#BTS J-Hope AU

[champagnevi]

₊✧.⋆˚ hoseok's realization

hoseok, who was mesmerized the first time he saw you dance, captivated by the way you connected with the music, his eyes unconsciously following you for the rest of the rehearsal.

hoseok, who always tried to have you among his lead dancers whenever he had to choose, making sure to give you a spot by his side.

hoseok, who would casually approach your group during rehearsals, always looking for a chance to learn more about you.

hoseok, who was stunned when you agreed to go out to dinner with him… and the whole team. growing closer to you during those dinners, getting to know you little by little.

hoseok, who always made sure you had water and got enough rest during rehearsals, watching how hard you pushed yourself—staying behind long after everyone else had left, repeating the choreography over and over.

hoseok, who never failed to ask how you were feeling before stepping on stage, and every time you gave him a smile, his heart would pound a little harder, his own smile settling permanently on his face.

hoseok, who, the first time you asked him for help with some steps, noticed how your hands trembled with nerves and how you avoided meeting his eyes—feeling a tightness in his chest, vowing never to let you feel that way again.

hoseok, who gently assured you that you could always count on him and softly asked you to please look him in the eyes.

hoseok, who felt his entire face heat up when he realized jin had witnessed the whole interaction—only for jin to quickly apologize and bolt out of the room.

hoseok, who started making up the silliest excuses just to talk to you. "hey, do you think my new dance move makes me look cool or just unhinged?" he’d ask, dramatically demonstrating some exaggerated footwork—just to hear you laugh.

hoseok, who found himself tripping over his own feet the first time you actually complimented him—his usual effortless grace completely failing him.

hoseok, who swore he wasn’t nervous around you… until he knocked over an entire row of water bottles in the practice room because he was too focused on you.

hoseok, who couldn’t stop himself from glancing at you in the mirror every time you danced beside him—watching the way you moved, how the music seemed to live in your body.

hoseok, who kept waiting for you to notice. notice the way his teasing wasn’t just friendly, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his touch—when he helped adjust your posture or guided you through a step—was careful, lingering just a little more than necessary.

hoseok, who finally had enough of waiting.

so on a quiet evening, after a long rehearsal, when the team was packing up, he did something ridiculous just to get your attention.

he pretended to slip—not dramatically enough to make a scene, but just enough to stumble right into your path, making you jolt in surprise. "oops," he grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "guess I got a little distracted."

you laughed, shaking your head at him, completely unaware of the warmth in his gaze.

and that’s when he finally said it.

"wanna go for a walk by the river with me?"

your head tilted slightly. "right now?"

"yeah," he said, his voice softer this time, more real. "just us."

and when you nodded, his smile was so wide, so pure, that even the stars above the river couldn’t compare.

[sosickastro]

Indulgence (Bts x Chubby reader)

-------------------

Poly Bts x Chubby Reader, Soulmate au and Idol au

Summary: Poor broke and isolated mc gets the chance to go to a concert with an old high school friend, with hoping to find their soulmate and see the biggest boy band in the world. A new shocking reality hits her while at the concert.

Chapter Warnings: degrading thoughts, poor writing and grammar, gender confused reader, anxiety, mc being a loner, mentions of weight insecurities, swearing, etc (let me know if I miss anything)

A/N: Hey yall I am not dead just being a wage slave at my job and working 24/7-- I wrote this a bit ago and posted a snip it of this a while ago as well but my friend begged me to post an actual chapter of this--- if this goes well I might post more. As usual, Grammarly is my lord and savior so there are going to be some mistakes even they can't catch.

word count: 2,644 (damn)

(Thank you Corinnecousins on Pinterest for this picture)

The red string is an invisible string with only the users being able to see it. On the other end of the string, it is supposed to be your soulmate. Someone that is your other half, someone that the universe itself said was perfect for you. At the age of 18, you get to see the string in completeness, it's like officially becoming an adult. Some people do find their soulmates before the ripe age but most don't find their other half till well into their twenties. 

There is this website that the government set up, it is called ‘The SoulTies.’ This website is run by a mysterious group that knows when soulmates complete their bond and on this website, you can see who is paired with who. The website came about mainly for celebrities because a lot of casualties happened when crazed fans pushed too much to find their favs soulmates. This was the compromise, and surprisingly it worked. No one knows how these people know, it is almost like the gray sisters and the string of fate except they don't cut the string, and the string is red and involves love. Something the Greeks thought of as a tragedy and not a serendipity. I think the website is funny, not in a mean way. Moreso seeing well-known people get paired with nobodies. It’s nice knowing that the ones who acted full of themselves get humbled by their fate. I haven’t met my soulmate yet, 

I am almost 19 and a month into my freshman year of college with no friends, barely a social life, and no soulmate. Though I wasn't expecting to find him on day one of moving into college, it is still disheartening when you see others with their lovers or soulmates and your red string is so tight it can cut a block of cheese. See the further you are away from your soulmate the tighter the string, when you guys get closer to each other the string will loosen. I was hoping that moving to a different state would give me a fresh start in this whole life mess, but it just made me more depressed than I have ever been. 

I let out a long sigh as my thoughts consumed me, I adjusted the bag on my back and skipped through a few songs. The nice weather and lack of students around made the hell walk to my class more bearable. Recently I have been getting back into listening to BTS, the music makes me less stressed about life, and I get to reminisce about how happy they make me. When I was a tween and didn’t know about the struggles of financial debt and stupid people. I put on one of their albums as I made my way to my philosophy class. BTS as I recently found out are all soulmates with each other, they decided to let the world know a few years ago but I guess I was living underneath a rock when the news broke out. It makes sense in my opinion, all being soul-tied, and it's not like group soul bonds don't exist, they are uncommon, sure but not rare. A part of me, the delusional side of me, secretly hoped it would be one of them. That I was fated to be with Taehyung or maybe Jungkook. I know a lot of their more toxic fans were upset by this announcement as I went into a rabbit hole on the whole matter. The outrage by the delusional fans where overshadowed by the more competent people and was overall taken very well. 

I made myself laugh at the thought as I took my seat in the filled classroom. I gave a soft smile to the two girls who sat by me as I placed my headphones into my bag and grabbed my laptop. I make a quick Google doc so I can pretend to take notes and pull my phone out to check any notifications I may have gotten on my walkover. I smile as I see a text from an old friend, Lauren. Me and her graduated from the same high school and we were some of the very few people to move out of state for college because of this we stayed in contact with each other; hoping to lessen the stress of college and being in a new state. 

LaLaRen: Hi, I know this is sudden and you can say no to me, but I got these concert tickets from a classmate and I was wondering if you want to come with me. I think you know this band and it is happening this Saturday. 

Me: Omg, I would love to, who is the band? :] 

LaLaRen: It is the K-pop band BTS. I only really know a few songs from them. But I remember hearing from Sarah that you love them, or maybe like K-pop in general. 

Me: No fucking way- OMG YES I WOULD GO WITH YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE 

LaLaRen: Haha, okay okay how about you come down Friday so we can go shopping and hangout for a little ;0 

Me: Sounds wonderful ;]

I giggle softly to myself as I feel the energy surging in me. I have always wanted to see a BTS concert and now here is my golden opportunity, fuck willy wonka this is more amazing than his chocolate factor.

When I got back from my class, I threw my bag onto my half-made bed and sat down at my desk. I grab my laptop out of my school bag to send off an email to my professors letting them know of my absence for tomorrow. As much as me and Lauren can plan around our classes, it would be easier for us not to have them. Plus I don’t believe I can sit through another psychology lesson knowing I was going to see the biggest boy band ever. 

 My phone set off as I finished sending the emails and looking into bus tickets, the caller ID displaying ‘LaLaRen’ I laughed to myself as I accepted the call. “Hi girl,” I said to the phone smiling as Lauren laughed I placed my phone on the messy desk putting the call onto speaker so I can try and muilty task, “Hello girly, so when do you think you will be down?” she asked me with a small giggle, it looked like she was equally as excited for this. “Well it's a 3-hour bus ride, if I leave at nine I can potentially get there around noon,” I click through the website the bus service has, seeing the available times for tomorrow Internally groaning at the prices for the bus. Maybe if I start walking now I will make it in time. 

A groan gets let out through the speakers “The three-hour bus ride sounds intense, do you want to spend the night at my dorm so you don't have to take the bus after the concert?” Lauren tells me, the way she says that is more of a statement than a question. “Oh my god, a sleepover with THE Lauren, of course,” I responded to her with a high-pitched voice. We both laughed at that and spent the next few hours going over the plan and creating backup plans just in case. 

You never know what can happen in the cities. Crazy people even more crazy traffic. Expense coffees and overrated bangle places. I sign knowing that my bank account will suffer after this 2-day trip.  After our call ended, I took out my school notebooks and folders from my school bag; to use as an overnight bag. I never really had the thought of buying another backpack, I never went anywhere in my hometown to need one. Perks of being a loner with friends who would rather play video games than have sleepovers. I walked over to my dresser, placed my newly empty backpack on top of it, and began packing it with some clothes. Me and Lauren both agreed to shop for a concert outfit and get some coffee before the concert on Saturday. I bit my bottom lips as anxiety fills my stomach, shopping for clothes has always been hard for me. Not that I don't enjoy it, in fact going thrifting is one of my favorite things. 

More so the part where I have to shop for pants or skirts or any bottoms for that matter, I am in the weird awkward body type where I am not fat enough for the plus size clothing but chubby enough to not be able to fit into any size below a 16, even then some 16 pants are too small for me. With Lauren being smaller and skinnier than me I hope it goes over well shopping and we don’t need to go to a hundred different shops just to find one pair of pants that fit me. With that, I put a pair of black cargo pants into my overnight bag. It goes with a lot of outfits just in case I can only find a top to wear.

I like to think I am not super insecure about my weight, though being the fat kid growing up and now even if my weight is distributed through my body after puberty, I still have a stomach to me, I still have big thighs and I still have a chubby face. The comments made to you, even as a kid, stick with you for the rest of your life. I know I am attractive and I am confident in myself, but the insecurity is still there. Especially when you don’t fit into what society wants as a mid-size person, I have a small chest size that makes me pass off as a guy. Another thing that I don't mind as I really don’t care about my gender. But it is whatever. It makes finding a boyfriend hard but makes boys with fragile masculinities pissed off easier, a small win in my book. 

I snap out of my degrading thoughts as I finish packing my bag, adding in a few accessories and perfume. I grumble as the dining halls are now closed; though the food was probably not going to be that good anyway. I place the bag at the end of my bed and debated on ordering some takeout but with the money I was going to be spending tomorrow, I decide to try and sleep. Though I know I won’t sleep for a good while,  I can spend the night relearning fan chants and old songs. But like usual  I spent the next hour scrolling through social media, stalking old classmates before I ended up falling asleep out of exhaustion. 

I woke up that morning with a newfound pep in my step, getting dressed and ready was a blur of excitement and anxiety some thoughts of telling Lauren I don’t want to go anymore pop into my head once and a while, but I can not let my anxiety get in the way of seeing my seven fake husbands. After I was done with everything I did a final check around my small dorm making sure that I had everything As I adjusted the straps of the bag, so it fits more comfortably on my shoulders I pulled out my phone to book an Uber to the bus. I give myself one more look in the mirror before heading out of the building. I can drive by the way, but in this economy, it's impossible to buy a car. But still super expensive to use Uber everywhere, it is always a lose-lose situation. A huge fuck you to the poor and stupid college kids just trying to have fun. Maybe my soulmate is some rich dude who can drive me everywhere. Being a forever-passenger princess doesn't sound too bad. 

As I wait for the driver to come I sent a quick text to Lauren that I was on my way to the bus station which she answered with a simple ‘Okay’ My Uber drive was quick as my nerves got my adrenaline rushing throughout my body, tomorrow I am going to be seeing my all-time favorite band, and who knows maybe my soulmate will be there. He needs to have good taste in music if he wants to be with me. Though it would be easy to indoctrinate him into the BTS lifestyle. 

 I give the driver a small ‘thank you’ as I stepped out of the car just in time for the bus to be pulling in. I pulled out my phone to show them the ticket I bought last night and make my over to the bus seeing as it was filling up. I give the driver a polite smile as he gave me a nod singling that I was good to sit down wherever I wanted to. I made my way down the aisle before taking a seat in an empty section. I prayed to whatever God out there that I had to row to myself. As lady luck is on my side I get the two seats to myself as the bus pulls out of the station, I readjust the headphones on my head as I am going to heavily rely on music during this drive, maybe I can sneak in a nap beforehand too. 

The three-hour ride went well, very well it felt like only 3 minutes. Maybe I am way too excited for this concert but I never had the privilege to be this hopeful in my life. I wait a little as the bus comes to a stop and people begin to step off the bus. As I also take my leave on the bus I quickly spot Lauren, her long black hair and chunky glasses give her away pretty easily. We pulled each other into a hug letting out excited giggles. “Are you ready for city traffic?” Lauren asks me with wiggling eyebrows “Of course” I say back to her, we begin to take off to meet up with Lauren’s soulmate who would be driving us. We talked about the concert and the songs we hope to hear. The sounds of traffic, people talking, kids yelling and cars honking filled the air like an unwelcomed hug from your weird aunt; uncomfortable but familiar I nodded my head along as Lauren rants about how close we are going to be to the stage and hoping to see Namjoon that close up

Then for the first time in my life, I felt a tug, anxiety filled my stomach as I froze in my tracks, and my heartbeat went through the roof as I looked down at the red thread I usually forget about, it loosened. Holy shit I am near my soulmate. Holy shit. Lauren notices that I stop walking and now staring at my pinky finger asks me “Are you okay?” I initially looked around the bus station, there were a lot of people walking around, too many to see where the string goes. “Is it your soulmate?” Lauren asks me again. I couldn't speak, my mouth dry as I gave her a shaky nod.

But unfortunately just as it loosens it quickly tightens again, meaning my soulmate either left or is on a bus going further away from me. “I wonder if he felt it” I questioned out loud, looking at Lauren with shaken eyes. She sighs, almost equally disappointed “Come on Clare is waiting for us, we don’t want to keep her waiting.” Lauren tells me, grabbing my hand and basically dragging me to the exit. I can’t stop staring at my red thread, there's hope. There is always hope. Now I at least can find comfort that he is in the States, and not in Korea or Russia or anything far away.

[magic-shop-stories]

how would bts react to their kids being disrespectful towards their wife?

💌 Reply:

Ahh, I hope this is what you wanted... I took me way too long, but I got so many ideas while writing this.

This blog is honestly turning into BTS Parent AU (crying in orphan) - I started with a J-Hope Dad fic and end up writing Dad Headcanons for whole Bangtan - well, it kinda heals my childhood lol...

Thanks for the Request and feel free to reach out 💜 and HAVE FUN reading ✨️✨️

“Respect isn’t a rule, it’s the soil we grow in. If you poison it, nothing blooms.”

NAMJOON

Philosopher-leader

introspective

values growth through empathy & dialogue

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

when he hears the disrespect, his grip tightens on whatever he’s holding, knuckles whitening

closes his eyes for a beat, exhaling through his nose

you know how his jaw clenches? THAT!!!

his voice is low but steady, deliberate calm masking his hurt

“That language isn’t acceptable. Let’s take a walk.”

Internal Feelings: 

disappointment curdles in his chest

mentally files it away to process later

blames himself first before focusing on guiding his child

Teaching Moment

Nature Walk

takes his child to a quiet park or riverbank

points to tangled tree roots: 

“See how they hold each other up? Families are like that. When you hurt Mom, you shake our roots.” 

asks them to find a smooth stone and toss it into water

“Words are like ripples, once they’re out, you can’t take them back.”

Punishment

1) Apology Letter & Reflection Essay

his child writes two things

heartfelt apology to their mom, including specific examples of her sacrifices

A 1-page reflection on “How My Words Impact Others,” using a metaphor; e.g., “Anger is fire,it burns the person holding it too”

2) Community Service

would volunteer with his child at a local community garden for a weekend

“You’ll water plants and see how care grows something beautiful. Like Mom does for us.”

3) Lost Privileges

no screen time (tablet, TV) until both letters are completed to his standards

Internal Conflict

Self-Doubt:

later, he vents in his journal

 “Did I overreact? Am I too abstract for them to understand?” 

worries his calmness comes off as indifference

Frustration & Compassion

part of him wants to yell "How dare they hurt her?" but he swallows it, knowing anger won’t teach

instead, texts his wife: 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. We’ll fix this together.”

Guilt

buys her favorite latte and leaves it on her desk with a sticky note

“You’re our bedrock. Thank you for enduring my learning curves too.”

