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yoongleboonglepie · 3 months ago

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Pechsträhne Chapter 1

BTS x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlist-Spotify

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A/N: I can't even describe how excited and proud of myself I am to finally get this out on paper. My brain has been riddled with this story ever since I had a dream that inspired it. I can't wait to share this with y'all! I'm going to be figuring out how to make a masterlist tonight that I will keep updated with the main story, along with any extra goodies like playlists or Pinterest boards if anyone would be interested in any of that stuff. Please enjoy. Lots of love ~ Delyn <3

word count: ~13k

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You have been invited to celebrate with us!

The Wörner Hotel and Estate is celebrating 150 years of providing excellent service to all of our guests, and we want you to be a part of it! Built in 1875 by German settlers Matthäus and Felizitas Wörner, it is a nature lover’s dream; nestled between the edge of Michaux State Forest and historic Gettysburg Pennsylvania. This luxury hotel is the perfect balance between historical and luxury. We have everything you may need from live entertainment, multi-room suites, a freshly updated swimming pool, 24-hour room service, daily activities or fitness classes, valet parking, onsite grocery, and more. And with over one hundred acres of gorgeous grounds to explore, you’ll never get bored! Well, what are you waiting for? There’s no greeting warmer than at The Wörner Hotel and Estate!

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the gold embossed invitation absent-mindedly, her eyes finding it difficult to keep their attention on anything else other than the piece of paper that felt so heavy in her lap. She had fought herself incessantly about what to do with it since it had wedged itself haphazardly into her mail slot, a physical embodiment of what a thorn in her side it was. Its arrival shouldn't have caused as much emotional turmoil as it did. She should have expected it, she had told herself repeatedly in order to calm her nerves, which worked about as well as a sinner praying their way through a last-ditch effort to make it to heaven. And despite what this invitation may say, Wörner Hotel and Estate seemed like anything but heaven to her right now - Hell would be a more fitting name. Seeing the sketched out image of the hotel printed on the bottom shot her back into her childhood memories of sitting short and wide-eyed as she watched different guests all busy up the stairs to enjoy their vacation, or where the tours would disappear onto the different walking trails. Only turning her attention away when she realized they had not noticed her presence, to whatever toys she set up on the front veranda that day- usually animal figurines whose feet and faces had been gnawed off by the family dog, or severely mistreated Barbies.

She floated through all of her memories of growing up in the hotel with great resistance: Stampeding through the gardens with the staff children after cold elementary school days; Guests that just never seemed to leave; Her parents lavish parties in the ballroom; Phantom touches in the lobby; Swimming in the lake up at the state park on warm summer nights with her sisters and younger brother and pigging out on smores late into the evening.

Her younger sister’s death.

Ghostly figures in long hallways, reaching their hands out to grab her. Always watching.

Her friends. Her fight with her parents.

Everything she didn’t want to remember had been stamped with a wax seal and thrown back into her orbit against her will. She hasn’t spoken to her parents in four years as of this past Christmas, and her younger brother Roland has become increasingly difficult to keep on the phone for longer than 10 minutes before he loses interest in their conversations. Her elder sister Amelia, only three years older than y/n herself, has been radio silent since the night Y/N left the hotel and didn’t return. Their relationship was barely kept afloat by obligatory texts on holidays and birthdays.

All this makes Y/n wonder why they ever thought she would go back and why they even sent this invitation to her? Who still even worked there? And what in god's name took over her mind to have her bag packed with a rushed explanation to her two very confused roommates, and seated on the first Amtrak train from D.C back to Pennsylvania? Maybe it was the residual emptiness of missing her family from the past holiday season, or maybe it was a nagging feeling in her stomach that told her she needed to.

The train slowed down as it reached some small station outside the border of Pennsylvania state lines that Y/N can’t be bothered to hear the name of. She glanced out the window to watch a few stragglers shuffle on and off of the train car in front of her thoughtlessly, their impatient and rushed steps of no real interest to her.

With it being mid morning on a weekday, she had just missed rush hour and consequently the train wasn’t as busy. This gave her space and time to think about what to text to her driver-whoever that is-which she hasn’t done yet and probably should. She only had less than an hour before she arrived at the Philadelphia station, and the drive from the hotel was almost triple that. With a gentle jolt, the train begins to pick up momentum again, its grinding metal and loud engine squealing at her to hurry up.

Biting her lip, she pulls out her phone and looks at the messy pen scribble of her mother’s handwriting on the bottom of her invitation: a phone number she doesn’t recognize and a short “Call if you need a ride :)” message next to it. The friendliness of the smiley face seemingly contradictory of the basic impersonal invitation she was sure they sent to anyone and everyone.

Maybe they didn’t expect her to come and they just felt obligated to send it? Turning the thought over in her head, she shook it away with a shudder. It was too late to have these doubts now-the hum of the train beneath her seat and the “Welcome to Pennsylvania!” sign making that abundantly clear. Punching the number into her phone, she hit the call button before she could give herself time to second-guess it. It rings once. Twice. A third time. Only stopping when the receiver tells her the number can’t be reached and to try again later.

“Fuck.” Y/N curses under her breath, remembering that she is, in fact, in a metal tube speeding through tunnels and trees that really push the boundaries of her average cell phone line. She types the number in again and waits this time until the train pulls into another small stop right at the southernmost part of Pennsylvania. She had not maybe 30 minutes (if she was lucky) before her train ride would come to its dreaded end. Thumbing the call button, she waited. This time it rang only twice before an overly enthusiastic voice answered on the other line.

“A warm greeting from The Wörner Hotel and Estate! Front desk and lobby services, this is Seokjin speaking. How may I assist you today?” His voice was smooth and light on the ears, but it hit her as anything but light. The name made her entire form tense up, and a nervous sweat prick at her brow. The reality of what she was doing truly settling into her system as the voice of an old friend forced her to face the consequences of her actions head-on. It's fine, She told herself, he probably doesn't even care. It's been years...

“Hello? May I help you?” He quipped again, a bit less perky than the first time.

Realizing that she hadn’t responded she choked out “Yes! Yes, one moment please!” She mentally face-palmed herself for such a clumsy response. “This is Y/N. Y/N Wörner. Anslem and Mariah’s daughter.”

A moment of fuzzy silence met her ears causing her to shift anxiously in her seat. She was in the process of checking the phone screen to see if he had hung up when shuffling noises on the other end of the line jolted her phone back to her ear and his silver-tone voice cut through the static.

“Oh! Yes forgive me-Mrs. Wörner had mentioned you might reach out.” He let out a smooth chuckle before continuing on. “I assume you are calling for transportation services?” If he was surprised, his tone didn’t show it.

Y/N nodded, before catching that he could not see her with a “Yes, please!”

“Great! What’s the pick up address?” Y/N could hear the smile in his words and she flushed with embarrassment at how not put together she sounded. What a wonderful "first" impression she's giving him of her adult self.

“It’s going to be the Philadelphia Amtrak station.” Her eyes flitted to the trees dotted with new buds outside her window, finding their gentle sway in the wind soothing enough to qualm her racing heart.

“Awesome... And what time will your train be arriving at the station, Ms. Wörner?” She heard the click of a pen, and the scratch of its ink on the paper.

“Well, you see about that…” She trailed off as the train began to leave the small station, the pen scratching mimicking her pause. “Maybe 20 minutes or so?” She laughed nervously at her own obvious lack of foresight. If he had managed to scrounge up any good impression of her during their call, she had just metaphorically tossed it out of her train window.

Seokjin guffawed on the other end of the line and openly sputtered out a “20 minutes?! That's an almost 3 hour drive, miss. I will send someone out right away, but will you be alright waiting?” Y/n could tell he was trying his best to cover up his anxious outburst with concern, and the formality in his phrase feeling foreign and uncomfortable to her ears.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll grab something to eat and hunker down on a bench. It’s my fault for not calling sooner…” Y/N’s voice trickled out as she realized how this might make them look to her parents-making a guest wait for longer than they would approve of. She made a mental note to herself that she would just happen to forget to mention it during any conversations with them.

“Alright then Ms. Wörner. Your driver will reach out to you via text to share their information, location services, and a description of their vehicle. " She heard the unmistakable clicking of frantic computer keys as the previous anxiety in his tone faded and his customer service voice took over once again. "Please have your phone on hand with notifications on in case they need to reach you with any questions. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

“No, that is everything. Thank you, Jin.” The nickname spilled from her lips with a practiced ease that surprised her own self, but he carried on like he didn’t seem to notice.

“Wonderful! I will see you later in the evening.” She could hear him typing something into his computer before the clacking ceased and a moment of silence enveloped them again. This time the silence felt eerily wrong and awkward. She could almost hear the sharp exhale before his voice drifted through the phone at a volume so quiet she almost missed it.

"I'm sorry- I couldn't catch that." She laughed trying to lighten the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“It’s…” He paused, seemingly weighing the sound of his own words on his tongue. “It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

The dial tone signaled that the line had ended, but she still found herself holding the speaker to her ear much longer than she needed to. The way he said her name with so much heaviness had her whole world spinning. It was both nerve-wracking and comforting that he remembered her. It meant she hadn’t been gone long enough for anyone to truly forget as easily as she had wished they could-for she should know better than to expect from them what she could never do within herself-and she couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

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Hi there, Y/N! I am about 15 minutes out from the station. I will park out front in the pick up line- black Hyundai, license plate no. JHP-0613. See you soon!! :) - Hoseok J.

Y/n used a greasy finger to swipe the notification bar down to read the message. So Hoseok ended up staying to work at the hotel too? She tapped the straw of her empty soda cup to her lips in thought. She would’ve bet money that he would’ve at least been working in the live entertainment part of the hotel; destined to follow in his parents’ footsteps more so than one of their chauffeur drivers.

His father, Jeonghun Jung or Mr. Jung, had been an exceptional live swing and jazz singer in the evenings in the main restaurant on the property, the Adelaide, with his mother Misuk Jung performing duets with him on rare occasions. Hoseok had been his mother’s favorite dance partner during her weekly swing dancing classes, and he had done wonderful stage work even at a young age. He should’ve had a straight shot to take their place once they retired, and they couldn’t possibly still be performing these days at the rate they had with their age, Y/n mused. Unless things really had changed drastically while she had been away. It made her wonder if everyone had stayed at the hotel except for her.

She scoffed at the thought. Last she heard the Min’s boy applied to a college up in New York, and Jins cousin always was a smart kid-he must’ve left first chance he could. They had been more of her sister's crowd even though their age gap wasn't that drastic-having grown in distance from Y/n herself once high school made that small age gap seem wider than it was.

Shaking her thoughts away, she wiped the grease of her fast food meal on her pants and typed a simple “Great! See you then.”

She swung her bags onto her shoulders with a grunt, and leisurely strolled through the station, only pausing to toss her soda cup away in a nearby trash can. Y/n pushed through the exit and found a spot for herself near the pick-up line that wasn't too uncomfortably close to other passengers awaiting their rides.

