hand out immediately, his fingers flapping in a ‘gimme’ motion. 

“Who said I’d share?” Y/n stifled a grin and rose one accusatory eyebrow at him. 

“It’s mandatory. It’s the passenger tax.” He flailed his fingers more aggressively. “Pay up.” Y/n shook her head, and piled a small handful into his awaiting palm. Without missing a beat Jin tossed the entire handful into his mouth, his hand already waiting expectantly at her side again. 

“Hold on–let me eat some–goddamn.” Y/n plopped a couple into her mouth and gave him another handful to hopefully satiate him for a few seconds. Jin wrinkled his nose at her use of language, but didn’t comment on it. However his hand did immediately spring back up in a silent request for more, and she refilled his request. 

Y/n rolled her eyes in a teasing manner “Sorry grandpa, I forgot you don’t like improper language.” She fumbled a few more blueberries into her mouth. 

Jin shifted in his seat while he chewed, and gave her a few restless glances. He swallowed, and gave one small cough. “It’s fine. You can say what you want. I won’t stop you.” 

“Are you sure?” Y/n regarded his change in demeanor with curiosity. Y/n could count on one hand the times she had heard him curse, and growing up he had been a bit of a stickler about it with his parent’s religious upbringing–but as they got older he had started to adjust. 

“Yeah it’s fine. We are all adults now.” He shrugged, but his eyes were hard to catch.

Y/n chewed on the berries in her mouth slowly, rolling them between her tongue and teeth for a few breaths. “Do you curse now?” 

“No.”

Y/n held a fist full of berries in her hand in preparation for his next request, and thought up her follow up question. 

“Do you want to?” 

Jin didn’t answer as quickly this time, taking the fruit into his hand and weighing them in his palm. He tossed them in, chewing pensively and staring up at the traffic light they sat beneath. 

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’d be easier when I’m listening to music or playing stuff on the guitar, but it feels so foreign to me to even think about it.” 

“You still play?” Y/n inquired, popping a few more pieces of fruit in her mouth. 

Jin’s cheeks dusted pink, and a shy smile wiggled onto his face. “Yeah. I like to play on my days off.” 

“Cool.” Y/n snapped the lid closed. “You should play for me sometime! I tried teaching myself in college but I didn’t get much further than some basic chord structures. What kind of stuff do you like to play?” 

“Well–I grew up playing hymns so a few of them have a special place in my heart–but I like to just mess around with pop sometimes. Lately I’ve really taken a liking to learning picking patterns from folk artists.” Jin turned the wheel to start up the winding road towards the hotel and estate. 

“Any in particular?” Y/n nestled the fruit container back into the bag. 

Jin hummed, his fingers pattering against the steering wheel beneath them. “Jimin introduced me to Hozier and Noah Kahan. He’s been trying to get me into a few others that I can’t remember the names of if I'm being honest.” He chuckled. 

“Ooo! And those are the picking patterns you’re learning?” Y/n eagerly asked, turning her body to see his face a bit better. 

He tilted his head and scratched behind his ear. “Yeah.” 

“You have to play for me then. Hozier makes me swoon.” Y/n clapped her hands together and bounced in her seat with excitement. Jin just nodded, the tips of his ears glowing in the early evening sun.

Y/n’s phone buzzed at her side, and she pulled it out to check her notifications–having almost completely forgotten about the texts she had sent the group chat.

[Joon 🌱]: We will talk about it later. Long story short: Shit is confusing.

_________________________________________

The dining room had all of the chairs pushed back into place as if no one had disturbed it for lunch. Y/n and Jin waded through the room and into the kitchen to drop off all of the groceries with Taehyung tracking in after them from the study where he had been waiting for their return. Jin excused himself momentarily to park the car, leaving the two younger ones to paw through the bags with few instructions on what to do afterwards. 

Taehyung pulled out the hefty container of red strawberries and smirked up at her over the lid. 

“Is this you trying to flirt with me?” 

“What?” The color drained from Y/n’s face. “No! I mean–I thought about what you had said and wanted to keep your interests in mind–plus a strawberry dessert sounded good. With summer coming around the corner and-”

Taehyung cut her off with a ring of warm laughter. “I was just teasing.” 

Y/n mentally facepalmed at herself. So much for not letting them all get under her skin so easily. 

“I knew that.” Y/n evaded meeting his gaze, and settled her own intentions on pushing back into the dining room to snag their family recipe book from the hutch. Y/n crouched onto down to the bottom shelf opposite of their stash of boardgames, and grabbed at the small dangling handle that kept slipping through her fingers each time she went to grab for it. 

“C’mon…” Y/n muttered to herself under her breath. Y/n silently cheered when her fingers finally caught on the delicate metal hook and with a jerk she popped the door open. 

A blast of cold air billowed out from within the cabinet and knocked her backwards. Y/n caught a clipping image of a small child curled in on themselves within the dark crevice, their face shielded by their own small sickly arms. Their small body trembled from its hiding place, and brought shaky eyes up to meet Y/n’s. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, their gazes locked onto each other with near equal expressions of fear. The girl’s eyes were the most striking: One of them a normal, quivering brown; the other was void and sunken in on itself. Black like the malevolent ghosts she had seen on multiple occasions. The child raised shaking hands up towards Y/n in a puny grab for her shirt, except her hands never made contact with their target. They cowered back into the girl's chest that convulsed with each panicked inhale. They lurched forward, Y/n scarcely having time to dodge the child's advancement. But she didn’t seem to care that she had missed. She crawled past Y/n with bestial speed and out into the hall where Y/n could no longer see her. 

Y/n frantically pulled at the cookbook from the shelf, and dashed back into the kitchen where Taehyung was finishing up the last few things Jin had instructed of them. The door swung closed behind her, and Y/n glued her lips shut to keep her perturbation from being noticeable to her companion. He didn’t cast a glance her way yet for his head was buried in a cabinet at his feet. Y/n heard the clambering of mixing bowls and metal measuring cups as he sorted through them. 

“The door give you trouble?” His call was muffled by the sounds his hands were making. 

“Huh?” Y/n blinked a few times at his crouched figure, and back at the book in her hands. “Y-yeah. The door. The handle is way too small.” 

“I’ve been up Yoongi’s ass about replacing them but it’s not on his radar.” Taehyung stood with two large mixing bowls, and a stack of measuring cups in his arms. He kicked the door closed with his foot and spread the items onto the island’s surface. 

Y/n shook her head of her startling experience, and forced herself forward with normal paced steps. Act normal! She reprimanded herself when she approached the counter, slamming the overfilled book down onto it. 

“I see strawberries and cream.” Taehyung circled the counter, his hands stopping on each ingredient as he listed them. “Butter, flour, sugar….A cake of sorts?” 

“Strawberry shortcakes. But my Great grandmother’s style.” Y/n’s fingers felt stiff pulling open the cover and flipping through the pages. A bunch of loose leaf handwritten pages had been added in between the laminated ones, drawing Y/n’s attention to the numerous new additions. “Chai latte cupcakes?” 

“That one is mine.” Taehyung’s eyes followed the turn of each page. “I added a lot of new stuff to it–your mom said I could. Anything people liked I would put in here.” 

Y/n flipped through to the middle of the book, finding the recipe she was looking for. 

“Have you ever tried to make this one? It’s pretty simple but it’s one of my favorites.” Y/n clicked the binder rings open and extracted the page. “You make it in this tube pan, and cut it into circle slices. Almost like small personal cake layers. But what makes it my favorite is that the cake gets this crust on the edges that tastes like a sugar cookie.” Y/n poured her anxiety into rambling, but Taehyung didn’t seem to mind and listened to her description with captivated interest. 

“We can get a head start while we wait for Jin.” Taehyung took the laminated page out from between her fingers and laid it on the counter between them, taking a step closer to her. “Lead the way.” He gestured to the array of ingredients in front of them with a lick of his lips, and coy smirk. 

Y/n didn’t think he understood that she would take that literally, because she immediately took charge. Delegating him to whisk the dry ingredients while she took the fats and liquids, burying herself in the task at hand. Jin had only taken two steps into the kitchen before she was giving him a task without her needing to look up from the mixer she had been messing with. 

“Jin, can you preheat the oven to the temperature listed on the recipe?” 

“Yeah.” He agreed willingly, moving to one of the ovens to fiddle with the nobs. 

Y/n figured out how to get the new mixer going, and shuffled around the kitchen to look for the command panel for the lights and electronics within the kitchen and dining room. 

“Anyone have any suggestions for music?” Y/n glanced back at the two from over her shoulder, doing her best attempt at easing away any remnant shock. She could process the experience and her entire day later. Right now simply wasn’t the time. “The silence makes me antsy.” She finished when neither of them had moved. 

“Any classics are fine with me.” Taehyung piped up, shaking a dust cloud of flour that plumed out of a large tub and into his face.

“Jin?” 

Jin had taken her spot supervising the stand mixer, and gestured with his eyes to Taehyung. “He’s more picky than me. I’m fine with anything as long as he doesn’t whine about it.” 

“Hmm. Okay let me see what we have here.” Y/n pulled up her phone and swiped out of the group chat where she had left off to open one of her playlists. She tapped on one that was a good hodgepodge of old and new to appease everyone, and let it play in the background. 

Her eyes caught an nearly imperceivable wrinkle of Taehyung’s nose as a pop song played over the speakers, effectively droning out Y/n’s thoughts with a bouncing beat and with electronic overlay. Y/n slid back over next to Jin to take note of how the butter looked, her head bobbing in time with the song. Jin’s finger’s tapped in sync with her movements on the counter’s edge. She stretched across the counter for the eggs and vanilla, passing them to Jin to add in to the mixture. 

“What, do you not like Charli?” Y/n scoffed at Taehyung, sweeping behind him to find a teaspoon. 

Taehyung made a face, and shook his head. “I don’t like most pop music.” 

“He’s a purist when it comes to music.” Jin poked fun at the younger man, sharing a knowing look with Y/n. 

“Ahhh I get it.” Y/n tossed Jin the teaspoon. “Well there are some oldies in here for the geezer. Don’t worry~” She rounded back to Jin’s side with a giggle. 

Even though Taehyung had made his disdain for ninety-percent of the modern songs that appeared on the playlist, he never made any malicious comments about any of them. Sticking to making small faces or furrowing his eyebrows when a section or verse  he particularly didn’t care for came on. But he was a good sport about it, which Y/n appreciated. 

The cake was in the oven engulfing the three of them in its sweet and rich aroma. The three of them stood huddled around the counter with paring knives and copious amounts of strawberries for them to quarter. A basin of a pot in front of them to hold all of the cut fruit. Anytime a song came on he didn’t get, he would make sure to question it. 

“But what is a brat in this context?” Taehyung asked his probably tenth inquiry about Charli XCX. 

Y/n huffed out a sigh, and paused her slicing. “I’ve already explained this to you. It means messy–Like you don’t care.” 

“Alright–geez I’m just trying to understand.” He held his hands up in a surrender. 

“Well you sound like an old man.” Jin chided as he picked up his next strawberry. 

Taehyung looked taken aback. “Look who’s talking.” 

Jin fluttered his lashes back at the two of them. “Who–little old me?” His face dropped into a scowl and he raised the tip of his knife to point at the other man. “At least I know who Taylor Swift is.”  

“Enough you two.” Y/n rolled her eyes and tossed her cut fruit into the pot. “Keep one container aside to top them with. I’m going to start cooking these down.”

They split into three different jobs after that to divide and conquer the last of the cake. Taehyung designated himself to making the whipped cream, Jin stayed slicing the fresh strawberries for decoration, and Y/n honed in on making sure none of the strawberries stuck to the bottom of the pot. Once the cake was out of the oven they kept it in the tube to cool, and set aside the cooked down berries to call it quits since they couldn’t prepare the rounds until they were to be served. They decided to move onto preparing dinner (not after they individually had to taste test the whipped cream with stolen fresh strawberries ‘just to be sure’ it was good). 

This is where Taehyung took up dish duty from all the baking to make way for the next wave, leaving the cooking to Y/n and Jin. During their extended time spent in the kitchen, Y/n hadn’t heard a single other one of her friends wandering through the house–not that she necessarily would be able to over their music. It felt odd not having Jungkook around, or not having seen Namjoon since they had separated that morning. Perhaps the change in schedule was also discombobulating her more so than she already was. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, even if the table was full. Everyone was present–Even Yoongi. To say tensions were high was an understatement of the century. Taehyung, Jin and Y/n tried to carry the conversation for the most part. Jimin only chimed in occasionally, making a point to exclude the other side of the table entirely that Y/n wasn’t on by turning his entire body when he spoke. Particularly the side that had Hoseok, Jungkook and Yoongi in one row. She looked back on what Jin had said about it not being a very serious debacle, but she sincerely doubted it. The hostility–even though concealed–was apparent. 

Y/n felt even more disturbed when no one had dived in with what would be their normal levels of enthusiasm to dessert. It made Y/n feel suffocated in her seat. The stunning pile of strawberries and fresh cream that Taehyung had meticulously curated on her plate was not as appetizing as it had seemed a few hours prior. Y/n felt her eyes glaze over as she zoned out, her eyes drilling holes into one rather large strawberry on her plate. 

“This is delicious. Thank you guys.” Namjoon took his chances breaking the silence, probing at the others seated at the table with harsh eyes. His stern tone elicited an ensemble of murmured gratitude, yet still no one said much else. Namjoon stabbed at his next bite with more force than necessary, his teeth scraping on the fork as he pulled it from his lips. 

Namjoon gave them all another once over, and nodded in approval. The look he gave her afterwards was apologetic, then he dug into his next bite. Y/n risked a teensy glance at Yoongi, who looked just as lost as she felt. Their eyes met, and he made a face in her direction that made surprised laughter bubble up and into her drink, which she covered with a few coughs. No one had seen the interaction thankfully, but Y/n still managed to catch the ghost of a smirk on his face as he brought a chunk of cake to his mouth. 

_________________________________________

Y/n ran back up to her room to grab the notebook she had scribbled her dream down in, jotting down her ghostly experience from the dining room in there with haste. She snapped it shut, blocking out the clumsy handwriting by tossing it into the brown paper bag to take over to Yoongi’s room.  Y/n whirled back to her desk to grab her makeshift family tree but was stopped in her tracks by the sudden realization that she no longer had it. She had left it with Jimin. Y/n prayed he hadn’t thrown it away yet–but didn’t dwell on it. She should be able to remember who she had crossed out when the new one he was ordering for her comes in. A waste of an all nighter though, Y/n thought with a grimace. 

Y/n rounded the door of her room, checking if Yoongi’s door was unlocked and letting herself in. She plopped the bag onto his bed, not wanting to mess up whatever he had been working on before he joined them for dinner–pencils and large sheets of paper splayed across the wooden surface. The paper was etched with a loose outline of what looked like the bones of a building, the lines were neat and faint, signaling that he had only just started. She sank into his chair to wait for his arrival, still feeling twinges of awkwardness to sit on his bed without asking.  She shot a rushed text to the group chat about having to use the terrace on their side of the building to come across without being seen. Namjoon just reacted to the message with a frowny face, but Jungkook didn’t make it known whether or not he had seen the message.  

“Jesus christ–” Yoongi jumped a few inches into the air at the sight of her. “Didn’t expect you to already be here.” 

Y/n sent him a weak smile. “Impatient. There’s a lot to go over today.” 

Yoongi scrunched his face up in suspicion, but withheld any remarks he had ready to pull. He kicked his shoes off and wandered up to the desk behind her. 

“Can I put these away?” He gestured with a hand to the thrown about papers on his desk behind her.

“Why are you asking me? It’s your room.” Y/n scooted the chair out of the way for him to go through and file them nicely into a large folder. She watched as each drawing disappeared, all of them at differing levels of completion. Y/n would have to ask him about them later, when she wasn’t so focused on keeping her mind at ease. 

Namjoon stumbled in through the bedroom door, Jungkook close behind him. Both of them were slightly winded, Namjoon a bit pale in the face. 

“Whose idea was it to have us go through the attic of a haunted house.” Namjoon gave them both pointed looks, and Y/n just gave a sheepish shrug. 

“Better than climbing through windows to get to the greenhouse.” 

“Alright all of you spill. I’m fucking dying here from being kept out of the loop” Yoongi whirred on all of them, a hand on his hip. 

“You first.” Namjoon dipped his chin in her direction. “You have the most.” 

Y/n sighed, and pulled at the skin of her face. “Where do I begin?” 

Y/n just spewed out a recollection of her day on all three of them: her lack of sleep to stay up messing with the family tree, Roland’s confessional, her strange interaction with Jimin and the family tidbits she had been able to gather, her mom lying, the dream, and finally–the ghost of the little girl in the dining room. Y/n finished her long winded spiel (leaving out the bit about her afternoon depressive episode) out of breath and irate again. 

Her three audience members processed her onslaught of information in varying states of contemplation. Jungkook still seemed irked by something from lunch for his face was unmoving and stoney as he listened, even when she told of her ghost girl run in. Namjoon took each new piece of information with gravity, sending him further forward into a hunch over his knees. 