Follow-Up

Family Meeting

gathers everyone to discuss “healthy communication.”

uses a whiteboard to map emotions

e.g., “When you’re angry, here’s how we express it without explosions”

lets his child lead part of the discussion

Ritual

starts a weekly “Gratitude Stone” tradition

each family member drops a painted stone into a bowl while sharing something they appreciate about the others

the bowl stays on the dining table as a visual reminder

_________________________________________

“Respect your mom, or I’ll revoke your WiFi and your right to laugh at my jokes. And trust me, you need both to survive.”

JIN

playful disciplinarian

fiercely protective

humor as a bridge to vulnerability

nurturing with a side of theatrics

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Dramatic Flair

whirls around, clutching his chest like a K-drama lead

“Yah! Did I just hear disrespect in this household? To the woman who gave you life? Are you a villain in a weekend drama now?” 

his voice drops, dead serious

“Apologize. Properly. Now.”

Body Language

looms over his child (playfully intimidating), arms crossed

winks at his wife to reassure her he’s handling it

Internal Feelings

hot flash of anger - How dare they hurt her?

masks it with humor to avoid scaring his kid

secretly wonders - Did I joke too much about respect? Is this my fault?

Teaching Moment

Cooking Lesson Consequences

drags his kid to the kitchen

“You think parenting is easy? Let’s see you handle dinner.” 

carefully forces them to peel garlic, chop onions, and stir a bubbling pot while he “supervises” from a stool

Metaphor Time

 “Mom’s like this stew, holds everything together. You insult her, the whole family falls apart. You wanna taste chaos? Here...” 

lets them sip over-salted broth

“See? Without her balance, life’s spicy in the worst way.”

Punishment:

Apology Performance

he'd make them sing an apology parody of Super Tuna (Jin writes lyrics if they're younger/need help) (too personal opinion)

“I’m sorry, Mom, I was a fool / I broke the golden respect rule!”

complete with fish-themed choreography

Mom’s Personal Assistant

for a week, his kid acts as Mom’s “manager”

bringing her coffee, massaging her shoulders, and taking notes on her daily tasks

“You’ll learn how hard she works and say ‘Yes, Queen’ with a smile.”

No Joke Privilege

bans his child from his dad-joke sessions (their favorite bonding time) until they earn back trust

“Comedy’s a privilege for people who respect their co-stars.”

Internal Conflict

Guilt & Second-Guessing

after bedtime, he stress-eats kimchi pancakes in the kitchen

mutters to his wife: 

“Was I too harsh? Should I have hugged them first?” 

(if she reassures him, he still texts his mom at 2 a.m.)

“How did you not disown me when I was 13 and edgy?”

Protective Fury

secretly grinds his teeth remembering the disrespect

Humor as Armor

buys his wife expensive skincare “just because”

glares at hiskid’s homework like it personally offended her

cracks a joke during the apology song

“Your high note needs work, but the remorse is chef’s kiss”

makes sure his child knows he’s dead serious underneath

Follow-Up

Family Dinner Theater

institutes a weekly “Appreciation Roast” where everyone playfully roasts each other, but he'd end up praising his child and wife

“Your mom’s so amazing, she makes the sun jealous. Fight me.”

Secret Spy Mission

assigns his kid to stealthily document Mom’s daily acts of kindness (e.g., packing lunches, fixing Wi-Fi)

“Mom Appreciation PowerPoint.” = Jin adds meme slides for flair

_________________________________________

“Your anger’s a tool. Use it to fix what you broke, not break what she fixed.”

SUGA

stoic realist

quietly protective

values actions over empty words

emotionally reserved

deeply introspective

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Cold Silence

freezes mid-task (producing beats, fixing a coffee)

eyes narrowing to slits

voice drops to a low, icy register

“Repeat that. Slowly.” 

room chills, even the air feels heavier

Body Language

leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, jaw clenched

a vein pulses at his temple, the only tell of his simmering rage

Internal Feelings

visceral flashback to his teenage self snapping at his parents

guilt claws at him

“Am I failing like I thought he did?” 

referencing his own father’s emotional distance

Teaching Moment

Studio Session

drags his kid to his home studio at midnight

slams headphones onto them

“You’re angry? Scream. Spit it into the mic. Let’s hear exactly what’s rotting in your head.” 

records their raw, unfiltered outburst

plays it back, deadpan

“This what you want your legacy to be? Noise?”

Lyric Exercise

forces them to transform the rant into structured rap verses 

“Anger’s useless if it doesn’t build something. Mom’s your hook, write a chorus thanking her.”

Punishment

Gratitude Ledger

his child must document every thing Mom does for them for a week, down to folded socks

present it as a spreadsheet

 “Numbers don’t lie. Now apologize in data.”

Manual Labor

assigns them to clean the studio top-to-bottom

“You wanna disrespect the woman who cleans your messes? Learn the weight of it.”

Tech Ban

confiscates their phone/laptop until the rap is perfected

“You’ll communicate face-to-face like we did in the trenches.”

Internal Conflict

Fatherhood Ghosts

stares at old family photos late at night

his father’s stern face haunts him

“Will my kid remember me as a wall or a weapon?” 

texts his mom

“Did I ever make you feel small?” 

she replies with a heart emoji, he saves it but doesn’t sleep

Emotional Paradox 

wants to hug his child but fears coddling

leaves a new pair of sneakers (their size) outside their door -no note

Protective Rage

slips cash into his wife’s purse with a scribbled 

“Buy silence. Spa. Dinner. Whatever. I’ll handle the chaos.”

Follow-Up

Family Cypher

hosts a living room rap battle

he goes hardest on himself

“I’m a flawed king, but Mom’s the throne. Diss her again, and you’ll rap alone.” 

his kid’s verse earns a nod

“Better. Still trash flow, though.”

Silent Ritual

every Sunday, he and his child cook his mom’s kimchi jjigae recipe

no talking, just chopping, stirring, and passing ingredients

“Respect’s in the labor,” he mutters once, and his kid finally gets it

_________________________________________

”You can’t fake respect like a bad dance cover. Nail the basics, or you’re benched from my WiFi."

J-HOPE

radiant disciplinarian

structured yet warm

balances positivity with unwavering principles

thrives on growth through accountability

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

The Judge Face Activated

the moment he hears the disrespect, his signature smile evaporates

eyes narrow into a laser-focused stare

brows furrowing into "courtroom glare."

stands tall, arms crossed, fingertips tapping his biceps

silent countdown to explosion

Voice

sharp and clipped, volume rising just enough to sting

“Hold. Up. Did you just speak to your mother like that? Do you need a mirror to see how ugly that sounded?”

Body Language

steps between his child and his wife, a protective shield

his usually animated hands now rigid at his sides, fists briefly clenching

Teaching Moment

Choreography of Consequences

”Respect Rehearsal”

forces his child to practice bowing and polite phrases

”Yes, Mom,” “Thank you, Mom” 50 times in front of a mirror “You wanna act up? Perfect your performance as a decent human first.”

Gratitude Graffiti

hands them poster boards and markers

“You have one hour to turn this disrespect into art. Every color is a reason Mom deserves better.” 

stands arms crossed, critiquing laziness

“That’s yellow effort. I’ve seen your TikToks, do rainbow.”

Hope’s Homework

assigns a essay titled ”How My Words Dance on Others’ Hearts”

must include a choreography metaphor

“If you can’t write it, we’ll literalize it. Ten pirouettes per paragraph.”

Internal Conflict

Post-Punishment Panic

“Was I too much? Did I break their spirit? What if they hate me now?” 

after sending his kid to their room, he paces the kitchen

stress-eating gummy bears

texts Jimin: 

”Hyung messed up. I went full dance captain on them 😭”

Guilty Glimpses

peeks into his child’s room later, heart aching if they’re crying

leaves a bowl of their favorite fruit with a note

”Anger fades. Love doesn’t. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Wife Reassurance

kneads his wife’s shoulders that night, voice small

“Did I… overstep? I just... I couldn’t let them think it’s okay to dim your light.” he exhales shakily

Follow-Up

Apology Showcase

makes his child present their poster and essay at a “family meeting.”

he claps loudest, eyes misty

”This… this is hope, right? Growth!”

Kindness Choreo

creates a ”Respect Routine”

his child must perform one act of service for Mom daily (e.g., making her coffee, tidying her shoes)

Dance Floor Therapy

blasts upbeat music, pulling his kid into a silly dance-off. 

”Life’s a stage, yeah? But Mom’s the main audience. Never forget.”

_________________________________________

“You’re my blood. But if you cut her, I’ll bleed harder. Fix this.”

JIMIN

affectionate empath

fiercely loyal

balances warmth with unexpected intensity

prioritizes emotional harmony

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Surprising Fury

his doe eyes harden into a steel-gray glare

voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper

“What did you just say to her?” 

steps closer, posture taut as a bowstring

“You don’t ever speak to Mom like that. Apologize. Now.”

Body Language

hands tremble slightly, not from fear, but suppressed rage

he grips his child’s shoulder, not roughly, but firm enough to ground them

“Look at her. Look at how you made her feel.”

Internal Feelings

flash of his own childhood guilt surfaces

that time he snapped at his mother during trainee stress

his anger is laced with panic: 

“Am I repeating cycles I swore to break?”

Teaching Moment

Emotional Bootcamp

Apology Art

forces his child to create a “Heart Map” collage

photos of Mom’s sacrifices, surrounded by handwritten apologies in every color

“If you can’t say it, show it.”

sits silently beside them, tears brimming as he points to a photo of Mom staying up late with homework

Role Reversal

makes them act out a skit where they’re the parent

Jimin plays them, mimicking their harsh tone

feigns sobbing into a pillow

“Feel good? Proud? This is what you did.”

Service Sentence

his child must take over Mom’s chores for a week, packing lunches, folding laundry

he supervises, arms crossed 

“You think her love is free? It’s labor. Respect it.”

Internal Conflict

Guilt Spiral

after confrontation, he locks himself in the bathroom, splashing water on his face

“Did I scare them? What if they think I’m a monster?” 

texts Jungkook: 

”Messed up. I sounded like a monster”

Midnight Check-In

creeps into his child’s room at 2 a.m., tucking them in

whispers

“I’m sorry I yelled. But Mom… she’s my soul. You can’t break her.” 

leaves a handwritten note: 

“Anger is love that’s bleeding. Let’s heal together.”

Wife’s Reassurance

clings to her that night, forehead pressed to her shoulder

“Tell me I’m not failing. Tell me they’ll still love me.”

Soft Family Resolution

Pillow Fort Summit:

builds a blanket fort in the living room

stuffed with snacks and fairy lights

initiates a feelings circle

“I’m sorry I yelled. I felt scared; scared we’d lose us.” 

“Love is sticky, yeah? Messy. But sweet when you knead it right.” 

encourages his child to share

pulls them into a cuddle pile

Baking Therapy

bakes cookies together, Jimin guiding their hands

feeds Mom the first bite, eyes soft

Dance of Apology

plays a slow song, swaying with his child

“This is how we say sorry without words.” 

by the end, they’re both laughing through tears

_________________________________________

“Disrespect your mom, and you erase the art of our family. I’ll burn the palette until you paint her properly.”

TAEHYUNG (V)

artistic empath

whimsical yet profound

values emotional depth and creativity

fiercely protective with a tender heart

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Quiet Intensity

his playful demeanor evaporates

tilts his head, eyes narrowing into a piercing gaze

voice low and steady

“Did I just hear you disrespect the universe that holds our family together?”

his tone is velvet wrapped in steel

Body Language

steps closer, crouching to his child’s level

hands clasped tightly behind his back to avoid trembling

“You think words are just air? They’re echoes. Let’s make sure yours don’t haunt us.”

Teaching Moment

Metaphor-Driven Lesson:

”Broken Vase” Analogy

brings out a delicate ceramic vase

smashes it deliberately

“This was us. Now fix it.” 

hands them glue, forcing them to piece it back

“Apologies are glue, but cracks remain. Choose your words wisely.”

Songwriting Therapy

drags his child to the piano

“Turn your anger into music. Write a chorus for Mom, every line a reason she’s our melody.” 

plays minor chords until his child’s lyrics shift from defiance to remorse

Silent Gallery

curates a “Mom Exhibit” in the living room

photos, her favorite scarf, a recipe card

forces his child to stand there for an hour

“Breathe in her soul. Then tell me she deserves disrespect.”

Consequence

1) Art Ban

revokes access to paints, instruments, or cameras until the vase is repaired and the song is performed for Mom

“Creativity is a privilege. Use it to heal, not harm.”

2) Memory Journal: 

assigns a diary to log daily acts of kindness from Mom 

“Fill 10 pages. Then burn one and see how it feels to erase her love.”

3) Shadow Day: 

his child must follow Mom for 24 hours, documenting her tasks in a sketchbook

“You’ll learn her language of love—it’s spelled S-A-C-R-I-F-I-C-E.”

Internal Conflict

Doubt in Darkness

late at night, he stares at the fractured vase on his shelf

texts Jin: 

“Hyung, what if I’m too abstract? What if they don’t see?” 

vowing, “I’ll be the parent who stays in the frame.”

Guilt in Gestures

secretly films Mom’s daily routine, editing it into a montage set to his child’s song

leaves it on their laptop with a note: 

“Her love is your legacy. Don’t let it be a silent film.”

Protective Poetry

writes a letter he never sends: 

“I’d raze galaxies to keep you safe. Both of you.”

Resolution

Family Portrait Session

dresses everyone in coordinating hues

directing a photoshoot where Mom is the focal point

whispered to his child: 

“See how she outshines us all? That’s why we orbit her.”

Midnight Storytime

gathers them under fairy lights

recounting a fable about a boy who lost his voice after hurting his mother

ends with, “Love is the only language worth speaking.”

Collaborative Art

paints a mural together titled “Home.”

guides his child’s hand to outline Mom’s figure

“Without her, this canvas is empty. Now fill it with light.”

_________________________________________

“Disrespect Mom, and you’ll spar with me until your heart matches your mouth, strong enough to lift her, not tear her down.”

JUNGKOOK

gentle protector

resilient softie

leads by example

values hard work and emotional honesty

channels intensity into growth

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Silent Fury

freezes mid-rep at the gym, dumbbell hovering

his muscles tense like coiled springs

jaw clenched so tight his cheekbones sharpen

sets the weight down with deliberate calm, turns slowly, and locks eyes with his child

“You think you’re tough enough to disrespect your mom? Let’s test that.”

Body Language

cracks his knuckles, rolling his shoulders back

his gaze is volcanic

his voice stays eerily quiet

“Gym. Now. You wanna act hard? Be hard.”

Teaching Moment

Boxing Bootcamp

drags his kid to his home gym

forces them into gloves, pads him up, and drills combos

“Hit the pad. Harder. Harder. That’s your anger? Mom’s felt worse from your words.” 

makes them sprint between rounds

“Respect isn’t a game, it’s a discipline.”

Breakdown: mid-session, he stops, chest heaving

“You think I’m mad? I’m terrified. Because if you break her heart, I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Punishment

Labor of Love: 

assigns 100 burpees (he does them too)

“Every rep is a ‘thank you’ for Mom’s sleepless nights.”

Gratitude Gauntlet

forces his kid to handwrite 50 reasons Mom “outworks them daily.”

critiques each one

“’She drives me to school’? Weak. Dig deeper. Sacrifice.”

Tech Timeout

confiscates gaming gear until they’ve detailed Mom’s daily schedule in a spreadsheet

“You’ll see her 18-hour shift. Then we’ll talk ‘fair.’”

Internal Conflict

Regret & Vulnerability

after the workout, he sits alone in the gym, head in hands

texts Yoongi:

”Hyung, did I go full drill sergeant? What if they hate me?” 

stares at a family photo on his phone, zooming in on his wife’s smile

Guilt Gifts

sneaks into his kid’s room at dawn, leaves protein pancakes and a new hoodie (their favorite anime print)

scrawls on a napkin

”Anger fades. My love for you doesn’t. But never hurt her again.”

Protective Paradox

books his wife a solo vacation, "growling" at his kid

 “You’re stuck with me. We’re rebuilding what you cracked.”

Soft Resolution

Sparring Therapy

returns to the gym days later, gloves on

this time, he lets his child hit his pads while venting

“I get it, anger’s easy. Loving’s harder. But Mom? She’s worth the reps.” 

ends with a fist bump

Tattoo Talk

shows them his “ARMY” tattoo

“This means I fight for what I love. You’ll earn yours when you learn to fight for her, not against.”

Family Night

teaches self-defense moves

positioning Mom as the “VIP to protect.”

his kid must shield her from his playful attacks

“Guard her like she’s your last round.”

_________________________________________

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: January 30, 2025.