Taking in her surroundings, she eyed the bridge leading up to the station and watched all the pedestrians walking their own beat into the cement. The thing about Pennsylvania is that anywhere in the ungodly large state feels familiar. Maybe it’s the constant stark contrast of natural beauty and old cement monstrosities, or perhaps it’s the feeling that every place in this humid state is haunted with its own age and existence. Being surrounded by the bustling nature of Philly’s atmosphere reminded her of taking trips here with her family, having walked the same sidewalk following the bridge to and from the train station many times.

A rhythmic vibration grew in volume and stole her attention away from her surroundings as a sleek black car pulled into the spot closest to her. The hip-hop song cut off as the driver's side door opened and a head of long wavy brown hair framing a wide heart shaped grin popped out from within.

“Y/n! Wow!” He let out a short whistle as he leaped onto the sidewalk with ease, and traipsed over to wrap her in a tight hug before she could protest. “It’s been waayyy too long.”

Her arms loosely wrapped themselves around his small waist, and all she could smell was orange blossom and pine-The latter being one of the signature smells surrounding the estate and the former being purely just how she remembered Hoseok. For a few moments the smell took her back to sitting shoulder to shoulder with him and his mother, a large mug of mulled orange tea, and their backs bent over a card game with crisp autumn air permeating the room from an open window. At that time it had been nearly impossible to keep him off his feet after he had suffered an injury from playing too roughly with the other boys. He had been practically melting from boredom, and had lost a lot of his usual shine from being sheltered in on himself. A shine that radiated off of him like a thousand suns at the present day.

“Ugh, not long enough." She lamented, and he released her from the hug with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Save that attitude for your folks, not me.” His eyes trailed from her and the backpack and overstuffed carry on bag digging into her shoulders, before his warm brown eyes found hers again with a click of his tongue. “Is that all you brought? I figured for such a long stay there would at least be a suitcase-hell even a second backpack.”

Y/n tilted her head at him, confused. “ Such a long stay?”

Hoseok raised a brow at her response and chuckled. “I mean, yeah. I assume you’re staying for the entire anniversary celebration schedule-are you not?” He gestured to the straps on her shoulder, and she immediately shrugged them off and into his waiting hands. The relief her shoulder blades felt was unmatched at the moment.

She hesitated in her response, choosing instead to watch him pop the trunk and place her bags in. She hadn’t actually thought about how long she’d be here, she realized. Weirdly enough, her mind felt too fuzzy to bother worrying about another thing today-so she waited for his eyes to glance up at her over the open trunk to give him a shrug.

“I didn’t think that far ahead, if I’m being honest.”

He let out a boisterous laugh and slammed the trunk shut. “Seriously, you must not have changed that much.” Continuing to chuckle, he rounded the side of the car to the passenger side, and swung the door open in a dramatic gesture and a flash of his blinding smile. “After you, Ms. Wörner.”

With a smile and a shake of her head, she settled into the front seat. He closed the door once certain she was fully in the car, and skipped to the driver side door and swung himself in and slammed the door in one swift move.

“Are you always this casual with all your passengers?” Y/n turned to face him with a teasing smile.

He snorted. “God, no-I like having my job.” He flicked the turn signal on for only a half second before swerving into the passing lane, immediately keeping pace with the other philly drivers. The hip hop song resumed at a lower volume than before, filling the car with a laid back atmosphere. “I have all my passengers sit in the back whenever possible. They can be really…” He paused trying to find the right word while switching lanes to take a westward exit. “Annoying.” he concluded.

“And I’m not 'annoying' to you?” Y/n laughed, thinking about the amount of times he had referred to her as such as a child.

“You?” He let his eyes flicker to her briefly, sliding a sly smile on his face before returning his gaze to the road. “Never.”

The drive went by quickly with such an engaging driver by her side. He was sure to ask all about her time in D.C., and she readily supplied him with answers. She told him all about her starting school, then in turn dropping out after her first year after feeling like no major fit her goals (if she even knew what those were anymore). A fact she was usually much too embarrassed to share, but he took it with no judgement. Instead taking the conversation elsewhere, like her current hobbies and interests, or prodding into her dislike for her roommates with exaggerated humor. She didn’t realize how much she had missed talking with him. Why didn’t she reach out to him? To any of them? She wondered.

As if her brain liked being cruel her to when she was finally able to slip into states of peace, it forcefully pulled one of her last prominent memories of him.

Her face was hot and wet as she stomped out of the private dining room. The gentle sway of Nat King Cole that used to be her favorite around this time of year had become her least favorite thing in the world at the moment, each note hitting her ears sharply. Her head pounding in retaliation to what was once a subtle volume now seeming like it bounced tauntingly in her skull, telling her to have a ‘Merry Christmas”. If she wasn’t so angry she would’ve laughed at the irony. She didn’t get far down the festively lit hall before she ran face first into Hoseok, his hands still damp from having just been washed bracing her shoulders, and his concerned voice muffled by her own blood rushing through her ears. She met his worried and imploring eyes, his wavy hair only just gracing his brows back then, and all she saw reflecting back in his eyes was her own swollen and disheveled reflection. Then his face fell into the same shape everyone else in the dining room had. Pity.

She hated it. It made her skin crawl, and her stomach bubble in self-defensive rage. He was looking at her the same way Mr. and Mrs. Min just had. Like the Jeon and Kim families had. Like Hoseok’s parents had. It made her sick.

“Did you know too?” She spat out.

He stuttered at her sudden intensity. “W-what? What are you-”

She pushed her finger into his chest sharply. “Don’t you lie to me, Hoseok Jung.”

A moment of stillness gripped them both in a heavy hand that's fingers were closing in on them, one at a time in a tight fist, trying to take its time suffocating them. His eyes flickered back and forth between both of hers and then she saw it-his chin crinkled just so-and it gave him away to her in an instant.

She let out a wet angry laugh that sounded closer to a sob. “So you too, huh?” She took a staggered step back, feeling like with every step the floor was pulling her deeper. Like it was trying to pull her through the floorboards so it could swallow her whole. At this moment she wanted it to. “Did everyone know?”

“Y/n, listen I-” His eyes were glassy, saying more to her than his words could.

“Save it.” She shoved past his outstretched hands and began the pathetic walk of shame back to her room. She hated crying in front of people, and it seems like everyone in the house had gotten a front row seat and an encore. She heard him call out for her, but it didn’t stop her. She didn’t have the strength to face any more betrayal than she already had.

“Y/n? You still with me?” Hoseok took one hand off the wheel to playfully wave it in front of her face.

She pushed his hand and her memories away in fake annoyance with a gentle ‘sorry’.

He shook it off with a laugh.

“So what about you? Your parent-are they still performing at the Adelaide?” Y/n snuck a sideways glance to judge his response.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Ah…no not really. My dad will sometimes sing some of his old classics on busy weekends, and my mom switched from swing classes to waltzing lessons. But otherwise they’re mostly retired from the entertainment industry and doting on my sister. Old age and achy bones and all that.”

Y/n nodded along, trying not to ask the burning question of why he hadn’t taken their spot. Before the question could sear it’s way off her tongue he spoke again, seeming to read her thoughts.

“You remember the Kims 2.0? Not Seokjin and Namjoon kinda Kims. The new Kims." He gave her befuddled expression a brief sideways glance and continued to clarify. "Thinking about it, I guess you probably didn’t get to spend as much time with them before you were sent off to all those different schools. And they were usually gone around the holidays as his parents don’t care too much for Christmas. They were only around for a couple months before they hired their son permanently.”

Y/n’s face scrunched in thought as she tried to remember their arrival. “The Kims 2.0?”

Hoseok hummed. “Yeah. They were hired after y-” He seemed to catch himself “After I broke my leg-sometime around there. They do stage planning and such. They travel a lot and work remotely from California most of the time though.”

When Y/n didn’t give him much of a reaction he clicked his tongue and moved on.

“Well, their son, Taehyung-he’s got this singing voice that’s undeniably born for big band and jazz-they would’ve been a fool not to give him the job the second he turned 21. It didn’t take much convincing for him to take my dad’s place.” There was tension in his tone that he seemed to be trying to cover with his usual nonchalance. But she could pick up on his discomfort-the a passage of time doing nothing to rust what had once been second nature-and decided to change the topic.

“Huh. I guess the name sounds familiar…but tell me,” she turned her body to face him and folded her hands in her lap. “Who else stayed behind?”

“Once a gossip, always a gossip.” He rolled his eyes, but another small genuine smile was breaking across his face.

When he didn’t start talking immediately, she gave him an expectant look.

“Alright, I’ll spoil the surprise, geez.” He turned the car onto an exit, signaling their time on major highways ending and the time of battlefield side roads and wooded winding paths etched into the scenery. Satisfied with that, she turned her head to look out her window- she could see the main town of Gettysburg in the distance, outlined by the setting sun.

“Seokjin works the desk and maintains the lobby, as you are aware. Usually I work as a valet or chauffeur. But sometimes I pick up random jobs around the place when I’m not busy: like working the pool or picking up shifts at the convenience store and gift shop. Pretty much anywhere they need me.” He turned off the main road that would’ve sent them straight through downtown Gettysburg, and veered onto the start of the long scenic back roads that led to the Hotel and Estate. “Sometimes even giving Yoongi a hand with electrical issues when he needs-”

“Yoongi? I thought he went to a university in New York?” Y/n couldn’t contain her disbelief.

“Oh, yeah. He did, but came back about 3 years in. Said something about needing to figure some things out before he went back to finish.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Anyways, our Jiminie is one of our tour guides and the historian” Hoseok cooed, “You should pop into one of his tours of the property in the morning! I don’t know if anyone has gotten around to telling him about you coming back yet.”

The way he said coming back with such finality settled heavily in her stomach-like he had expected her to come back-like he was expecting her to stay. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts; that was definitely just her anxiety speaking.

“Jungkook works housekeeping right now-but he’s been weighing going into security training. I’m sure he's just ecstatic to hear about you. “ Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows aggressively and gave her a teasing smile.

“Oh shut up with that, he was always just my good friend.” Y/n flushed lightly, knowing full well Jungkook had not seen her as just a friend throughout their childhood. Always trailing after her like a puppy because for some reason her awkwardness, lack of social skills, and very strict way of organizing her animal figurines must have really drawn him in. He hadn’t ever actually said anything to her about it, choosing instead to be a good friend who was a great shoulder to lean on. But even with obliviousness being a top skill on her metaphorical resume, she had been able to tell.

“Uh huh. You tell yourself that, Mrs. Jeon~”

“Oh my god! We were FIVE. Playing house was serious business back then and you know it-we even got divorced twice. TWICE! Does the word divorce not mean anything to you?” Y/n couldn’t contain her laughter by the end of her defense, and neither could he.