“‘They call me the devil…’” Yoongi repeated the quote to himself, turning the phrase over and over again. “And you don’t recognize the kid from the hutch at all?” 

Y/n shook her head in exasperation. “No. I’ve never seen a single photo of her before.”

Yoongi sighed. “You weren’t lying when you had said there was a lot to go over.” 

“I have a terrible feeling we are digging into something much older than just us.” Namjoon commented, his head spinning warily in all directions. 

Yoongi hummed. “Well it’s been covered for far too long if it’s causing all of this. Wounds that never heal and all that shit.” 

“Why were you alone?” Jungkook grunted from his spot on the floor, his lip ring sucked up into his mouth. 

Y/n sunk further into her chair. “It wasn’t on purpose. Taehyung was right there in the kitchen! They’ve never shown themselves like that when someone else was that close to me, or actively spending time with me.” 

“I’m not that surprised. We fucked into their territory last night–they will for sure bring out new plays.” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair and addressed the two near his bed next. “Now what happened with all of you guys? Dinner was awful.” 

Jungkook shifted in his spot, and brought a hand up to pick at his fingers but didn’t appear to have any intentions of commenting. Namjoon pressed his lips in a firm line at Jungkook’s silence, puffing out a breath with a shake of his head.

“I guess I’ll do the honors.” He threw a glare in Jungkook’s direction, but Y/n could tell he wasn’t truly angry with him. “It started with a comment from Hoseok. They had sat next to each other and he had said something to Jimin about ‘keeping his hands to himself’. I thought it was just one of his jokes since Jimin is left handed and whenever they sit close their elbows constantly bump. I’m not sure if Jimin was just already pissy or what–but it didn’t land well. Jimin threw it right back at him and then it just devolved from there. They threw accusations at each other that didn’t make any sense to me. Jungkook tried to get to Jimin but he snipped at him too. Everyone was too scared to step in after that–you know how scary Jimin can get when he’s truly angry. Thank god you woke up when you did, otherwise they might have blown up the table and dragged everyone else into it.” 

“You have to have more details than that…” Y/n drew out her disbelief, and analyzed both of their faces for anything further. 

“Like I said, their accusations made little sense to me! It happened so fast, give me a break…” 

“Jimin wasn’t alone.” Jungkook declared, dropping his hands onto his lap to finally look at everyone else. “Someone was with him at lunch. They stood over his shoulder the entire time–but I couldn’t see who it was. Just a figure.” 

“That little shit.” Yoongi scoffed. “I always thought I could see something floating in his orbit, that’s why I was so surprised he turned me down when I had asked him to help last year.” 

Y/n looked up at where Yoongi stood with furrowed brows. He had asked Jimin to help? If he had turned him down, why did he send Y/n to Yoongi for help? 

“Do you think he knows about it though? If he can’t see it then how would he know?” Y/n tried to offer up her thoughts, not willing to believe anything else. Jimin didn’t feel like a threat–cryptic and confusing, sure–but a threat…not the Jimin she remembered.

“I don’t know. He didn’t acknowledge it. But it was there again at dinner.” Jungkook turned his eyes down towards his lap once more. 

“What if it’s trying to hurt him?” Y/n gave them each a panicked look. “You did say that if we meddled it could start to affect the others.” 

Namjoon cut in. “I can try and talk to him. Maybe convince him to take some kind of plant with a made up excuse. I know for sure he’s not a skeptic, so he might be receptive to it depending on what angle I go at it from. His response should give us a good read on the situation.” The rest of the onlookers seemed to agree to Namjoon’s plan. They brewed up the suggestion of Namjoon offering some kind of protective charm with the explanation that he had made one for himself to help with the house spirits, and wanted to offer one to anyone he knew believed in the paranormal. This discussion opened the floor back up to what happened the day prior, and what they would do about it next. 

“I think before we send you in there again to meander around, a few things should happen first.” Yoongi addressed the three of them. “For starters, we need to get comfortable sending you in and bringing you back out. I personally don’t feel comfortable just sending you in there without the confidence in knowing we can pull you out quickly if things get hairy. Which means no wandering around and out of the room on your own just yet.” 

“Agreed.” Namjoon nodded, referring to Y/n with a stern look. 

Y/n shook her head rapidly at the silent accusation, to show she offered no means of resistance to the suggestion. “I know you expect me to fight back–but trust me–I agree. I bit off more than I could chew yesterday. It would make me feel more confident if I could know for sure how to escape.” Y/n’s shoulders slumped forward. “I just wish there was a way to make the transition easier and not like I’m getting the life sucked out of me every time.”

Namjoon bit his cheek meditatively, his eyes looking aimlessly about the room while musing her complaint over in his brain. “You said it almost felt like falling asleep?” 

Y/n huffed a humorless laugh. “For only a second. Then it’s like my brain is being ripped out of my skull.” 

“I’m just thinking…” Namjoon crossed one foot over his knee. “I know this is more your territory Yoongi but if I can take a crack at a different method?” He looked up at where Yoongi stood deep in thought, his eyes asking for permission to continue. 

“By all means.” Yoongi shoved his hands into his pockets and perched close to Y/n on the edge of his desk. “Carry on.”

“Well, Valerian is safe to ingest if it’s cooked. Specifically it’s used often in teas or boils for sleep or injury. I wonder if we can find a few others with similar properties and–as terrible as this may sound at face value–try to put you to sleep instead of sending you in while you’re awake?” Namjoon took in all of their faces, each in their own various states of skepticism. “Because you said it already made you tired–that’s probably the Valerian. If I make a specially brewed tea that could put you in a trancelike state, it is more of a controlled substance than just willing you in. And in turn, we could make a counter tincture or tea to “wake you up”.” He held up both hands to make air quotes. “Hell, we might even be able to send in more than one of you if you led the way first; or even try and find a way so you can all be in the same trance and see what’s going on.” 

Jungkook’s eyes sparked, whipping his head around to look at Namjoon with newfound vigor. “How many of us?” 

“I don’t know.” Namjoon twitched his nose and scratched at his chin. “Maybe all of you? I haven’t made it yet.” 

“How soon could you have this tea?” Yoongi urged. 

“Give me at least a day to try and come up with a recipe. Hopefully I have all the ingredients on hand that I’d need. Otherwise I’ll need to acquire them from somewhere.”

“Why don’t we work on both methods then? Keep pushing with what we were already doing while you conjure up the tea? It wouldn’t hurt to have two methods under our tool belts for emergencies. Especially since we can’t verbally communicate with each other while I’m gone.” Y/n reasoned, looking at Yoongi for his thoughts. 

“Sounds good to me.” He sprang into action, weaving through the people in his room to get to his wooden chest. “Let’s start now.”

It was becoming second nature; setting up the cloth, wards, and candles in the right order. Y/n had her hands at the ready with her herbs from her bag to drop into the bowl Yoongi held up for her, and her necklace was still clasped around her neck (not that she ever bothered taking it off). Namjoon took to pouring through the books Y/n had stacked in her room that he had let her borrow, a ripped out page balanced on the back of a fiction novel to write notes down on when he came across something that might work. Y/n and Jungkook waited patiently for Yoongi to close all of the pouches and bags, their hands lightly intertwined on the ground next to them. 

“When you looked through the family tree, did anything speak out to you? Besides the empty spaces.” Yoongi breathed out, his torso contorted to the side to clasp the lid shut. 

“Not really, no. It just looked like a family.” Y/n answered. 

“I’m just trying to think ahead–clearly there is something on the other side that is working with your mom, and has started getting worse within our lifetime. The ghost behaviors that we’ve noted express that openly. If we can try and pinpoint where to start looking perhaps we can send you in with the intention to find someone in particular.” His eyes turned heavy once they regarded Y/n, and she assumed he might have someone in mind to start with. And she might already know who that was. “Once your new copy gets in we can use that to document whether each person you find is…” Yoongi trailed off, his lips pursed. 

“Mean and goopy?” Y/n offered up, her voice raising an octave. Jungkook stifled a laugh and Yoongi let his choppily fall from his lips. “Or maybe mean and demonic…” 

“Yeah. Mean and demonic sounds better.” Yoongi turned forwards and inched his hands out to the two in front of him. Jungkook didn’t fight it, grabbing it without a fight. Y/n did the same. 

“We will have to come up with a better name that’s more concise.” Namjoon cast a brief glance up from the paper at the three. 

“No, I think it fits perfectly.” Y/n chuckled up at him. “We can use the acronym M.A.D.” 

“Huh. I actually like that one.” Namjoon jotted down another note on his paper. 

Yoongi made a short sound in the back of his throat. “Alright enough comments from the peanut gallery. I’m trying to work here.” 

“Yeah cause you shared earlier today that you do a lot of that…” Jungkook’s voice rose in a teasing jab.  Y/n had to suck in her lips to keep herself from laughing. 

“Enough you two.” Yoongi rolled his shoulders back and let his eyes close. “You’re going to give me a headache.” 

_________________________________________

They had successfully sent her across the veil, and gotten her out a total of three times. Each attempt had gotten more difficult than the last as their energy depleted at an accelerated rate. When they finished, it was communally agreed that Yoongi and Jungkook would try to work on their psychic abilities to fill in the noticeable gaps their natural abilities left. Yoongi wanted to work on his sight and sound while Jungkook entrusted himself to work on touch, in hopes to avoid wasting time if she were ever to be in danger again. To Jungkook’s disappointment, Yoongi offered to walk Y/n back to her room even though Namjoon and the younger one would walk right past her door on their way to the attic entrance. 

Y/n took up the corner of his bed while she waited for him to get everything squared away underneath it. He had never insisted on walking her back before, and Y/n had a simmering suspicion that he had something he wanted to talk about privately. Whatever it was made him nervous. His hands that were usually nimble from his days working with screws and wires fumbled often with the clasps and locks, and his breathing was controlled yet louder than it would normally be. A sign he was forcing itself to stay regulated. 

“What is it that you wanted to talk about away from the other two?” Y/n bit the bullet, tired of watching him drop the small key and struggle to pick it back up. 

He froze, his black eyes locking with hers and his face contorted into a forced deadpan. 

“Am I that obvious?” 

Y/n snorted, and brought her hands into her lap to fiddle with her fingers. “Yeah. Maybe your psychic stuff is wearing off on me, or maybe it's the fact that I’ve watched you drop that poor key four times now.” 

Yoongi sat back on his haunches, having given up on trying to lock the lid closed. He ran both hands through his hair twice and sucked in a large breath. His gaze scoured her face, and she felt a cool mist of his energy brush against her own. 

“I think you might know what I want to ask of you. And Jungkook would eat me alive if I made the request in front of him.” He let his tongue drag to the corner of his lips and sit there while he waited for her response. 

“I have a guess.” Y/n’s attention plummeted to her wringing hands. “Can I ask why?” 

“The energy really started changing after her, Y/n and we al know it. I think whatever all this is might have fed off of the energy her loss created, and maybe if we can try and reach her we can use her as a stepping stone. She might not fight you as hard as she fights me.” Yoongi hoisted himself up, and spun to lower himself down onto the bed next to her. “I won't make you do it. I know her death was hard on all of us–but you the most. If I can figure out how to do it, I will go do it myself instead. Don’t force yourself to do something you aren’t ready for.” 

Y/n didn’t know how to feel, or whether or not she was ready. She figured at some point she would have to see her again. Noting what she had learned from Jimin that morning, she was well aware that she would be seeing a lot more than just her sister. The bloom of grief welled up in her chest, yet this time it coupled with indignation; a swell of twined emotions both old and new. For whatever personal gain her mother was meddling into this for, she had tossed the rest of them in as collateral. Including her sister. She couldn’t leave her to rot–literally–by herself. Not anymore than she already had. 

“You can take some time to think about it. This is once we get comfortable. There’s someone else we can try first that was pretty involved with the incident if that would make you feel more comfortable.” Yoongi took one of his hands and ghosted them over where hers fidgeted in her lap.  

“Who?” Y/n looked at him from the corner of her eye, one of her fingers released from her own hold and brushed against his. 

He swallowed, retracting his hand from her touch. “My grandfather.” 

Y/n pushed back at the memories that threatened to resurface of the day her sister died. She hadn’t let herself replay them in over a decade, even when they tried to break through the walls she built around them she was adamant about pretending they were no longer there. But they were there. They were always there. 

“I’ll think about it.” Y/n whispered, lugging herself to her feet. “I should go, I’m getting pretty tired with everything.” 

Yoongi opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it closed. “Alright. I’ll watch you walk back.” He stood in his doorway with his flashlight in hand, observing the hall with a scrutinizing gaze as she shuffled back into her own room. It was obvious between the two of them that he could sense her shift in mood, but Y/n was grateful he was letting her have the space to process it on her own.

“Text me if you need anything. I’ll be up late as per usual.”  

“Will do.” She nodded solemnly, and slid through a small opening in her door. 

Y/n peeled off her clothes to take a quick rinse. What should’ve been a relaxing shower only worsened the weight in her chest. She didn’t want to feel wet–every droplet of warm water running off of her skin in rivets that pierced her to the bone. Jerking the spigot off, she tugged on a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt and sped off to the sanctuary that was waiting for her under the covers. 

They felt itchy and cold instead of soft and welcoming as it should have. Y/n knew she shouldn’t, but her eyes kept being pulled as if by the magnetic pull of her repressed emotions to her closed closet door. She could feel the box of photos calling to her–hear her sister’s shrill demonic cries from her dream. Her laughter. Her hugs. 

Y/n pressed the heels of her palms into her eyelids to keep the tears at bay. She needed to get a better control of her emotions, or else she’ll become a self fulfilling prophecy that her mother had condemned her to the day she had sent Y/n running with her tail between her legs. 

Her mother. 

The memories knocked harder on the front of her mind, barging their way to the surface where she wished more than anything that they wouldn’t. In spite of her wishes, she was helpless against the torrent of images and sounds that bubbled to the surface of her consciousness. She couldn’t hold them back any longer. It was better now than in front of anyone anyways. 

And so she remembered. 

 ______________________

July 5th 2008, 4:38am

Y/n shuddered at the feeling of the cold floor hitting the soles of her feet. It wasn’t a necessarily detested sensation, for her the heat had made her kick off the blankets hours before in a fit. She rubbed her eyes, slinking through the drab and shadowy lighting of the early morning past her sister’s bed and into their shared bathroom. The door was kept slightly ajar while she washed her hands, her eyes tracking the beam of light out into their room and where it draped over the edge of Matilda’s bed. The sheets discarded in a similar fashion to her own. Y/n poked her head around the door, to check on whether or not she was also awake–for maybe if she was, they could sneak down the hall to the playroom and distract each other with dolls and figurines while they waited for everyone else to wake up in their own time. 

Her bed was empty. 

Y/n huffed, thinking perhaps Matilda had heard Y/n going to the bathroom and hid away somewhere to jump out and scare her when she least expected it. Y/n decided to get the upper hand. She tiptoed around the bed, falling flat on the floor to peer beneath the metal frame. Her eyes only found storage bags of stuffed animals, and totes of polly pockets and dolls. Y/n scrunched her nose up, and scrambled to her feet and over to the closet. She swung the door open with a whispered “Gotcha!”. 

However there was still no Matilda. 

Her hand slid down the edge of the door, deflated at the discovery–or lack there of she supposed. Y/n took hesitant steps back to give her room a good once over, dragging her eyes across each surface, each little nook and cranny her sister might’ve possibly squeezed herself into. She came up with the same result her first two searches had, which meant for certain that she wasn’t in their room at all. 

Sneaking down the dark hall to the glass doors of the playroom, her heartbeat started to pick up speed. Y/n hated walking around the halls at night by herself but she had to find her sister. It was her job to keep track of her. The shadows felt heavy as they closed in around her, like each step was being tracked by someone just out of sight. Y/n spun her head in all directions and found no source of the feeling. 

Y/n swiftly crept back in the direction of her room, keeping her steps light as to not wake G-min across the hall. He wasn’t her target. Her quick knocks roused her neighbor: a grumpy faced Hoseok with his eyes nearly glued shut with sleep. 

“Do you know what time it is Ducky?” His voice was muted by the pout stuck on his mouth.

“I can’t find Matilda, and I’m too scared to look by myself.” Y/n leaned into his face. “The ghosts feel icky.” 

Hoseok shook his head with a disapproving stare. “You’re such a pain in my butt sometimes.” Regardless of his obvious discontent with her request, he stepped out into the hall to join her.  

Y/n was able to complete the trek to the playroom with Hoseok now by her side, for he made the shadows prickle less against her skin. They both pulled back the sheer curtains to press their small faces up to the glass panes separating the two of them from the pitch black playroom. The absence of lights in there made it apparent quickly that she wasn’t in there either. 

“Maybe she went to sleep with Schwan?” Y/n peeled her face from the now fogged up glass.

Hoseok pulled back straight as well, giving her an animated shrug. “Let’s check.” 