→ NARRATED AUDIO:

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: plausible deniability king hoseok, subtext, dropping slight innuendo with that voice, gentle teasing, double meaning, sexual tension

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

→ A/N: So. Listen. I was out there, freezing my ass off at the bus stop, cursing my life choices because why am I even going to the gym at ungodly hours??? And then—THEN—the bus just had the audacity to drive right past me. Love that. Amazing. Naturally, I did what any rational person would do: opened my notes app and started writing instead of using those 45 minutes to, idk, reconsider my entire existence. And thus, Off-Labels was born. This drabble? It’s about the kind of man who is dangerous in the most insidious way—intelligent, competent, and hiding behind a veneer of plausible deniability like it’s a damn art form. You know he knows what he’s doing to you. You know he’s aware of the effect he has. But can you prove it? No. Because he’s just so nice. So helpful. So unintentionally devastating to your nervous system. It’s honestly sick and twisted and exactly my type. Am I a menace? Absolutely. First installment in what might become a series because apparently I can't stop writing about competent men in medical settings using anatomical terms as foreplay. Will I be taking criticism? Absolutely not. ❤️‍🩹🩺

→ MINI SERIES: NEXT

PLAYLIST

You don’t believe in stories like in books.

Sure, you like to read them—disappear into them, let them pull you under like a riptide until you forget about deadlines and midterms and the existential dread of being a twenty-something who still doesn’t know what they’re doing.

But that’s all they are.

Stories.

Fantasies about tragic, fated loves and brooding billionaires and dangerous men with wings. You like them because they’re not real. Because it’s fun to pretend, for a little while, that you’re the kind of girl who’s got a winged fae warrior at her feet. Or a CEO husband who calls her darling in an office with floor-to-ceiling windows. Or—God forbid—her hot math teacher, who lets her stay after class for extra lessons.

Or your brother’s best friend’s secret hookup.

Not that you’re thinking about that one.

Not that it would even be your case.

You shift on the couch, burying yourself deeper into the cocoon of your brother’s old hoodie. It’s massive on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the faded fabric smelling like dust and detergent.

Perfect. The ideal uniform for an evening of doing absolutely nothing.

Your e-reader is dead, so you’ve resorted to flipping through some random paperback you found wedged under the coffee table, something with an aggressively shirtless man on the cover. You’re only half-paying attention, your eyes skimming over the words without really absorbing them.

Caleb should be home soon. Probably. He has class—or he says he has class, but you’re not entirely convinced. He’s in that phase of university where it’s mostly networking and group projects and going out more than actually studying.

Not that you care. He does his thing, you do yours.

A sharp knock at the door pulls you out of your haze.

You ignore it. Caleb has keys. If he forgot them, that’s his problem.

The knock comes again. Then the doorbell rings.

You groan, untangling yourself from the blanket and shuffling toward the door with all the grace of a sleep-deprived goblin. Your hair is a mess, your socks don’t match, and you’re fairly certain you have crumbs on your face from earlier. Good. Whoever’s on the other side can suffer.

Except—

It’s not Caleb.

It’s Hoseok.

Oh.

You freeze, hand still gripping the doorknob, brain buffering at the sight of him standing there, all easy confidence and warm eyes and—why does he always look so put together? It’s unfair. He’s in jeans and a hoodie, nothing special, but it fits him just right, and his hair is slightly tousled, like he just ran a hand through it, and—

Stop.

You force yourself to blink, to breathe, to act like a normal human person.

“Uh,” you say, which is a stellar start.

Hoseok smiles. “Hey.”

He has the kind of voice that makes people listen, rich and smooth, the kind that carries even when he’s speaking softly. Which he is now, like he knows you spook easily.

“Caleb’s not here,” you blurt out.

He tilts his head, amused. “Yeah, I figured.”

Right. Obviously. Because if Caleb were here, he’d be the one answering the door.

You scramble for something else to say, but your brain is blank, completely derailed by the fact that he’s here. In your doorway. Looking at you. And you must look insane—your hair sticking up in weird directions, drowning in a hoodie that is definitely not yours.

And he’s still smiling. Patient. Like he has all the time in the world.

You clear your throat, gripping the edge of the door. “Um. Did you—need something?”

Hoseok shifts, rocking back on his heels. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by, see if Caleb was around.” A pause. “And you, too.”

Your brain does an emergency reboot.

You, too.

You, too.

You swallow. “Oh. Right. Cool. That’s—cool.”

His smile twitches, like he’s holding back a laugh.

You want to throw yourself into traffic.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, ever-polite, ever-easygoing.

You should say no. Caleb’s not here, and even though Hoseok is Caleb’s best friend—and a genuinely nice person, thoughtful and reliable and the kind of guy who remembers your favorite coffee order—something about being alone with him makes your stomach twist.

But saying no would be weird.

So you step back. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

He steps inside, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Or maybe you’re just too aware of him—his presence, the faint scent of clean laundry and something warmer, something mellow. He’s always been like this, always drawn your attention whether you wanted him to or not.

You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair like he’s been here a hundred times before. And he has, technically, but not like this. Not without Caleb.

Hoseok glances at the book on the coffee table. “Good?”

You stare at it, momentarily forgetting what book it even is. “Uh. Yeah.”

His eyes flick to the cover. His smile turns amused.

Heat floods your face.

"Interesting choice.”

You freeze. A slow, creeping horror slithers up your spine. Because you didn’t even look at the book before picking it up—you just grabbed whatever you had lying around, assuming it was something boring, something safe—

And now Hoseok is holding a novel titled My Professor’s Secret Temptation.

Oh.

Oh, you actually might be sick.

You scramble for something—anything—to say, but the words wedge themselves somewhere between your throat and your rapidly spiraling embarrassment.

Hoseok flips the book over, scanning the back cover with a curious hum. “Didn’t take you for the forbidden romance type.”

You want the ground to open up. You want to disintegrate.

“I—I didn’t even read it!” you blurt out, a little too fast, a little too desperate. “I wasn’t paying attention, I just grabbed something random, and—and it’s not—”

Hoseok glances at you, amused but not in a mean way, just…interested? "Oh, yeah?”

You nod. Aggressively. “Yes.”

His mouth presses into something thoughtful, like he believes you, but there’s still a flicker of amusement in his expression, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with this new information.

“Huh.” He flips through a few pages idly, head tilting. “He’s pretty bold, huh?”

Your stomach drops. “Who?”

“The professor.”

Your soul leaves your body.

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing, incapable of forming a coherent thought.

Hoseok just nods, easy, unbothered. “Some of these lines are intense,” he muses, flipping another page. “Do real professors talk like this?”

You are going to die. Right here. On the floor.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know.”

He hums again, like he’s genuinely considering it, then—just as casually as everything else—he looks up and says, “You think he’s hot?”

Your heart stops.

Not in a teasing way. Not in a mean way. Just…like it’s a normal question. Like this is just an easy, natural conversation between two people who absolutely do not need to be having this conversation.

Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

Hoseok’s lips twitch, but it’s not a smirk, not a knowing smile—just quiet amusement, like this whole situation is genuinely kind of funny, and he doesn’t think it’s a big deal at all.

“Relax,” he says, closing the book with a soft thump. “I won’t tell Caleb.”

It’s so casual. So reassuring.

Like he really, really isn’t trying to mess with you.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Hoseok sets the book down with deliberate care, spine aligned parallel to the edge of the coffee table like he’s arranging museum artifacts. Your traitorous eyes track the flex of tendons in his wrist—medical resident hands, steady and precise, the kind that’ve probably held beating hearts in ORs. You bite the inside of your cheek until copper blooms.

He glances at the sofa.

You glance at the sofa.

Three cushions. Two throw pillows. Seventy-two inches of fabric that suddenly feels like the Grand Canyon between acceptable and catastrophic.

“Mind if I…?” He gestures to the spot beside your abandoned blanket nest, already moving before you nod.

The springs creak faintly as he sinks into the middle cushion, thighs spreading in that effortless way men do—knees wide, elbows propped, phone balanced on his lap. You sit next to him—two cushions away—and watch his thumb scroll through messages, the screen’s blue light catching the silver ring he always wears on his index finger. Surgical steel, he’d told you once when you’d asked. Sterile. Practical.

Practical.

Practical like the way his left knee now brushes the edge of your blanket. Practical like the faint cedar-and-disinfectant scent of his cologne. Practical like the half-inch of skin exposed when his hoodie rides up as he stretches his arms behind his head.

Don’t look.

You look.

Stop looking.

He shifts, a subtle roll of his hips that has no business being this distracting. The movement pulls the denim taut across his thighs, and you try—really, genuinely try—to keep your eyes anywhere else. The ceiling. The floor. The stack of medical textbooks by the TV. Anything but the way his thumb now absently traces the inner seam of his jeans.

“Told Caleb I’d wait,” he says, tilting his head toward you. The motion makes his throat work—Adam’s apple bobbing, chin catching gold in the lamplight. “Movie night. You’re welcome to join, if you want.”

Your tongue feels like it’s been replaced with felt. “I—I have… readings.”

“Readings.” His mouth shapes the word like it’s fascinating.

“For… neuroanatomy.” You gesture vaguely toward your backpack slumped by the TV stand, half-buried under a sweatshirt you’ve been using as a pillow. “Midterm next week.”

He hums, low and considering. “Limbic system?”

“Hippocampus. Amygdala. All the… emotional bits.”

“Ah.” His smile softens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “The parts that make you want to throw textbooks at walls.”

You blink. “You… remember?”

“Your first-year meltdown over the cranial nerves? Yeah.” He chuckles, warm and rasping. “You called them ‘twelve little traitors’ and threatened to switch to art history.”

Heat crawls up your neck. You’d forgotten he’d been there that night—Caleb dragging him along for a pizza run, finding you knee-deep in flashcards and tears. Hoseok had quietly made tea while Caleb joked about selling your cadaver lab notes on eBay.

“Still think about it sometimes,” you mutter, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “Art history sounds peaceful. No one dies in art history.”

“No,” he agrees. “But you’d miss this.”

“Miss what? The sleep deprivation? The existential dread?”

“The way your nose scrunches when you’re trying to memorize Brodmann areas.”

Your hands freeze.

He’s looking at you now—not the performative eye contact of someone making conversation, but the kind that pins you in place. Clinical. Observant. Like he’s cataloging your reaction.

“I don’t… scrunch,” you say weakly.

“You do.” His knee nudges the blanket again. Accidentally. Probably. “It’s cute.”

The air conditioner kicks on. You count the vents in the ceiling. Eight. Eight is a safe number. Eight is not the number of times you’ve imagined him saying that word in different contexts.

Cute.

Cute.

Cute.

Your lungs forget how to oxygenate.

Hoseok’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, then sighs. “Caleb’s running late. Some study group thing.”

“Oh.”

“You hungry?”

“What?”

He’s already standing, rolling his shoulders in a stretch that pulls his hoodie taut across his chest. “I’ll make ramyeon. You like the kimchi kind, right?”

You stare.

He’s in your kitchen now, rummaging through cabinets with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times. Which he has—game nights, birthday parties, that one time Caleb got food poisoning and Hoseok stayed over to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.

But this is different.

This is him pulling two bowls from the shelf you can’t reach without a step stool. This is him filling the kettle with exactly 500ml of water because he knows your stove runs hot. This is him glancing over his shoulder to ask, “Soft or firm noodles?” like it’s a question that matters.

“Soft,” you croak.

He nods, turning back to the counter. You watch his hands—capable, unhurried—tearing seasoning packets with his teeth. The steam fogs his glasses when he leans over the pot, and he pushes them up into his hair, revealing the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow.

Bike accident, he’d said when you’d asked. Twelve years old. Thought he could jump the curb like X-Games.

You’d dreamed about that scar for weeks afterward.

“Here.” He sets the bowl in front of you, chopsticks balanced across the rim. “Careful, it’s hot.”

You murmur thanks, staring at the swirling red broth. He sits closer this time—one cushion away instead of two. His knee brushes yours when he leans forward to blow on his noodles.

Accident, you tell yourself. Always accidents.

The TV murmurs in the background, some nature documentary about deep-sea creatures. Hoseok asks about your classes, and you answer in staccato sentences, hyper-aware of the way his sleeve brushes your arm when he reaches for the water glass.

“—and Dr. Park’s lectures are killing me,” you hear yourself say, chopsticks hovering over uneaten noodles. “She goes so fast, and the diagrams…”

“Want me to quiz you?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint in his eye—the same one he gets when Caleb challenges him to Mario Kart. “I handled multiple neuro cases last year. Could walk you through the basal ganglia.”

“You’re… busy.”

“Not really.” He sets his bowl aside, rolling up his sleeves. Your pulse thrums at the reveal of his forearms—dusting of dark hair, veins mapping paths you shouldn’t be tracing. “C’mon. Hit me with your worst.”

It’s a mistake.

You know it’s a mistake even as you fetch your notes, even as he pats the space beside him. Even as his shoulder presses against yours, radiating heat through three layers of fabric.

“Okay.” He scans your color-coded flashcards. “First question. What structure connects the hippocampus to the mammillary bodies?”

“F-fornix,” you stammer.

“Good.” His finger taps the next card. “Main neurotransmitter in the substantia nigra?”

“Dopamine.”

“And loss of dopamine here causes…”

“Parkinson’s.”

“Nice.” He shifts, knee pressing into yours. “Now point to your amygdala.”

You freeze. “What?”

“On your head. Show me where it is.”

“I—it’s—it’s medial temporal lobe, so…” You hover a hand near your right temple, acutely aware of his gaze tracking the movement. “Here? Ish?”

His chuckle vibrates through the couch. “Ish.”

“Shut up, I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You glare at him. He grins back, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and something in your chest cracks open.

“Medial,” he says softly, reaching over to adjust your hand. His fingers graze your wrist—brief, clinical, devastating. “Deeper. Protected.”

You stop breathing.

The documentary narrator drones on about bioluminescent jellyfish. Hoseok’s thumb brushes your pulse point.

Accident.

Always accidents.

Then his phone rings.

You jerk back like you’ve been shocked. Hoseok answers with a calm, “Yeah?” while you stare at your knees, pretending your entire nervous system isn’t short-circuiting.

“Caleb’s downstairs,” he says, standing. “Forgot his keys again.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He pauses, head tilted. For a horrifying moment, you think he’ll call you out—on the shaking hands, the flushed cheeks, the way you’re clinging to a pillow like it’s a life raft.

But he just smiles. Gentle. Endless. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

You collapse sideways onto the couch, pressing your face into the cushion that still holds the warmth of him. Somewhere in the hallway, the elevator dings. Laughter floats up from the parking lot.

Four years.

Four years of this.

Four years of almosts and maybes and don’t be stupid, he’s just being nice.

Your phone buzzes. A text from Caleb:

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?? 𝙽𝚎𝚛𝚍. 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎?

You type no with trembling fingers.

The couch creaks as you curl into yourself, knees to chest, forehead pressed against the spot where his ring had left a faint indentation in the upholstery.

Deeper.

Protected.

Somewhere in your medial temporal lobe, dopamine fires for all the wrong reasons.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒����: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[liveyun]

somnus | JHS

title. somnus (meaning sleep in latin)

pairing. jung hoseok x afab reader

genre. 18+. supernatural AU, dark content, (don’t like? don’t read!) horror, thriller, pwp

warnings. sleep demon!hobi (basically.. hobi in the MORE m/v) human!reader, themes of somnophilia, dub-con, manipulation, possessiveness(?), state of disorientation, explicit smut, a fic which makes you think kind of like what’s even happening bruh?

wc. 2k+

· · ─ ·🕸️· ─ · ·

You don’t remember falling asleep.

One moment, you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, exhausted but restless—and the next, you’re. . . somewhere else.

The air is thick and damp. You’re in your own bedroom, but it’s wrong — the walls seem to breathe and you feel like you’re seeing shadows which are curling around you. The air is warm, humid, charged with something that wraps around your skin like unseen fingertips.

You hear something.

A slow, indulgent chuckle.

“Took you long enough.”

Your breath stutters. The voice is deep, smooth, dripping with something sickly sweet. It curls around you like smoke — lazy, confident, knowing.

You turn.

He’s there.

And he’s impatient today.

Perched at the foot of your bed, one long leg propped up, an arm draped over his knee—like he’s been waiting. His dark curls fall into his eyes, lips quirked in a smirk that shouldn’t be so devastating. He looks relaxed unlike you, but the way his gaze trails over you. . . is predatory.

Like he’s been waiting.

Your pulse spikes. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

He tilts his head, eyes flashing admist the dark. “You’re cute when you lie to yourself.”

Your stomach twists. You’re not lying. Your body is betraying you — heart pounding, skin prickling under the his stare. The space between you crackles, charged with thick electricity.

It’s not the first time you’ve felt this — you don’t know if you want to run or let him devour you whole.

He moves.

Doesn’t walks. Moves. One moment, he’s at the edge of the bed. The next, he’s above you, pinning you against the sheets. The shift is so smooth, so unnatural, it makes your breath hitch and your eyes shut in both instinct and fear.