“What was the first one about again?”

Y/n waved her hand dismissively “Oh-he wouldn’t let me name our pretend pet dolphin Shoeshine or something like that. Said the dolphin needed a more distinguished name.”

“Damn, that really does sound like very serious business.” He cackled.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent here!” She spun her entire body in her seat to face him “I also married YOU once. AND Yoongi.”

He gave a loud overdramatic gasp. “So you admit to cheating on me? All these years I wondered…what a shame.”

They dissolved into a fit of giggles before a comfortable silence settled in the vehicle. Glancing back over at him to quip another remark about their fake marriage, she paused. He seemed to want to say something else with the way his mouth tightened before opening momentarily-then snapping it shut with pursed lips. He must’ve decided to just say it, his voice breaking the silence.

“Your sister is still off in Europe, so we haven’t seen her since the last time you were both back for the holidays.” He flexed his fingers against the wheel to ease the budding tension from his body. She could tell he was avoiding bringing up what happened during that holiday visit that caused her sister to run to foreign college programs- and she couldn’t blame him. Their reluctance to speak of the topic made it easy for him to quickly move on.

“Roland goes to school nearby for now, but I don’t see him often enough to give you much more than that.” He offered with an apologetic shrug. “And last but not least-Namjoon has taken up landscaping maintenance and gardening. He does a great job with it too-It is what he went to school for after all.” Hoseok chuckled, trying to keep the mood light again.

“So he did make it to school?” Y/n quipped in.

“Yeah, he did some hybrid program that had him in and out of California to study Botany and Horticulture, with a minor in some sort of plant management….something. You can ask him about the specifics.”

“Huh.” Y/n fell back in her seat, her shoulders sagging against the seat.

“What?” He glanced over at her as he made a right turn onto the gradual hill that snaked it’s way to the front lawn gates.

“It’s just…” She saw the gates of the driveway in the distance and her heart tightened painfully in her chest. “Everyone stayed. I was so sure most of you would’ve banked the second they got the chance.” Everyone but me.

His grip tightened on the wheel.

“We tried, but it’s almost like this place-” He paused with a sharp exhale. “-you just feel like you never want to leave.”

His words were genuine, but his smile was not. It was the first smile she’d seen from him today that didn’t meet his eyes

Pulling into the gate she felt her heart somehow squeeze tighter, and she tried to shake away the unsettling feeling that found a home in her chest at his words. Instead turning her attention to the old metal gates that were always propped open to welcome its endless flow of guests. The long front lawn decorated in hardy shrubs dotted inbetween with budding nursery plants, the soil around them was still loose and fresh, probably new additions to welcome the coming of spring. Her eyes surveyed the clash of the familiar and unfamiliar. The plants looked different than the usual flora species she remembered them traditionally planting, it looked like someone was experimenting with a new layout-probably Namjoon- she concluded. Hoseok took the gravel road at a relaxed place, giving her time to take it all in. The outside of the hotel remained the same- A combination of colonial and old European romance. Boxy, yet elegant, and still unimaginably huge. Her eyes flitted from the front stairs and followed to the right around to the side veranda built onto the sloping hill, so you can gaze down into a heavy tree line and over the-

“What the fuck is that?” Y/n pointed at a rounded protrusion from the right side of the building towards a dome of glass panels where the outdoor pool used to rest.

“What? The pool?” He slowed the car to a stop so she could get a better look at it. “They built a greenhouse dome around the outside portion of it to extend its year round use. It’s really nice inside. Next shift I work at the pool, I'll come grab you and you can keep me company while I keep an eye out for drowning children.” After she had a few moments to take in the new addition, he put the car into motion, snaking his way through the roundabout and stopping at the base of the stone steps.

“Here we are!” He sang unbuckling both of their seatbelts. He hopped out of his seat the instant he put the car in park, and shut the door behind him without sparing her a glance. She heard the trunk open, and the shake of the car that made her sway in her seat as he pulled her stuff out of the trunk. In any other circumstance, she’d think he was trying to be annoying, a classic move on his part of avoiding her gaze and leaving her in the dust to see who could make it to the front doors first. But this time she could tell he was giving her space to take it in, and for that she was grateful.

She took a deep breath and gripped the door handle with three fingers. She watched through the window as Hoseok started carrying her bags up the stairs at aleisurelye pace, taking his own time in order to give her more. She felt the handle give under her hands, and the rush of chilly early spring air brushed against her skin, and the symphony of bugs and the sound of the tree branches dancing in the breeze met her ears.

The hair on her limbs stood up in succession, sending chills across her entire form. One of her feet met the ground, and the crunch of gravel felt so loud in her ears. It rattled her bones and made every muscle coil up, like an animal preparing to run from danger. She stood, putting both feet on the ground, an intense feeling getting stronger the closer she got to the stairs. Her heart thrummed in time with each one of her steps, and her ears began to ring. Hoseok had already made it to the doors, and was conversing with a luggage boy. Why did he feel so far away all of the sudden? The air suddenly felt as though it was closing in on her with each pace and the ringing in her ears was so loud, she thought they might bleed.

The bottom of her shoes met the first stone step with a thud, and suddenly all was quiet. She froze, unable to move any further. No more bugs, no sway of the tree branches in the wind. The ringing in her ears had ceased. Only the sound of her breathing and her heartbeat remained, which felt so small in comparison to this open ended silence. She couldn’t even hear Hoseok’s distant voice talking to the men standing at the doors; it was like they weren’t even there anymore. Glancing up, she found that they were in fact no longer there.

The space they had occupied showed no sign of life. The doors were still open, yet no light emitted from the windows or the threshold. She was alone. The door was still open, but was now occupied by a pulsing darkness that felt both overwhelmingly alive yet utterly empty. The silence became suffocating.

The dark blue of the spring night sky no longer felt peaceful-it felt dangerous. It was as though she had a thousand eyes on her from all directions, waiting with baited breath for her to fall right into their hungry, gaping mouths. From her right side, a cloud of cold air curled around her leg and weaved itself between her palm and fingers, coiling itself tighter around them like it was holding onto her and keeping her from turning back. The gravel road gave way with a crunch behind her, and then she heard it. A whisper so quiet it almost blended into the chill breeze.

“Welcome home.”

Suddenly the world snapped back into motion, nearly knocking her off her feet with its force. The bugs resumed their song, and the trees their swaying dance. Her chest was rising rapidly as her eyes searched frantically at the warmly lit windows, and the once dark and empty door now bursting with a warm inviting glow. In front of it her eyes landed on where Hoseok stood, giving directions to the luggage boy as he handed them her bags. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to be near him and the inviting light of the lobby, she sped up the stairs as fast as her legs could take her.

“-private estate. You can put them on the second-floor landing. Thank you.”

By the time she reached him, her heart was beating out of her chest and she had begun to sweat-from nerves or the speed at which she pushed herself up the stairs she couldn’t tell.

He turned his head to speak to her and did a double take.

“Woah- what happened to you? You look like you might be sick.” His hand gently brushed his hand across her forehead to check her temperature, and his other hand held her forearm to steady her. She was sure it must’ve come back damp but he didn’t comment on it, instead choosing to remain quiet with his mouth twisted in contemplation. His eyes flickered over her shoulder down to the car, and paused there for a moment before meeting hers. Abruptly, he turned and stepped through the front doors of the lobby.

The high white stone and gold ceiling outlined in ornate crown molding, brightly lit with a large chandelier hanging proud over the lobby seating was as grand as she remembered. Hoseok didn’t give her time to marvel over it, his shoes clacking loudly on the polished floor as he beelined for the check in desk located against the back wall, passing all of the seating and the barreled ceiling hallway to her left that led to the theater hall below them. The large wooden board behind the man behind the counter’s wide frame was dotted with golden keys hanging from their large metal rings- “it keeps the charm!” her father had insisted when they talked about changing to key cards. She watches the man behind the desk reach one and swipe the one hanging under the number 203, handing it to the family he was checking in. Her eyes’s mesmerized by the way the rest of the keys glittered in the yellow glow of the extravagant light fixtures mounted next to it.

Her father let her sit in during their meeting with staff and other executives during the discussion about what updates they’d like to see in the next 10 years. She had taken the opportunity very seriously- her favorite Clifford the Big Red Dog pencil with a frog shaped eraser gripped purposefully in her small hands, scribbling down notes she deemed worthy in a batman themed notebook. The moment Mr. Jeon had suggested a keycard system, and the room was divided between moving with modern technology, or keeping the surviving key system they’d had since the first guest stayed in the hotel. She remembered the way her father, after sitting with his brows creased deep in thought, turned his gaze to her and grinned. “What does the future inheritor of the Wörner estate say?”

“I can help the next person.” Seokjin’s clear tone brought her into the present, jolting her heart that had just barely managed to calm itself from whatever happened outside.

His warm brown almond shaped eyes and friendly smile made her heart feel warm with nostalgia-giving her a much needed distraction. He gave her a once over and his face immediately fell into a look of irritation as he turned to Hoseok, who sauntered up to the edge of the desk.

“Checking in a Ms. Wörn-”

“What did you do to her? I sent you because I thought you’d be a good fit to make her feel comfortable, not to torture her!” He reached his hand up and gently smacked Hoseok upside the head.

“Hey!”

“Hey what? I knew I should’ve sent Namjoon instead.” He turned to his left, muttering something along the lines of sending a clown to do the lord's work as he rummaged through what looked like a mini fridge tucked under the desk.

“Ugh Jin, pull it together.” He reached over the counter to poke Seokjin’s puffed out cheeks, and the latter immediately brought his hands up to swat him away. “And anyways, I’d give Namjoon five seconds into Philly before he would’ve gotten into an accident. He doesn’t know how to drive in cities.”

Seokjin stood back up, nudging the mini fridge door closed with his hip, a can of water in his hands and scowl on his face directed at Hoseok’s cheeky grin. Turning his attention back to y/n his face did a complete 180, lighting up in a friendly smile again. He held the aluminum can out for her to grab, and she reached for it with grateful shaky hands, cracking the top open to take a large swig of the cool liquid.

“Sorry about him Ms. Wörner, you know how he can get.”

“Please, call me Y/n-don't be a complete stranger.” and “I didn’t do anything to her!” were spoken over one another.

“Oh yeah? What happened then? Did some other fool talk her ear off for 3 hours?”

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from nearly choking on her water as she fought back a laugh at the two. The combination of their familiar banter and the refreshing water pulling her back into a more relaxed state.

“No.” Hoseok plucked a piece of invisible lint from Seokjin’s red jacket. “She tripped.” Seokjin slapped his hands away again, before eyeing him suspiciously.

“She tripped?” He straightened his coat off instinctually after he pried Hoseok’s fingers from fiddling with it.

“Yes. She tripped.”