Y/n repeated the same brief explanation she had done with Hoseok on Amelia, just this time with an ounce more panic. After confirming Matilda was not in their eldest sister’s room, Amelia joined in the search–no matter how her teeth chattered with stress–she wanted to help. They darted across the hall to examine the ballroom from above through the glass windows across from Amelia’s room, and had no luck there. 

They huddled together to descend down the stairs with as good a controlled volume as a group of children can manage. Hushed words of complaint at the others noise levels floating up to the landing and down both of the halls. Thankfully, it was early enough for the house to be oblivious in their beds. Well–almost everyone. 

“What are you guys doing?” Jimin’s voice cracked from above them, his upper body hunched around the railing to give them a sour scowl. The three on the stair landing traded glances, a look of shame shared between them. 

“Did we wake you?” Amelia, furtive and apologetic, called up to him. 

Jimin rolled his eyes and skipped down the stairs to where they stood huddled. “You guys were being way too loud for me not to.” 

“We are looking for Matilda.” Y/n governed them forward, not waiting for him to reach their side before descending the rest of the stairs. 

“I heard.” Jimin gave them each a moody glare, and followed Y/n down to the foyer. “I’ll help.” 

In thirty minutes they had checked each room (outside of the parent’s bedrooms) of the first floor. Under every table and desk, behind every curtain or couch, and in every closet. Y/n’s heart dropped into her stomach and dread swirled like smoke in her chest at the impact of its fall. After the kitchen and the waking of her mother, Y/n stood frozen in time where Mariah had left them to hurry back into her room with her eyes locked on the small crack in the front door. 

Matilda wouldn’t have ever gone out by herself. 

Even though earlier that morning thirty minutes had felt like nothing during their search, it was made apparent that a lot can happen within that time frame. For example, what was once a moderately quiet and dark house on a peaceful Saturday morning had devolved into chaos. Each room glowed for every light had been turned on, and every person had joined in on the search of the house. And now after that grueling half hour, every family unit stood intermingled on the front lawn while they were split into smaller groups to fan out into the woods and down to the hotel. 

The sky was turning a pale grayish-blue when Y/n was settled next to G-min, her father, Jin and Mr. Jeon. Her mother and Hye-won–Mrs. Min–insisted that the children shouldn’t be a part of the search, but none of them were willing to stay behind. Jungkook, Amelia, and Mariah stayed back at the estate to explain the situation to the waves of law enforcement that trickled in. Her mother struggled through the story each time, unable to keep herself together through her hysteria. 

“I told her she couldn’t watch the fireworks last night. She had been misbehaving. I think she went out on her own–we were going to watch tonights!” 

The rest set off in all directions on foot. 

The sound of different calls of Matilda’s name haunted the air from all directions, barraging against Y/n’s eardrums as a sinking reminder that she had failed. She had failed to find her on her own like she was supposed to. Her refusal to quit kept pushing her forwards through the brush alone, something pulling her forwards with no direction in mind. She could hear her own name now being called in tandem with Matilda’s as her search team realized she had slipped away from them to follow her own path. 

“Y/n!” Jin’s lanky frame came up to tower beside her, grabbing at her arm. “Come on, we are supposed to be looking somewhere different. The cops are going to take the woods.” 

“I don't care.” Y/n pulled her arm from his grasp and trudged onwards. 

Jin stayed after her, on alert for any sign of the rest of their group. “I mean it Y/n. We shouldn’t be here.” He paused, raising an arm above his head. “Over here!” 

“Y/n! That’s enough.” Her father gripped underneath her arms and lifted her off of her feet and into the air. “We need to check the historical society. We can’t waste time looking for you too.” 

“No!” Y/n pried herself from his hold. “I think I know where she is.” Y/n set her stern gaze on her father, her breath coming out in pants and her stubbornness taking hold. 

“She wouldn’t.” Anselm’s stare matched her intensity.

Y/n ignored him, plowing onwards on the path towards the lake with Jin stumbling after her.  She could hear Sanghun murmuring words of comfort to her father, sharing that Jungkook had also had outbursts when dealing with the passing of his mother, and to let her do what she needed to in order to get through the day. Thus the three older men let her finish her path after making a quick call on a small flip phone to one of the other parents to take over the historical society. None of them actually believed that they would find anything at her desired destination. 

But Y/n knew she would find her there. She could feel it. She just hadn’t expected how she would’ve found her. 

As they crested the slope down to the dock, Y/n’s eyes caught the vibrant colors of her sister's pajama set gliding across the surface of the lake. Unmoving. Y/n’s world crumbled beneath her feet at the brief glimpse she caught of her sister’s lifeless body buoying a few yards out from the dock.

Her line of sight was abruptly shuttered by Sanghun’s shoulder where he scooped her up. Her own cries melded together with the screams of her father. As Mr.Jeon ran back up the slop with her head pressed into his arm, she snagged brief images of a green faced Jin turning to follow them, and her father splashing into the lake fully clothed with reckless abandon. 

What confused Y/n the most however, her sobs catching in her throat, was that she saw her sister: alive and moving behind G-min. Her small hands urgently tugging on his tracksuit jacket that whipped out from her hand from the speed that he pulled his phone from his pocket. His mouth moved at inhuman speed with how fast he spilled a description of the situation to a 911 operator. 

“We found her body.” 

Y/n struggled to free her arm from Sanghun’s hold, reaching out to where Matilda stood. No. No. She was right there! She wanted to yell at all of them to turn around and grab her. The words were stuck in her chest.  

“GÄNSE!” Y/n’s screech out for Matilda ripped from her throat, an unforgettable sound to even her own ears. Matilda’s round and terrified eyes locked onto Y/n at her call, her bare feet moving to run after them–but Y//n was already gone back over the hill and out of sight.

Y/n kicked and screamed the entire way back to the estate. Her bellowing cries echoing around the entire property, drawing attention from any search groups nearby. But nothing could’ve prepared Y/n for the sounds that came from her mother that day. 

They didn’t even have to tell her. She took one look at Sanghun’s eyes filled to the brim with remorse and unshed tears and fell onto the study floor in a boneless heap. Shrieking the entire way down in a howling misery. Y/n wasn’t in any better of a state, tumbling out of Mr. Jeon’s hold to stagger towards her mother. Mariah’s arms shot out to grapple desperately for her, pulling Y/n into her lap in a bone crushing squeeze. Amelia joined in shortly after with a similar ringing sob, their mother making room to squish them together with trembling arms. 

Misuk had barged through the door at some point and elbowed her way past the officers waiting in the foyer for Y/n’s comment. She dropped to her knees, her heart shaped mouth pulled into a grief ridden grimace and as she threw her arms up and over the three of them. Her thin frame kept the three mourning bodies from falling onto the floor, and sheltered them from the pressing uniformed men from encroaching further into their space. For if there was nothing else for her to do but hold them off a little bit longer, then that's what she would do.

The rest of the day blurred by in a gray haze after that. Everyone in the house had been pulled aside for individual questioning, but nothing raised any suspicions. After reviewing the hotel cameras that clipped near the estate entrance, they could follow the tiny figure waddling in the distance across the lawn and onto the dirt trail to the lake sometime between three-fifty and four in the morning. Almost only thirty minutes before Y/n had woken herself up to use the bathroom. Her death had been ruled accidental. The story being that she must’ve gone to the docks to watch the fireworks on her own in an act of defiance, and that she must’ve slipped on the deck and hit her head on the way down. Their only comfort being that she had to have been unconscious before she sank beneath the surface. 

Y/n couldn’t move on from the guilt of letting her down. Maybe if she had woken up a bit earlier she would’ve been able to go with her. Maybe she could’ve pulled her out, or stopped her from falling all together. She should’ve done better.

Flickers of her image lingered long after her funeral. Y/n would see flashes of her in the playroom, or her giggles beckoning her from the closet like she was still in there waiting for Y/n to walk by and scare her. This made letting go only harder. It made it easier to believe there would still be a chance she could return home and into their shared room, and everyone would celebrate and set off as many fireworks as she wanted–just grateful for her to be back. But of course, that wasn’t reality. 

She was gone. For good. 

Y/n blubbered on her pillow, her chest aching with how deep the wound carved itself into it. Her therapist told her that perhaps she was holding onto the grief and compartmentalizing it away as a means to keep her sister alive in any way possible–even through the pain. And perhaps she was right, Y/n had a terrible habit of holding onto things for far too long. This though, was something she wouldn’t ever let go of. She couldn’t stop the silent cries from shuddering out of her body, at both the thought of Matilda, and the thought of letting it all go. 

Y/n threw the covers off her legs, and without thinking tore open her bedroom door to tread on unsteady feet out into the hall. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore and tapping the pressure points has proven useless at this point–she just wanted to sleep. Y/n cowered in the hall in front of a wooden door and waited for the person on the other side to open it, her lip drawn between her teeth to keep any noises in her throat. 

Yoongi wrenched his door open, warily scanning his eyes up and down the hall. They stopped on her withering form, sizing up the current state she was in with wide-eyed uncertainty. 

“Can I come in for a while?” She croaked. Her hands wrung themselves in front of her in shaky knots. 

Yoongi gave a slow, somber nod, and opened the door for her to enter his room that she had just left thirty minutes prior. Except they both understood, wholly so and without question, that a lot could change in just thirty minutes. 

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Schwan: Swan

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[fruitgummies01]

Rewatching episodes of Are You Sure and it's really beginning to hit me just how special this show is. It's so wild to me to think back on how I would get so happy when Jimin or Jungkook would leave comments on each other's weverse lives or make short appearances in each other's content because that's all there was, and here we all are with hours and hours of content to watch of them on their Disney+ show.

Real interactions where they are doing nothing but hanging out with each other, eating, and having fun. Laughing. Tons and tons of laughing. Truly one of the things I love most about this show. Hearing them erupt into fits of giggles feels so healing (especially with all the drama surrounding hybe at the moment).

Sometimes the show itself even existing doesn't seem real.

And with the last episode coming in a few days, I'm feeling weirdly emotional thinking about it coming out and after Jungkook's documentary release, Jimin's exhibition, AYS photobook, and behind-the-scenes videos, there's a possibility that we will be without them for the next few months until they are discharged (especially since they both prefer to serve quietly and rarely post updates like the other members). Honestly, I can't wait to hear Jimin and Jungkook talk more in-depth about what it was like filming Are You Sure, and what it meant to them to have that time together. 😩

[yoongle--boongle--pie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist - Youtube

Chapter Playlist - Spotify

word count: approx~20k

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A/N: Many hugs and kisses to you all who send me messages and leave comments!!! I read all of them, I promise. Here comes chapter 9 in all her large glory. My wife is waiting behind me all snuggled up to read over it, so you already know that she'll catch my typos where she can.

See you on the other side~

Love Delyn

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Previous recap

Y/n wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, or if it was just the residual weird energy from the empty exhibit: but she could’ve sworn she counted three sets of shoes instead of two reflecting off of the glass they whizzed by. Her ears must’ve been playing tricks on her too. Because while waiting for Jimin to set up the locks on the front door, there was certainly another indented set of large boot prints that crunched at a low decibel behind them up the dirt path back up to the estate. She gripped the flashlight tightly from her sweater pocket, but whoever it was decided to stay otherwise unseen. 

And this she decided fell in their favor. For if they crossed her now, she would find a way to end them on the spot with her light if she could.

Y/n was able to lay a band-aid over her festering anger that had closed in on her mind with a tooth-rotting level of sweet coffee and a breakfast pastry from the cafe. Jimin retained his kind and upbeat attitude throughout their meal as if nothing at the historical society had even occurred, and she was trying to not let it get under her skin and reignite the anger she tried so hard to smother. Although the universe works in mysterious ways, because it seemed he was now the one growing increasingly antsy as seconds ticked by. His phone kept buzzing ceaselessly from his pocket no matter how hard he tried to ignore it as soon as they had chosen their seats, creating quite the thorn in his side.

Once that didn’t seem to be enough for whoever was trying to reach him, a shaggy head of another much younger tour guide started peeking around the cafe entrance at Jimin. Jimin was kind to a fault, but Y/n could tell his strings were being plucked by the subtle irk of his brow even if he tried to stay present in the way she described the landscaping plans for her first week. Ultimately, the kid at the front wandered into the convenience store to stand on the other side of the glass next to them, and knocked on it to get his attention. 

“Eli–I’ll be out in a minute.” Jimin regarded him sternly through the glass, and it was unknown if the young kid could even hear him. He seemed to understand enough, and with a nervous tug of his collar Eli (as Jimin had referred to him) retreated back to the front. 

Jimin sighed and smacked his hands on the tops of his thighs, with his eyebrows raised into his hairline and a miniscule roll of his eyes. “It’s almost like I called out of the tour schedule for a reason.” He stood from his seat and started piling his trash onto his empty plate. “Are you done?” 

His hand gestured to Y/n’s empty cup and she nodded, watching as he swiped it from the table to carry over into one of the trash cans. He returned, running a hand through his hair and snatching his still half full drink from the table. 

“I can’t wait until I work almost exclusively at the Historical Society.” He groaned, his eye twitching when it caught Eli peering at him once more. 

“When will that be?” Y/n couldn’t hide how amusing she found his disgruntlement. It must be Karma making itself known, and it satisfied any remaining frustration with his lack of clarity for the time being. 

Jimin regarded her with an unamused scowl. “When I finish my masters program next month.” 

“Oh–you didn’t mention you were still in school?” Y/n returned with a tilt of her head. 

Jimin shrugged, suddenly a bit timid. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable about it. School seemed a bit touchy for you.” 

“Nonsense,” Y/n waved at him with her hand. “I can be disappointed in myself and proud of you at the same time. We will have to celebrate!” She wiggled her eyebrows up at him. 

“That sounds nice.” Jimin licked his lips, his teeth finding purchase on the plush of his bottom one. “Just us?” His eyes were magnetic, pulling her without mercy. The possible implications of her words dawned on her with a nervous swallow.  

Y/n flushed, fumbling with her next words. “I-if that’s what you’d want. But I’m s-sure everyone else would like to do something for you as well.” 

“Hmm. If that’s what I want?” Jimin’s voice dropped an octave, and he leaned in much closer to her than he had been previously. 

“Yeah.” Y/n squeaked. “But don’t you want a graduation party or something?” 

“That does sound fun–I can’t resist a party.” He clicked his tongue, and retracted himself from her space. “Can I choose both?” 

Y/n didn’t trust her vocal cords to follow her brain’s commands, and nodded instead. 

“Then that sounds exactly like what I want. A party and another date.” He took a sip of his coffee, his cheeks fighting back a grin around his straw. 

“Jimin!”  Y/n felt her cheeks grow warm. 

The devious grin on his face only doubled in size. “And just so you’re aware, this-” he gestured with a finger at the two of them “-doesn’t count as the other date you owe me. I have something special planned for that one.” 

Jimin strutted his way to the front, leaving her alone with her cheeks aflame at their table. Y/n needed to up her teasing game, she couldn’t keep letting them all mess with her this way. Maybe the impact was multiplied at how stark the adjustment was from being such a hermit back in D.C, to now being surrounded by kind and affectionate people at all times. Her friends shouldn’t be eliciting such states of disarray from her, and she assured herself that she would grow out of it come summer time when she grew accustomed to their ways. 

Y/n flipped out her phone, opening their group chat and tapping out a quick message. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Don’t be mad pls :( 

[Morning Glory🌼]: I’m alone at the cafe and need to get back to the estate. Is anyone around? 

Y/n waited, but after ten minutes still no response came. Time was ticking closer to one o’clock, and she didn’t want to be late for her planned meet up with Hoseok. Plus she had a lot of subdued rage she needed to take out on some dirt and an overdue nap and would like to have time to do so with Namjoon. Y/n debated just making a run for it–or at least a speed walk for it–back to the estate. They would never have to know, she reasoned. I could just say Jimin came back or something. 

 As if on cue (or maybe he had cheated and used his extra senses to feel for her up-to-no-good thoughts), Yoongi wandered up to the counter and leant his elbows on the smooth surface. He scanned his eyes around the perimeter of the room, fleeting over hers once and bringing them to meet the preppy cashier. 

Yoongi ordered his drink and leaned up at the counter in a mirroring image of how he had the first day she had seen him. Same pose, same uniform–same mild yet inscrutable expression draped across his features. He nonchalantly tried to meet her gaze again, and used a subtle tug of his chin to gesture towards the lobby. Y/n understood, rising from her seat and sidling past him. 

Y/n didn’t let her eyes wander, or even let her body angle itself in any way towards Yoongi as she left so as to not garner suspicion from any prying sets of eyes in the lobby (namely one set of spying almond shaped eyes and another friendly yet sly ones that huddled with Eli near the steps). She skirted across the lobby, and down the red carpeted hall to the restrooms, and waited on one of the waiting area loveseats for Yoongi to make his way over. She passed the time in the only way she knew how to: by checking the few and far between notifications on her phone. 

[Jungkook]: Has someone gotten you yet? 

[Jungkook]: Don’t do anything reckless, I can be there in ten. 

The weight settling into the sofa next to her pulled her head up from her phone to tuck it hurriedly back in her pocket. Yoongi took a long dragging sip from his iced coffee, and pulled the cup away with an exaggerated sigh. 