His fingers skim up your arm, slow, teasing, leaving goosebumps all along it’s wake. He leans in, so close his lips just barely ghost over yours. His touch is infuriatingly cold, but scalding at the same time.

His breath smells like smoke. Pure smoke out of a chimney. Surprisingly, it’s not as unpleasant as one would surmise it to be.

It’s somewhat. . . cool on your skin.

“You’ve been so restless, sweetheart.” His voice is a purr, dripping in amusement. “Tossing and turning, all alone. What a shame.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Your body is screaming at you to wake up, to fight back — but the second his fingertips trace up your throat, you shudder.

He hums, pleased. “There it is.”

His hand slips lower, flattening against your stomach.

“Let me take care of you.”

When his fingers slide across your stomach, you can't stop the tremble that racks your body. Your pulse races, each beat louder than the last, and you’re pretty sure it’s not from fear anymore.

His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending sparks of heat straight to your core. “You’re trembling.” He sounds amused — and there’s something in his voice that makes your chest tighten, makes the ache between your thighs grow impossible to ignore.

You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t. But when he leans down, lips grazing your neck, you can’t help the way your body reacts. The way your breath hitches as his mouth moves against your skin, as he murmurs soft little words—

“So beautiful… so perfect.”

You want to fight it.

You want to push him away, but the second his fingers find the waistband of your pants, your body betrays you. You freeze, heart pounding in your chest. You want to scream, to make him stop, but—

“Let me.”

His tone is soothing. His otherwise glowing eyes look softer, edges smooth with something you don’t understand.

Nothing feels real.

“You don’t need to fight it anymore.”

His voice is low, velvety, thick with sinful amusement. His words slither down your spine, settling in the deepest, most needy part of you.

His other hand slides up your body, hotter than before. Not just with arousal — but actual, searing heat.

“Say it.” he sneers. You were right, he is damn too impatient today to let you loose.

His fingertips brush over your skin, and you jolt, a gasp escaping your lips at the strange, electric warmth that follows. It’s not painful — not yet — not enough, but it lingers, sending a shocking wave of pleasure straight through you.

“Please—”

His touch lands on your tits.

His fingers squeeze, rolling the soft flesh in his palm, and fuck, it’s hot—like his body is burning from the inside out. You can feel it through the material of your shirt, the warmth radiating, spreading, pulsing against your skin.

Then he pinches.

And the heat surges.

Your back arches violently, a choked-out cry tumbling from your lips as the sudden spike of warmth sends shockwaves through your body. It’s not just a touch—it’s a slow, tormenting heat curling around your nipple, sending sharp, liquid fire down to your cunt.

“Oh?” he chuckles, watching the way you tremble beneath him, your body reacting helplessly. His thumb circles your nipple, teasing, rubbing, pressing just enough to let the heat build — never quite burning, but never letting you breathe, either.

“So sensitive,” he purrs, delighted. You don’t even know if his voice is real or just ringing in your head. His other hand moves between your thighs, pressing against the slick heat of your core, feeling just how wrecked you already are. “And I’ve barely even started.”

He leans down, his breath fanning against your ear.

“Tell me, baby—” His fingers roll your nipple again, and another wave of heat crashes over you, making your thighs snap shut around his hand. “What happens when I really let loose?”

You can’t stop it.

The way he touches you, the way his hands — warm, heated— skim over your body, lingering where they shouldn’t, where you need him most.

You’re drenched. Ruined. You feel it, soaking through the thin cotton of your panties, the damp, sticky mess slicking against your folds, and you know — he knows it too.

His smirk is menacing as unnaturally white, pearly set of teeth line his gums. His thumb skims under your shirt, slow, teasing, tracing over the slope of your breast. He watches your breath hitch, your chest rise, and his painted nails flick over your nipple, pinching through the fabric.

A shockwave of heat bolts straight to your core, and the moment you gasp, arching, you feel it - another rush of slick, gushing from you, ruining your panties completely.

Oh, fuck.

His eyes darken — literally.

You feel your stomach drop.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, his voice even more raspier, almost like he is delighted, and before you can even react —before you can deny, hide, fight, his hands grab your thighs, wrenching them apart.

You whimper, instinctively trying to close them, but his grip is ironclad. He holds you open, exposed, and when his gaze drops between your legs—

Oh, God.

You see it, the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. He makes a pleased sound, almost like a purr. Something you’re now used to. Or atleast, kind of are.

“Soaked right through,” he muses, running a single, painted nail over the dark, glistening patch staining your panties. The slight pressure, even through the fabric, makes you jolt.

“H-ngh —”

A sharp slap lands against your inner thigh.

“Try again,” he growls, voice velvet-wrapped sin, warm as a brand against your flushed skin. His other hand cups you suddenly, pressing down against the messy, sticky wetness between your thighs, making you tremble.

“Say my name, love.”

Your breath stutters. You don’t know his name. But before your thoughts can process it, a name — his name— makes its way to tickle the back of your head, lingering on the edges of your mind, like a whisper, like a shackle.

“J—Jay,” you breathe, barely a sound.

His smirk widens.

“That’s my girl.”

A beat of silence follows.

He leans in, and you scream.

His tongue flicks out, tracing the very top of your cunt — right over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. It’s barely anything, a soft, wicked tease, and yet it sends a bolt of pleasure shooting through you, making your thighs jerk.

“Awww,” he coos, mocking, pressing a kiss against the damp fabric. He inhales, slow, deep, dragging his mouth lower, lower, lips barely brushing where you need him most.

“You’re making such a mess, sweets,” he taunts, his hot breath making you shiver. He licks again, so, so softly, making your stomach tighten.

“Did I do this?” Another kiss, wetter, sloppier, as he nudges your thighs even wider, his painted fingers pressing into the softness of your hips. His teeth graze you, right through the soaked cotton.

“Or are you just that needy?”

You whimper, thrashing, but he doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t touch you properly.

Doesn’t give you what you need.

Just—teases, licks, bites, kisses.

You should have known better.

The moment his fingers curl under your thighs, yanking you closer, your breath falls out as a stutter. His painted nails, glossy and black as you can see now - glint softly, framing your soft skin, stark against the trembling mess he’s made of you.

He—Jay—settles between your legs with the kind of casual arrogance that makes your stomach tighten, makes your pulse pound. Like he’s been here before. Like he’s made countless souls fall apart under his mouth and doesn’t mind taking his time with you.

“You’re convulsing,” he swoons, voice warm, teasing. But it’s his eyes that ruin you—the way they drag over you, slow and dark and hungry. He parts your thighs wider, his heated palms branding your skin, nimble fingers makingand—

Fuck.

His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your soaked folds, and your entire body seizes. You can feel it before he’s even touched you—his power, wrapping around your mind like a silk noose, seeping into you like thick, endless smoke.

“Relax,” he purrs, but the words aren’t spoken out loud.

They slip inside your skull, curl up against your very thoughts. You hear him inside you, like his voice is weaving itself into your pulse, like he’s threading himself into your very existence.

A rasp so clear it’s almost maddening.

His tongue flicks against your clit without any warning and the world shatters.

Your hips jerk violently, a broken cry spilling from your lips. It’s too much. Too hot, too slick, too sinful. He doesn’t ease you into it, doesn’t give you a chance to breathe — he devours you.

Lips sealing around you.

Tongue pressing against your throbbing clit.

Sucking, licking, teasing, tongue probing your sensitive hole—

“Taste so fucking good,” he groans, half-muffled against you, a voice in your head, the vibrations wrecking you, sending heat licking up your spine. His painted fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open, keeping you still. His tongue flicks again, slow and purposeful, and you nearly scream.

“Please—please, I—”

Your words die when he presses down harder, dragging his tongue in a languid, sinful stroke that makes your toes curl. You don’t even need further stimulation to have your body tensing, although, the man — man? between your thighs is making your thought processing very difficult, and all what you’re reduced down to is a blabbering mess. The heat in your belly coils, tightens, builds—

He stops.

His mouth pulls away,

A tear slips past your eye.

Your entire body throbs with denial, clenching around nothing, your thighs twitching as the pleasure that was so close, so fucking close is suddenly ripped away. The loss is instant, cruel, devastating—like being ripped from heaven at the last second, like falling into empty, aching nothingness.

You sob.

He chuckles.

His fingers trail up your thighs, feather-light, teasing, mocking. You can feel his hot breath on your ruined, swollen cunt, so close—so close—but he doesn’t touch.

Instead, he tilts his head, and with a smirk so wicked it should be a sin.

”Oops.”

· · ─ ·🕸️· ─ · ·

a/n : happiest birthday hobi 😭🩷 i love my precious boy !!

i can’t believe it took me this long to write a more inspired hobi fic but here we go! please don’t judge me if this wasn’t written well because i managed to squeeze it out of me within some 12 hours and my first time writing dark content. . 🙏🏽 if you liked reading this, please let me know ! i’d be happy ⭐

[namfinessed]

go around - j.hs.

genre: angst, fluff (childhoodcrush! brother'sbestfriend!) (8.2k)

summary: to everyone else, he was the sun but to you, he was always the moon, the light you grabbed onto when you could see nothing.

note: grief is something very close to my heart, i've always struggled with it but i'm slowly starting to learn to live with it, i hope everyone who's experienced loss feels like some kind of relief through this, thank you for reading <3

masterlist

-

hoseok was sixteen years old when it happened.

you were thirteen.

and he had thought he was too cool for you then.

you were sitting on the other side of the mary-go-round to him, it was the last but one day of the summer camp you were part of, and you looked at him as if he hung the moon in the sky.

and hoseok felt as high as the moon that night.

but he was also sick to his stomach.

"i like you," you didn't look at him as you said it but hoseok could feel that you meant it, that it took a lot for you to get on that mary-go-round with him, spin with him, build the moon in his eyes and then say the words that he believed were stuck in your throat since when you first saw him.

he knew that your brother wouldn't like that you were saying this.

but he knew, even as a kid, that this was the most honest thing anyone's ever told him.

but he was so cool and so close to your brother, who would kill him if hoseok said anything back.

so, he didn't say anything back.

hoseok pursed his lips and looked away. he swears that, to this day, the tears shining in his eyes were nerves and not the frustration that came with not being able to hold you to the moon too.

the silent rejection didn't yet hit your soft eyes and bare heart.

you kept looking at him, hands gripping the handles so tight that your knuckles changed shades between white and pink and your cheeks puffed, excited and nervous breaths still left your lips.

and hoseok didn't want to be cool for a second there, he didn't want to care about your brother at all, maybe he would just let you take him for a bit, just a bit.

but in your thin eyebrows, he saw your brother.

in your veiny hands, he saw your brother.

in your coily, curly hair, he saw your brother.

so, he got off the mary-go-round, he walked away quickly, not pausing to look at you and he sniffed his tears away, he hugged his jacket closer to his body.

tomorrow, he would be fine.

tomorrow, no one would look at him like he was the moon and he would be okay with it.

but hoseok turned around.

the biggest mistake of his life.

the moon you thought him to be, cast a glow on the tears gathering on your chin and his heart wrenched.

he would fix this, he told himself, he would fix all of this.

but the next day, your brother, his best friend, died.

and you never spoke a word to hoseok again.

-

everything was vibrant when hoseok stepped into your home.

the unkept gardens were now blooming with flowers.

the closed windows were now open and giving a glimpse into the light inside the house.

the home was back to being a home.

he’s seen the transformation take place with his own two eyes over the years and he could confidently conclude that the ten years that cloaked your family and home in darkness were finally nowhere to be found.

and hoseok felt both delight and unease at the development.

“oh honey, you came,” there were few people hoseok could recognize with how they breathed, and your mom, his second mom basically, was one of them.

he didn’t even get to greet her before he was wrapped in a hug that surrounded him with the scent of cinnamon, musky perfume, and somehow, still his best friend.

“of course i did, ma” he kissed the top of her head, his arms not letting her go even if he knew the time for an appropriate hug was up, and she knew it too but she stayed as long as hoseok held her.

and when he let her go, he had to look away from the tears touching her eyelashes.

he probably brought back memories of his friend, maybe he still smelt like his friend too, he doesn’t know but he’s glad if he does.

his best friend��s family was unlike hoseok’s, his own family was distant and cold, and when he became an adult, he cut off all ties with them, he simply couldn’t accept them as family and your mom never let him feel as if he didn’t have one.

“the place is really packed,” hoseok whistled, looking at all the new faces and your mom nodded, “she invited a lot of her friends, i don’t know them but it’s okay, they’re having a good time, you’re here, so it’s all good,” hoseok stiffened at your mention.

you didn’t see him once in the last ten years.

slammed the door on his face.

ignored him even when your mom screamed after you.

locked yourself in your room and never got out if it meant seeing him.

and hoseok learned to accept it, he wouldn’t hang out with him either, especially after what happened.

but it was your birthday and he was invited, by your mom or you, he has no idea but hoseok steels himself to see you at some point in the night.

then, he walks around, introduces himself, ignores the pity that people eye’s throw at him, ignores the sympathetic touches on his arm, ignores the pats on the back and the ‘he must’ve been wonderful to have as a friend’ and he nods because he can’t say that yes, his best friend was an incredible friend until he fucking died.

and suddenly, hoseok wants to punch his best friend, for leaving him with this room of people who didn’t know him but somehow had all the sympathy in the world to shove in his face, for leaving him with no option but to mourn and miss him.

but hoseok was never a good mourner, he was good at going about life normally, good at laughing, good at ignoring his feelings, hoseok wasn’t good at gathering tears in his eyes when he thought of his dead best friend.

after a while, hoseok excuses himself to the bathroom and finds himself in his friend’s room, which remains frozen in time. every poster he hung up, though peeling at the edges on the wall, still stayed, every photo he stuck on top of his bedpost was yellow and faded but again, they stayed.

he doesn’t know how long he stares at their photo, the one they took in the summer camp where hoseok’s head is too small and his arms too thin and wrapped around his friend.

when he ran his fingers over the photo, he didn’t feel anything, he was grazing over hazy memories that he was desperately trying to remember as he got older but they were all slipping away or holding on too tightly at times.

“what the fuck are you doing in jay’s room?”

and he snatches his fingers away from the photo.

as he turns around, he swears he feels his heartbeat in his feet, and no amount of time could ever prepare him to face you.

you’re standing at the door with your arms crossed so defensively over your chest that he’s scared to take a single step forward but something about you, as a sixteen-year-old back then and now, a twenty-six-year-old, always takes his breath away.

and you look so much like jay, from the eyes to the hair to the hands, that he has to look away to breathe again.

“hey,” is all that comes out of hoseok’s mouth and he knows he deserves it when you roll your eyes at him.

“you’re not going to slam the door on me?” he asks and to his surprise, you shake your head, “not this time, my mom might just kill me,” you say while entering through the door and hoseok awkwardly steps around the room to reach where you sit on the bed.

he’s not sure how to feel about your mom having to force you to meet him.

and he’s not sure if he will ever be ready to see you again.

maybe you should’ve slammed the door one last time.

“happy birthday, big numbers now,” hoseok sits five feet away from you on the same bed and he watches your face soften the slightest, “thank you, and yeah, twenty-four doesn’t feel real,” you weakly laugh, falling on the bed and letting your feet dangle off the edge.

“your friends seem fun,” he stayed alert on the edge of the bed, and you nodded half-heartedly, “i guess so, did you meet them?”

“yeah, i said hi and stuff,” hoseok played with his fingers as you sat up again, “they brought up jay?”

“um yeah, they seemed to be very...empathetic about it,” he said, he didn’t know how else to say that your friends' reactions almost made him want to leave the party.

“yeah, they don’t know how to react to dead brothers or best friends, they’re not too bad though,” you laugh again and hoseok just nods, looking away.

for a moment, there’s only silence.

there’s only your breath and his.

there’s only your heartbeat and his.

and hoseok had missed this, he had missed you.

“can you believe it’s been ten years?” he asks because he can’t, he still feels as if it was yesterday that he got the phone call from you.

“i can,” you whisper, “time has been slow for me, so i can,” you’re the one looking away this time and hoseok catches your eyes roaming on the photos stuck above jay’s bed.

“do you want to go downstairs?” you get up from the bed and meet his eyes properly for the first time since you entered the room and he can do nothing but nod.

just before you step out the door, hoseok grabs your hand, immediately dropping it as you stop, “a-are you okay?” he didn’t want to ask you the question that he knows everyone else did but he also wouldn’t sleep that night without asking.

but when you laugh and disappear downstairs, hoseok ends up not sleeping anyway.