They seemed to engage in some sort of silent conversation, their eyes following each other as they flickered back and forth to her and the front door behind her. Seokjin relented with a sigh, and turned to Y/n his smile on his lips yet again.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about that. Be sure to watch your step in the future, we don’t need anything happening to you during your first time back.” He turned to his computer screen for a moment, before moving around to exit the lobby desk. “Let me show you to your room.”

“I can handle that-” Hoseoks smug smile was wiped off his face by a stern glare from Seokjin. He raised his hands up and surrendered the lead to Seokjin.

He led the three of them up one of the dual staircases that led to the second half of the lobby ecasing both sides of the front desk, each step feeling more familiar than the last. Once at the top, she saw the convenience store and gift shop to her right, and next to that their small cafe-The Edelweis-with its white floral logo lit up but the seats mostly empty. To her left was a barrelled ceiling hall identical to the one on the level below them, only this one had restrooms lining the left side wall, and a wide red carpeted hallway that led to the right and straight to the Adelaide. She could faintly hear the smooth floating trumpet of a Kitty Kallen song serenading its patrons, and the aroma of the extravagant and diverse menu making her stomach grumble in interest. She’d be sure to stop in tonight if she had time, her mouth practically watering at the thought of freshly made pasta, birria-inspired pot roast, and rustic French bread with their signature gochujang, honey, and herb butter. A melting pot of a restaurant that stands as a physical embodiment of all the different people whose hands helped maintain the hotel to what it is today.

Seokjin had his hands clasped comfortably behind him as he walking, keeping his back straight. Y/n took this time to inspect his new look: His dark hair not too short but not too long, kept neat and out of his eyes under his cap. His shoulders had widened, and his jaw grew into that which made his face look older and more mature- the last of his boyishness gone in everything except the jovial glow in his eyes. The three of them traversed in silence. Well-what was silence until Hoseok got fidgety.

“I can’t wait for you to see the estate’s new look. They updated the color so it’s no longer the old dingey red that's in the main hotel. It practically looks like a new building.”

Seokjin gave a weary look between the two of them, but didn’t comment. He just continued to lead them down one of the side halls on either side of the main elevator, and out into the open square courtyard that the two arms of the back of the hotel wrapped around. Y/n nearly tripped over her own feet to keep pace with how fast he seemed to walk across the cobblestone. Weaving expertly around the small flower garden and seating area where a few guests were lounging about, enjoying the gentle babble of the water fountain. He nodded politely to them and tipped his hat, which they returned. With swift steps they made it out of the courtyard and up the gravel path to the Estate house. Stopping at the navy blue and gold embellished doors, he pulled out a key from his pocket and slid it in the keyhole. If Y/n didn’t know any better, he seemed to be on edge- stuck in a conundrum of being in a rush yet somehow also reluctant to open the door. But as for why she couldn’t quite piece together.

The doors swung open and her breath caught in her throat. She had found her answer.

What used to be the old dated, red wallpaper, was now a soft sky blue- brightening up the white molding and making the golden details shine. The wooden floors had been repolished, and a dark blue antique patterned rug ran through the main hall and disappeared into the rest of the downstairs. Everything was fresh, bright, rich, and confronting. Just like she had drawn out when she was a teenager.

The thought made her both swell with pride, and awakened a dormant rage. Forcing those feelings away she followed their steps, past the large dining room to her left and the study to her right. With each doorway she passed, she could see snippets of the new designs-her designs-sticking to the blue tones and gold embellishments. A nod to the Wörner heritage, and to the tea set brought to the United States by Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s fourth great grandfather that had a permanent home in their dining room display cabinet. Its grayish blue accented cups and saucers are a symbol of the symbiotic relationship between the two families that had been going strong for nearly a century.

Making their way up the grand staircase to the landing, she saw her bags resting on one of two navy plush armchairs. The elegant blue from below continued up throughout the landing and down both halls on either side of her, perfectly complementing the oil-painted mural of wispy clouds and classically painted figures draped across the landing’s ceiling.

“So, what do you think? Nice right?” Hoseok did a small whistle and a turn. “Makes it feel so much brighter and less like The Haunted Mansion with all of those deep moody reds.”

Seokjin stood quietly, his head slightly down and his neck flushed. He probably knew that this had been her idea. Her design. With his parents being so involved in the affairs of the hotel and estate, they would know everything, and subsequently so would he. Hoseok remained oblivious to the awkward energy in the room, so Y/n plastered a smile on her face in order to save everyone from the lingering discomfort.

“It really does. Just makes it more inviting.” She managed to get the words out without sounding too forced, a feat she had to pat herself on the back for. Tearing her eyes away from the walls to look at the two of them, she could practically feel Seokjin’s shoulder’s relax as he bounced to pick up her bags with two hands.

“Your room has remained mostly untouched at your parent’s request. I’m sure you can change that though if you wanted to.” Seokjin smiled. Y/n realized as she watched him stand still, that he was probably waiting for her to lead the way to her room. Muscle memory led her there-down the hall on the right-hand side of the split landing to follow the bend to the left all the way to the back corner room.

She could hear their soft footsteps behind her, so she knew she didn’t have time to freeze up now. Gripping the bronze worn doorknob with vigor, she pushed open the door with a bit more force than she had meant to, causing the door to bounce off the door stopper before coming to a slow stop at an angle.

“Geez, what’d that door do to you?” Hoseok remarked, earning a stiff elbow in the ribs from Seokjin.

Ignoring the two of them, she stepped into her old room. It was exactly as she remembered it. The golden bed frame wound with battery operated lights from her highschool years, her comforter a natural forest green, complemented by an array of burnt orange and white leaf patterned pillows. The walls a sage green botanical wallpaper, peppered with photos from her childhood and highschool. Kicking a flipped corner of her patterned woven rug out, she took a slow lap around the room, stopping to run her hands over the calendar, 4 years out of date, still open to December. On the 25th box were a few doodles of trees and cookies she had done in a tipsy haze the night of Christmas eve. Seokjin cleared his throat, startling her.

“Where would you like me to set these?”

“Oh! You can just toss those on the bed. Thanks.” she gestured absent mildly in the direction of the bed.

He did as he was told, while Hoseok just leaned against the doorframe, glancing around the room seemingly lost in thought.

“Dinner in the estate is still served at 7:30, so you have a bit of time to get settled if you’d like to join us. You don’t have to eat here, you can always go to the Adelaide or wherever you’d like. But I’m sure your parents are looking forward to seeing you tonight.” Seokjin bowed gently, and began to retreat. Without thinking, Y/n walked over and put a hand on his arm.

“Thanks, Jin. I really appreciate everything today. I missed you all.” Y/n met his eyes, hoping to convey her sincerity.

“No problem Ms. Wör-”

Y/n cut him off with a playful groan. “ Enough of that- you’re still my friend, no need for fancy titles or anything like that.”

His ears twinged pink as he gave her a shy nod and smile. The customer service persona was gone, and in front of her stood the sweet and quiet Seokjin she remembered as a kid.

“Great! I’ll see you at dinner then. 7:30?”

He fixed his coat again, and the confident persona took over once again.

“Of course you’ll see me there. You know me, always on time.” He gave her a small salute and passed Hoseok (who had been silently watching the exchange) giving him a curt nod as he left the room. Hoseok watched him go until he was out of sight, and turned back to face Y/n.

“You doing okay with all of this?” He asked, gesturing to her with his chin.

“Yeah I am. I should probably wash the bedding though, don’t you think? Four years of sitting in a dusty room probably has them feeling pretty stale.” Y/n laughed dismissively. She unzipped her bag and began to pull stuff out onto the stiff comforter.

“I didn’t just mean your room, but that’s good to hear. I can let the laundry service know for you on the way out.” She met his gaze again for a good long minute-waiting for him to crack a joke of some kind- but he didn’t.

“Oh.” She paused, trying to wrack her brain for a good response. How was she doing with all this? Honestly she couldn’t tell, her day had been a complete whirlwind so far. It was like something had drawn the curtains on her anxiety and emotions so she couldn’t feel them at the moment. If she really thought about it, she couldn’t put her finger on why she had been so nervous in the first place. Right now, she felt good in the estate-like she was supposed to be here. “I’m really not sure. I feel fine, I think…” She trailed off with a shrug.

He hummed in agreement, but he didn’t seem to buy it.

“Well if you need anything, I’m down the hall on the left side of the landing now.”

“Awww. We aren’t neighbors anymore?”

His smile came back again, and he laughed. “Oh don’t you wish.” He pushed himself up from the door frame and stretched his arms above his head until she heard something pop. “But fortunately for you, I’m Jungkook’s problem now.”

“Shucks, what am I ever going to do with all this peace and quiet.” Y/n snapped her fingers in feigned disappointment.

“Oh I don’t know about that, your new neighbor is a night owl so I’ve heard.” He began to saunter back out of the room with a teasing smile.

“Oh yeah? And who is that?” She stuck her head out of her doorway to peer at him as he made his way down the hall.

“Yoongi. He insisted on moving to this hall when he came back so I traded with him.”

_________________________________________

Hoseok was true to his word, the cleaning service showing up not 10 minutes after he had made his leave. Once she had thanked them profusely and handed them her linens, she made sure to waste all the time she could by puttering about her room and giving it a gentle face lift, doing anything to keep her mind occupied and away from both her parents and whatever the fuck she had experienced out front. Removing the outdated calendar was first, then putting away all her belongings in color order (multiple times), before tucking her bags beneath the bed-which is where she was in the process of doing now- seated on the floor with her bags folded over her knees, and head tilted in confusion. She had lifted the bed skirt up to shove the bags under there to be forgotten indefinitely, when something being in her way stopped her in her tracks.

There, centered under her bed, was a small wooden box that was sure she hadn’t left in that spot. It was her old childhood jewelry box, one of which she purposefully avoided taking with her. With trembling hands, she pulled it out and unlatched the lid.

Laying inside the velvet lined side right where she had left them, were all of the pictures she owned that had anything to do with her younger sister. She picked up the first one and held it up to look at it more closely, even though she knew that she shouldn’t.

Three girls, close in age and wearing a set of matching dresses only differing in color, were lined up on the front porch of the hotel, the front lawn behind them was flourishing with flora and littered with toys. The photographer-she thinks it had been Mrs. Jung- had to have been standing in the open doors of the lobby when it was taken. Posing obediently on the right-hand side was Amelia, the eldest, wearing a large toothy grin and one arm tossed awkwardly over Y/n’s bent form. The 4-year-old Y/n in the photo had her arms wound tightly around the youngest in the photo, Matilda. Matilda’s small hands were clasped around a stuffed horse, and she was sporting the signature awkward and messy grin of a nearly 3-year-old toddler.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she held up the next photo: the one of Matilda’s last Christmas. No one in the photo had known that at the time of course-so the photo did not reflect the mood it now elicited from most onlookers.