“Your cloud looks all fucked up. I can’t tell what kind of storm is rumbling in your head–Your mom piss you off that bad?” He took another slurp from his cup, his eyebrows rising up at her from over the lid. 

“A whole lot has already happened today. I’ll have to do a huge debrief before we get started later.” Y/n gripped both of her knees in her palms, flexing her fingers in and out over them to release her tension. 

“Mmm. About that.” Yoongi cocked his head to the side and pulled out his own phone, probably attempting to make it look less like they were conspiring–even though that is exactly what they were doing. “We are going to have to pick a new meeting spot. The camera’s Mariah installed are in the foyer, and you can see the edge of the landing. If we are all scuttling across it like rats in a line every night, she will notice.” 

Y/n hummed in agreement, already thinking up a few suggestions of her own. 

“I feel like one of our rooms would be best. It’s much easier to get Jungkook and Namjoon over without seeming too out of place. But I’m wondering if your conniving mind can think up any other schemes.” Yoongi fought to keep his mouth flat, hiding the beginnings of a smirk with the rim of his cup. 

“Well…the greenhouse is pretty neutral territory. She can’t get angry with you or Jungkook showing up there–and if we plan it out right she won't even know that’s where we are all headed. The only problem is that my normal body guard is out of commission if there’s cameras, which leaves me vulnerable most of the day outside of work.” Y/n bit her lip, her head falling back against the pale golden wall with a groan. “And to top that off, we’d have to somehow get back into our rooms without raising suspicion or running into my dad.” 

Yoongi sucked on the back of his teeth, sighing through his nose. “That’s true. Timewise it might be best to stick to one of ours.” 

“Wait!” Shot forwards–a new idea brewing in her brain. 

“Uh oh.” Yoongi inspected her face, his tongue sticking out slightly from between his teeth. “That face spells trouble.” 

“The terrace! We can use the terrace to get back and forth! Jungkook and Namjoon can go to the rooftop and use the roof’s attic entrance. The indoor stairs are in our linen closet.” 

Yoongi thought the plan over in his mind. “Smart. I like it.” He jabbed his thumb in her direction, looking lightly peeved. “You have to ask the kid to do it though–he won’t do it if I suggest it.” 

“Will do. I’ll text the group chat when I have a free minute.” The boost of energy she got from her idea made her temper fizzle to a low hum.  

Yoongi didn’t comment on it any further, so Y/n tipped her head back again and her eyes closed. The position suddenly made her lack of sleep from the night before unavoidably apparent to her. “Not to be an annoying coworker, but couldn’t this conversation have been an email or a phone call?” She cracked one suspicious eye open to look at him. 

“It could’ve.” He chuckled, and bounced his knee. “But I got your text and happened to be around. Wanted to make sure you weren’t being bothered by anything.” 

“Ah. So you were worried about me.”  Y/n felt a smile weasel its way onto her features at his covert kindness. “That or you just missed me.” 

Yoongi choked on his coffee, and coughed a few times to regain his composure. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, darling.” 

“I think I will tell myself that.” Y/n made herself more comfortable on the sofa, keeping her head back but angling it to face him head on. “What does my cloud look like now?” 

He typed something into his phone, then clicked it off and placed it face down between them. His small black eyes seemed to capture her within them entirely. If Y/n focused in hard enough, she could almost feel the cool rush of his welcoming waves seeping into the fissures of her being, and ebbing the parts of Y/n forward that they wanted to see. Y/n stilled, feeling a rush of nerves as it went deeper. How far could he decide to pull from if she let him? Did she even have to give him permission? Yoongi’s eyes quivered with something unspoken as they completed their check-up. 

“Looks like…” He leaned in a bit closer to her to keep his voice a whisper, their noses almost touching. “Looks like you’re being a little shithead.” 

“Rude!” Y/n shot up straight, flinching away from him and taking the edge of her sweater to smack his thigh with. Her outburst pulled out a few squeaking laughs from him, disturbing the hair tucked behind his ears to fall forward and into his face in delicate tresses with the shake of his shoulders. The picture perfect image had her cheeks rising in temperature.  

“Okay, okay. Honest answer.” Yoongi held up a finger signaling her to wait while he took another swig. He took in the flavor with a few smacks of his lips. “You look like you’re starting to turn yellow.” 

Y/n just blinked at him, unsure of how to answer. “Yellow?” 

He nodded. “Usually when you’re happy or energetic, you’re green. When you’re upset, it’s gray like a storm cloud–or red if you’re pretty riled up like you were a few seconds ago. I’ve only seen yellow a few times when you’re either hungry, it’s early in the morning, or after a particularly tiring session. So I’m assuming it means you’re depleted or tired in some way.” 

“Huh.” Like a plant. Y/n thought to herself with a small smile.

A few beats of silence passed between them, and Y/n enjoyed the time just being near him without all of their spiritual obligations. The large potted plants and quiet nature of the hall they were in aided in making a more secluded atmosphere for their little pocket of peace. Yoongi kept his knee close enough to brush against hers, and his hands busy with his phone while they waited for Jungkook to arrive. 

 “So…Do I owe you a quarter for that reading?” 

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Jungkook wasn’t able to linger after dropping her off at the front of the estate–even if it seemed like he had wanted to. Unfortunately he was still technically on the clock until his lunch break, and with her mom and brother still frantically packing inside they assumed she would be safe enough to walk from the entrance to the ballroom on her own. He made her confirm three separate times that she had her flashlight before he left, and each time she would pull the handle out of her pocket for him to see in an effort to appease his worriment. 

Y/n weaved through the movers and the last of Roland’s belongings piled at the edge of the hall, and down towards one of estate’s ballroom entrances. Y/n hesitated outside the thick brown double doors, her mind racing with thoughts of what kind of condition she would find him in on the other side. With a huff of forced confidence, Y/n pressed down on the golden handle.

“What are you doing?” 

Y/n’s mother’s voice cut her off, hauling all of Y/n’s attention to where she had snuck into Y/n’s peripheral. 

“I’m going to hang out with Hoseok–does that pass your rules, or am I not allowed to see him anymore either?” Y/n found it impossible to reign herself in. Nevertheless, despite the harsh contents of her words she was able to keep her tone impassive in some impressive feat. 

“No that’s–” Her mother stiffened, shifting the box in her hands to hold most of the weight on her hip “-that’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that Roland and I are going to be leaving in about an hour just in case you wanted to see him off.” 

Y/n’s grip tightened on the thin metal in her hands. “Thanks for letting me know. I will be sure to.” She didn’t stick around to hear her mother’s response. The urge to get away from her completely knocked out any anxiety she felt about seeing Hoseok again, and she darted through the ballroom doors at a speed that impressed even herself. 

The ballroom was just about how she remembered it: a vast golden and elegant enclosure. Grand crystal chandeliers fought with the natural light streaming through the angled glass ceiling for which could bathe the room in the most light. Similar wall sconces to the ones out in the hall lit up the edges of the space, leaving no corner of the glittering space untouched by light. The few tables left in the room were pushed against the wall and vacant of any decor or clutter. Just dotted with simple flourishing bouquets. At one of the tables, Hoseok sat curled over his phone with one ankle crossed over his knee. The elevated foot shook with enough speed to take off into the sky if it wasn’t attached to his leg, and it comforted Y/n to know that perhaps he was just as nervous as she felt after their last interaction. He hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, and Y/n let her eyes rake in his features: the smooth curve of his nose angled downwards, and his hair forming loose ringlets with the length he let it grow to around his ears and neck. 

The clang of the door shutting behind her grabbed his attention. Thus with the visage only comparable to the warm afternoon sun emerging from where it had temporarily hidden itself behind the passing of clouds, his expression brightened with her arrival. Likewise, his radiant smile dispersed the clouds crowding in her nervous system. 

“I was worried for a moment that you might’ve stood me up.” He only half-joked, and made no move to rise from his seat yet, letting her walk to the tableside first. 

“I wouldn’t do that–not without letting you know first at least.” Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets, and switched her weight from foot to foot as she stood in front of him. 

He laughed. A real, lively laugh that he couldn’t seem to find within himself yesterday. 

“Such an oxymoron–cold-hearted and considerate at the same time.” Hoseok bounced to his feet, tossing his phone aside onto the white tablecloth and shaking his hands out. He took a few long strides towards the center of the reflective floor, and spun on his heels to raise his eyebrows at her. “I guess you can put together why I had us meet up here.” 

Y/n feigned innocence with a shrug of her shoulders, and plucked at the threads of the table cloth near her hip. “I’m not sure. You have something in mind?” She looked up at him, being sure to keep her eyes as innocuous as possible. 

“I promised you a dance, didn’t I?” He held his hands out in an exaggerated shrug. 

Y/n bit her lip to keep a grin from crawling up her cheeks. “Oh yes that’s right. Forgive me for my memory is hazy–I’m not good at remembering things.” 

“Uh huh, sure.” He rolled his eyes playfully, and held out a hand for her to take. “C’mon. I have my phone set up and connected, you just gotta hit play.” 

“I thought you were sick?” Even though she was teasing him, she still did as she was told: tapping his screen and hitting the play button on the center of his screen. The flourishes of guitar and piano of a song unknown to Y/n floated down from the speakers around the room, and she took little time in taking his hand. 

“I’m feeling better.” Hoseok gave a sharp tug, pulling her into his chest and splaying his hand on her waist with much more confidence than he had a couple weeks prior. He led them in a slow rhythmic step, taking her from side to side with the subtle expertise she had expected from him within their first dance. 

“Already?” Y/n kept in time with him, adding a slight bounce to their movements.

“Nightquil is one hell of a drug.” He giggled through his own answer, and Y/n’s followed shortly behind. Y/n let the topic drop for now, choosing to hone in on his music choice. 

“What’s the reasoning behind this song? I haven’t heard it before.” Y/n Let herself inch closer to him if that was even possible. 

Hoseok gave a disapproving click of his tongue. “You definitely have. My mom played his stuff all the time when we were kids.” 

This had Y/n eating any other response she could’ve come up with, letting her auditory system take the controls with the intention of combing through each motif and melody for anything recognizable. When the chorus hit, the lightbulb within her brain lit up in sync with Jo Duck Bai’s emotional vocals. 

“Ahh. Yes I do remember this one–not in great detail–but It’s striking a chord if you will.” 

Hoseok blew a hefty breath of air through the corner of his mouth. “Jeez–You’ve been spending too much time with Jin.” 

“Never! If anything I haven’t been spending enough time with him.”  Y/n scrunched her nose up at Hoseok with a grin. 

He brought their joined hands up to tap one of his long fingers on the tip of her nose. “There’s that smile I like to see.” 

Y/n suppressed a squawk of surprise from spouting out from her throat, and turned her head to the side to avoid his glinting eyes. “Whatever.” 

The song came to an end, being replaced by the plucking guitar and whirring strings of the next. Y/n thought he was going to pull away–his hand slipping from her waist and his other tugging slightly from her fingers the give away. He surprised her instead, and used his hand to guide her into a twirl into a new step.

“I thought you had said a dance.” Y/n let the hand on his shoulder fiddle with the shoulder seam of his shirt where it had come to rest again. 

He shrugged, and tilted his head into her line of sight as a way to force their eyes to meet again. “I figured I owed you more than just one.” Behind the glow of the yellow lights ricocheting off his amber irises, she could see the implicated apology behind his words. His hand tightened its hold on her side to keep her in place, but she didn’t intend on going anywhere if she didn’t have to. 

Hoseok paraded the two of them gracefully around the room, letting the song take over from the lull in their conversation. At some point in the song, Y/n could hear the unmistakable tenor of Hoseok’s own voice layering beneath Nat King Cole’s. An effortless resonance just barely loud enough for her ears to follow; but a welcomed surprise. His voice had always been a delicacy that he would only treat her too on rare occasions, and she wished more than anything that he would do it more often. Y/n brought her head down to rest on his shoulder, the vibrations of his voice soothing over her ears. Hoseok tipped his onto the crown of her head, each word he murmured now directly against her. Her eyes felt heavy, but she kept them open in fear she would fall asleep standing against him if she let them drop. 

The last few measures of the song ticked by, but they didn’t make any moves to stop. Hoseok stayed at the same pace, letting her head fall heavier onto his shoulder with each sway throughout the next song. He did however, stop singing much to her dismay. 

“I love when you sing. You underestimate how lovely it sounds.” Y/n’s words were slurred against his shoulder, and she swapped to her other cheek so she could face him while still keeping her head in place

“You’re tired.” Hoseok stated plainly, ignoring her compliment entirely. Y/n couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or not by his observation.

Y/n hummed, forced her head upright to prevent the impending embarrassment from if she were to drool onto his shoulder. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“And yet you still came to dance with me.” He noted, more to himself than to her. 

“I missed you.” She confessed, her fatigue making her lips loose. “And I was worried that you would still be sick from yesterday. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay.” Hoseok breathed out a sigh, his eyes becoming haunted by something he obscured with a turn of his head. “And you won't have to worry about missing me. I’ll make sure we dance together at least once a week. Unless you get sick of me.” 

“I could never get sick of you.” Y/n gave her best shot at an ardent look, but the power behind it was muted with the tired sag of her eyelids. 

“Convincing.” He snickered, untangling themselves from each other and guiding the way back to his phone to turn off the music.

Y/n followed after him with dragging steps. “I’m sorry–For some reason I feel like I just can’t keep my eyes open. It just hit me like a ton of bricks.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead to try and wake herself up. 

“Don’t worry about apologizing. I’ll walk you upstairs if you want to rest?” he slid his phone into his back pocket and stretched his arms out above his head with a yawn.

“I would accept the offer–” Y/n stopped with a yawn of her own “-but I should say goodbye to Roland before I lay down and I don’t want to keep you waiting.” 

“Nah.” Hoseok waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t mind hanging around a few minutes while you do that.” 

He led them toward the set of double doors she had entered through, and down the hall on their left towards her brother’s room. There were no more movers for them to dodge, and Y/n concluded that they must’ve gotten the last of it out by now. Hoseok paused a few meters away from the door, letting her go into Roland’s room on her own similar to how Namjoon had that morning. 

Y/n crept around the corner, her mouth already formulating her goodbyes. However the room in front of her was now utterly void of any trace of her brother. It even looked as though it had been dusted and vacuumed. Y/n shivered, the involuntary comparison to the disappearance of her late sister intruding into her brain again. And just like before, she swallowed it down and looked for her brother. These were feelings she had already processed–but like the therapist her parents had forced her to see had told her: stressful events and strikingly similar circumstances could trigger them to resurface when she least expected it.  Therefore like she had been taught to do by the same therapist, she took three deep breaths, and brought a finger to tap at the crevice between her lower lip and her chin while she looked. 

Roland wasn’t in the room, and neither was her mother. She brought her phone out of her pocket to check the time– 1:26pm. She had only been in the ballroom for maybe twenty minutes–her mother had said they weren’t headed out for another hour–surely she would know better than to just vanish with her brother?

 Y/n turned out of the room and back down the hall, her finger still passively patting against the spot on her chin moving down to the area below her collar bone (another spot her therapist had taught her to tap). Her explanation being about the locations being connected to the nervous system or something along those lines–something Y/n couldn’t be bothered to remember at the moment. All she cared about was if it worked. 

Hoseok followed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her quick exit. Y/n led the both of them towards the entrance way, but there were no boxes. There were no movers. There was no one–not even the men putting up her mother’s stupid cameras. Maybe they had gone into the kitchen to prepare lunch for themselves, Y/n reasoned. They were scheduled to leave right at the estate’s normal lunch time, so that would make sense. Yes. Perfect sense. Y/n’s three fingers increased their speed on her collarbone, and she wandered across the dining room and through the traffic door into the kitchen. 

“Come on! Let’s check in the kitchen. Maybe she went to get a snack or something and fell asleep at the counter!” Hoseok led the way forwards, with Jimin and Y/n hot on his heels.

“Guys–we should really get mom and dad up. What if something happened?” Amelia’s e/c eyes shook, and her voice was unsteady as she brought up the rear of their unruly search crew. She trudged after them, clutching her quilt around her shoulders. 

The three younger children didn’t listen, pushing open the swinging kitchen doors to find the kitchen insipid and vacant. 

“Are you sure you checked your bathroom?” Hoseok gave Y/n an accusing raise of his eyebrow. “And under her bed?” 

“Of course I did. I checked those first, I’m not stupid.” Y/n crossed her small arms over her chest with a huff.

Jimin took sleepy, trawling steps around the kitchen perimeter.  His hair was sticking up in every direction from sleep, and his puffy cheeks bent forwards to stop and look down into the kitchen sink. A few drops of water dripped from the spigot, and he stretched a short arm out to press down on the faucet and halt the trickle. Hoseok and Y/n bickered, while Amelia hovered at the door, looking over her shoulder repeatedly for any sign of their youngest sister–leaving his moment of deliberation unseen by the rest. Jimin stared at the small puddle on the bottom of the sink’s basin, his brows pulled together in thought. Jimin turned his messy dark hair to the arguing duo across the room.