-

“thank you so much for coming by,” hoseok shook his head at your mother with the broadest smile and sweat coating his forehead, “of course ma, you can call me whenever you need help,” he pressed a kiss on the top of her head as he passed her and she pushed her face into his arm.

your mom owned a local restaurant and usually, handled everything from deliveries to cooking to serving and hoseok had chastised her multiple times about it.

even now, looking at the full restaurant, hoseok knew he couldn’t leave her to it.

so, after pushing her into the kitchen, he manned the counter for a while and made light conversation with whoever came by.

it felt strange, after so many years, being back around jay’s family, being back in this restaurant where he spent many days and nights.

he shook his head, refusing to let the memories creep back in.

he was used to this, this was just a routine to him, he always helped out, and he knew jay would do it if he was here.

“she loves you a lot already, you don’t have to do all this,” your voice isn’t something he’s used to though, not here, and hoseok’s palms start sweating immediately.

fuck.

he didn’t even put on a good outfit today.

or even perfume, now that he thinks of it.

and he curses himself when you come into view.

“i do this because i love her a lot,” he says with a smile and you roll your eyes, “yeah i know, it’s annoying,” and he frowns, “why?”

but you just wave a hand at him and go into the kitchen.

and hoseok’s left with ten people waving their bills and money at him, so he plasters a smile on his face and continues working.

after some time passes, you come back out from the kitchen with a scowl on your face and hoseok knows this because he hasn’t stopped his eyes from flickering between the kitchen door and the counter in front of him.

“i’ve got it from here, move,” you bark at him as you reach him and hoseok’s frown deepens at you, “it’s only a couple of people, i’ll finish it, don’t worry,” he reassures you but it only seems to irritate you.

“this isn’t your job, hoseok, just move over,” the glare on your face makes hoseok throw his hands up in the air and step away from the counter.

and he goes to the kitchen, he hugs your mom goodbye and he doesn’t bother with saying anything to you while he leaves because he’s sure you will only curse at him. he’s too exhausted today.

but imagine his surprise when the clock strikes midnight, you are at his door with a few soju bottles, snacks, and a sheepish smile on your face.

what the fuck were you doing at his home?

“um, hi?” he adjusts his t-shirt as he greets you, suddenly too aware of his messy hair and pajama pants as his heart once again beats away from his body.

“can i come in?” you ask sheepishly, and he immediately moves away. as you look around his apartment, hoseok still finds it hard to believe that you’re here.

even as you set up the table with soju glasses and food, he can only follow you in a daze.

“come, sit,” you say as if it wasn’t his home, his table, and his chairs but hoseok obliges and sits down.

a few minutes pass with both of you just fidgeting, looking at and away from each other, scratching your necks, and rubbing your fingers together.

until you finally grab the soju bottle and inch toward him.

you take a deep breath in and hoseok lets one out, “i shouldn’t have been so rude at the store, it’s just,” you speak as you pour soju into a shot glass for him and he sits up in his seat, “jay used to be there all the time.” you swallow, moving the bottle away from him and pouring one for yourself too.

“i was there all the time too, you know that,” hoseok says gently, as if to a child and you nod, “yeah, but it was always you and him, not just you.”

always you and him.

not just you.

and the memories that hoseok tried so hard to keep in his head, started creeping their way onto his sneakers and jeans and slipping away like sand.

the nights they snuck in to steal the leftovers.

the days he spent munching down on snacks that your mom generously gave him and jay.

the evenings where they both fanned each other with rolled-up magazines.

the days he spent admiring you at the counter.

but he couldn’t remember the dates, he couldn’t remember the details like what he was wearing that evening when jay hit him with a wooden fan, what was jay wearing when he got dumped by his girlfriend and cried to hoseok, what would jay think of this moment right now, you in front of him with a couple of soju bottles that were bound to be empty soon?

he shifted in his seat, “i won’t come over anymore, i didn’t know you felt like this,” and you purse your lips, “don’t do that, hoseok.”

“do what?” his eyebrows draw closer and you put down your glass to stare at him straight, “be so understanding and nice, just tell me to fuck off and deal with my shit instead of taking it out on you, hate me a little bit because this isn’t fair to you and you know that too.”

hoseok is stunned to silence for a second.

and he has a feeling that these words weren’t just some sudden outburst, you never spoke without letting your thoughts settle so he knows you’ve felt this for a while.

when he catches your wobbling lip and the way you shove food into your mouth to stop the movement, he knows he’s right and his heart softens even more.

“i’m not going to hate you for missing your brother, y/n.” is all he says before he slides your glass towards him and pours you a shot too.

and for a second, you just eye the glass and then look at him with tears so heavy in your eyes that hoseok is surprised they haven’t rolled down your cheeks.

“i think you’re the only one who doesn’t,” you suck in a breath and take the shot, you barely feel the liquid burn down your throat or the tears that finally release from your eyes.

when he raises his eyebrows at you, you shrug with a sniff and look away.

for the rest of the night, hoseok tries to forget that this was exactly how you looked on the mary-go-around ten years ago.

tears on your jaw.

flushed cheeks.

the same coily hair.

for the rest of the night, hoseok stops himself from falling in love again.

-

“again!” your mom threw her hands up in delight after winning one more game of ludo that hoseok had brought over.

you groaned and complained loudly to her, face held up by your elbow and hoseok watched with warm eyes as you and your mom argued about the win.

but he also felt acutely, the empty cushion next to him.

“you’re just a sore loser, learn a thing or two from hoseok,” your mom brought him back to the world, unscathed from his best friend’s haunting.

and hoseok nods proudly, dissolving into giggles when you scoff at him and your mom high-fives him.

“you’re letting her win,” you stare pointedly at him as your mom leaves to bring more snacks and hoseok shrugs happily, “guilty as charged,” and ducks with a laugh when a shower of peanut shells gets thrown in his direction.

“i knew it!” you screeched and he fell onto the floor with a belly full of joy, “mom, i told you, he was letting you win,” you stomped into the kitchen and hoseok heard more sounds of an argument from the kitchen, he rolled his eyes in endearment.

that night, you drop him in your car, and the entire ride, you’re laughing, he’s laughing, you’re speaking nonsense, he’s speaking nonsense, you’re falling on the seat to cover your face and he’s pulling his hands over his eyes to cover his face.

and at his door, you look at him with a face so free of everything.

no lines of worry on your forehead.

no frown between your eyebrows.

no hesitance to smile.

just a hint of moonlight falling over the right side of your face and some of your hair.

and hoseok wonders if he looks the same, if he looks just as beautiful and calm.

but when you keep staring at him with those curious, those tender eyes that he feels you reserve just for him, as if he has the answer to everything, as if he was the answer to everything, hoseok’s heart races in panic and buried love.

both of you realize at the same time, that ten minutes had passed and you were about two inches closer than you were at the beginning of the ride.

he stumbles out of the car, you stutter a goodbye to him and he nods hastily, urging you to leave.

that night, once again, hoseok begs himself to stop falling in love.

-

you only called him once in the many years that he’s known you and it was to tell him that jay had died, it was a freak accident, no one could’ve done anything and hoseok had thought that it was all a dream but your voice, as always, rang true in his ears and he knew that his life, as it was, would change forever.

“hoseok, i-it’s jay, someone hit him with a bike, i don’t know what’s going on, they’re saying they can’t read his pulse, please just come here, p-please.”

your sobs had shaken him so badly that he stumbled out of his camp cabin in his pajamas and he held your mom’s hand the entire time they tried to resurrect jay in the emergency room but once jay flatlined, your mom crumbled in his arms and you ran out of the hospital, you refused to look at him after that night.

and he understands why, he should’ve been there for jay, he should’ve made sure that his best friend didn’t go out for a walk that night or he should’ve gone with jay and been the one to get hit instead.

but it was all over now, and all hoseok was left with was a heavy heart filled with enough guilt for all the years he would live.

so when hoseok’s phone rang in the middle of the night with your name flashing on his screen, his brain unearthed the entire tragedy, the entire night with its roots pulled out of him and he was gasping for breath as he answered.

could it be that something happened to your mom?

did something happen to you?

did something happen to him and everyone else knew but him?

“she’s not letting us call her mom but she said your name, can you come to pick her up?” and twenty minutes later, hoseok pulled up to the only nightclub in the neighborhood to pick you up.

he struggled to hold back a laugh as he saw you draped over your friend’s arms, blissfully drunk, giggling, and utterly exhausted. when he started walking over to you, all of your friends began groaning and complaining to him about you which only made it harder for him not to laugh until your entire weight was shifted onto him and hoseok closed his eyes when you buried your face in his neck, savoring the tender moment.

just like every other minute that he’s alone with you, hoseok can’t believe this minute either.

“i’ve got her from here,” he says, carefully shifting your body to make you more comfortable and you hum in your drunken state, pushing your cheeks further into his collarbones and hoseok tries not to freeze.

“you should join us next time!” your friends all chime in together, their enthusiasm and kind intentions bleed around them and touch hoseok’s heart, maybe he had been too quick to judge them and hoseok gives in, nodding unsurely and they all erupt in cheers which makes him smile.

you had good people around you.

and that made him the happiest person in the world.

as he waves goodbye to them, his hands hold your body closer to him when you start to slide off and all of them exchange looks which hoseok ignores.

he carefully puts you in the passenger seat and pulls off the sidewalk.

he turned up the air conditioner, feeling his body get warmer and warmer as the seconds passed and he forces himself to look at the road and not you.

“hoseok?” the red light glowed on your face when he looked towards you, “yeah, it’s me, just taking you back home,” he doesn’t stop his hands from moving your hair away from your face and caressing your temples with his fingers.

how many years have passed with him missing you?

how many years of loving you has he missed out on?

he doesn’t know how jay would feel about this, maybe he would gag at hoseok’s tender eyes at this moment, perhaps he would tease him but he knows jay wouldn’t hate it.

hoseok pulls back almost immediately as you start to shift, only to relax when your face melts into his fingers.

if it didn’t feel so wrong, hoseok would’ve sat the rest of the night just looking at you and letting the rest of the world pass by.

“don’t take me to mom’s,” you whine and he laughs at your scrunched-up face, “okay, where do you want to go?”

“your’s,” you mumble, and hoseok’s face goes red, it takes him a few minutes and several cars honking at him to come back to earth.

when hoseok carefully lays you on the side of his body and takes you to his bedroom, he bears the torture of your arms tightening around his neck and the torture of your lips accidentally brushing on his skin.

“you like me, right?” you whisper into hoseok’s ear as he covers you with blankets on his bed and he freezes.

when he doesn’t respond, your eyes flutter open, still soft and fuzzy from the alcohol and you ask again, “hoseok, you like me, yes?”

and he’s taken back to the you that asked him out on a mary-go-around, the you that gave him the most honest confession of love in his life, the you that looked at him as if he ripped your heart out.

he nods, “of course i do, we’re family.” and you frown at him.

then, you sit up on the bed and lean forward to hold his face in your hands, hoseok starts sweating under the thin t-shirt he wore, and your fingers touch his face in places that he’s sure didn’t exist before, and every nerve of his melts and burns.

“i’ve always wanted to ask you something,” he says, now that there was no distinction between his breaths and yours and you nod, urging him to go on, “i thought i was always the one who had something to say,” you giggle, falling on his shoulder and hoseok laughs with you.

“why did you start talking to me again? after all this time? it can’t just be because of your mother,” and your laughter vanishes from the air around him, your touch too lifts from his shoulder, and hoseok’s confusion and curiosity grow.

he knows he’s asked the wrong thing, and said the wrong thing, he always does, but why would this question make you so upset?

he just wanted to know why after so many years of ignoring his entire existence, you suddenly chose to come to his home, and suddenly back into his life.

but he also loves that you’re back in his life.

“you don’t have to tell me, go to s-“ he gets up from the bed but is stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist tightly and he sinks back down beside you.

“my reasons are selfish, hoseok,” your tears come back and hoseok is rushing to wipe them away before they ever leave your eyes which only makes them gather faster.

“i don’t care,” he shakes his head and he really doesn’t.

“you should.”

“but i don’t.”

use him, don’t use him, throw him away, or keep him, he’s okay with it all.

your eyes search in his face, any trace of a lie, any trace of dishonesty and you find none that urges you to say, “i need you.”

a strange rush of warmth and bashfulness washes over hoseok as your words run him over.

“it hurts so much and i can’t do this alone, i need you, i just want it to stop hurting,” and hoseok’s heart stops at your broken voice because he knows what’s hurting you and nothing in the world can fix that kind of pain, “i don’t know how to live anymore, every time i come home, i miss him in the space next to my mom, i miss him in the counter that you stand at now, i miss him everywhere and i can’t say this to anyone.”

hoseok barely feels your hands grabbing his as your sobs climb up your throat, “except you, hoseok. no one knows what i feel, it’s pathetic that i miss him still but so do you, i know you feel this too, right?”

and he knows, he knows exactly what it feels like and he also knows that this was building in you since over the past ten years, the same way it’s been building in him.

that sense of loss that never goes away.

that sense of waiting for the relief that comes with moving on, that never came.

that sense of having nowhere to go and cry it out because the rest of the world doesn’t see what it’s lost, only he can and only you can.

“i do,” he finally choked out and your cries grew louder, hoseok winced at the volume and tapped your arms to calm you down but he was barely calm himself.

years and years of his grief catch up to him, run him over, trample over him and his mind ignites with every single second he spent with jay, every single he spent missing jay and then ignoring his memory.

all of it grabs him by the throat and chokes him but he lets your head fall onto his shoulder, and keeps his own tears away from his eyes as your body breaks on him.

when you were kids, hoseok had held you when you were laughing, he had felt your joy go through him, spread onto him, he could feel your happiness as if it was his own.

when you laughed in the car with him, the sound jogged his memory on how to laugh, on how to feel happiness again, he felt it go in and out of him in waves that he couldn’t control.

it was a miracle to him that just by touching someone, you can feel what they feel.

but now, holding you when you were crying, feeling every tear on his own skin, the burden of it all sunk him deeper than he could pull out of but he held you, he wrapped a singular arm around you and buried his head in your hair.

if anyone was going to know that he cried about jay, it was you and if anyone was going to miss jay with you, it was him.

and that night, he let himself fall in love.

-

the next morning, hoseok woke up with swollen eyes but a happy heart, a less lonely heart, he got up from the couch and entered his bedroom where he spent several minutes just staring at your face and stopped himself from kissing your cheek.

he stepped out of the bedroom quietly, padding his feet as gently as he could on the floor, and started preparing pancakes, hot chocolate, and everything else he could remember as something you liked as a kid.

hoseok couldn’t keep the smile off his face the entire time he whisked the batter, stirred the hot chocolate, and put out the plates. every moment that passed reminded him of you in his bedroom, it made him feel fuzzy and warm and ticklish, as if the sun had come to sit on his shoulder.

finally, his life was falling into place.

he almost jumped in excitement when the sound of his bedroom door creaking echoed throughout his apartment. he peeked around the corner to see you dragging your feet with even more swollen eyes than his and he stifled a laugh.

“good morning, pretty,” hoseok sang and giggled when your groan came as a reply.

“what’s all this?” your eyes barely opened to see the spread of food in front of you and he shrugged, “just some breakfast for you, did you take the aspirin beside  the bed?”

you nodded and stood unsurely until hoseok got up and pushed you to sit down gently, “sit down, it’s all still hot, have it soon,” he kissed the top of your head and you stiffened under him.

hoseok quickly stepped away, laughing uncomfortably, and sat down as well.

for the next few minutes, he waited as you took in everything in front of you and his heart raced the entire time.

did he do too much?

was he moving too fast?

but he had already wasted so much time over the years, he wasn’t going to make the same mistak-

“why?”

hoseok frowns at your question, leaning forward to see if he heard it right but when he looks up, he sees your tear-filled eyes and he knows he’s fucked up somehow.

“w-what happened?”

“why are you doing all this?” he doesn’t know if you’re asking him or accusing him of something.

“what do you mean?”

“why.are.you.doing.this?” you punctuate every word with quick breaths and hoseok knows he’s pissed you off.

why or how he’s done that, he has no idea.

“i thought some food would be nice in the morning, especially with your hangover,” he stumbles over his words because he didn’t think he would ever have to explain why he made breakfast for someone.

you stay quiet.

he says your name.

once.

twice.

thrice.

then, you get up from the chair and look at him with both the most anger he’s felt in someone and also, the most pain, “i can’t do this,” you mumble and in the next minute, hoseok’s door is left wide open and your seat is empty.

he watches the food go cold and tries to hold himself together as he clears everything up, all the warmth he felt in the morning disappeared down the same drain that his food went.

and all he could was watch and let it happen.

-

weeks passed and hoseok dipped in and out of the restaurant, trying to see you, catch a word with you, and try to fix things, but whenever you saw him, you ran away.

whenever he waved to you, you would hesitantly lift your hand and then look away, engaging yourself with someone else.

whenever he called you, you wouldn’t pick up.

his messages remained on delivered.

and hoseok’s heart broke little by little as he saw you intentionally pull away from him.

he couldn’t understand why, you had such a beautiful night together, you had poured your heart out to him and he had done the same to you but somehow, it was as if that night didn’t exist to you.

maybe he read it all wrong?

maybe you just needed him as someone who felt the same as you, who experienced the same grief and here he was, his heart growing wings and the love he buried blooming again.

but you had loved him ten years ago.

and that confession was still fresh in his mind, still the most honest thing he’s heard in his life.

maybe he was stupid for ever thinking that you still felt the same love from ten years ago?

but as his mind replayed your words, ‘i need you’, it didn’t make sense to him that suddenly, you wanted to push him away.