It was teeming with the unbridled joy of over a dozen children posed in front of that year’s lavishly decorated tree, all of them buzzing with impatience to open the overflowing pile of presents spilling into the bottom edge of the photo. She could recognize the faces of a few of both her own distant cousins that had joined in the festivities that year speckled in between her sisters, and the boys who lived in the house, and Hoseok's sister. She spied Hoseok's wild boyish grin standing next to herself, his eyes looking sideways instead of at the camera. Jimin was posed sweetly, sitting sandwiched in the front on the floor between young Jungkook and a boy she didn’t really recognize. One of Jin and Namjoon’s cousin’s who had come to visit for the holidays on occasion? Or perhaps Taehyung, the boy Hoseok mentioned earlier... She wasn’t entirely sure.

Her eyes slid to the Kim boys standing politely off to the right with Amelia. She only just caught Yoongi’s head poking up over Namjoon's shoulder, a small forced smile on his face the most he was able to do for a photo he had adamently detested being in.

Y/n traced Matilda’s small face with the tip of her finger, her arms spread out above her head as she mimicked the star on top of the tree. Clearing her throat of the ball that had formed there, she shoved both photos back in the box, her eyes just catching the photo of a newborn Matilda draped across her own small lap before she shut the lid and slid the clasp back in place.

She only had a few minutes before she had to make an appearance at dinner, and she wasn’t about to go in looking like a blubbering mess.

Shaking her shoulders out and pinching her cheeks, she shoved her folded bags beneath her bed and rose to her feet with the box in hand. Walking over to the large closet, she opened the door and popped the box on the top shelf, promptly shutting the door on both it and the feelings it had dug up. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths before walking into the small ensuite bathroom to freshen her hair and splash cool water on her face. Looking at her own reflection, she tried to give herself a pep talk.

“It’s just dinner. You can do this. If all else fails, just eat in silence and leave early-but you have to go.” She moved to leave the room but paused, giving heself a stern pointed finger through the reflection. "And keep it together tonight. No matter what happens, don't flip the table."

Giving herself one more affirming nod, she stood up straight and left her bathroom. She grabbed her phone from where she had discarded it on the bare mattress and tucked it into her pocket while she slipped from her room.

Her path was illuminated by golden wall sconces, making it easy to retrace the steps she had taken earlier- not like she couldn’t walk through these halls blind folded if she had to. The distant chatter emitting from the dining room grew louder with each step, causing a nervous burn to bubble up into her throat at the impending reunion.

Stepping quietly up to the archway, she lingered outside the propped doors and peeking around the frame. Her parents weren’t in their seats yet, which made her release a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding at the brief respite the universe had given her.

The table was donned in a clean blue tablecloth and gold embellished napkins and plates, a glass of chilled white wine at each seat. Hoseok was seated on the opposite side of the table from the door, his glass pinched between a few fingers and leaning heavily onto Namjoon’s shoulder, laughing at something on his phone. Namjoon was also smiling, his dimples on display for all to see. He looked about the same as she remembered- cropped brown hair still damp from a shower, strong yet soft face, and taller than the rest of them. The only thing that seemed different was that his shoulders had almost doubled in width, probably from lugging around wheelbarrows and sacks of soil and compost all day.

To his left was who she had to assume was Jungkook, judging by his rounded eyes and nose. He had her doing a double-take: His hair was much longer than he had kept it when they were younger, and fell in waves down to his cheeks and down the back of his neck. He had also seemingly bulked up like Namjoon, and grown another 3 inches in height since they had last spoken.

The remaining seats were empty. No sight of the Seokjin or the rest of them anywhere.

Hoseok must’ve felt her nerves leaching from her form, as his eyes suddenly met hers from across the room causing his eyes to light up and a sly smile to break across his face.

“Oh Y/N! Come sit near me.” He flailed his hand wildly, attempting to beckon her over to join in on the fun.

Namjoon’s eyes shot up from his phone to connect with hers, and he put his phone into his pocket and came to a clumsy stand.

“Y/N.” His dimpled smile was overtaken by shock, as he came around the table to pull her into one of his signature bear hugs.

“H-hey.” Her response was muffled by his sweater as he crushed her to his chest. She could hear Hoseok giggling at her awkwardness and it made her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Namjoon released her from the hug and ruffled her hair affectionately. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t know you were coming back.”

Y/n laughed uncomfortably and fiddled with the edge of her sweater. “I mean, technically I didn’t either until this morning.”

He gave her a quizzical look but seemed to go with not asking any questions for now, instead moving to the side so she could wave in Jungkook’s direction.

“Hi, Jungkook.”

His eyes gave her a once over before flickering down to play with the frayed edges of his placemat. “Hi.”

“Oh Jungkook, don’t be shy! She’s just as weird and annoying as she always was.” Hoseok chirped from his seat.

Y/n let out a defiant sound. “I am not! You said yourself earlier today that I could never be annoying.”

Jungkook's eyes flickered between the two of them, and let a small smile grace his features.

“Who, me? I’d never say something so preposterous.” Hoseok held a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Preposterous? That’s a big word for you.” Namjoon chimed in, scoffing while he plopped into his seat with a humored scrunch of his face.

Y/n laughed at Hoseoks sputtered defense, the way they fell back into a comfortable banter eased the ice settling over her skin at the impending arrival of her parents and reminded her of the things she had missed from home and hadn't let herself dwell on for years.

She took a seat across from Namjoon, and slid her chair into place even if it made Hoseok send her a pout at her act of betrayal for not sitting with him. She felt content listening to Namjoon and Hoseok jesting with each other, and let her eyes wander through the royal blue and gold dining room to examine every inch of detail in the room. It filled her with pride to see what she had envisioned come to life, even if she was still mulling over the details of how it came to be. During their journey around the room, her eyes found Jungkook’s, who had been stealing sideways glances at her from his seat since she’d sat down. He quickly averted his eyes, pretending he had been looking at something over her shoulder instead. Or at least, she had thought he was pretending.

“Do you like the updated design? I’m a bit bummed that I missed getting to show you myself.” Her mother’s voice sounded from behind her.

She whirled sharply to take her in-and it made her heart squeeze. People don’t talk about the hard parts of not talking to a family member. Everyone likes to talk about the part where they don’t miss them anymore, or when they couldn’t care less about a triumphant praise of their past self's decision making. But they don’t talk about the years you miss out on or the collateral damage of losing connections with those in shared circles- her mother's face carrying just a couple of new wrinkles that weren’t as prominent before a a glaring piece of evidence to the years missed between them. Four years of laughter that etched her laugh lines deeper into her cheeks, or smiles that left permanent crinkles in her eyes that she didn’t get to see.

Y/n clambered to her feet, and she felt her mother’s eyes following her every movement.

“I do. They look just as lovely as I’d have imagined.” Y/n managed to force the syllables off her tongue in what she assumed sounded genuine, but she couldn’t tell if her mother saw right through her or not like she used to.

“I’m glad.” She tilted her head to gaze around the room. “Your father spared no expense to match it to your descriptions as best he could.” She took a tentative step closer, and that’s when Y/n recognized something she didn’t expect: Her mother, Mariah Wörner-one of the most confident, intelligent and strongest women she had ever known-was just as nervous as she was. The way her fingers held onto her own elbows from where her forearms crossed in front of her like a lifeline gave it away. She had expected her to be angry. Hysterical. Enraged. Disappointed. Or even some combination of any of those to take hold of her and spit out insults in fiery waves into her skin or stare daggers into her spine. But instead, her mothers eyes were shaky and uncertain. Scared.

Y/n didn’t know how to answer her, and floundered for a moment in the sudden silence that enveloped the room. The men seemingly distracted by their own devices, trying hard to not look like they were paying attention.

“Your father is cooking tonight, he insisted that he make something for you on your first night back.” Her mother floated over to her usual seat towards the end of the table, and nervously shuffled into her seat.

“Oh that’s-” Y/n tried to reign in the sudden strong urge to cry, “That’s nice.” She melted back into her seat, feeling like her soul was floating outside of her body.

“Roland is at a friend's house until Monday. After this spring, we are looking at enrolling him in the same middle school you went to in Hershey. As such, he’s trying to soak up all the time he can with his friends.” Her mother let out a melodious laugh. “And you know me, I can’t ever say no to you guys.”

Her sentence hung heavily on Y/n’s consciousness. You didn’t have a problem with that the last time we spoke, Y/n thought to herself bitterly, but she held her tongue to keep it from slipping out.

Her mother occupied herself with unfolding her napkin and resting it on her lap. The silence lingered, the only sounds being the rustle of fabric as people shifted uncomfortably in their seat.

Y/n wanted nothing more than to both ask a million questions and reignite the argument where it left off, or to run into her mother’s arms and apologize for not giving them another chance to explain themselves. Her conflicting emotions felt overwhelming, feeding into her dissociation.

Her father burst through the doors separating the dining room from the kitchen, a handful of hot pads stacked in his hands. He looked tired, his brow furrowed as he scanned the room. He stopped looking around when he met Y/n’s eyes, and she saw his own harden in determination.

Here it comes. She thought to herself, bracing herself for him to start reprimanding her. He began to make his way towards her, tossing the hot pads on the table leaving Namjoon to frantically try to catch them before they slid into his chest.

Y/n began to stand up to greet him, but barely made it six inches off of her seat before her father wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. He smelt of butter, garlic, and spices as he held her tightly to his chest- it’s as if he thought the moment he let go she would run.

It took her a moment to realize that he was hugging her, not holding her hostage. Y/n let her arms robotically wind their way loosely around her father's back, not fully conscious of her own movements. For a moment she wondered if she had fallen asleep upstairs and that this was all a dream, or if she had actually tripped out front and hit her head. He surely should be yelling at her by now. After a few seconds of silence he let go of her, and gripped her shoulders tightly in his hands.

“Dad- what’s-”

“I don’t care.” His voice was warm and firm.

“I don’t understand what you mean?” Y/ns hands grabbed at her father's to try and remove them. She began to feel self-conscious of the way everyone was looking at this open display of vulnerability. She tried to take his hands off of her shoulders to stop herself from crying at the closeness that she had missed.

“All of this-” He gestured a finger wildly between Y/n, her mother, and himself, “-I don’t care about that right now. I missed you. Let’s move that aside for tonight and just enjoy dinner, yeah?”

She felt her eyes burning, and swallowed to keep herself in check. She nodded.

Her father broke into a giddy smile, and he released her. “Toll!” He spun around and quickly made his way through the swinging door, disappearing with a faint “Wunderbar!”. Only for his head to pop out again not more than a second later, a stack of cork hot pads in his hands that he tossed onto the table with a flying arc. “Can you guys spread those out? I’m going to bring everything out here.” With that, his head disappeared into the kitchen again.

Namjoon began to pass the hot pads around and Jungkook stood up to help him evenly distribute them. Not thirty seconds had passed before her dad came back out-a large tray of German potato dumplings, Kartoffelklöße, and placed them in the center. He winked at her and walked briskly back to the kitchen to carry out an array of what Y/n recognized as some of her old favorites.