“I think we should wake up your parents like Amelia said.” Jimin’s bare feet padded over back towards the kitchen door that led to the hallway. “Maybe she had a bad dream and went to sleep with them.” 

The kitchen was empty. 

Empty save for the first straggler cook organizing the ingredients for the lunch selection of the day. At Y/n and Hoseok’s intrusion he raised a brow, but Y/n could only muster a few apologies before retreating back into the dining room. 

“Let’s check out front…?” Hoseok offered, already starting towards the front door. He pushed open the door to find the mover trucks gone. The only sign that they had been there was the tire tracks in the gravel, and the many sets of shoe tracks that scuffed the pebbles out of place. 

They were gone. And her mother had deliberately made sure she hadn’t been able to say goodbye. 

_________________________________________

Y/n retreated into the safety of her room. Hoseok had walked her up with an apologetic frown and a promise to come get her once food was served. Y/n wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault she had missed their departure–that it was all on her mother. And she would. But that would come later, after she had more time to regulate herself from looking like a drifting weeping willow. Y/n couldn’t help her thoughts from assuming the worst of her mother; for what reason did she have to prick at a wound all of them shared? She would’ve definitely known better.

She typed a short message to her group chat, saying she wasn’t feeling up for lunch and that she wouldn’t be joining any gardening excursions today. Encouraging them all not to panic or jump to any demonic conclusions as to why she won’t be showing up. Y/n tried to take a nap, but every position she tried just felt off and uncomfortable. Her eyes drew over to her closet, where Matilda's photos were hidden at the back of her shelf. 

Y/n knew–logically so–that Roland was not dead. That they had left to take him up to New York for his fancy new and expensive school that would shape him into whatever man her parents desired him to be. He would come back once and for all after he graduated–maybe even have a partner–and he would start his apprenticeship under her father’s careful eye. Then he would take over the hotel, have a few kids of his own, and most likely die of old age. 

But the human mind is funny at times, it has its own special way of warping our sense of reality into believing the worst with the utmost conviction. Of jumping to conclusions and making you forget the leaps that you had to take to get there, using rope made of excuses and hooks smelted from built up fantasy to make the delusional seem sound with each leap. To find any reason to justify the stressor it had been exposed to without even considering the option for the truth. 

And that’s the island Y/n was currently stranded on. Her eyes vacant as they looked at the ceiling, but her mind somewhere else entirely. She had given up on the tapping. It didn’t work at the moment, and therefore she didn’t care for it. Her phone had buzzed a couple times from its spot on her nightstand, but she didn’t feel like texting anyone any further. 

It was good for her then–in its own way–that instead of a few short buzzes, her phone shuddered with the extended pulse of a phone call. Y/n fumbled for the box, wanting to silence it out and throw it back out of her sight until she was able to rest. But the name lighting up her screen caught her off guard. 

Jin. 

Y/n swiped to answer the call, bringing it to lay flat over her ear so gravity could do most of the work for her. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” Y/n asked, keeping her tone even. 

“Yeah, everything is fine.” Jin chirped at her from the other line. “I just had a feeling you might need a pick me up. You want to go into town with me to run a few errands?” 

“I…” Y/n was still exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and wash away all of her racing thoughts in time for tonight’s debrief and spiritual ventures. But she didn’t want to say no either. Y/n didn’t realize how long she had hesitated, because Jin must have sensed her apprehension. 

“If you’re busy that's fine! We can always plan to go another time…” Even through the crackling of the receiver she could hear his dejection. 

“No! I’m not busy, and I want to spend time with you. I’m just exhausted and don’t know if I can handle going into town today.” Y/n picked at the skin of her lip absentmindedly, tugging at it until it started to bleed. 

“Ahh. I understand.” There was a muffled shuffling sound on Jin’s side of the line, and his voice returned a few beats later. “How about this: We do something more relaxing together, and I do one of my errands with you?” 

“Like what?” Y/n rolled onto her stomach, letting the weight of her head fall onto a pillow below her. “You aren’t planning any sort of payback for the horse excursion, are you?” 

Jin chuckled, and kept his voice friendly. “No–don’t worry. I have to run to the store to get some stuff for dinner tonight. The cooking staff is off duty so it’s on us to figure something out. And I’m going to assume from your tone that the Adelaide isn’t of any interest to you tonight.” 

Y/n sighed. “You guessed correctly.” She plucked at a loose thread on her pillowcase. “What’s the ‘something relaxing’?” 

“I’ll give you two choices.  One: we go to the guest house and spend some time enjoying the nice day in the sunroom.  Two: we can bake something for dessert tonight.” Jin listed, followed by another shuffle on the other end of the line from him swapping the phone from one shoulder to the next. 

Y/n debated both options, making a short list of the pros and cons for each. A sweet treat sounded good–but so did enjoying the great outdoors. The only thing about the guest house that pushed it into the realm of least favorable was its proximity to the lake; which did not sound great at the moment. 

“Let’s bake something. And then I’ll help you with dinner.” Y/n decided, rolling onto her side so she could sit up. 

“That’s what I was kind of hoping for myself.” She heard the distant sound of his fingers snapping on the other line. “We can head to the store after you come down and get some lunch?” Jin phrased his words as a question, but Y/n knew it wasn’t. 

Y/n scrunched her face up at the thought of food. “I’ll have a snack or something after a short nap, but I had brunch not too long ago at the cafe.” 

Jin found the promise of something better than nothing, and they traded goodbyes with the intention to leave in roughly a half an hour. This meant Y/n had enough time for a cat nap to try and regain some energy and reset her mind. She curled up onto her side, and hugged one of her pillows closer to herself in a chokehold to bury her face into. She focused on taking a few deep breaths to lower herself down into the first few realms of sleep. 

The four children had shoved Amelia to the front of the group. They knew that their parents would react better to her than if one of the three trouble makers stood in front. The girl in question raised her small fist up to knock on the door, her braids dragging over her makeshift blanket cape and brushing upon its edges with each knock. 

The first knock triggered no movement from within the room–it was ungodly early after all–for the sun had only just started to turn the sky shades of a gray blue. Amelia looked back to her cohorts with uncertainty, but they urged her to knock again. And she did. This time, they heard a few soft murmurs, and the sound of soft feet padding across a rug towards them. Her mother pulled open the door, wrapped in a silk robe and her hair up and away. 

“What’s wrong, my loves?”  Her mother’s voice was rough from sleep, but still held her usual air of warmth. “Is something wrong?” 

“Is Matilda in there?” Jimin piped up from the back.

Mariah looked disoriented, her chin jerking to the side and her face pulling inwards. “No–what is this about?” 

Amelia piped up from the front, her eyes beginning to water. “Y/n can’t find her anywhere. We already looked everywhere Mama.” 

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Their mother’s eyes darted to Y/n’s, a brief flash of panic shown in with them gone and camouflaged as soon as it came.

“We looked everywhere. The ballroom, the kitchen, the study–even under her bed. I don’t know where she is.” 

Mariah pushed forward and out of her and their father’s shared room. She retied her robe tighter around herself, before leading the parade of children down the hall and back towards the kitchen. All four of the children ran into each other, one after the other, as her mother made an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh my god…” Mariah brought one delicate hand up to her mouth, and four children’s heads leaned out from behind her to see what had caught her attention. 

“Mama, what is it?” Amelia spoke first, one of her small hands tugging at Mariah’s elbow.

Jungkook stood on the bottom step, probably having been woken from their commotion. His unruly curls turned to stare intently at the red wooden door that led out to the front steps. The front door was slightly ajar, barely open in a way that made it easy to miss when one walked by. But Y/n was sure it had been closed when they had passed it earlier, a funny feeling settled into the pit of her stomach at the sight. 

“Mom, that wasn’t open before….” Y/n’s young voice cracked, and she came forward to stand next to her. 

Mariah didn’t acknowledge Y/n’s comment. She walked up to the door and went to grab onto the handle, her eyes still glued to the spot where Jungkook stood. Jungkook blinked, breaking their locked gaze and her hand froze in mid air above the gold metal. Without warning, she yanked it backwards and held it up to her chest in her other hand as if it had been burned. 

“Nobody touch anything. Get everyone up.” She spun on her heel and all but ran down the hall back towards her room, shouting as she went. “Anselm! Ans wake up!” 

The image suddenly flickered, and a weight fell heavy onto Y/n’s feet and threatened to pull her underneath the floorboards. She looked downwards towards them, to find her normal grown up feet shuffling below her. She shot her gaze up once more, only to find her sister and friends gone. The echo of her mother’s calls reverberated throughout the empty halls as if she were still there, but a long ways away. It was at this moment that she realized it was no longer a memory–but a dream. 

The floor rumbled beneath her feet once. Y/n snapped her head towards the direction of the basement door, another rumble tumbling out from behind it. She inched towards it, her hands fiddling with her sweater in search of the flashlight, but obviously there was none. This wasn’t real. 

Footsteps bounded up the obscured basement steps, the wood creaking under a heavy weight. The rush they were in gave her no time to react to their approach before they were already upon her. Something heavy threw itself against the other side in a crazed flurry, the door rattling on its hinges and barely holding itself in place. The thing on the other side ceased its futile attempts when the door showed no sign of buckling to its weight, and Y/n could hear the ragged sound of its breathing wheezing in and out of its diaphragm.

Y/n watched, unable to tear her eyes away as spindly, weathered, and gray digits writhed out from beneath the door. Stretching on and on–much longer than any one human’s fingers should. They curled in on themselves to claw at the door with a gnarled fervor, and Y/n took quick steps backwards towards the front door with each desperate grab they made. 

“Wait-” Their voice, a sound comparable to tornado winds or a speeding train, scraped against her eardrums. Earsplitting and whistling. “Come find me.” It moaned out, and pushed it’s paper-thin hand further outwards. 

“Please.” Its hands retracted from beneath the door and out of sight. With it she heard the slump of something burly against the frame that shook the wood with such power the floor rattled with it. 

It’s breathing labored on, but it spoke no more. The handle clicked and clanked with the motions from the creature on the other side fiddling with its latch, but it did not open. Y/n knew it was a dream, yet she also knew this wasn’t just her mind conjuring up a monster on its own. So she did the only thing she could think of to do–even if her heart begged her not to. 

“Who are you?” 

The tinkering noises abated, a leaden stillness left in its wake. She heard the creature take in a deep, rattling breath. “It matters not.” 

“How am I supposed to find you then?” Y/n countered, keeping her knees bent and ready to run at a moment's notice. 

Her mother’s distant cries bounced about the empty house, and they made Y/n’s skin crawl with memories she wished to forget. Y/n hesitated as the next sorrowful howl came again, the tone different than how she had remembered. Was it her mother that she was hearing?

The metal door knob fell to the floor with a thud and rolled across the floor, stopping at the edge of Y/n’s shoe. 

“If you were to know who I was, you would come to hate me too. I am wretched.” Its sob keened from its throat like nails on a chalkboard. “I am…” 

The door groaned in protest and dawdled forward, sweeping in a half circle and ricocheting off of the wall behind it. All Y/n could see was black. No creature stood before her and naivety made her willing to believe it had left. 

“I am…” 

Y/n retracted her thought immediately, as a monstrous and hulking shadow moved within the dark. Its features were utterly imperceivable. Just smokey, vague and humanoid.  She fell backwards, tripping over the knob in her tush to stand back up. Her mother’s cries encircled her like the calling of crows in the early morning sky and she clamped her hands over her ears to stifle the sound. 

“They call me the Devil.” 

_________________________________________

Y/n’s alarm blended in with the sound of the phantom wails as it pierced her ears. Y/n lurched out of her comforter to grab it and pummel the sound off, dropping it back onto the nightstand to give herself a second to come to. The dream played through her mind, and she let it. She needed to remember each small detail they gave her, collect each crumb she could if she were to make any real moves against them. 

She vaulted out of bed in the direction of her desk, and scrambled for a notebook and a pen to document her dream while it was fresh in her mind. Y/n scrawled out each detail she could in a bullet point list as both a means to distract herself from the residual terror of the dream, and to record it for later reference. Once she finished, she couldn’t bear the thought of ruminating on it any longer–she wanted to leave any thoughts of her sister behind at the moment–she needed to in order to move forward with her day. 

She unhooked and a small crocheted bag to toss her flashlight and phone in for safer keeping while she was out of the house, not needing anything more than that for their plans. Y/n only gave herself a ten second once over in the bathroom mirror to make sure she was borderline presentable, not caring to give any other thought to her appearance. Y/n wobbled on her feet, her thirty minute nap merely a drop in the bucket towards her lack of sleep from the night before. Maybe the nap made her reaction time worse, but it did help her regain control of her mind–with or without the nightmare. 

Y/n made it to her door with full intent to practically run down the hall towards the dining room. Calling one of her friends up here just to walk her to the stairs would garner too much suspicion on the cameras or the others at lunch. At least running through the halls was nothing too new for her mother to flag as out of the ordinary. She swung the door open with gusto, her first step striking the floor with power that quickly dwindled to nothing with the oncoming sounds from her right.  

Y/n stumbled over her feet and fumbled for her flashlight in her bag, not ready to mess around with anymore creepy things around doorways so soon after her vision. Taehyung took in her floundering state with wide unsuspecting eyes. Clearly they had startled one another with little expectation for the other to be leaving their rooms at the same moment. 

“Oh–Hi.” Y/n choked out, her fist clenching around the flashlight in her bag before letting it drop from her fingers in relief. 

Taehyung smirked at her from across the hall, and slowly shut his door behind him. 

“Hi.” 

They stood at an impasse, Y/n unsure of what to say and he seemed to wait for her to speak first. 

“I’m heading out to the store with Jin, do you need anything?” 

He gave her a once over, his chocolate brown eyes glowing with mirth at her. “No, I think I’m alright. Though, I thought you had promised we’d go somewhere together the next time you skipped into town?” 

“Shit–you’re right.” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Jin and I are leaving now, but we are going to be scrapping dinner and dessert together afterwards if you’d like to join us? Unless you’re busy.” 

He laughed and started forward down the hall at a languid pace, clearly waiting for her to follow. She did so without hesitation, glad to have company instead of having to race against invisible enemies down the stairs in her lonesome. 

“No need to say sorry, I’m just messing with you.” He flicked a loose wave out of his eyes, and their arms skimmed against one another as he lowered it back to his side. “I’d be delighted to join in–for the dessert part at least. Cooking is still something I’m working on.” 

“You can’t cook, but you can bake?” Y/n sent him a disbelieving sideways glance, not trusting her face not to heat up if she looked at his face for too long. 

“Yeah, I know it’s usually the other way around. I think baking is just more…” Taehyung brought a hand up to grasp at the air, his striking features taking on a more passionate shape. “More finite, and artistic for me. I feel like you can be more creative with colors and flavors, but still have the comfort of having exact measurements to follow.” 

Y/n nodded, and they rounded the corner onto the landing. “I can understand that.” They started down the stairs without any rush, their shoulders bumping periodically with their descent. Y/n landed at the bottom first, shuffling around to look up at where he trailed a few steps back. “What’s your favorite kind of dessert?” 

Taehyung stopped on the last stair to think and he puckered out his lips to think. Leaning onto the thick banister on his left as he did so. “To eat or to make?” 

“Both.” Y/n shrugged. 

“Hmm.” He tapped his fingers against the shiny wood beneath his arm and made rhythmic clicking sounds with his tongue against his cheek. “If I’m eating it, anything strawberry, or macarons. If I’m making it, I love working with fruits or experimenting with new flavors. Trifles, tarts, posset; anything I can decorate and make pretty.” He took his free hand, and wiggled the fingers gently towards Y/n to give feather light touches against her shoulder. 

She giggled at the tickling sensation, and leaned her cheek into her shoulder to cover it from his onslaught. Taehyung’s boxy grin made an appearance, and he mimicked her giggles.

 “Cute~” He cooed after her, and skipped down the last stair towards the dining room. 

Y/n trailed after him, but her smile was consequently wiped from her face when her eyes found Hoseok seated at the table. His face was gloomy and unreadable, and he made no effort to hide how he tracked Taehyung’s movements around the dining room table and to his awaiting meal. And it wasn’t just him: everyone in the dining room seemed peeved on some level. The air felt heavy with agitation.  She skirted her attention to Jin who was still working on finishing the last of his plate, and decided to sit next to the empty seat near Hoseok while she waited for him to finish eating. 

“You alright?” Y/n asked him, pulling out her chair sinking into its cushion. 

He nodded, clearing his throat as he did. “Yeah I’m fine.” Hoseok turned to regard her over his shoulder, his smile strained and his knee shaking where he promptly pressed it against her leg. “Are you feeling more rested?” 

Y/n curled her lip and held up her hand in a so-so motion. “Eh. I had some weird dreams but I was able to get some sleep, so I can’t complain.” 