“take these when you go home,” your mom packed him multiple boxes of side dishes and rice and everything else she could cook throughout the day and he nodded, thanking her with a kiss on her head, and headed for the door.

until he heard your voice.

his entire body froze at your presence.

but he’s had enough.

hoseok turned around and started walking with loud steps towards the kitchen, and when you came into his vision, he didn’t feel the warmth or the love or any of the good stuff.

he only felt the hurt that blinded him that morning, he only felt the pain spearing his heart as he threw everything away, he only felt the loneliness that played with him until the late hours of the night.

hoseok knows he’s not the best person but he also knows that he didn’t deserve that.

“you asked me that day, why i was doing all that. let me ask you now, why are you doing this?” he glared right at you, and in the corner of his eyes, he saw your mom glance between the two of you and then duck out of the kitchen.

he will apologize to her later.

in front of him, you tilted your head at him and tried to appear tough by crossing your arms across your chest and staring back at him.

but hoseok is past this, he’s tired of being lonely but he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to feel lonely when he’s in love.

“look, i don’t know what’s going through your mind and i never will until you tell me, but you can’t do this to me, you can’t push and pull whenever you like, i know you’re hurting somehow but i am too, so figure yourself out and then come to me because i know that i’m not alone in this feeling, i know you feel it too.”

with that, hoseok marched out of the kitchen, hugged your mom on the way out and went back to his empty home, where he might’ve felt lonely but he at least didn’t feel miserable.

you will hopefully find your way back to him.

but if you don’t, hoseok’s just going to have to find a way to be okay with that too.

-

days passed again and hoseok tried to move on.

you didn’t call or message or try to reach him and he took it as a rejection, which was still okay, he would still be okay.

he busied himself with his work, with your mom’s restaurant, and tried to learn how to cook, tried to liven up his apartment with knick-knacks, he took up arts and crafts.

hoseok did everything he could think of and for the most part, he really was okay.

but he also really wasn’t that okay.

he drifted through the days, pushed you out of his mind, and drank a bit from time to time to forget you only to hover his finger over your contact every night, he still kept the blanket you slept on in the corner of his room and not in the laundry basket where it should’ve been.

but still.

he was okay, he told himself, he would go back to some version of himself which was okay.

hoseok walked to the restaurant with his head down, earphones in and counted his steps because he had nothing else to do.

when he reached, he still didn’t look up, he continued to his counter where he removed his hoodie and put on an apron, humming to himself and cleaning the counter up.

until your mom’s shoes came into his view and by the time he looked up, she had grabbed his arm and started shaking him which made him frown.

he looked up to see her tear-streaked face and echoes of her sobs that traveled from her hands to him and the desperate shouts he could only see with his earphones in.

his hands shakily reached up to remove his earphones and then he heard it.

the heart-stopping cries and yells.

hoseok’s eyes went round with panic and he immediately grabbed her body as she fell onto him, he tried his best to soothe her but seeing her tears, was already choking him up.

he tried to keep his panic at bay as he patted her back and tried to make sense of her babbling.

what if something happened to you?

he couldn’t deal with that kind of grief; he wouldn’t survive it.

“she hasn’t picked up a single call,” something did happen to you, and hoseok bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his sobs.

“ma,” he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes, “please breathe with me,” she nodded, timing her inhalation and exhalation with him and when her sniffles subsided, she told him, “she ran away this morning, i’ve looked everywhere and i’ve called everyone, no one has seen her, i don’t know what to do and the police aren’t doing anything until she’s gone for a day but you know her, she never does this.”

she rambled endlessly to him and hoseok held onto her the entire time, feeling only a bit hurt that she never called him but that wasn’t a concern right now.

at the end of it, he offered her a glass of water, removed his apron, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading straight for the door.

“hoseok,” he stopped at her voice, “i only didn’t call you because i know you two aren’t doing well right now, otherwise you know you’re like my son.” and hoseok melted, he smiled and took her hands as he said, “don’t worry about that ma, we’re family, you keep calling people and i’ll try to find her.”

he didn’t know what to feel once he stepped out of the restaurant.

in the restaurant, he could focus on reassuring and comforting your mom, he could place all his energy into caring for her but now, he was alone and he didn’t know what to feel.

hoseok got into his car only to realize he didn’t know where to fucking begin, you could be anywhere by this time, even a different city but he has a feeling that you were not too far.

but he didn’t know that with certainty either.

every thought he had only put him in a chokehold as his mind reeled with every worst-case scenario.

nevertheless, he put his fears aside and started the car.

the next few hours, he drove in every street, looked in every club and café, kept checking his phone some one million times, and stopped at the entrance of his summer camp where his life seemed to begin and end.

jay would’ve had a panic attack if he was here with hoseok right now, hoseok smiled as he thought of how worried jay would’ve been and how he probably would’ve cursed you out after finding you, how he would’ve hugged you and hoseok in relief, how he would never let it happen again.

jay would’ve been so many things if he was still there with hoseok and that killed hoseok every day.

he kept staring at the entrance where he ran out of the day jay died, where he held back his tears and shook his head and told himself that it was all a lie, that his best friend was still alive.

hoseok threw his head back on his car seat.

grief was so unfair; it took away so much and left him with so little.

if it was so hard for him, he couldn’t imagine how much more angry or sad grief would’ve made you over the years.

and just as he blinks back tears, his phone rings and he runs his hand over his face to answer it, “ma, i’m still out, don’t worry, we’ll find her,” he starts reassuring only to hear nothing on the other end.

“hello?” he frowns.

“hoseok?”

and he almost drops his phone in relief.

“god, are you okay?” he immediately sits up, starting the car again, “where are you? i’m coming to get you right now, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“why aren’t you home?”

“huh?”

“why aren’t you home right now?”

“are you at my place?” hoseok frown becomes even deeper and he knows your silence only means one thing, he sighs out, “stay there.”

and he’s turning the car, calling your mom to tell her the news, and feeling a hundred different emotions as he reaches the lane of his apartment.

right by his door, he finds you, sitting on the floor with your knees to your chest and the rocks slid off his shoulders, he feels air enter his chest at the sight of you, unharmed and safe and breathing and…alive.

he doesn’t know why he’d even thought as far as you being dead but he couldn’t help it.

it was midnight but the moonlight, as always, found you and your tears, and hoseok sat right next to you and stretched his legs out in front of him.

 “why didn’t you say anything back?” he hears you mumble and he frowns, “when?”

“that day in summer camp, when i told you i liked you, why didn’t you say anything back?”

and hoseok sighs, the secret he’s held in his heart for as long as he remembers, starts crawling up his throat, “i like you too,” and his lack of using the past tense has you sitting up straight, tears now reduced to sniffles.

“you do?” and the way you ask it almost has him hitting his own head, how did he ever let you think otherwise?

“i would be crazy if i didn’t,” he smiles weakly at you, his heart suddenly exposed and raw and beating louder than it ever has before, and you fall back on the wall, “but you just walked away then.”

and hoseok knows he can’t hide it anymore.

“i didn’t say anything because i went to jay,” hoseok recalls how cold the night was, how quick his steps were to reach his best friend and he watches your face light up and fall, all in just seconds.

“i needed to ask him if it was okay, i needed to tell him that i liked his sister and that i wanted to take care of her, and he didn’t like it,” hoseok shakes his head, a strained laugh leaving his lips, “we fought all night, but i guess he saw how much i meant it, so he gave me his blessing,” he looks up at you and you’re closing your eyes, letting your head fall back.

“he gave us his blessing, y/n, he did and that’s why i’ve never given up on you, he was so dramatic about it, you would’ve hit him if you saw him say it,” he laughs, the memory still so fresh of jay hugging hoseok and whispering to him that he would be dead the next second if he ever hurt you, how jay stopped himself from smiling as he thought of you with him.

he kept that close to his heart and never told anyone about it, it was for him and jay until today but now, it was for you too.

every time he felt bitter over the years that you avoided him, hoseok reminded himself that he loved you and he always will, and jay would love that hoseok loved you.

and you’re holding back sobs that still escape and tear into the world.

“i’m sorry,” he hears you say and he hums before placing your head on his shoulder, he tries not to cry when he feels your sobs, he sniffles and looks at his feet.

“i was so scared that morning, i told you everything i’ve never told anyone the night before and you still treated me with love, i thought you would tell me to leave, that you would finally have had enough but you didn’t and it still scared me. you shouldn’t be in my life hoseok, i will ruin you,” his heart sinks and hoseok moves closer to you because he doesn’t know where he belongs if it’s not beside you.

“i don’t want to be anywhere else,” he says and presses his hand to the side of your head.

“i can’t stop missing him, hoseok, i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you shake your head and he sighs, feeling his throat close up.

“i miss him too.”

“but it’s been so long and i feel like i should move on by now, i don’t know,” you mumble, your tears falling into his shirt and skin.

“jay’s not some ancient history but i think he would hate both of us for being stuck like this.”

“i don’t know another way to live.”

“neither do i,” he shrugs, he knows how lonely he’s felt, how solitary his life was but, “but it will always hurt, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, you lost a brother, a companion for life, i lost a best friend, my soulmate and it’s always going to hurt. but i don’t want either of us to be alone in that pain, we don’t deserve that.”

life can take everything away from him but if we had a few good people and he could love those people, that was enough for him.

“it’s about time we start living for jay, do everything he would’ve done, feel everything he would’ve felt, and keep him alive, don’t you think so?”

and when you nod, fall on his shoulder, and whisper your love to him, it’s just like the first time, the most honest words he’s heard in his life.

hoseok knows his life can sometimes feel empty but sometimes, like right now, it can feel so full that he wouldn’t know what to do with all the love he gave and received.

he whispers his love back to you.

until dawn, you cried on his shoulder, and in the morning, hoseok made breakfast for you, you kissed him and whispered your thanks, he kissed you and whispered his love again, and you smiled and ate the food he made.

and it was calm, normal, another day but everything had changed once again for hoseok.

because this time, he had you and you had him, and in both your hearts and minds, you had jay.

and you learned to live life again, with love, and not just regret, with happiness, and not just guilt.

you lived, not just to grieve and mourn, but to actually live and build a life, with hoseok right by your side.

-

taglist: @blissingtaehyung @cuteipat @hobicorewhore @yoongleskitten @mrjeonghan @greenie-frog @avawants2havefun @an-ever-angry-bi @alyenorgondorwarrior thank you all so much for liking the preview, i hope you enjoy the full fic <3]

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

BLOOD SUCKERS

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, described sex scenes, death, consumption of alcohol and blood, threesome, male and male intercourse, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, wax play, blood play, and more.

Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, angst, reversed harem, best friends to lovers.

🩸My Master List🩸

Intro;

I knew something was wrong in the small city I’ve been living ever since I was born here and after I graduated from high school I was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the whole year this small hell of a city called Spring Villa always rained every day.

Every god damn day.

Not that i was complaining, one summer during a high school trip to California was enough for me to realize hot weather was not for me. One day to be more specific, it was my first time and everything seemed so more alive and colorful. But all come to an end since i had to spend the rest of the trip at the hospital with an IV inside my arm due to being exposed to the sun for too long, just one afternoon which was the same as everyone else did but i was the only one who almost died that day for burning on the sun and end up looking like a hot Cheeto. After that i even started to enjoy the cold humid air hitting my face every day when i left to work, the only thing it didn’t change was my hatred for the rain every morning. Getting wet before work was not very enjoyable, everyone could agree on that note.

But the beautiful weather of the city was not the most uncanny thing about it, it has been almost ten years since a serial killer was circling around the Spring Villa. I was only a teen when everything became known to everyone in the city that something wasn’t right, so many bodies were found around Spring Villa along the years people began to stay at home locked away from everything. Some left the city for once and never came back, those who stayed were people who had nowhere else to go, like me.

My father was terrified of the accidents involving the serial killer in town and he too left before anyone else, leaving me and my mother behind. I couldn’t blame him especially after my brother ended up becoming one of the victims, when the police officer called for my parents to identify the body it didn’t felt real to me. I was not allowed to go since at the time i was underage but, I didn’t even got a chance to say goodbye either. My parents didn’t do a funeral for him, it was all too much to bear so instead he was cremated and thrown on a river on the west side of Spring Villa his favorite place to hide with his friends. Ever since that happened my parents have not been the same, I knew that sooner or later this was bound to happen. When father left it was the last straw of sanity of my mother, she became an alcoholic and well… not good.

I’ve been working at the Spring Grill ever since I graduated high school, apart from so many people leaving the city many others came from cities around the town to get a bit of incloser about the serial killer of Spring Villa, he was never caught and that mystery seemed to amaze many tourists around town.

People from all over came to my stupid silly little city to make videos about the killer of my brother, at first I was so angry at them I wished they just didn’t came at all but, over the years it became dull and empty inside my heart. I had more to worry about then that and since I needed money to pay the rent I was more then happy so many tourist came to Spring Villa.

After all I meet my best friend like that.

Notes: Hello readers! Here’s a new story for all of you I truly hope you guys enjoy this work as much as you all been enjoying my old works. This story has been going around my mind a lot and I thought what better time to write then now? So here it is! Taglist is open so leave your request in the comments and I’ll add you! Love all of you, Author. 🩵

[gguk-n]

Therapy Hybrid (Golden Retriever!Jung Hoseok x Reader)

Warning- Contains themes of depression, anxiety and suicide. Avoid it if you must. I have other fun stuff on my account for you.

Summary- Hybrids have existed along with humans for a long time. So, long that sometimes they can help you when you're at your lowest.

Hybrids have been a part of human society for as long as anyone could remember. They were made to help humans, as a commodity. And right now, they were a part of catering to human needs, as carnal or as basic as possible. Hence, why they didn't have autonomy and had to be owned by humans as a personal luxury or a public commodity.

Y/N was the few people who didn't see the appeal of hybrid, that's why she just stared at her Psychiatrist. She had been seeing Dr Kim for a long time. It had started out when she had finished college; things were going great until they weren't. She had realised that she had always been depressed, ever since she was a teen and decided to finally get the help she needed.

But this didn't help much. As time passed, neither the therapy nor the medications helped and she decided that maybe ending it would be the best option. She had made sure to leave no traces, made sure no one would find her for at least two days. But she forgot to factor in her best friend who had decided to pay a surprise visit since she seemed down. That's when Jen walked into the house. She had always had the code to the house, so unlocking it wasn't the issue. The real issue was the whole house was blacked out and silent. Jen felt her heart beat out of her chest. She threaded the house slowly, calling out to her best friend. Her voice cracking in the middle. Jen slowly opened the door to her bedroom to find Y/N on the bed with froth coming out of her mouth and a couple bottles of pills next to her.

The ambulance arrived promptly and Jen even showed the paramedics and the doctors the bottle, who were able to quickly pump her stomach and get her the antidote as soon as possible. Jen cried as she waited and cried again when they told her that Y/N would be okay. She didn't scold her or get angry at her; she just hugged her as she cried into her best friend, clinging onto her for dear life.

After that incident, Y/N was kept in the hospital for a while. Jen couldn't stay long and left when the doctors gave her the green light. She hugged her best friend good bye and promised to see her in a few days. Jen now lived with the constant worry and guilt, the big what if that loomed on her. She made sure to get updates from Y/N's doctor regarding how she was; still not at ease.

"I think it would be best that you get a therapy hybrid" Dr Kim suggested. She had wanted to discharge her but Y/N still looked unstable. Y/N stared at her a whole minute before opening her mouth, "What's that?" "Well, hybrids have been trained for many things and one of the key being, therapy. I think, it would benefit you. In the long run" she stated. "I'll think about it" Y/N replied half heartedly.

The next day Dr Kim showed up with a man; a hybrid to be exact. He had dark hair, sharp features but two golden ears and a golden tail that wouldn't stop swaying as he stood there. "This is Hobi" she introduced the man to Y/N. "You can spend time with him while you're here and if you feel like it's helping maybe he can be there for you, even at home" Dr Kim insisted as she exited the room. "Actually my name's Jung Hoseok but everyone calls be Hobi for short. It's like hope" he smiled politely. He had a background on Y/N's case and would thread carefully.

The next few days in the hospital, Y/N and Hobi got closer and even started chatting together which Hoseok saw as a good thing. So, when she was being discharged, the hospital lent her Hoseok, as her therapy hybrid.