Crispy roasted brussel sprouts, honey garlic carrots, buttered corn, and pan seared chicken to go with the dumplings. When he placed the last tray, he sat at the head of the table closest to the kitchen, practically glowing with pride at the feast he had prepared. Her dad didn’t waste his time beginning to fill up his own plate, stacking dumplings and chicken on top of each ether with haste. He looked up at her when he noticed she wasn’t moving.

“Bitte, iss!” He gestured exuberantly to the display, and picked up his fork to shovel the first bite in.

The rest of the table began to help themselves, and Y/n followed suit. A more comfortable silence fell over the table now that everyone had distracted themselves with curating their own plates. They had made it into a few minutes of clanking silverware and the occasional clear of someone's throat without so much as a word. But Y/n didn't mind-it gave her plenty of time to dissociate even further from the reality she had naively thrown herself into.

“Will Jin be joining us?” Her mother broke the silence, glancing from her plate to Hoseok as she pushed a carrot around her plate.

Hoseok looked up from cutting his chicken, the shake of the table cloth near his bouncing leg being the only sign of nerves he let himself show.

“He was supposed to be, but Jimin roped him into dinner at the Adelaide. He has been trying to find someone to sit with him tonight so he’s not by himself, and after being turned down by Yoongi for the dozenth time he moved onto his next victim.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth quickly, hoping to avoid being the only one speaking.

“What about the others?” Y/n didn’t realize it was her own voice until she felt her mother’s gaze on the side of her face.

“Last I heard Yoongi was called for an urgent maintenance call about an hour ago, so who knows when he’ll be back.” He shrugged, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “His parent’s have been back in Korea since the Lunar New Year. They’ve only been coming back for maybe 6 months of the year-if that. One of his cousins had twins last year so, more of a reason to keep visiting.” He paused to take a sip from his glass of his wine. “My folks are down at the Adelaide. They usually eat there for dinner anymore, or they drive to my sister’s place. Something about finally getting to enjoy the environment and not having to be the environment.”

Y/n nodded, trying to stay engaged with anything other than her confused state of mind at the moment. This is not how she expected her first interaction with her parents to go.

“My aunt and unc-Jin’s parents-Have been traveling mostly.” Namjoon piped in letting Hoseok have a break, reaching over to grab another dumpling. “They all but retired this past January, and have been trying to make the most of it together. Though they haven't officialy gone through the process to finalize it, and I personally think they are hanging on until this year is over. Mr. Jeon has been off teaching a semester or two up at MIT. He has been trying to convince the architecture professor to bring some students down here to come visit the hotel and estate-he likes to bounce ideas off of fresh minds.”

Y/n hummed in response, turning her attention to the flavors bouncing off of her tongue. She took a risk and snuck glances at both parents. They were exchanging their own private looks; her mother’s was worried, and her father’s was nothing short of elated. Her father’s hand rested gently atop her mother’s, his thumb drawing soothing circles onto he skin. She caught her father’s gaze and he grinned, his eyes crinkling just like she used to remember, if not even brighter.

She took another bite of corn to keep herself from crying.

_________________________________________

The rest of dinner was surprisingly uneventful. Her father had been true to his word, and avoided making dinner awkward, while also not acting like he was forcing positivity down everyone’s throats. His laughter was loud and genuine, and he always left discussion open for Y/n to contribute if she wanted to, and didn’t bat an eye if she didn’t. He was, in every sense of the word, beaming. It was as if the idea of her just being at the table with him again made his day. And that realization is what led her to where she is now - huddled damp in her towel on her freshly washed and made bed, sniffling away the last of her emotional breakdown in the shower. They had missed her. They had wanted her here. And she chose not to come back. A new wave of fresh tears built up in her eyes before she could stop them again, as her spiral started its cycle all over again.

Guilt. Hope. Anger. Calm. Over and over again.

She left because of them-what they had done was unforgivable in her eyes. But here they were, wanting to sew back together a rip they made. Should she not give them the chance?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock so soft on her door that she just brushed it off as the house settling itself. She refused to let herself linger on anything that might make her heart race, trying to keep her feet planted in reality-One paranormal experience was more than enough for her today.

It did light a fire under her to move, taking it as her sign to pull herself together by tossing on an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts so she could curl up under the covers for the rest of the night and ignore everything in favor of sleep. Stopping by the cracked closet door to give it a gentle shove closed, and finished the last steps over to her bed. But just as she was pulling the comforter's edges down, she heard the knock again, cementing the sound as definitely not the house settling. Padding softly over to the door, she opened it just a crack to see who was interrupting her self-pitying time.

Her mother was standing there, shifting from one foot to the other. Her hair was pulled up and away like she had always done before bed, like she had intended to do the same thing as Y/n before she had found herself outside of her door.

“Are you…alright?” Y/n opened the door a bit more to get a better look at her. Her eyes were rimmed red, her face was weary and sagged from fatigue. They really must’ve had the same plans.

“May I come in?” Her mother’s eyes swung from left to right, checking over her shoulder for anyone that may be listening in. Y/n wordlessly moved the side and opened the door just wide enough to let her slip through. Her mother quickly turned to shut the door behind herself, and slid the lock into place. Once she heard the click of the door close, she let out a breath of relief before turning to face Y/n.

“We need to talk.” Her mother folded her arms over herself.

Y/n snorted. “Understatement of the century.”

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” This is truly the most nervous she had ever seen her mother, causing Y/N to reign herself in again with a sigh.

“Look mom, I’m really tired right now. I just want to go to bed. Can we talk about this another time?” Y/n tried to keep her tone even. She was just getting out of the angry phase of her cycle, she didn’t need it reignited.

“No, we have to discuss it now. It’s crucial.”

Y/n sighed and plopped onto the foot of her bed with a huff. She looked up at mother expectantly, waving her hand for her to continue. “Well, say what you need to say then.”

Her mother pinched her nose between her fingers. “Y/n, I didn't come here to fight. I came here to….” Her mother paused, choosing her next words carefully. “I came here to give you some advice.”

“Advice?” Y/n's eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“Yes.” Her mother pulled her silk robe closer around her form.

“And this couldn’t wait for tomorrow because…?”

Y/n watched as she exhaled sharply through her nose, a telltale sign that she was growing impatient. “I’m sure that you’ve missed all of your friends -and rightfully so- but it’d be in your best interest that you keep some distance between a select few of them.”

Y/n recoiled at her mother’s words, her own coming out before she could stop them. “Excuse me? And who would the ‘select few of them’ be?”

Her mother’s eyes met Y/n’s with authority, and her response was short and stern. “Yoongi.”

“Are you serious?” Y/n gaped at her in disbelief.

“Jungkook too.”

“I can’t believe you’re being serious right now.” Y/n shook her head, her rage beginning to bubble to the surface.

“Y/n please listen to me-”

“Oh yes, please! Share with the class just as to why I can’t talk to my friends.” Y/n gestured to the empty room .

“I…” Her mother’s face fell, as did her voice. “I can’t.”

Y/n could’ve heard a pin drop from the front door it was so silent.

“Get out.”

“Please, you have to just trust me-” Her mother began to plead with her.

“No. I don’t have to do anything. You said you didn’t want to argue, yet here you are. Making decisions for everyone else and not bothering to give anyone else your reasoning.”

“Y/n-”

“God, I was so stupid to think that maybe you had changed based off of one dinner. Nope. Now you're in my room, giving me orders and being secretive just like always.” Y/n’s voice began to rise in volume, and her mother took a cautious step towards the door.

“That is not true. I care about you. I love you! I’m just trying to protect you,” Her mother tried to reach for her, but Y/n side-stepped out of her reach.

“Protect me?! Protect me from what?” Y/n was so enraged, that her eyes began to water again much to her own embarrassment.

Her mother stared into her eyes, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly.

Y/n let out a dry laugh. “Let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand-”

“Bullshit. I would. You just don’t want to tell me.” Y/ns shoulders began to deflate.

“That is not true.” Her mother pointed her finger at Y/n with venom.

“Then tell me.”

“Why can’t you just listen to me, why must you always make this so difficult.” Her mother threw her hands up into the air in exasperation.

“ME? I’m the one being difficult?”

“Yes!” Her mother hissed out from her clenched teeth.

“You’re the one that sent the invitation to me!”

“That was your father’s idea- I wanted to-” Her mother started but Y/n cut her off again.

“Oh so you don’t want me here then?”

Her mother’s eyes were alight with fury. “That is not what I said. If you’d let me finish-”

“No, actually I think I’ve heard enough. This is fucking ridicu-”

“That is enough.” Mariah’s tone was cutting, and final. She stomped towards Y/n and gripped her upper arms in her long hands. “You will listen to me.” Y/n had never seen such rage in her mother’s eyes, not once. “Do not think that for one second turning you away all those years ago doesn’t haunt me, or that a single day went by where I didn’t think of you. You will do as I say, and you will not ask questions. I will not-” Her voice cracked, forcing her to pause. “I can not lose you again. I will not lose another child.”

The way her mother’s eyes bore into her own, and the way her hands gripped onto Y/n's shoulders with such desperation knocked the air out of her lungs. She was still angry, yes, but she couldn’t find it in herself to yell at her mother-not when she looked so vulnerable and small in front of her. Two words she’d have never used to describe her mother. Her mother’s hands released themselves from her shoulders, and she walked herself with dragging feet towards the door and unlocked it with a trembling hand.

“I can’t tell you what to do, you’re right. But please at least try to listen to trust me, if not even just a little.” Her tired eyes looked at Y/n over her shoulder with so much defeat, that slowly morphed into one that was resolute. Distant and cold. “Keep your door locked at night. And if you think you hear your father walking around the house during the night…” Her mother paused within the threshold, debating her next words. “Don’t get out of bed, and don’t, under any circumstances, open the door.”

_________________________________________

Next Chapter

Toll- Great!

Wunderbar- Wonderful!

Bitte iss! -Please eat!

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 27 days ago

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Weaponized | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Part Six

← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~4,100

Series Tags/Warnings: Violence, Trauma, No Hogwarts House, Post Hogwarts, Auror!Sebastian, Auror!MC, Modern AU, Female Reader Insert, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Forced Proximity, Ancient Magic, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Betrayal, Reconciliation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Divergent

Beta: @dreamy-gal-30 <3

Auror Division Headquarters, Operations Wing – London

Sebastian stepped into the administrative wing just past nine, the air still sharp from the morning chill. He carried the satchel containing the secured artifacts and a concise mission report tucked neatly into the fold of his arm. He hadn’t slept well. Not because the mission had gone poorly—it hadn’t. If anything, it had gone too smoothly.

He blamed you. Or, more specifically, the version of you who had slid so seamlessly into the role of his wife.

Don’t think about that.