Hoseok hummed and picked up his fork to fiddle with it between his fingers in a rapid seesaw motion, and kept his leg pressed firmly against her own even if he didn’t make any other comments. Y/n took note of everyone who was left at the table, the atmosphere feeling tense–like she had interrupted something she shouldn’t have. Taehyung was just beginning to tuck into his sandwich and was just as oblivious as her to whatever had gone down; Namjoon was trying not to give her obvious red-faced glances; Jimin was avoiding her eyes as if almost pretending she wasn’t there, his jaw flexing from how hard he was gritting his teeth; then there was Jungkook: His eyes dark as they bored into her, and his face dour. 

Jin set his silverware aside with an overexaggerated sigh of satisfaction. “I’m all set to go then Y/n. I just need to grab a jacket.” He hoisted himself out of his seat and lumbered around the table towards the foyer. 

“O-okay!” Y/n scooted herself out of her chair to follow, not interested in sticking around for whatever strange energy had been created in the dining room before her arrival. “See you guys later…” Y/n gave a timid wave to those left at the table, earning her a chorus of mumbled farewells and waves.

Y/n shivered the discomfort off, tearing her phone from her pocket to type a message into the ‘The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers’ chat while she waited near the shoe hutch for Jin to grab his jacket and sneakers. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: What the fuck was going on in there? Was it related to Roland? 

[Zoltar]: What? What did I miss? I’m not allowed to be around for lunch anymore. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: If I knew I wouldn’t be asking, now would I? 

[Zoltar]: 🤷

[Zoltar]: I don’t even know what you’re referencing to begin with. I got nothing over here at the hotel.

[Morning Glory 🌼]: You always answer so fast. Do you actually get any work done? 

[Zoltar]: 🤷🤷🤷🤷

[Zoltar]: Someone’s always gotta be ready to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. Two seconds too late and you could be following a lead out of the country if we aren’t careful. 

“Ready?” Jin held the front door open for her in one hand, and held a baseball cap folded in the other, a stiff smile keeping his features in place. 

“Sorry-yeah.” Y/n tucked her phone into her bag next to the flashlight, and hurried through the open door. 

Jin slid on his hat once they were out into the air, fidgeting with it to sit over his head at the angle he wanted. They walked side by side at a leisurely pace down the gravel path around the base of the hotel, and straight down the driveway to head towards the front gate. Y/n nibbled on her lower lip, and kept her hands in her pockets while she walked besides him. Y/n took the risk to probe at Jin. 

“What happened in there? Everyone seemed pretty off.”

Jin glanced back over his shoulder to watch for any oncoming traffic when they made their way to the roadside, propelling himself forward once he realized the coast was clear for them to walk alongside it. 

“They just got into a bit of a spat. Nothing they can’t handle–you know how they can get with each other sometimes.” Jin explained. He pulled out his keys and spun them on the tip of his finger.

“Oh.” Y/n rushed to keep up with his long and quick strides. “Was it about anything serious?”  She recalled even Jimin’s standoffish nature and forced a frown from her face. 

“No.” He veered them to the left and into the residential parking area. “They’ll be fine, don’t worry too much about it.” 

Jin pressed a button on the key fob, and a flash of lights and a beep responded from a silver suv in the middle of the lot.  Y/n took it as her signal to drop the questioning, she had no interest in raising Jin’s suspicions towards her this afternoon. She rounded the back of the car to the passenger seat with Jin on her heels. His hand beat hers to the door handle and tugged it open on her behalf, letting her hop in and shutting it for her. 

Y/n sunk into the leather seats and notched her seatbelt into place by the time Jin slid into the driver’s side door and started the vehicle. Acoustic guitar trickled from the speakers at a low volume, filling any empty space and making some of the tension disperse from Jin’s wide shoulders with each pluck of the strings. They let the music do most of the talking for the first few minutes, neither of them knowing exactly how to start a casual conversation with each other without any specific purpose or Hoseok to buffer things between them.

“What are you thinkin’ of for dinner tonight?” Y/n tried first, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer. 

Jin jolted in his seat, having been lost in his own thoughts far too deep to remember he even had a passenger. “Oh-Right.” Jin leaned to check his mirrors to clear his next turn onto the main road. “We usually agree on something together on these nights–clearly that’s not happening.” Jin scoffed and righted the wheel to keep them going straight. “Anything you want in particular? You have behaved the best so I’ll let you have the most say.” 

Y/n snickered, thinking of a response. “Now I could really go for some roasted vegetables…” 

“Now that’s something I can work with.” He took one hand off the wheel to point at her with enthusiasm. “What else?” 

“You choose. Unless you think you can’t handle that.” Y/n teased, and leaned herself against the window to rest her head on its cool surface. 

“I can handle that.” A small plush smile grew on his face. 

The supermarket wasn’t too busy, which let them keep their pace at a casual stroll with no need to push anyone out of the way. Jin had settled for chicken stir fry, and sheparded her around the store to the different vegetable selections. He let her choose what went in it, only giving her a sneaky side eye one time when she suggested cauliflower knowing full well that he hated it. 

“I’m trying to keep the peace here Y/n–You and I both know it won't end well for you if we keep this childish competition going.” He snatched the white head of cauliflower from her hand and tossed it carelessly back onto the heaping pile of others. 

“For me? What about you? I’ve learned a thing or two while I’ve been away,” Y/n puffed out her chest, “You’d be surprised.” 

Jin rolled his eyes and dropped a bag of multicolored peppers into the cart. “I doubt that. Nothing surprises me with you hooligans anymore.” 

“That’s a lie–shall I reference our recent trip into town?” Y/n lifted a hulking container of strawberries into her hands to inspect its contents. “Can we make something with strawberries tonight? Taehyung mentioned them and now I have a hankering for a strawberry tart or strawberry cream cake.” 

Jin came to her side and grabbed the container from her hands to give it his own once over. “Sure. That sounds good.” He tossed a total of three containers into the cart, and swung back around to point a finger at her. “I knew something was going on between you and Hoseok the moment I first entered the car that morning and you two were huddled up like little flies rubbing your hands together in the front seat. If I would have known better I would have been able to see the little horns growing out from your foreheads the entire drive there.” Jin held up two fingers on the top of his hat to imitate devil horns, and gave her a pointed look. 

“We were not huddled like flies! We were just sharing confidential information!” Y/n refuted. Even if she knew it was a lie: Jin had made comments multiple times that day about them being up to no good.

“Sharing confidential information and conspiring–same old, same old.” He slid his fingers down from his hat to track fake tears down his cheeks. “You’re just embarrassed that I caught you in the act. Because like I said: Nothing surprises me.” 

Jin took hold of the cart and steered them forwards to the meat sections and Y/n glared at the back of his head while she followed, already thinking up ten different ways she could try and surprise him or get him back for real. 

“Ah ah ah–” He held up one finger and wagged it at where she dragged her feet behind him “–enough of that. I can virtually hear your thoughts.” 

Y/n stretched out a long, irritated groan. “How? How do you know that’s what I was thinking of?” 

“Because like I said,” Jin billowed open a meat grocery bag, and tucked a package of chicken thighs into it. “I’m the oldest. It comes with the job description.” He laid the bag into the cart and pat it gently with his hand, gracing her with a sarcastic smile. 

They grabbed the rest of the ingredients Jin deemed  necessary for dinner and their decided on dessert–strawberry shortcakes–and loaded them into the car.  She felt grateful for the distraction, and she was glad that she had decided to take him up on the offer. The bubbling cauldron of feelings from the day had a lid placed over them for the time being. 

The ride back to the estate was much less awkward with the ice having been broken. Y/n wrestled a container of blueberries from the bags in the back and into her lap, prying the lid off and tossing one into her mouth. Jin held his hand out immediately, his fingers flapping in a ‘gimme’ motion. 

“Who said I’d share?” Y/n stifled a grin and rose one accusatory eyebrow at him. 

“It’s mandatory. It’s the passenger tax.” He flailed his fingers more aggressively. “Pay up.” Y/n shook her head, and piled a small handful into his awaiting palm. Without missing a beat Jin tossed the entire handful into his mouth, his hand already waiting expectantly at her side again. 

“Hold on–let me eat some–goddamn.” Y/n plopped a couple into her mouth and gave him another handful to hopefully satiate him for a few seconds. Jin wrinkled his nose at her use of language, but didn’t comment on it. However his hand did immediately spring back up in a silent request for more, and she refilled his request. 

Y/n rolled her eyes in a teasing manner “Sorry grandpa, I forgot you don’t like improper language.” She fumbled a few more blueberries into her mouth. 

Jin shifted in his seat while he chewed, and gave her a few restless glances. He swallowed, and gave one small cough. “It’s fine. You can say what you want. I won’t stop you.” 

“Are you sure?” Y/n regarded his change in demeanor with curiosity. Y/n could count on one hand the times she had heard him curse, and growing up he had been a bit of a stickler about it with his parent’s religious upbringing–but as they got older he had started to adjust. 

“Yeah it’s fine. We are all adults now.” He shrugged, but his eyes were hard to catch.

Y/n chewed on the berries in her mouth slowly, rolling them between her tongue and teeth for a few breaths. “Do you curse now?” 

“No.”

Y/n held a fist full of berries in her hand in preparation for his next request, and thought up her follow up question. 

“Do you want to?” 

Jin didn’t answer as quickly this time, taking the fruit into his hand and weighing them in his palm. He tossed them in, chewing pensively and staring up at the traffic light they sat beneath. 

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’d be easier when I’m listening to music or playing stuff on the guitar, but it feels so foreign to me to even think about it.” 

“You still play?” Y/n inquired, popping a few more pieces of fruit in her mouth. 

Jin’s cheeks dusted pink, and a shy smile wiggled onto his face. “Yeah. I like to play on my days off.” 

“Cool.” Y/n snapped the lid closed. “You should play for me sometime! I tried teaching myself in college but I didn’t get much further than some basic chord structures. What kind of stuff do you like to play?” 

“Well–I grew up playing hymns so a few of them have a special place in my heart–but I like to just mess around with pop sometimes. Lately I’ve really taken a liking to learning picking patterns from folk artists.” Jin turned the wheel to start up the winding road towards the hotel and estate. 

“Any in particular?” Y/n nestled the fruit container back into the bag. 

Jin hummed, his fingers pattering against the steering wheel beneath them. “Jimin introduced me to Hozier and Noah Kahan. He’s been trying to get me into a few others that I can’t remember the names of if I'm being honest.” He chuckled. 

“Ooo! And those are the picking patterns you’re learning?” Y/n eagerly asked, turning her body to see his face a bit better. 

He tilted his head and scratched behind his ear. “Yeah.” 

“You have to play for me then. Hozier makes me swoon.” Y/n clapped her hands together and bounced in her seat with excitement. Jin just nodded, the tips of his ears glowing in the early evening sun.

Y/n’s phone buzzed at her side, and she pulled it out to check her notifications–having almost completely forgotten about the texts she had sent the group chat.

[Joon 🌱]: We will talk about it later. Long story short: Shit is confusing.

_________________________________________

The dining room had all of the chairs pushed back into place as if no one had disturbed it for lunch. Y/n and Jin waded through the room and into the kitchen to drop off all of the groceries with Taehyung tracking in after them from the study where he had been waiting for their return. Jin excused himself momentarily to park the car, leaving the two younger ones to paw through the bags with few instructions on what to do afterwards. 

Taehyung pulled out the hefty container of red strawberries and smirked up at her over the lid. 

“Is this you trying to flirt with me?” 

“What?” The color drained from Y/n’s face. “No! I mean–I thought about what you had said and wanted to keep your interests in mind–plus a strawberry dessert sounded good. With summer coming around the corner and-”

Taehyung cut her off with a ring of warm laughter. “I was just teasing.” 

Y/n mentally facepalmed at herself. So much for not letting them all get under her skin so easily. 

“I knew that.” Y/n evaded meeting his gaze, and settled her own intentions on pushing back into the dining room to snag their family recipe book from the hutch. Y/n crouched onto down to the bottom shelf opposite of their stash of boardgames, and grabbed at the small dangling handle that kept slipping through her fingers each time she went to grab for it. 

“C’mon…” Y/n muttered to herself under her breath. Y/n silently cheered when her fingers finally caught on the delicate metal hook and with a jerk she popped the door open. 

A blast of cold air billowed out from within the cabinet and knocked her backwards. Y/n caught a clipping image of a small child curled in on themselves within the dark crevice, their face shielded by their own small sickly arms. Their small body trembled from its hiding place, and brought shaky eyes up to meet Y/n’s. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, their gazes locked onto each other with near equal expressions of fear. The girl’s eyes were the most striking: One of them a normal, quivering brown; the other was void and sunken in on itself. Black like the malevolent ghosts she had seen on multiple occasions. The child raised shaking hands up towards Y/n in a puny grab for her shirt, except her hands never made contact with their target. They cowered back into the girl's chest that convulsed with each panicked inhale. They lurched forward, Y/n scarcely having time to dodge the child's advancement. But she didn’t seem to care that she had missed. She crawled past Y/n with bestial speed and out into the hall where Y/n could no longer see her. 

Y/n frantically pulled at the cookbook from the shelf, and dashed back into the kitchen where Taehyung was finishing up the last few things Jin had instructed of them. The door swung closed behind her, and Y/n glued her lips shut to keep her perturbation from being noticeable to her companion. He didn’t cast a glance her way yet for his head was buried in a cabinet at his feet. Y/n heard the clambering of mixing bowls and metal measuring cups as he sorted through them. 

“The door give you trouble?” His call was muffled by the sounds his hands were making. 

“Huh?” Y/n blinked a few times at his crouched figure, and back at the book in her hands. “Y-yeah. The door. The handle is way too small.” 

“I’ve been up Yoongi’s ass about replacing them but it’s not on his radar.” Taehyung stood with two large mixing bowls, and a stack of measuring cups in his arms. He kicked the door closed with his foot and spread the items onto the island’s surface. 

Y/n shook her head of her startling experience, and forced herself forward with normal paced steps. Act normal! She reprimanded herself when she approached the counter, slamming the overfilled book down onto it. 

“I see strawberries and cream.” Taehyung circled the counter, his hands stopping on each ingredient as he listed them. “Butter, flour, sugar….A cake of sorts?” 

“Strawberry shortcakes. But my Great grandmother’s style.” Y/n’s fingers felt stiff pulling open the cover and flipping through the pages. A bunch of loose leaf handwritten pages had been added in between the laminated ones, drawing Y/n’s attention to the numerous new additions. “Chai latte cupcakes?” 

“That one is mine.” Taehyung’s eyes followed the turn of each page. “I added a lot of new stuff to it–your mom said I could. Anything people liked I would put in here.” 

Y/n flipped through to the middle of the book, finding the recipe she was looking for. 

“Have you ever tried to make this one? It’s pretty simple but it’s one of my favorites.” Y/n clicked the binder rings open and extracted the page. “You make it in this tube pan, and cut it into circle slices. Almost like small personal cake layers. But what makes it my favorite is that the cake gets this crust on the edges that tastes like a sugar cookie.” Y/n poured her anxiety into rambling, but Taehyung didn’t seem to mind and listened to her description with captivated interest. 

“We can get a head start while we wait for Jin.” Taehyung took the laminated page out from between her fingers and laid it on the counter between them, taking a step closer to her. “Lead the way.” He gestured to the array of ingredients in front of them with a lick of his lips, and coy smirk. 

Y/n didn’t think he understood that she would take that literally, because she immediately took charge. Delegating him to whisk the dry ingredients while she took the fats and liquids, burying herself in the task at hand. Jin had only taken two steps into the kitchen before she was giving him a task without her needing to look up from the mixer she had been messing with. 

“Jin, can you preheat the oven to the temperature listed on the recipe?” 

“Yeah.” He agreed willingly, moving to one of the ovens to fiddle with the nobs. 

Y/n figured out how to get the new mixer going, and shuffled around the kitchen to look for the command panel for the lights and electronics within the kitchen and dining room. 

“Anyone have any suggestions for music?” Y/n glanced back at the two from over her shoulder, doing her best attempt at easing away any remnant shock. She could process the experience and her entire day later. Right now simply wasn’t the time. “The silence makes me antsy.” She finished when neither of them had moved. 

“Any classics are fine with me.” Taehyung piped up, shaking a dust cloud of flour that plumed out of a large tub and into his face.

“Jin?” 

Jin had taken her spot supervising the stand mixer, and gestured with his eyes to Taehyung. “He’s more picky than me. I’m fine with anything as long as he doesn’t whine about it.” 

“Hmm. Okay let me see what we have here.” Y/n pulled up her phone and swiped out of the group chat where she had left off to open one of her playlists. She tapped on one that was a good hodgepodge of old and new to appease everyone, and let it play in the background. 

Her eyes caught an nearly imperceivable wrinkle of Taehyung’s nose as a pop song played over the speakers, effectively droning out Y/n’s thoughts with a bouncing beat and with electronic overlay. Y/n slid back over next to Jin to take note of how the butter looked, her head bobbing in time with the song. Jin’s finger’s tapped in sync with her movements on the counter’s edge. She stretched across the counter for the eggs and vanilla, passing them to Jin to add in to the mixture. 