When they reached home, the place still held remnants of her past attempt. But Hoseok said nothing and offered to help clean the place. Y/N had no energy to even dispute the claim and just let him do whatever.

Hoseok left the home spotless. He made food three times a day and even went grocery shopping to stock up. But he didn't leave her alone. Making sure to involve her in some way or another. Y/N was starting to come around. She had started to help him with minor tasks and enjoyed his company. Hoseok even helped her find freelance work so that she could take things at her pace.

As time went on, Y/N started to get better. Everyone around her had noticed; Jen could now breath a sigh of relief that her best friend was doing better. She was extremely grateful to Hoseok.

As time went on, Hoseok and Y/N weren't just patient and therapy hybrid but something more. They knew there were many ethical boundaries that would break; not being the fact that they were human and hybrid but because of their professional relationship. So, when Dr Kim wanted to take Hoseok back; Y/N wanted to keep him, not because she wasn't better but because she couldn't imagine a life without him.

It wasn't easy; but they made it happen. Hoseok was able to transfer his ownership from the hospital to Y/N. They found it a bit icky that she would own him but this was better than never being able to live together.

Y/N moved into a bigger place, a house with a backyard and beautiful scenery over looking it. She just wanted to give him everything. And it made her very happy to see his tail wag as he looked around when they moved in.

The pair was sat in the backyard on a picnic blanket with a picnic spread in front of them. Hobi laying on her lap as she threaded her fingers through his hair, scratching the area near his ear. They enjoyed the peace, as the birds chirped in the distance. They didn't know what they were; but they knew that they needed each other and were grateful to have found each other when they did.

[chimcess]

Time After Time || jhs (Teaser)

Pairing: Time Traveler!Hoseok x Time Traveler!ReaderOther Tags: Scientist!Hoseok, Author!Reader, British!Hoseok, Older!Hoseok, Age Gap!AU Genre: Time Travel!AU, Early 2000s AU, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut Word Count: TBD Summary: You're a young time traveler, drifting seamlessly between the past and present, living a fragmented life, never staying long enough in one time to form lasting connections. Everything changes upon encountering Hoseok, a brilliant scientist you had met in one of your adventures. Your journey takes a darker turn when you uncover the truth behind your mother's death, revealing a chilling connection to your abilities and the grim reality that your days are numbered. Determined to defy fate, Hoseok tirelessly searches for a solution to save you. As time becomes both an ally and an enemy, you face immense challenges, testing the resolve and strength of your bond. A/N: We have a new mini-series coming! Diving back into the fantasy genre has been really exciting, and I'm so happy to have this for you all. After spending the last year writing this off and on in between my other projects, it's finally finished and ready to start the final editing phase! I hope you love these characters as much as I do and enjoy the little world I crafted!

I had never given much thought to how I’d die. Two months, two years, two decades- it did not matter. Never could I have guessed this would be my final moments, body shaking and unable to stop myself from sizing as I watched my life flashing before my eyes. Every memory whip past me, body going in and out of the past and present in rapid succession until I could no longer breathe. Still, as afraid as I was, I never allowed my eyes to shut. If I was going to die, I wanted- needed- to see him first. My eyes rolled back, another powerful seizure overtaking my body.

“Y/N!”

I could not muster the strength to come back into my own body yet. On the inside I smiled. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry things had to end like this. That I would miss him. That I loved him. All the words that I was never able to say no matter the thousands of times they were on my lips. I felt hands grabbing hold of me. It was no use, I could feel my body bursting into another ray of light.

“What’s happening to you?” He sobbed.

Finally able to speak, I looked at him. I cemented him into memory. His thin-wired glasses, the color of his eyes, the curve of his cheek, the shape of his lips, and how wet his face was from his tears. If this was the last moment I had with him, I wanted it to matter. Reaching out, I could only hope I had enough time to say something- anything.

“I think I’m dying,” I croaked, head splitting open and body about to be taken somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn’t. “I love you.”

“I-”

But I never got to hear what he wanted to say. For my body was already getting sent back through time. Where? I was not certain, but I knew I was going to die at the end of this. There was no way my body could handle such violent changes. I closed my eyes.

At least I got to say it.

Coming September 2024...

Message/Ask/Comment to be added to the taglist.

[champagnevi]

˚. premium-what —ot7 ✧ ˚.

[ about. based on where you go to the mechanic and it doesn't come out exactly as they expected. ] ★ :inc. swearing, them freaking out, you kinda weren't the smartest  genre. smau, crack, stablished relationship

note. this could easily be me ngl

[darkpuppysuit]

Hoping against Hope

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Hybrid control, poaching, mentions of blood, hybrid on human beating, mentions of abuse.

A/n: Hey hi how are ya? I know- I know I haven't really given much of an update for a while but I wanted to give y'all some back story to the hybrid boys since you already know most of Y/n's backstory. So this is Namjoon's backstory- will be doing Seokjin next and as the guys are introduced through each backstory I'll do theirs next! At least that's how I have it set up in my brain anyway.

Enjoy!

Kim Namjoon was born a wild grey wolf he was born to loving parents who had fled their owners for a better chance out in the wilderness. Now they hadn't expected Namjoon to come out as soon as he did but they made due with what they had and made an old cave their home. Classic wolves I know but there's a reason for that- this cave was not that far from a human park. 

When Namjoon turned five he had discovered the human park and longed to play with the kids who were around his age but one thing made him stand out from all the rest- he had wolf ears and a tail that had a mind of it's own when he got nervous or flustered. His parents told him to never go near that park again that all humans were bad and would hurt Namjoon if they saw him.

And after that single day he didn't go back- he stayed at the den most of the time or walked around the dense woods to occupy his free time when his mother wasn't teaching him to read or write. Despite the lack of materials his mother always found a way to teach him something- even his father helped.

He taught Namjoon how to shift into his wolf form- how to hunt and how to fish but he also gave him street lessons if anything should happen because his father has seen a lot of poachers and hybrid control out and about around their territory. 

Three years would pass and even during his lessons his mind always drifted back to that human park- he was taught to hate humans his whole life but there was just that sense of longing to belong somewhere that made the wolf hybrid- wish he had a human

A nice one of course one that would play with him and maybe go fishing with him during the summer time. But his parents warnings always interrupted those little day dreams of his.

One day in particular when Namjoon couldn't stop himself from thinking about the human park he snuck out of the den late afternoon and made his way towards the human park but something stopped him in his tracks that made his fur stand on end.

It was laughter- a childlike giggle that made Namjoon pause and deviate from the normal path to the park. He took a sharp right a little ways from a walking trail humans often took either on foot or on bikes- then there it was again but louder.

He could make out it was a little girl with how his ears twitched at the high pitch of the laughter- it wasn't unpleasant more like a happy hum that made his ears tingle with excitement as he got closer and closer when finally- he saw her, the source of the laughter.

It was indeed a little girl and she had on purple striped overalls with cute little characters on her pockets, a pink t-shirt underneath, her hair in little pigtails and little black shoes with cute pink frilly socks. The sight of her was enough to steal Namjoons breath away- her smile was so bright, her hair seemed so glossy and soft he just wanted to reach out and touch it but he held back.

Namjoon took two steps back when he stepped on a branch and snapped it. The little girl turned on a swivel and made direct eye contact with Namjoon causing him to freeze ramrod stiff his fur bristled as his eyes blew wide for the need to run- to avoid the awkward interaction completely but he couldn't move, he was stuck.

"Oh hi! I didn't know someone else was out here!"

The little girl laughed and smiled at him- her smile reached all the way to her eyes turning them into small crescents. Only eight years old and Namjoon knew he had found a potential mate- he could feel it in his bones- the only thing he wasn't expecting was feeling that type of pull to a human.

Out of all the different species his first potential mate had to be a human? Namjoon couldn't believe it- it felt as though whatever god was playing with him wanted him to be alone forever and living with his parents! What the hell?

"Hey are you okay? Where's your mommy and daddy?"

The little girl asked curiously with her hands behind her back and a look of concern on her face. She was genuinely hoping she didn't have to bring him to her dad because he was hybridphobic and her mom wasn't with them today, she was at work. Namjoon shook his head making his ears loosen and flop around on his head.

"I'm fine I just- there's never anyone out here but me. I guess you just caught me off guard." He says somehow calm. "What's your name? How old are you?" He asked the little girl, she looked younger than him from what he could tell. The strange little girl pretended to think for a moment before answering. "I'm Y/n M/n Fontana! I'm five!" Y/n says proudly with her sweet, sweet giggle. "What's your name?" She asks and holds out her hand for him to shake.

What was his name? 

"I'm uh- Kim... uhm..."

"Your a boy why is your name Kim?"

"No no that's my last name- my first name is Namjoon- Kim Namjoon."

"Oh, okay... Why is your last name in front?"

Oh good gods did she have so many questions that had to be answered right away like- where Namjoon came from, where he lived, if she could touch his ears or his tail- reaching out for his tail at least twice before she even asked.

Namjoon was in awe of her simple curiosity- the way Y/n would always catch herself before she did anything she thought would make him uncomfortable- her soft voice when she spoke to him or asked about his hybrid nature- the way her eyes seemed to shine against the setting sun making her look even more beautiful- just everything about her was- Namjoon didn't know how to explain it because even he couldn't put it into words.

Okay hold up- I get where you're coming from- Namjoon is eight and Y/n is five- you might be asking how does someone fall so hard at such a young age? Well, given Namjoon is a wild wolf hybrid and much like other hybrids too- he feels things more intensely than humans do. Which means the instinctive pull he feels for the five year old female is more of a calling to him- a call he can't quite ignore, then again why would he want to?

Weeks would pass after their first meeting and Namjoon had never felt more alive than he did when he was with Y/n. They would play by the creek when she came to the park to look for him or sometimes they would just sit and talk about the most random stuff.

Like how Y/n had gotten a new doll for her birthday a few days ago one that she carried everywhere with her- she had told him how she wanted to be a mother- kind sweet loving and understanding just like her own mother.

Namjoons heart ached for her because if he could he'd give her as many children as she wanted- hybrid, human it didn't matter, Namjoon would find a way to give her anything she ever needed- if only the life he wanted to give her was within his grasp.

Today, they were playing by the creek again laughing and having a good time together- Namjoon would splash her with the water and she'd chase after him and tackle him to the ground in a fit of laughter then he'd kiss her cheek and make her blush like mad.

God those were the days- two kids having the time of their lives together- Namjoon would steal glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking admiring her with a heart he was ready to give her if she ever asked for it and if not well, Namjoon was willing to be whatever Y/n needed him to be as long as he got to be a part of her life.

But like most sun shining good times all things must come to an end and things came crashing down around Namjoon in the worst way possible.

Namjoon had told his parents about Y/n telling them that he had found his first mate and that she was human. He thought for a moment that his parents would be happy that he had found a mate so early on in life but they were the complete opposite.

His mother kept a close eye on him most days and the other days his father would take him in the opposite direction of the park and creek. It would be years before he even saw Y/n again and when he did his blood boiled.

She was curled up in a ball sitting next to the creek sniffling and crying stirring the water with a random stick- she had bruises on her skin and a busted lip with dried blood on it. She was beaten for the first time by her father a few months after her mother died in a fatal car crash that took her mother away from her.

She hugged her knees impossibly close to her chest trying to make herself as small as possible- who in the hell dared to lay a hand on his mate, Namjoon thought- what bastard was brave enough or cowardly enough to beat a little girl like this?

Namjoon shook his head trying to calm himself down and set his jaw and walked towards her making himself known so he didn't scare her. He shuffled his feet on the creek rocks and she turned around to face whoever was making the noise- her eyes were red and puffy from crying, a nasty bruise under her right eye, and a small cut along her neck. Namjoon nose flared and he clenched his jaw impossibly hard but when she started crying again his face fell into something softer more nurturing.

He fell forward to his knees in front of her and wrapped her into a tight hug and pet her hair letting her tears soak his shirt and her hands grasp at him like a lifeline. "Shh it's okay- let it all out princess. Nothings gonna harm you- not while I'm around." He cooed at her petting her hair and rubbing soothing circles onto her back holding her impossibly tight.

They stayed there for at least an hour until her cries finally stopped and her body quit trembling. Y/n leaned back from him and looked up at him with glassy eyes. "Thank you wolfie- I needed that." She sniffled and wiped her eyes free of tears giving him a small smile- Namjoon watched her collect herself admiring her strength at only ten years old. "Y/n what happened? You look like someone put you through the wringer." Now, Namjoons question was blunt and to the point but he needed to know- he needed to know exactly who put their hands on his mate so he could rip them a new asshole- or worse.

Y/n's eyes widened and she turned away from him and sat back on her ass away from him and curled into a ball once again. "I can't tell you- he said he'd hurt me again if I told anyone." She mumbled from behind her knees hugging them tightly as if she could just vanish if she coiled into a ball tight enough.

Namjoons heart broke in that moment- his mate the love of his life the girl he's supposed to protect- is broken to the point she couldn't even tell him, her wolfie- who had beat her so badly. Namjoon didn't want to push her when she so obviously didn't want to talk about it but just as he opened his mouth to speak an angry drunken shout bounced off the trees and out into the open air of the creek.

"Y/n M/n Fontana! You get your ass over here now little lady- and you! You fucking freak get away from my daughter!" Y/n's father screamed and she instantly stood and walked to her father leaving Namjoon kneeling on the ground. Her father reached his hand back and slapped Y/n across the face causing her to fall to the ground. "I told you not to run off you stupid girl! What are you looking at you abomination?" Namjoons blood boiled to the point all he saw was red- he snarled at her father and lunged at him tackling him to the ground and started punching and hitting the drunken fool like a man possessed. In a way he was possessed- possessed by the need to defend and protect his mate from any and all harm.

Y/n screamed and shouted at Namjoon to get off him but he didn't hear her, he couldn't- too consumed by the rage and anger to hold a single rational thought. He didn't snap out of it until Y/n started pulling on his arm begging and pleading for him to stop. "Kim Namjoon stop- stop please! This isn't you- stop it!" She sobbed still pulling on his arm to get the wolf off her father- Namjoons heart shattered at her tear stained face her pleading cracking voice and it was all because of him- all because he couldn't keep his anger in check.

Namjoon stood abruptly and took a few steps back wide eyed and terrified- terrified of himself and what he was truly capable of. He swallowed the lump in his throat his own tears threatening to fall as he watched Y/n help her father, the man he knew for a fact beat her, to his feet. "I- I'm sorry I didn't- I didn't mean to- go that far. Y/n please don't go- don't leave me please, you're all I have." He begged her not to leave- not to leave him but all he could do was watch the one woman he would ever love walk away from him- her scared tear stained face the last memory he would ever have of her.

As the years wore on Namjoon hardened his heart and steeled his mind in order to survive. He thought about Y/n constantly every little thing out in the woods reminded him of her- the old willow she used to try and climb- the old trail leading to the human park- and of course the creek. Fuck the creek- Namjoon would spend hours there- from morning to night mourning the loss of his first love.

He lost his parents to poachers- wild hybrid poachers- he remembered that night vividly. His mother had started running with him while his father fought the humans off with a feral ferocity that terrified even him. They ran and ran and ran until his mother couldn't run anymore and she fell to the forest floor- Namjoon had tried desperately to get her to her feet but she refused- told Namjoon to run and never look back. Of course he refused told her that he couldn't leave her like this when they heard a howl and then a gunshot.

They were silent for a mere moment before his mother got to her feet and started shoving Namjoon away silently shouting and yelling at him to go to run with tears spilling from her eyes as she turned and stood her ground against the humans who were only yards away by now- she looked back at her son for the last time to tell her she loved him and to go find her.

Namjoon turned tail and ran- he ran for his life until he made it to the city. The lights were too bright and the noise was way too fucking loud compared to the quiet days in the forest- the only sounds he used to hear were the chirping of birds and the flow of the creek. Namjoon was lost and scared shitless- his breathing was heavy as he spun around panicking trying to find a quiet place to go. 

He heard more shouting and it was two humans wearing hybrid control uniforms and were making a b-line straight for him. Namjoons eyes widened and he sprinted down a random alleyway behind him searching for anywhere his big lumbering form could hide.

His eyes were wild as he ran for his life- he wasn't out of the woods yet and it terrified him- everything was too loud- too bright- too much for his senses and he was getting light headed when a hand appeared and pulled him into a tight confined space.

The two humans ran right past him and it took a minute for the wolf to catch his breath as he removed himself from the tight confines of the hiding spot some rando pulled him into. There was a low growl coming from the darkness and a pair of yellow glowing eyes being the only thing he could see but the moment he and the creature in the shadows locked eyes- he felt the same thing he felt with Y/n all those years ago.

Mate.

His wolf purred making Namjoons little hairs stand on end and it felt as though he could breath again. He still had a hole in his heart where Y/n should be but this creature- this hybrid- made his heart a little fuller. Hesitantly the large broad framed creature moved through the darkness with a feline prowess- then a man appeared.