He rapped once on Hale’s office door, and when her voice called out, he stepped inside.

“Report,” he said simply, handing the folder across, along with the artifacts.

Hale didn’t look up right away, just took them with a nod. “Anything notable?”

“Contact was guarded but cooperative. Sale was clean. Warden held character.”

That earned him a glance. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Sebastian didn’t answer.

Hale’s office was messy as usual, documents scattered across the desk, memos stacked haphazardly, and a single mug of coffee half-drunk sitting precariously on the corner. But just beside her elbow, Sebastian spotted a folder. A thick one.

He didn’t mean to look, not really. But his eyes landed on the open page anyway. The heading was clear: Service Record – Canadian Magical Enforcement Division.

Sebastian blinked. “That her file?”

“Part of it. There’s more locked up. Why?”

Sebastian hesitated. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he asked, “Can I see it?”

Hale leaned back in her chair, eyeing him. She seemed to weigh the request against some internal scale, then, with a sigh, she lifted the folder from the stack.

“I suppose it only makes sense since she’s on your squad. But keep your mouth shut and don’t remove anything. Technically this is above your clearance level, Sallow.”

He nodded. “Of course. I’ll have it back after lunch.”

“See that you do,” Hale said, already returning to her paperwork.

He stepped out into the corridor, the door swinging shut behind him, and made his way toward the shared office space at the end of the west wing.

Inside, Sebastian dropped into his chair and set the folder on his desk. For a moment, he just stared at it. Then, slowly, he opened the file.

Canadian Ministry of Magic – Division of Magical Enforcement Operative File: Major Warden [REDACTED] Security Clearance: Tier 6, Active

A photo of you on the page stared back at him, unsmiling, your short black hair even more severe than usual, and below it, the sheet was marked with numerous stamps and official seals from magical law enforcement divisions far outside Canada.

France. Germany. Argentina. Japan. South Africa. Australia. Each bore an embossed date and clearance notation, the most recent ones only months old.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. You were rotated constantly, and from the looks of it, you hadn’t had a proper home base in over three years.

He turned the page.

Health and Wellness Protocol Blood Type: [REDACTED] Wand Hand: Ambidextrous Baseline Vitals: On file (see Medical Subfolder B) Allergies: Dragon Dander, Billywig Stings Prescriptions: Contraceptive Regimen, Iron Stabilization Potion Psych Evaluation Status: Required bi-weekly during active rotation Post-Op Debrief Compliance: Mandatory questionnaire submitted immediately after each mission

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. He flipped through several of the attached forms which included countless physiological checkboxes, each page signed with your initials. He scanned a few at random.

Tactile Disassociation: No Auditory Hallucinations: No Hypothermia: No Head Laceration: Yes, Minor Menstrual Cramping: Yes

He paused at that one and blinked like he’d misread it. But no, there it was. A single checkmark inside the box. Matter-of-fact. Clinical.

Something about it made his throat go tight.

Some post-mission reports indicated mild bruising. Others flagged exhaustion or spells of dizziness. One from last winter even had “Localized Frostbite, Fingers” checked off.

He flipped further.

Pages and pages of mission reports followed, including redacted summaries, field evaluations, and threat assessments. Yes, there was brutality, death, and blood. Some of the operations listed over 30 hostile casualties, all by your hand. And yet... that wasn’t the pattern that emerged as he read.

Again and again, the same phrases appeared:

“Civilians prioritized.” “Engaged hostiles only after extraction secured.” “Refused to evacuate until final hostage accounted for.”

It wasn’t violence for the sake of violence. It was violence in service of something else—containment, extraction, survival.

There was one entry from a mission in Quebec where you’d been dispatched to track a colony of wendigos that abducted six children. The first time around, only four were recovered alive. But in your notes, the handwriting tight and slanted at the bottom of the page, you’d written: “Two still unaccounted for. Will revisit location post-recovery.”

On the very next page was the mission report of that return trip.

Op#403-C: Recon & Retrieval – Wendigo Colony, Quebec Status: Complete Deaths: 0 Injured: 1 (operative: moderate) Extracted Targets: 2 juvenile civilians (previously presumed deceased) Threat Level: Class IV Operative notes: Major Warden returned alone against recommendation and located secondary nest. Engaged three entities without backup. Operative sustained puncture wounds and hypothermia. Prioritized civilian retrieval over neutralization. Both children returned in stable condition.

There was a scrawl in the margin, likely from a commanding officer: “Above and beyond operational mandate. Exceptional.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the folder spread open in front of him, the reports blurring slightly at the edges. You went back. No one had ordered you to. The mission was already marked complete, but you saved those kids. And all this time, he’d thought—

He shook his head. Sebastian had seen what you could do firsthand in Whitechapel: the devastation you could unleash when pressed, the way your expression didn’t change even when bodies hit the ground, and the cold, clinical detachment you seemed to wear like armor.

He’d bitched about it to Ominis. To Garreth. Hell, even to civilian friends over drinks, calling you a Ministry-controlled weapon. But your file showed a career of endurance, not apathy. A record of someone who didn’t pull back, not when it mattered. Someone who dove headfirst into fire, into frost, into hell again and again because someone needed saving and no one else would do it.

Then Sebastian glanced up at the clock.

Shit. Twelve o'clock.

Sebastian swore under his breath as he snapped the file shut. He already late for lunch at the pub.

He hesitated at the door. He was supposed to return the file. Hale had been explicit. But the idea of leaving it behind, of parting from it without finishing the last few pages…

He’d bring it back after lunch. It’s not like anyone would notice.

The Hex & Hops Tavern, Diagon Alley – London

The pub was warm compared to the wind-swept street outside. Sebastian shook off his coat just inside the door and glanced around, spotting them immediately.

Ominis and Garreth were already seated near the back, tucked into a corner booth beneath one of the frosted windows. Ominis nursed a pint while Garreth was already halfway through a basket of chips, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

As Sebastian approached, Garreth glanced up and grinned. “Look who finally decided to join us.”

“You’re lucky I showed up at all,” Sebastian muttered, sliding into the seat across from them.

Ominis tilted his head slightly. “That sounds ominous.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian said, running a hand through his hair. “Got caught up at the office, that’s all.”

“Caught up?” Garreth echoed.

Sebastian reached for the menu even though he wasn’t planning on reading it. “Got my hands on an… interesting file.”

Garreth leaned forward with immediate interest, abandoning his chip mid-air. “Don’t tease. What kind of interesting? Scandalous? Embarrassing? Please tell me it’s Hale’s.”

Sebastian huffed a laugh, more out of exhaustion than amusement. “Not Hale’s.”

Ominis set down his pint. “The Warden.”

It wasn’t a question.

Sebastian gave a tight nod and folded the menu shut, pushing it aside.

Garreth whistled. “You stole her personnel file?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Sebastian said. “It was just… open. Hale let me look.”

Ominis’s voice was quiet. “And?”

Sebastian’s fingers drummed on the table. “Technically, I’m not even supposed to be telling you I read it.”

Garreth grinned. “Which means, obviously, you’re absolutely going to tell us everything.”

“I’m serious,” Sebastian warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Classified.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Garreth pointed out, waving a chip at him. “Don’t dangle a classified carrot and expect us not to bite.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “You brought it to the pub, didn’t you?”

Sebastian winced.

Garreth cackled. “Of course you did.”

“I just… wasn’t done reading it.” Sebastian muttered.

Ominis rolled his eyes. “You’ve already broken about 50 rules bringing it here, so are you going to show us or not, Sallow?”

Sebastian huffed a quiet breath through his nose and glanced around the pub, scanning for anyone who might be watching. Just locals, a few Ministry types he vaguely recognized—no one close enough to eavesdrop. Still, he lowered his voice.

“Fine,” he said, reaching into his satchel and drawing out the folder. He set it on the table and, with a subtle flick of his wand beneath the table’s edge, cast a charm to obscure the contents from any onlookers.

“There,” he slid it into the middle of the table. “Skim. Quickly.”

Garreth practically pounced, tugging the folder toward him like it might vanish if he hesitated. Ominis, for his part, simply leaned in, lifting his wand to read the contents.

“Sweet Merlin,” Garreth breathed as he flipped to the first page. “She’s been everywhere. Look at these stamps—Australia, Japan, France… how many departments has she worked under?”

Sebastian hummed. “She hasn’t had a home posting in years.”

Garreth turned another page, his eyes scanning a mission summary. “Says here she neutralized thirty-two hostiles in a single op. What the hell do they feed the Warden Corps?”

Sebastian pulled the folder back toward him. “That’s not the part that matters.”

“Oh?”

Sebastian tapped a page with the back of his knuckle. “That same op? She refused to leave until every civilian was safe. Put herself between a detonation curse and a hostage. Nearly lost her arm. And that’s not a one-off. It’s a pattern.”

Garreth went quiet after that. He pulled the folder even closer and began flipping through the pages in earnest now, brow furrowed, mouth slightly parted as he skimmed report after report. Every so often he’d murmur something low—“damn” or “bloody hell”—without looking up.

Ominis, meanwhile, sat with his usual quiet poise. He didn’t react much to what he read. No dramatic exclamations or slack-jawed disbelief. Just a slow unfolding quiet, like he was putting together the final pieces of a puzzle he’d already mostly solved.

Sebastian watched them both, arms crossed.

Eventually, Garreth leaned back, closing the file slowly. He blew out a breath and scratched at the back of his head. “I mean... I knew she was intense, but this is something else.”

Sebastian nodded.

Garreth looked down again, expression uneasy. “She’s still kind of terrifying, don’t get me wrong, but—” He winced. “I feel bad now for calling her a cyborg behind her back.”

Ominis snorted softly. “Good. You should.”

Garreth gave him a flat look. “Not helping.”

“I’m not trying to help,” Ominis said mildly, folding his hands. “I’m pointing out that maybe your instincts are worth questioning from time to time.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “You’re not surprised.”

“I’m not,” Ominis said simply. “She’s methodical, not cruel. Disciplined, not indifferent. People confuse the two all the time. Especially when they’re threatened.” He added pointedly.

Sebastian leaned back in the booth. “Look, I’m not saying she’s not capable. Obviously she is. That file makes that clear.” He paused, jaw tight. “But her detachment still bothers me. I mean I get that she’s been through hell, but it’s like there’s no—” He waved a hand vaguely. “No normal human baseline. And the Ministry dropping her into my squad without so much as a heads-up? That’s insulting.”

Garreth nodded, mouth twitching downward. “They're treating the Auror division like we’re kids who can’t handle our own assignments.”

Ominis looked between them with the kind of cool disdain that usually preceded a verbal scalpel. “That’s your ego talking, both of you.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”

“You’re insulted that someone more qualified got sent in to help with the smuggler cases.”

Garreth shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly interested in the condensation on his pint glass.