“What, do you not like Charli?” Y/n scoffed at Taehyung, sweeping behind him to find a teaspoon. 

Taehyung made a face, and shook his head. “I don’t like most pop music.” 

“He’s a purist when it comes to music.” Jin poked fun at the younger man, sharing a knowing look with Y/n. 

“Ahhh I get it.” Y/n tossed Jin the teaspoon. “Well there are some oldies in here for the geezer. Don’t worry~” She rounded back to Jin’s side with a giggle. 

Even though Taehyung had made his disdain for ninety-percent of the modern songs that appeared on the playlist, he never made any malicious comments about any of them. Sticking to making small faces or furrowing his eyebrows when a section or verse  he particularly didn’t care for came on. But he was a good sport about it, which Y/n appreciated. 

The cake was in the oven engulfing the three of them in its sweet and rich aroma. The three of them stood huddled around the counter with paring knives and copious amounts of strawberries for them to quarter. A basin of a pot in front of them to hold all of the cut fruit. Anytime a song came on he didn’t get, he would make sure to question it. 

“But what is a brat in this context?” Taehyung asked his probably tenth inquiry about Charli XCX. 

Y/n huffed out a sigh, and paused her slicing. “I’ve already explained this to you. It means messy–Like you don’t care.” 

“Alright–geez I’m just trying to understand.” He held his hands up in a surrender. 

“Well you sound like an old man.” Jin chided as he picked up his next strawberry. 

Taehyung looked taken aback. “Look who’s talking.” 

Jin fluttered his lashes back at the two of them. “Who–little old me?” His face dropped into a scowl and he raised the tip of his knife to point at the other man. “At least I know who Taylor Swift is.”  

“Enough you two.” Y/n rolled her eyes and tossed her cut fruit into the pot. “Keep one container aside to top them with. I’m going to start cooking these down.”

They split into three different jobs after that to divide and conquer the last of the cake. Taehyung designated himself to making the whipped cream, Jin stayed slicing the fresh strawberries for decoration, and Y/n honed in on making sure none of the strawberries stuck to the bottom of the pot. Once the cake was out of the oven they kept it in the tube to cool, and set aside the cooked down berries to call it quits since they couldn’t prepare the rounds until they were to be served. They decided to move onto preparing dinner (not after they individually had to taste test the whipped cream with stolen fresh strawberries ‘just to be sure’ it was good). 

This is where Taehyung took up dish duty from all the baking to make way for the next wave, leaving the cooking to Y/n and Jin. During their extended time spent in the kitchen, Y/n hadn’t heard a single other one of her friends wandering through the house–not that she necessarily would be able to over their music. It felt odd not having Jungkook around, or not having seen Namjoon since they had separated that morning. Perhaps the change in schedule was also discombobulating her more so than she already was. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, even if the table was full. Everyone was present–Even Yoongi. To say tensions were high was an understatement of the century. Taehyung, Jin and Y/n tried to carry the conversation for the most part. Jimin only chimed in occasionally, making a point to exclude the other side of the table entirely that Y/n wasn’t on by turning his entire body when he spoke. Particularly the side that had Hoseok, Jungkook and Yoongi in one row. She looked back on what Jin had said about it not being a very serious debacle, but she sincerely doubted it. The hostility–even though concealed–was apparent. 

Y/n felt even more disturbed when no one had dived in with what would be their normal levels of enthusiasm to dessert. It made Y/n feel suffocated in her seat. The stunning pile of strawberries and fresh cream that Taehyung had meticulously curated on her plate was not as appetizing as it had seemed a few hours prior. Y/n felt her eyes glaze over as she zoned out, her eyes drilling holes into one rather large strawberry on her plate. 

“This is delicious. Thank you guys.” Namjoon took his chances breaking the silence, probing at the others seated at the table with harsh eyes. His stern tone elicited an ensemble of murmured gratitude, yet still no one said much else. Namjoon stabbed at his next bite with more force than necessary, his teeth scraping on the fork as he pulled it from his lips. 

Namjoon gave them all another once over, and nodded in approval. The look he gave her afterwards was apologetic, then he dug into his next bite. Y/n risked a teensy glance at Yoongi, who looked just as lost as she felt. Their eyes met, and he made a face in her direction that made surprised laughter bubble up and into her drink, which she covered with a few coughs. No one had seen the interaction thankfully, but Y/n still managed to catch the ghost of a smirk on his face as he brought a chunk of cake to his mouth. 

_________________________________________

Y/n ran back up to her room to grab the notebook she had scribbled her dream down in, jotting down her ghostly experience from the dining room in there with haste. She snapped it shut, blocking out the clumsy handwriting by tossing it into the brown paper bag to take over to Yoongi’s room.  Y/n whirled back to her desk to grab her makeshift family tree but was stopped in her tracks by the sudden realization that she no longer had it. She had left it with Jimin. Y/n prayed he hadn’t thrown it away yet–but didn’t dwell on it. She should be able to remember who she had crossed out when the new one he was ordering for her comes in. A waste of an all nighter though, Y/n thought with a grimace. 

Y/n rounded the door of her room, checking if Yoongi’s door was unlocked and letting herself in. She plopped the bag onto his bed, not wanting to mess up whatever he had been working on before he joined them for dinner–pencils and large sheets of paper splayed across the wooden surface. The paper was etched with a loose outline of what looked like the bones of a building, the lines were neat and faint, signaling that he had only just started. She sank into his chair to wait for his arrival, still feeling twinges of awkwardness to sit on his bed without asking.  She shot a rushed text to the group chat about having to use the terrace on their side of the building to come across without being seen. Namjoon just reacted to the message with a frowny face, but Jungkook didn’t make it known whether or not he had seen the message.  

“Jesus christ–” Yoongi jumped a few inches into the air at the sight of her. “Didn’t expect you to already be here.” 

Y/n sent him a weak smile. “Impatient. There’s a lot to go over today.” 

Yoongi scrunched his face up in suspicion, but withheld any remarks he had ready to pull. He kicked his shoes off and wandered up to the desk behind her. 

“Can I put these away?” He gestured with a hand to the thrown about papers on his desk behind her.

“Why are you asking me? It’s your room.” Y/n scooted the chair out of the way for him to go through and file them nicely into a large folder. She watched as each drawing disappeared, all of them at differing levels of completion. Y/n would have to ask him about them later, when she wasn’t so focused on keeping her mind at ease. 

Namjoon stumbled in through the bedroom door, Jungkook close behind him. Both of them were slightly winded, Namjoon a bit pale in the face. 

“Whose idea was it to have us go through the attic of a haunted house.” Namjoon gave them both pointed looks, and Y/n just gave a sheepish shrug. 

“Better than climbing through windows to get to the greenhouse.” 

“Alright all of you spill. I’m fucking dying here from being kept out of the loop” Yoongi whirred on all of them, a hand on his hip. 

“You first.” Namjoon dipped his chin in her direction. “You have the most.” 

Y/n sighed, and pulled at the skin of her face. “Where do I begin?” 

Y/n just spewed out a recollection of her day on all three of them: her lack of sleep to stay up messing with the family tree, Roland’s confessional, her strange interaction with Jimin and the family tidbits she had been able to gather, her mom lying, the dream, and finally–the ghost of the little girl in the dining room. Y/n finished her long winded spiel (leaving out the bit about her afternoon depressive episode) out of breath and irate again. 

Her three audience members processed her onslaught of information in varying states of contemplation. Jungkook still seemed irked by something from lunch for his face was unmoving and stoney as he listened, even when she told of her ghost girl run in. Namjoon took each new piece of information with gravity, sending him further forward into a hunch over his knees. 

“‘They call me the devil…’” Yoongi repeated the quote to himself, turning the phrase over and over again. “And you don’t recognize the kid from the hutch at all?” 

Y/n shook her head in exasperation. “No. I’ve never seen a single photo of her before.”

Yoongi sighed. “You weren’t lying when you had said there was a lot to go over.” 

“I have a terrible feeling we are digging into something much older than just us.” Namjoon commented, his head spinning warily in all directions. 

Yoongi hummed. “Well it’s been covered for far too long if it’s causing all of this. Wounds that never heal and all that shit.” 

“Why were you alone?” Jungkook grunted from his spot on the floor, his lip ring sucked up into his mouth. 

Y/n sunk further into her chair. “It wasn’t on purpose. Taehyung was right there in the kitchen! They’ve never shown themselves like that when someone else was that close to me, or actively spending time with me.” 

“I’m not that surprised. We fucked into their territory last night–they will for sure bring out new plays.” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair and addressed the two near his bed next. “Now what happened with all of you guys? Dinner was awful.” 

Jungkook shifted in his spot, and brought a hand up to pick at his fingers but didn’t appear to have any intentions of commenting. Namjoon pressed his lips in a firm line at Jungkook’s silence, puffing out a breath with a shake of his head.

“I guess I’ll do the honors.” He threw a glare in Jungkook’s direction, but Y/n could tell he wasn’t truly angry with him. “It started with a comment from Hoseok. They had sat next to each other and he had said something to Jimin about ‘keeping his hands to himself’. I thought it was just one of his jokes since Jimin is left handed and whenever they sit close their elbows constantly bump. I’m not sure if Jimin was just already pissy or what–but it didn’t land well. Jimin threw it right back at him and then it just devolved from there. They threw accusations at each other that didn’t make any sense to me. Jungkook tried to get to Jimin but he snipped at him too. Everyone was too scared to step in after that–you know how scary Jimin can get when he’s truly angry. Thank god you woke up when you did, otherwise they might have blown up the table and dragged everyone else into it.” 

“You have to have more details than that…” Y/n drew out her disbelief, and analyzed both of their faces for anything further. 

“Like I said, their accusations made little sense to me! It happened so fast, give me a break…” 

“Jimin wasn’t alone.” Jungkook declared, dropping his hands onto his lap to finally look at everyone else. “Someone was with him at lunch. They stood over his shoulder the entire time–but I couldn’t see who it was. Just a figure.” 

“That little shit.” Yoongi scoffed. “I always thought I could see something floating in his orbit, that’s why I was so surprised he turned me down when I had asked him to help last year.” 

Y/n looked up at where Yoongi stood with furrowed brows. He had asked Jimin to help? If he had turned him down, why did he send Y/n to Yoongi for help? 

“Do you think he knows about it though? If he can’t see it then how would he know?” Y/n tried to offer up her thoughts, not willing to believe anything else. Jimin didn’t feel like a threat–cryptic and confusing, sure–but a threat…not the Jimin she remembered.

“I don’t know. He didn’t acknowledge it. But it was there again at dinner.” Jungkook turned his eyes down towards his lap once more. 

“What if it’s trying to hurt him?” Y/n gave them each a panicked look. “You did say that if we meddled it could start to affect the others.” 

Namjoon cut in. “I can try and talk to him. Maybe convince him to take some kind of plant with a made up excuse. I know for sure he’s not a skeptic, so he might be receptive to it depending on what angle I go at it from. His response should give us a good read on the situation.” The rest of the onlookers seemed to agree to Namjoon’s plan. They brewed up the suggestion of Namjoon offering some kind of protective charm with the explanation that he had made one for himself to help with the house spirits, and wanted to offer one to anyone he knew believed in the paranormal. This discussion opened the floor back up to what happened the day prior, and what they would do about it next. 

“I think before we send you in there again to meander around, a few things should happen first.” Yoongi addressed the three of them. “For starters, we need to get comfortable sending you in and bringing you back out. I personally don’t feel comfortable just sending you in there without the confidence in knowing we can pull you out quickly if things get hairy. Which means no wandering around and out of the room on your own just yet.” 

“Agreed.” Namjoon nodded, referring to Y/n with a stern look. 

Y/n shook her head rapidly at the silent accusation, to show she offered no means of resistance to the suggestion. “I know you expect me to fight back–but trust me–I agree. I bit off more than I could chew yesterday. It would make me feel more confident if I could know for sure how to escape.” Y/n’s shoulders slumped forward. “I just wish there was a way to make the transition easier and not like I’m getting the life sucked out of me every time.”

Namjoon bit his cheek meditatively, his eyes looking aimlessly about the room while musing her complaint over in his brain. “You said it almost felt like falling asleep?” 

Y/n huffed a humorless laugh. “For only a second. Then it’s like my brain is being ripped out of my skull.” 

“I’m just thinking…” Namjoon crossed one foot over his knee. “I know this is more your territory Yoongi but if I can take a crack at a different method?” He looked up at where Yoongi stood deep in thought, his eyes asking for permission to continue. 

“By all means.” Yoongi shoved his hands into his pockets and perched close to Y/n on the edge of his desk. “Carry on.”

“Well, Valerian is safe to ingest if it���s cooked. Specifically it’s used often in teas or boils for sleep or injury. I wonder if we can find a few others with similar properties and–as terrible as this may sound at face value–try to put you to sleep instead of sending you in while you’re awake?” Namjoon took in all of their faces, each in their own various states of skepticism. “Because you said it already made you tired–that’s probably the Valerian. If I make a specially brewed tea that could put you in a trancelike state, it is more of a controlled substance than just willing you in. And in turn, we could make a counter tincture or tea to “wake you up”.” He held up both hands to make air quotes. “Hell, we might even be able to send in more than one of you if you led the way first; or even try and find a way so you can all be in the same trance and see what’s going on.” 

Jungkook’s eyes sparked, whipping his head around to look at Namjoon with newfound vigor. “How many of us?” 

“I don’t know.” Namjoon twitched his nose and scratched at his chin. “Maybe all of you? I haven’t made it yet.” 

“How soon could you have this tea?” Yoongi urged. 

“Give me at least a day to try and come up with a recipe. Hopefully I have all the ingredients on hand that I’d need. Otherwise I’ll need to acquire them from somewhere.”

“Why don’t we work on both methods then? Keep pushing with what we were already doing while you conjure up the tea? It wouldn’t hurt to have two methods under our tool belts for emergencies. Especially since we can’t verbally communicate with each other while I’m gone.” Y/n reasoned, looking at Yoongi for his thoughts. 

“Sounds good to me.” He sprang into action, weaving through the people in his room to get to his wooden chest. “Let’s start now.”

It was becoming second nature; setting up the cloth, wards, and candles in the right order. Y/n had her hands at the ready with her herbs from her bag to drop into the bowl Yoongi held up for her, and her necklace was still clasped around her neck (not that she ever bothered taking it off). Namjoon took to pouring through the books Y/n had stacked in her room that he had let her borrow, a ripped out page balanced on the back of a fiction novel to write notes down on when he came across something that might work. Y/n and Jungkook waited patiently for Yoongi to close all of the pouches and bags, their hands lightly intertwined on the ground next to them. 

“When you looked through the family tree, did anything speak out to you? Besides the empty spaces.” Yoongi breathed out, his torso contorted to the side to clasp the lid shut. 

“Not really, no. It just looked like a family.” Y/n answered. 

“I’m just trying to think ahead–clearly there is something on the other side that is working with your mom, and has started getting worse within our lifetime. The ghost behaviors that we’ve noted express that openly. If we can try and pinpoint where to start looking perhaps we can send you in with the intention to find someone in particular.” His eyes turned heavy once they regarded Y/n, and she assumed he might have someone in mind to start with. And she might already know who that was. “Once your new copy gets in we can use that to document whether each person you find is…” Yoongi trailed off, his lips pursed. 

“Mean and goopy?” Y/n offered up, her voice raising an octave. Jungkook stifled a laugh and Yoongi let his choppily fall from his lips. “Or maybe mean and demonic…” 

“Yeah. Mean and demonic sounds better.” Yoongi turned forwards and inched his hands out to the two in front of him. Jungkook didn’t fight it, grabbing it without a fight. Y/n did the same. 

“We will have to come up with a better name that’s more concise.” Namjoon cast a brief glance up from the paper at the three. 

“No, I think it fits perfectly.” Y/n chuckled up at him. “We can use the acronym M.A.D.” 

“Huh. I actually like that one.” Namjoon jotted down another note on his paper. 

Yoongi made a short sound in the back of his throat. “Alright enough comments from the peanut gallery. I’m trying to work here.” 

“Yeah cause you shared earlier today that you do a lot of that…” Jungkook’s voice rose in a teasing jab.  Y/n had to suck in her lips to keep herself from laughing. 

“Enough you two.” Yoongi rolled his shoulders back and let his eyes close. “You’re going to give me a headache.” 

_________________________________________

They had successfully sent her across the veil, and gotten her out a total of three times. Each attempt had gotten more difficult than the last as their energy depleted at an accelerated rate. When they finished, it was communally agreed that Yoongi and Jungkook would try to work on their psychic abilities to fill in the noticeable gaps their natural abilities left. Yoongi wanted to work on his sight and sound while Jungkook entrusted himself to work on touch, in hopes to avoid wasting time if she were ever to be in danger again. To Jungkook’s disappointment, Yoongi offered to walk Y/n back to her room even though Namjoon and the younger one would walk right past her door on their way to the attic entrance. 

Y/n took up the corner of his bed while she waited for him to get everything squared away underneath it. He had never insisted on walking her back before, and Y/n had a simmering suspicion that he had something he wanted to talk about privately. Whatever it was made him nervous. His hands that were usually nimble from his days working with screws and wires fumbled often with the clasps and locks, and his breathing was controlled yet louder than it would normally be. A sign he was forcing itself to stay regulated. 

“What is it that you wanted to talk about away from the other two?” Y/n bit the bullet, tired of watching him drop the small key and struggle to pick it back up. 

He froze, his black eyes locking with hers and his face contorted into a forced deadpan. 

“Am I that obvious?” 

Y/n snorted, and brought her hands into her lap to fiddle with her fingers. “Yeah. Maybe your psychic stuff is wearing off on me, or maybe it's the fact that I’ve watched you drop that poor key four times now.” 

Yoongi sat back on his haunches, having given up on trying to lock the lid closed. He ran both hands through his hair twice and sucked in a large breath. His gaze scoured her face, and she felt a cool mist of his energy brush against her own. 

“I think you might know what I want to ask of you. And Jungkook would eat me alive if I made the request in front of him.” He let his tongue drag to the corner of his lips and sit there while he waited for her response. 

“I have a guess.” Y/n’s attention plummeted to her wringing hands. “Can I ask why?” 

“The energy really started changing after her, Y/n and we al know it. I think whatever all this is might have fed off of the energy her loss created, and maybe if we can try and reach her we can use her as a stepping stone. She might not fight you as hard as she fights me.” Yoongi hoisted himself up, and spun to lower himself down onto the bed next to her. “I won't make you do it. I know her death was hard on all of us–but you the most. If I can figure out how to do it, I will go do it myself instead. Don’t force yourself to do something you aren’t ready for.” 

Y/n didn’t know how to feel, or whether or not she was ready. She figured at some point she would have to see her again. Noting what she had learned from Jimin that morning, she was well aware that she would be seeing a lot more than just her sister. The bloom of grief welled up in her chest, yet this time it coupled with indignation; a swell of twined emotions both old and new. For whatever personal gain her mother was meddling into this for, she had tossed the rest of them in as collateral. Including her sister. She couldn’t leave her to rot–literally–by herself. Not anymore than she already had. 

“You can take some time to think about it. This is once we get comfortable. There’s someone else we can try first that was pretty involved with the incident if that would make you feel more comfortable.” Yoongi took one of his hands and ghosted them over where hers fidgeted in her lap.  

“Who?” Y/n looked at him from the corner of her eye, one of her fingers released from her own hold and brushed against his. 

He swallowed, retracting his hand from her touch. “My grandfather.” 

Y/n pushed back at the memories that threatened to resurface of the day her sister died. She hadn’t let herself replay them in over a decade, even when they tried to break through the walls she built around them she was adamant about pretending they were no longer there. But they were there. They were always there. 

“I’ll think about it.” Y/n whispered, lugging herself to her feet. “I should go, I’m getting pretty tired with everything.” 

Yoongi opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it closed. “Alright. I’ll watch you walk back.” He stood in his doorway with his flashlight in hand, observing the hall with a scrutinizing gaze as she shuffled back into her own room. It was obvious between the two of them that he could sense her shift in mood, but Y/n was grateful he was letting her have the space to process it on her own.

“Text me if you need anything. I’ll be up late as per usual.”  

“Will do.” She nodded solemnly, and slid through a small opening in her door. 

Y/n peeled off her clothes to take a quick rinse. What should’ve been a relaxing shower only worsened the weight in her chest. She didn’t want to feel wet–every droplet of warm water running off of her skin in rivets that pierced her to the bone. Jerking the spigot off, she tugged on a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt and sped off to the sanctuary that was waiting for her under the covers. 

They felt itchy and cold instead of soft and welcoming as it should have. Y/n knew she shouldn’t, but her eyes kept being pulled as if by the magnetic pull of her repressed emotions to her closed closet door. She could feel the box of photos calling to her–hear her sister’s shrill demonic cries from her dream. Her laughter. Her hugs. 

Y/n pressed the heels of her palms into her eyelids to keep the tears at bay. She needed to get a better control of her emotions, or else she’ll become a self fulfilling prophecy that her mother had condemned her to the day she had sent Y/n running with her tail between her legs. 

Her mother. 

The memories knocked harder on the front of her mind, barging their way to the surface where she wished more than anything that they wouldn’t. In spite of her wishes, she was helpless against the torrent of images and sounds that bubbled to the surface of her consciousness. She couldn’t hold them back any longer. It was better now than in front of anyone anyways. 

And so she remembered. 

 ______________________

July 5th 2008, 4:38am

Y/n shuddered at the feeling of the cold floor hitting the soles of her feet. It wasn’t a necessarily detested sensation, for her the heat had made her kick off the blankets hours before in a fit. She rubbed her eyes, slinking through the drab and shadowy lighting of the early morning past her sister’s bed and into their shared bathroom. The door was kept slightly ajar while she washed her hands, her eyes tracking the beam of light out into their room and where it draped over the edge of Matilda’s bed. The sheets discarded in a similar fashion to her own. Y/n poked her head around the door, to check on whether or not she was also awake–for maybe if she was, they could sneak down the hall to the playroom and distract each other with dolls and figurines while they waited for everyone else to wake up in their own time. 

Her bed was empty. 

Y/n huffed, thinking perhaps Matilda had heard Y/n going to the bathroom and hid away somewhere to jump out and scare her when she least expected it. Y/n decided to get the upper hand. She tiptoed around the bed, falling flat on the floor to peer beneath the metal frame. Her eyes only found storage bags of stuffed animals, and totes of polly pockets and dolls. Y/n scrunched her nose up, and scrambled to her feet and over to the closet. She swung the door open with a whispered “Gotcha!”. 

However there was still no Matilda. 

Her hand slid down the edge of the door, deflated at the discovery–or lack there of she supposed. Y/n took hesitant steps back to give her room a good once over, dragging her eyes across each surface, each little nook and cranny her sister might’ve possibly squeezed herself into. She came up with the same result her first two searches had, which meant for certain that she wasn’t in their room at all. 

Sneaking down the dark hall to the glass doors of the playroom, her heartbeat started to pick up speed. Y/n hated walking around the halls at night by herself but she had to find her sister. It was her job to keep track of her. The shadows felt heavy as they closed in around her, like each step was being tracked by someone just out of sight. Y/n spun her head in all directions and found no source of the feeling. 

Y/n swiftly crept back in the direction of her room, keeping her steps light as to not wake G-min across the hall. He wasn’t her target. Her quick knocks roused her neighbor: a grumpy faced Hoseok with his eyes nearly glued shut with sleep. 

“Do you know what time it is Ducky?” His voice was muted by the pout stuck on his mouth.

“I can’t find Matilda, and I’m too scared to look by myself.” Y/n leaned into his face. “The ghosts feel icky.” 

Hoseok shook his head with a disapproving stare. “You’re such a pain in my butt sometimes.” Regardless of his obvious discontent with her request, he stepped out into the hall to join her.  

Y/n was able to complete the trek to the playroom with Hoseok now by her side, for he made the shadows prickle less against her skin. They both pulled back the sheer curtains to press their small faces up to the glass panes separating the two of them from the pitch black playroom. The absence of lights in there made it apparent quickly that she wasn’t in there either. 

“Maybe she went to sleep with Schwan?” Y/n peeled her face from the now fogged up glass.

Hoseok pulled back straight as well, giving her an animated shrug. “Let’s check.” 

Y/n repeated the same brief explanation she had done with Hoseok on Amelia, just this time with an ounce more panic. After confirming Matilda was not in their eldest sister’s room, Amelia joined in the search–no matter how her teeth chattered with stress–she wanted to help. They darted across the hall to examine the ballroom from above through the glass windows across from Amelia’s room, and had no luck there. 

They huddled together to descend down the stairs with as good a controlled volume as a group of children can manage. Hushed words of complaint at the others noise levels floating up to the landing and down both of the halls. Thankfully, it was early enough for the house to be oblivious in their beds. Well–almost everyone. 

“What are you guys doing?” Jimin’s voice cracked from above them, his upper body hunched around the railing to give them a sour scowl. The three on the stair landing traded glances, a look of shame shared between them. 

“Did we wake you?” Amelia, furtive and apologetic, called up to him. 

Jimin rolled his eyes and skipped down the stairs to where they stood huddled. “You guys were being way too loud for me not to.” 

“We are looking for Matilda.” Y/n governed them forward, not waiting for him to reach their side before descending the rest of the stairs. 

“I heard.” Jimin gave them each a moody glare, and followed Y/n down to the foyer. “I’ll help.” 

In thirty minutes they had checked each room (outside of the parent’s bedrooms) of the first floor. Under every table and desk, behind every curtain or couch, and in every closet. Y/n’s heart dropped into her stomach and dread swirled like smoke in her chest at the impact of its fall. After the kitchen and the waking of her mother, Y/n stood frozen in time where Mariah had left them to hurry back into her room with her eyes locked on the small crack in the front door. 

Matilda wouldn’t have ever gone out by herself. 

Even though earlier that morning thirty minutes had felt like nothing during their search, it was made apparent that a lot can happen within that time frame. For example, what was once a moderately quiet and dark house on a peaceful Saturday morning had devolved into chaos. Each room glowed for every light had been turned on, and every person had joined in on the search of the house. And now after that grueling half hour, every family unit stood intermingled on the front lawn while they were split into smaller groups to fan out into the woods and down to the hotel. 

The sky was turning a pale grayish-blue when Y/n was settled next to G-min, her father, Jin and Mr. Jeon. Her mother and Hye-won–Mrs. Min–insisted that the children shouldn’t be a part of the search, but none of them were willing to stay behind. Jungkook, Amelia, and Mariah stayed back at the estate to explain the situation to the waves of law enforcement that trickled in. Her mother struggled through the story each time, unable to keep herself together through her hysteria. 

“I told her she couldn’t watch the fireworks last night. She had been misbehaving. I think she went out on her own–we were going to watch tonights!” 

The rest set off in all directions on foot. 

The sound of different calls of Matilda’s name haunted the air from all directions, barraging against Y/n’s eardrums as a sinking reminder that she had failed. She had failed to find her on her own like she was supposed to. Her refusal to quit kept pushing her forwards through the brush alone, something pulling her forwards with no direction in mind. She could hear her own name now being called in tandem with Matilda’s as her search team realized she had slipped away from them to follow her own path. 

“Y/n!” Jin’s lanky frame came up to tower beside her, grabbing at her arm. “Come on, we are supposed to be looking somewhere different. The cops are going to take the woods.” 

“I don't care.” Y/n pulled her arm from his grasp and trudged onwards. 

Jin stayed after her, on alert for any sign of the rest of their group. “I mean it Y/n. We shouldn’t be here.” He paused, raising an arm above his head. “Over here!” 

“Y/n! That’s enough.” Her father gripped underneath her arms and lifted her off of her feet and into the air. “We need to check the historical society. We can’t waste time looking for you too.” 

“No!” Y/n pried herself from his hold. “I think I know where she is.” Y/n set her stern gaze on her father, her breath coming out in pants and her stubbornness taking hold. 

“She wouldn’t.” Anselm’s stare matched her intensity.

Y/n ignored him, plowing onwards on the path towards the lake with Jin stumbling after her.  She could hear Sanghun murmuring words of comfort to her father, sharing that Jungkook had also had outbursts when dealing with the passing of his mother, and to let her do what she needed to in order to get through the day. Thus the three older men let her finish her path after making a quick call on a small flip phone to one of the other parents to take over the historical society. None of them actually believed that they would find anything at her desired destination. 

But Y/n knew she would find her there. She could feel it. She just hadn’t expected how she would’ve found her. 

As they crested the slope down to the dock, Y/n’s eyes caught the vibrant colors of her sister's pajama set gliding across the surface of the lake. Unmoving. Y/n’s world crumbled beneath her feet at the brief glimpse she caught of her sister’s lifeless body buoying a few yards out from the dock.

Her line of sight was abruptly shuttered by Sanghun’s shoulder where he scooped her up. Her own cries melded together with the screams of her father. As Mr.Jeon ran back up the slop with her head pressed into his arm, she snagged brief images of a green faced Jin turning to follow them, and her father splashing into the lake fully clothed with reckless abandon. 

What confused Y/n the most however, her sobs catching in her throat, was that she saw her sister: alive and moving behind G-min. Her small hands urgently tugging on his tracksuit jacket that whipped out from her hand from the speed that he pulled his phone from his pocket. His mouth moved at inhuman speed with how fast he spilled a description of the situation to a 911 operator. 

“We found her body.” 

Y/n struggled to free her arm from Sanghun’s hold, reaching out to where Matilda stood. No. No. She was right there! She wanted to yell at all of them to turn around and grab her. The words were stuck in her chest.  

“GÄNSE!” Y/n’s screech out for Matilda ripped from her throat, an unforgettable sound to even her own ears. Matilda’s round and terrified eyes locked onto Y/n at her call, her bare feet moving to run after them–but Y//n was already gone back over the hill and out of sight.

Y/n kicked and screamed the entire way back to the estate. Her bellowing cries echoing around the entire property, drawing attention from any search groups nearby. But nothing could’ve prepared Y/n for the sounds that came from her mother that day. 

They didn’t even have to tell her. She took one look at Sanghun’s eyes filled to the brim with remorse and unshed tears and fell onto the study floor in a boneless heap. Shrieking the entire way down in a howling misery. Y/n wasn’t in any better of a state, tumbling out of Mr. Jeon’s hold to stagger towards her mother. Mariah’s arms shot out to grapple desperately for her, pulling Y/n into her lap in a bone crushing squeeze. Amelia joined in shortly after with a similar ringing sob, their mother making room to squish them together with trembling arms. 

Misuk had barged through the door at some point and elbowed her way past the officers waiting in the foyer for Y/n’s comment. She dropped to her knees, her heart shaped mouth pulled into a grief ridden grimace and as she threw her arms up and over the three of them. Her thin frame kept the three mourning bodies from falling onto the floor, and sheltered them from the pressing uniformed men from encroaching further into their space. For if there was nothing else for her to do but hold them off a little bit longer, then that's what she would do.

The rest of the day blurred by in a gray haze after that. Everyone in the house had been pulled aside for individual questioning, but nothing raised any suspicions. After reviewing the hotel cameras that clipped near the estate entrance, they could follow the tiny figure waddling in the distance across the lawn and onto the dirt trail to the lake sometime between three-fifty and four in the morning. Almost only thirty minutes before Y/n had woken herself up to use the bathroom. Her death had been ruled accidental. The story being that she must’ve gone to the docks to watch the fireworks on her own in an act of defiance, and that she must’ve slipped on the deck and hit her head on the way down. Their only comfort being that she had to have been unconscious before she sank beneath the surface. 

Y/n couldn’t move on from the guilt of letting her down. Maybe if she had woken up a bit earlier she would’ve been able to go with her. Maybe she could’ve pulled her out, or stopped her from falling all together. She should’ve done better.

Flickers of her image lingered long after her funeral. Y/n would see flashes of her in the playroom, or her giggles beckoning her from the closet like she was still in there waiting for Y/n to walk by and scare her. This made letting go only harder. It made it easier to believe there would still be a chance she could return home and into their shared room, and everyone would celebrate and set off as many fireworks as she wanted–just grateful for her to be back. But of course, that wasn’t reality. 

She was gone. For good. 

Y/n blubbered on her pillow, her chest aching with how deep the wound carved itself into it. Her therapist told her that perhaps she was holding onto the grief and compartmentalizing it away as a means to keep her sister alive in any way possible–even through the pain. And perhaps she was right, Y/n had a terrible habit of holding onto things for far too long. This though, was something she wouldn’t ever let go of. She couldn’t stop the silent cries from shuddering out of her body, at both the thought of Matilda, and the thought of letting it all go. 

Y/n threw the covers off her legs, and without thinking tore open her bedroom door to tread on unsteady feet out into the hall. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore and tapping the pressure points has proven useless at this point–she just wanted to sleep. Y/n cowered in the hall in front of a wooden door and waited for the person on the other side to open it, her lip drawn between her teeth to keep any noises in her throat. 

Yoongi wrenched his door open, warily scanning his eyes up and down the hall. They stopped on her withering form, sizing up the current state she was in with wide-eyed uncertainty. 

“Can I come in for a while?” She croaked. Her hands wrung themselves in front of her in shaky knots. 

Yoongi gave a slow, somber nod, and opened the door for her to enter his room that she had just left thirty minutes prior. Except they both understood, wholly so and without question, that a lot could change in just thirty minutes. 

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Schwan: Swan

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[heartofbusan]

but what was the reason though?

https://x.com/funnyjimin1/status/1849408317308715304

he looks so good here

Jimin, you see, is very particular about stains. He doesn't like ruining his clothes, so Jimin takes care to remove clothing whenever he expects to make a mess. Above, we see exhibit A.

And here exhibit B.

These two goobers gave me so much inspiration to write about. I feel like the drought is getting to me. They need to come back 😩😩😩 I want to bask in their beauty and madness.