“And as for her detachment?” Ominis went on. “Frankly, you should be grateful she’s not more emotional. Considering all the shit the officers put her through, I’d say she’s showing remarkable restraint.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Garreth flinched. Ominis blinked, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “You don’t know?”

Sebastian’s expression darkened. “Know what?”

Garreth cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Sebastian. “Mate, uh… there’s been some stuff. Around the barracks. You know, stupid shit. Missing gear, cold water jinxes in the showers. I didn’t think it was serious, just some friendly… hazing.”

Sebastian turned slowly to stare at him. “Hazing?”

“It was just the usual stuff we all went through. Nobody thought it was—”

Ominis shook his head. “She’s not a recruit, Weasley. She’s a decorated operative. And you think it’s funny that the officers treat her like shit just because wasn’t born in Britain?”

“…Don’t get me wrong, alright?” Garreth said hastily. “I didn’t hex her robes or mess with her kit. I just… knew it was happening.”

Sebastian stared at him. “And you didn’t do anything about it?”

Garreth grimaced. “I thought it would blow over! She didn’t say anything, didn’t report it—hell, half the time it didn’t even seem like she noticed!”

“She noticed,” Ominis scoffed, gaze fixed on his half-finished drink.

Sebastian turned on him. “And you? You knew too?”

Ominis raised his brows like the answer should have been obvious. “Of course I did.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I considered it,” Ominis said evenly. “But if I’d so much as suggested the officers back off, you’d have taken it as a personal attack. And more than likely you wouldn’t have given a damn what they did to her, anyway.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched.

“You already hated that she was here,” Ominis continued, calm but pointed. “You questioned her instincts, consistently undermined her in front of the others. If I’d stood up for her you’d have assumed I was taking sides, and not yours.”

Sebastian looked away. Ominis was right, and he wasn’t proud of it—how territorial he’d been, how quickly he’d judged you, how easy it had been to pretend you were nothing more than an outsider sent to babysit his team.

“I didn’t know,” Sebastian said finally, voice low. “If I had—”

“You didn’t want to know,” Ominis said. "You only care now that you've read her file and realized she’s not someone you can write off.”

The silence that followed was long. Uncomfortable. Then Sebastian stood.

“I’ve got work.”

Garreth blinked. “What? Now? You didn’t even eat!”

“Yeah,” Sebastian muttered. “Someone’s gotta fix this shit.”

Auror Division Headquarters, Training Wing – London

The dueling ring echoed faintly with the sounds of boots on concrete, scattered laughter, and the thrum of spellfire as Sebastian stepped inside. Multiple squads of officers were already assembled, stretching or chatting while they waited for training to start.

Conversations quieted the moment he stepped into view. Sebastian was never loud when he was angry. He didn’t need to be.

He stood at the center of the room, hands behind his back, gaze sweeping across the gathered faces. “Form up.”

They did.

Sebastian let the silence drag just long enough to make their skin itch, walking between the rows, circling them like a predator sizing up its prey. His boots echoed with every step. No one dared speak.

He finally stopped near the front, hands still clasped behind him.

“So nobody was going to tell me, hm?”

The officers exchanged weary glances.

“Cold water charms. Hexed boots. Sabotaged gear. I don’t know who started it, but I know damn well none of you stopped it. And before anyone tries to give me some speech about tradition or ‘toughening up the new recruit’—she’s not new. She’s not yours to break in. She’s a decorated Warden from the Canadian Ministry with more frontline time than the lot of you combined. And you treat her like shit.”

Sebastian took a step forward, voice razor-sharp. “You lot are lucky she hasn’t filed a single report. Not one complaint. Not one request for disciplinary review. Because if she had, over half this room would already be on probation.”

He took another step. “When you humiliate your own teammate, you don’t just make yourself look incompetent, you make this entire base look incompetent. And if even one more incident happens under my watch, I swear on every curse I’ve ever broken, I will personally escort your ass out of this division. Is that fucking clear?”

The silence thickened. A few officers glanced at each other. Most looked at the floor.

“Good. Now here’s what’s going to happen,” Sebastian said coolly. “You’re going to run. Full perimeter of the base, east wall to north gate and back. And you’re going to keep running until I say stop. If you collapse, you keep crawling. If you so much as whine, I’ll have you reassigned to waste disposal duty with no field clearance for six months.” He gestured sharply. “Move.”

There was a beat of hesitation, then the squad scattered, boots thudding across stone as they poured out into the yard. You moved, too, automatically. One foot forward, then the other, your posture already shifting toward a sprint.

“Not you,” Sebastian said quietly.

You stopped, mid-step, turning slowly to face him. “Sir?”

“You’re not going with them.”

“...I can run,” you said.

“I know you can,” he said. “That’s not the point.”

The silence between you stretched.

You didn’t argue again, but you didn’t agree either. You just stood there, shoulders drawn taut like a bowstring, bracing for another judgment. Another order. Another quiet humiliation masked as discipline.

Sebasrian sighed. “Look… I didn’t know what the other officers were doing, but I should’ve seen it sooner. That’s on me.”

You didn’t respond. But your eyes flicked away, and that said enough.

“I can’t undo what’s already happened,” he added. “But I can make damn sure it doesn’t keep happening.”

Still nothing, but you were looking at him again. And for the first time, Sebastian met your eyes—not in passing, not through the cold filter of suspicion or rivalry—but directly. He’d expected them to be cold, reflective of the way you moved through the world, but they weren’t.

Not even close.

There was a depth there he hadn’t prepared for. Not warm, exactly, but… honest. And striking. Beautiful, even.

Sebastian exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And… look, I’m sorry about how I acted.”

You stared at him, eyes narrowing. “...Which time?”

Sebastian winced.

He’d yelled at you in front of the whole squad after Whitechapel, blamed you for disobeying him even though it saved his life. He’d grilled you harder than anyone else during drills, nitpicked your tactics, doubled your sparring rounds. And the rest of the time, he ignored you entirely.

His throat tightened. “All of them.”

Your expression didn’t change but he saw the way your jaw tightened and the way your fingers flexed slightly where they hung at your sides, like you were resisting the urge to cross your arms again. Or punch him. Which he probably deserved.

“Are you apologizing because you mean it,” you said slowly, “or is there an angle I’m missing? Some Ministry directive I haven’t been briefed on? Maybe a note that says ‘build rapport with the unstable Canadian before she snaps’?”

The bitterness in your voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean like it had been sitting there for weeks, just waiting for an opening.

Sebastian knew he deserved it.

“There’s no directive,” he said quietly. “I’m not playing politics. I just... realized I was wrong about you. I… yeah, I was pissed when they assigned you to my unit,” he admitted. “Didn’t want the interference. Didn’t want someone watching my team. I thought you were there to babysit us, or spy on us. Or me. But..." Sebastian cleared his throat. “Hale let me read your file.”

“...So you read a bunch of sanitized mission summaries and decided I was worth basic human decency?"

He flinched. “That’s not what happened.”

“No?” You finally looked at him again. And god, there was steel behind your eyes. Not anger, just a sharp, measured resolve. “Then what did happen, Sallow? You needed a dossier to tell you I wasn’t the enemy?”

He didn’t have a defense. Not one that wouldn’t make him sound worse.

You shook your head, a short exhale passing through your nose. “You know, you could've just, I don't know, asked me about myself when I got here if you were so damn curious.”

Sebastian swallowed. “I—”

“You didn’t need my file to know I was qualified,” you cut in. “You just needed to pay attention.”

He winced. “I know.”

“This happens everywhere I go,” you said flatly. “A foreign name on the roster, some fancy clearance from a different Ministry, and suddenly everyone’s territorial. Suspicious. Insecure.”

Her voice wasn’t bitter, but it wasn’t forgiving, either.

“And now that you’ve read my file,” you continued, “you know this isn’t my first rodeo. You’re not the first superior who didn’t want me on their team. Trust me, I’ve seen worse. At least this time no one hexed my mattress or tried to steal my wand.”

That landed harder than you probably intended, if the twist in Sebastian’s gut was anything to go by.

“I’ve done this song and dance before,” you said. “And I’ll do it again somewhere else when they reassign me.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say. All he could hear was Ominis’s voice echoing in his head.

For weeks, he’d tried to tell Sebastian in that patient, exasperated way of his, that you weren’t cold, you were trained. That everything Sebastian took as detachment was just discipline, and that you didn’t have a choice in any of this either.

And that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You’d just been doing your job. It was him who’d made it personal.

Because ever since he was a teenager—since Solomon—Sebastian had clawed his way toward competence like it was the only thing keeping him upright. He’d fought to be better. Sharper. In control. He’d built himself up as someone who knew how to run a unit, someone whose instincts could be trusted, someone who mattered.

But then you walked in.

A decorated Warden, your rank above his own yet ordered to work under him. But in his gut, it had felt like a correction. Like someone upstairs had decided he wasn’t good enough. That the squad he built wasn’t good enough.

And maybe they weren’t.

But that wasn’t your fault.

Sebastian ran a hand down his face. “You’re right,” he said softly. “You're completely right. And again, for what it’s worth, I’m… I’m sorry. I really am.”

You studied him for a beat longer, unreadable. Then your arms slowly uncrossed.

“Noted,” you said.

Not forgiven. Not forgotten. Just… noted.

Sebastian shifted his weight, glancing toward the window where the squad was still running in the yard, sweat-soaked, winded, regret etched into every heavy stride.

You followed his line of sight. “…How long you going to make them run for?”

Sebastian glanced at you, a huff of air escaping his nose—half a laugh, half sigh.

“Until I stop being angry.”

You tilted your head. “So… another hour?”

“At least.”

You nodded like that seemed fair.

“Also,” you continued, sounding somewhat hesitant. “I read your file too. On the plane here.”

Sebastian blinked. “You what?”

“It’s standard protocol when assigned to a new unit,” you explained. “Fields record. Mission logs. Including the one with the photo where your hair looks like you lost a fight with a wind charm.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Look, that mission was in Wales. The wind practically had a vendetta.”

You didn’t smile exactly, but the corner of your mouth twitched, and he couldn’t help it—his mouth curled at the edge, too.

“Alright then,” he said, crossing his arms. “What’d you think of it then?”

Your eyes cut sideways, voice dry as bone. “Your’re clever but reckless, have poor impulse control, you’re allergic to authority, and your handwriting’s shit.”

He laughed before he could stop himself. “So you think I’m smart?”

You gave him a flat look. “I think you’re a headache.”

Sebastian grinned. He didn’t know what this was—this strange, careful warmth threading between the sarcasm—but he knew better than to push it.

“Alright,” he said, tipping his head toward the ring. “Well… you’re off the hook for the run, but don’t think I’m going easy on you during drills.”

You arched a brow. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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yoongle--boongle--pie · 4 months ago

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Pechsträhne - Chapter 1

P.S: I moved accounts! So all further updates will be posted to @yoongleboonglepie! Much love