He was tall and handsome with short shaggy dark brown hair, full lips, and the most beautiful round brown eyes- his clothes looked pretty, too tight and torn in some places. His black ears pinned back on his head and his tail wrapped around his waist out of fear.

"H- Hi..."

Oh his voice is like silk- Namjoon thought when he heard the hybrid talk the fur of his tail bristled and his body felt light as air as he stared at him.

"Hi uhm- what's your name?"

"Seokjin- Kim Seokjin but you can call me Jin..."

Taglist: @meowforluv @moonxxlover @valpinkk @kiki-zb @danielle143 *Claps like a jester*

Tada! First back story finished! Do we see why Namjoon was the first to scent her and why he was thrown into his rut because of her? Broooooo- I've had this back story thing going on in the back of my head for a while! I just wasn't sure how to tackle it at first but @valpinkk bless their heart was a real peach!

As always let me know what you think and we'll be in touch!

[magic-shop-stories]

mafia au where they react to reader getting hurt ? (my tumblr has been messing up so i apologize if it was sent twice)

💌 Reply:

Hey there, THANK YOU for your request, I loved the idea - tho it's my first time writing mafia AU in any fandom. I hope this is what you wanted and is to your liking. And don't worry! It's kinda funny, bc I got an almsot similar mafia request the same day, however I think it wasn't you xD I hope you have fun reading 💜

BTS MAFIA AU! HEADCANONS

~ CONTENT WARNING~

dark themes = violence, psychological manipulation, (intense) power dynamics

(mafia-style vengeance), possessiveness, strategic brutality, protective obsession

NAMJOON

cold rage

strategic vengeance

quiet devotion

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Silent Storm

freezes mid-sentence when he sees your injury

cigar in his hand crumbling to ash

voice drops to a whisper, glacial and lethal

“Who. Was. It.” 

not a question = a death warrant

secretly blames himself for your loyalty

Controlled Chaos

calm before a calculated storm

orders his men to lock down the district

every exit, every alley, every shadow belongs to him now

“Bring them to me alive. I want to teach them manners.”

ACTION

Interrogation as Art

drags the culprits to his underground vault

no screams, no theatrics = just logic

 “You harmed what’s mine. Let’s discuss… consequences.” 

uses their own secrets against them

psychological annihilation

breaking their will with psychological precision

leaves them begging for death

Strategic Retribution

ruins lives with paperwork (not bullets = for you he makes an exception)

burns their operations to the ground

not before rerouting their funds to your account

texts you a screenshot: 

“For your trouble.”

Your Security Overhaul

replaces your guards with his most ruthless enforcers

assigns you a 24/7 shadow

“You’re not leaving this penthouse until I redesign the world.”

AFTERMATH

Caretaker

tends to your wound himself

hands steady but jaw clenched

“This shouldn’t have happened. I miscalculated.” 

guilt is a silent third person in the room

Philosophy & Promises

reads Marcus Aurelius aloud while disinfecting your stitches

“‘The best revenge is to be unlike your enemy.’ But tonight… I’ll make an exception.”

Sleep-Watch

sits vigil by your bed, laptop open to surveillance feeds

murders a rival via encrypted email while brushing hair from your forehead

DIALOGUE

“You are my equilibrium. Disturb you, and I dismantle the universe.”

to a trembling underling:

“If she dies, you’ll wish I’d only killed you.”

whispered against your temple:

“Forgive me. I’ll burn heaven itself to keep you safe.”

JIN

charm

cunning

vengeance served with a smile

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Masked Fury

laughs, sharp and cold

inspects your wound

“Yah, who dared scratch my masterpiece?” 

his grin doesn’t reach his eyes

his eyes are glacial, calculating

Deadly Composure

lpours himself a drink

exhaling slowly

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure they regret their life choices.”

ACTION

Theatrical Retribution

invites the culprits to a “truce dinner” at his penthouse

serves champagne laced with arsenic

toasting: “To poor decisions!” (they collapse)

Psychological Warfare

leaks their secrets to their families

ruining their reputations

sends you a bouquet with a note: 

“Roses are red, revenge is sweeter. Sleep well.”

Overprotective Protocol

assigns his most loyal hitman as your shadow

“His name’s Kimchi. He’s great at gardening.” 

Kimchi’s specialty is burying bodies

AFTERMATH

Mother Hen Mode

force-feeds you homemade jjajangmyeon

fussing over your bandages

“Eat. You’ll need energy to watch me ruin more people.”

Guilt in Disguise

jokes about your “clumsiness”

but stays up all night reviewing security footage

“Next time, I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap. Worldwide Handsome brand.”

Secret Softness

leaves a custom first-aid kit by your bed

filled with painkillers, chocolate, and a tiny knife

“For emergencies. Or snacks.”

DIALOGUE

“You hurt my favorite toy. Now I’ll play with you.”

to you, while stitching your wound: 

“If you die, I’ll kill you myself. Understood?”

whispered against your ear: 

“Next time, let me do the stabbing. I’m prettier when I’m covered in blood.”

YOONGI

silent rage

calculated cruelty

love that bleeds in the shadows

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Dead Calm

freezes when he sees your injury

eyes narrowing to slits

his voice is a whisper, colder than a winter grave

“Who. Touched. You.” 

the room chills; even his men step back

Assessment

runs a gloved thumb over your wound

analyzing it like a broken track

“Shallow. Clean. They wanted you alive to scare me.” 

his smile is venomous

“Mistake.”

ACTION

Methodical Vengeance

Intel First

hacks into city cameras, traffic cams, even smartwatches to trace every step of your attackers

finds them in 47 minutes

The Studio

drags them to his soundproofed studio

outfitted with chains, scalpels

a vintage record player blaring Schubert’s "Death and the Maiden."

Interrogation

uses a soldering iron to brand their skin with musical notes

“This is fortissimo. Let’s see how loud you scream.”

Finale

records their confession

edits it into a symphony of screams

sends it to their boss

texts you: “Track 8. Your lullaby.”

Strategic Annihilation

burns their drug shipments

poisons their cash flow

leaks their ledgers to the feds

leaves their leader’s severed hands in a piano bench with a note: 

“Play your swan song.”

AFTERMATH

Surgeon

stitches your wound himself

hands steady but jaw ticking

“Don’t move. I’m not a fucking nurse.”

Guilt in Silence

sits in the dark

cleaning his gun

when you find him, he rasps: 

“Should’ve been me. Not you. Never you.”

New Rules

implants a GPS tracker in all your clothes 

“Try to remove it, and I’ll cuff you to my bed. Permanently.”

HIDDEN SOFTNESS

Midnight Watch

sleeps on the floor beside your bed

back against the door

wakes at every sound, gun in hand

Gifts of War

leaves a diamond necklace on your pillow

stolen from the rival boss’s vault

“Wear it. Reminds them who you belong to.”

Secret Ritual

plays Clair de Lune on the piano

fingers trembling

“You’re my only quiet. Don’t take that from me.”

DIALOGUE

to the traitors: 

“You don’t get to die until I’m bored.”

to you, bandaging you:

“Hurting you is like cutting my own veins. I’ll bleed the world dry before I let it happen again.”

whispered in the dark:

“You’re my fucking heartbeat. If they stop you, I stop everything.”

BONUS Youngi as the consigliere who writes symphonies of violence? Chef’s kiss. He’d 100% use a metronome during torture

J-HOPE

radiant rage

choreographed/well planned vengeance

a smile that hides daggers

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Smiling Fury

his grin doesn’t falter when he sees your injury

it sharpens

eyes glinting like polished steel

he tilts his head

“Who made you bleed, baby? Let’s dance.” 

his voice is sing-song, but the room tenses

even the air feels charged

Controlled Chaos

claps twice, summoning his men

“Lock the exits. We’re throwing a party.” 

the word “party” drips with menace

ACTION

Theatrical Retribution

Stage Setup

lures the attackers to an abandoned theater

rigged with spotlights and explosives

Performance

forces them to fight each other in a grotesque “dance battle” at gunpoint

“You wanted attention? Spotlight’s on you!”

Finale

drops a chandelier on the last survivor

humming “Blood Sweat & Tears” as it crashes.

texts you a video with the caption: “Encore?”

Strategic Flair

floods their warehouses with neon paint (his signature color)

ruining millions in product

“Now their drugs match their personalities, toxic and tacky.”

leaves their leader’s severed tongue in a glitter-filled envelope

“For lying to me.”

AFTERMATH

Overprotective Mode

assigns you a 24/7 guard detail dressed as backup dancers

“If they can’t pirouette and shoot, what’s the point?”

installs panic buttons in your jewelry

“Press it, and I’ll waltz in. Literally.”

Guilt Masked as Energy

drowns his worry in hyperactive planning

rearranges your safehouse into a pastel fortress

“New decor! Bulletproof doors. And they’re blush pink!”

Secret Softness

plays “Chicken Noodle Soup” on loop while disinfecting your wound

“It’s… calming. Shut up.”

HIDDEN DEPTHS

Dancefloor Trauma

reveals he once used his dance crew as a hit squad

“We pirouetted past security. Knives in our socks.”

Flashback Triggers

finds you practicing a old choreography he taught you

freezes, then snaps: 

“Never do that again.” 

later admits: 

“That routine… it’s how I lost my first love.”

DIALOGUE

to the attackers: 

“You messed with my rhythm. Now I’ll break your beat.”

to you, tightening your bandages: 

“You’re my only melody. I’ll silence anyone who tries to scratch the record.”

whispered in your ear, voice breaking: 

“If you die, I’ll forget how to smile. Don’t take that from me.”

BONUS

He’d 10000% coordinate his bullets to match his outfit!!!

JIMIN

deadly ballet of cruelty and devotion,

love and vengeance = pirouette in perfect harmony

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Tears and Tremors

freezes when he sees your wound

eyes pooling with tears

“Who did this to you?” 

his voice cracks

trembling hands hovering over your injury

then, like a switch flipped, his tears dry

his gaze turns arctic

“Never mind. I’ll ask them myself.”

Silent Fury

walks to the nearest mirror

adjusts his blood-splattered collar

smiles, a hollow, chilling grin

“Time to dance, boys.”

ACTION

Seduction

Lure

sends the attackers a bottle of champagne with a note: 

“Let’s talk.”

signs it with a lipstick kiss

Performance

greets them in a silk robe

swaying to jazz

“You hurt my heart. Let’s… discuss.” 

offers them drugged wine

Revelation

as they slump, he strips to a tailored suit underneath

“Surprise... You just kissed death.”

Punishment

Elegant Brutality

uses ballet ribbons to bind them to a grand piano

plays Swan Lake while slicing their tendons in rhythm

“This is plié. This is relevé. This is agony.”

Artistic Finale

carves a heart into their leader’s chest

fills it with rose thorns

“Love hurts, right?” 

texts you a photo: 

“Made you art”

AFTERMATH

Possessive Care

bathes you himself

scrubbing blood from your skin

“Mine. Only mine.” 

his grip bruises

his kisses are feather-light

Guilt-Driven Obsession

rearranges your entire schedule

"No more outings. No more risks. You’re my treasure, locked away forever.”

Night Terrors

wakes screaming

clawing at invisible threats

pulls you into his arms, sobbing

“I’ll kill the world. I’ll kill myself. Just… stay alive.”

HIDDEN SOFTNESS

Secret Sanctuary

builds a hidden garden for you

filled with white roses

“No blood here. Just us.”

murders a henchman for stepping on a petal

Guilty Gifts

leaves a diamond choker on your pillow

stolen from a rival

“Wear it. It matches your new scars.”

Fragile Confession

dances with you in the moonlight

lips brushing your ear

“If I lose you, I’ll forget how to be human.”

DIALOGUE

to the traitors: 

“You thought I was pretty? How cute. Pretty things bite.”

to you, bandaging your wound: 

“I’ll carve my apology into their bones. Is that enough?”

whispered in the dark, voice breaking: 

“I’m a monster. But you… you’re my holy ground.”

TAEHYUNG

charismatic chaos

psychological warfare

love that thrives in the unexpected

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Eerie Calm

tilts his head

studying your wound like a curious child

“Hmm. This is new.” 

his voice is honey-sweet

his eyes darken, pupils dilating

“Did they enjoy hurting you? I’ll ask them… slowly.”

Chilling Charm

grins, adjusting his suit sleeves

“Don’t worry, jagiya. I’ll make their death fascinating.”

ACTION

Masquerade

Infiltration

disguises himself as a medic to enter the rival gang’s hideout

flirts with their leader’s sister

slipping her a poisoned rose

“For your beauty..." 

she collapses mid-laugh

Mind Games

forces the attackers to play Russian roulette

but every chamber is loaded

“Life’s a gamble! Let’s see if you’re lucky.”

records their screams and loops them as their ringtone

Grand Finale

locks the survivors in a room with a “gift”

a bomb disguised as a vintage wine crate

texts them: 

“Pop the cork! 🍾”

Strategic Cruelty

replaces their drugs with crushed glass

“Customers love extra crunch.”

sends their families personalized condolence letter

before the victims die

“I’m thoughtful like that.”

AFTERMATH

Possessive Obsession

moves you into his penthouse

walls lined with surveillance screens

“Now I can watch you and the sunset. Romantic, right?”

Guilt-Fueled Whimsy

buys a zoo’s worth of exotic pets “to cheer you up.”

lets a panther sleep at the foot of your bed (not a real one but the biggest black dog he can find)

“His name’s Marshmallow. He’s great at security.”

Nighttime Rituals

bathes you in champagne bath

scrubbing away blood with gold-leaf soap

“Only the best for my masterpiece.”

HIDDEN DEPTHS

Trauma Trigger

finds you humming a lullaby he’d forgotten

his mother’s song (lost her in a turf war)

snaps, smashing a vase

“Never. Sing. That. Again.” 

later, soaks your hands in milk to heal cuts from the glass

Secret Sacrifice

takes a bullet meant for you during a deal

laughs, blood staining his teeth

“Jokes on them. I look good in red.”

DIALOGUE

to the enemies: 

“You thought I was playful? How cute. Playtime’s over.”

to you, stitching your wound: 

“Hurting you is like breaking a rare vase. I’ll glue them back together… piece by piece.”

whispered against your neck, voice trembling: 

“If you die, I’ll forget how to breathe. So don’t.”

JUNGKOOK

feral protectiveness

raw rage

a love that’s as brutal as it is tender

IMMEDIATE REACTION

Silent Storm

his body goes rigid when he sees your injury

nostrils flaring like a wolf catching blood-scent

he doesn’t speak

just picks up his aluminum baseball bat

spins it once

cracks his neck

“Stay here!” 

he growls, voice low, guttural

“I’ll clean this up.”

Calculated Rage

texts you a single emoji an hour later: ⚾

when you call, he answers mid-swing

“Almost done, baby.”

ACTION

Brutal Efficiency

Hunt

tracks the attackers to a scrapyard

no guns, no knives

just the bat

breaks knees first, so they can’t run

“Gotta level the field.”

Interrogation

forces them to kneel on shattered glass

“Who sent you?” 

he already knows

just wants them to say it

Message

carves “PROPERTY OF JK” into their leader’s chest

leaves him breathing but mangled

dumped on the rival boss’s doorstep

Strategic Terror

floods their headquarters with stray dogs

trained to attack on command

“Meet my puppies. They’re hungry.”

slashes tires on every car in their flee

replaces brake fluid with gasoline

“Drive safe”

AFTERMATH

Possessive Care

cleans your wound with whiskey

hands steady but jaw clenched

“Don’t. Move.” 

wraps you in his leather jacket

still warm and reeking of iron

Guilt in Motion

stalks your every move for weeks

installs motion sensors in your house

“You’ll know if a fly sneezes.”

Night Watch

sleeps on the floor beside your bed

bat propped against the wall

wakes at every sound

“Just me. Go back to sleep.”

HIDDEN DEPTHS

Training Trauma

finds you lifting weights in the gym, mimicking his routine

snaps, slamming the dumbbell rack

“Stop. You’re not me.” 

later, teaches you self-defense moves

hands trembling

“If I’m not here… you’ll know what to do.”

Secret Ritual

leaves protein bars in your bag

each with a note: 

“Eat. Stay strong.” 

(eats one himself every time he leaves you alone)

Fragile Confession

after a nightmare, he curls around you, voice breaking

“I’m not a hero. I’m just… good at breaking things.”

DIALOGUE

to enemies: 

“You don’t get to die until I’m bored.”

to you, changing your bandage: 

“You’re my fucking heartbeat. Stop skipping.”

whispered against your hair, voice fractured: 

“I’ll break the world. Just… stay whole.”

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS | O8

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: March 3rd, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: Failed attempts at normal Friday nights, tequila-fueled bad decisions, drunk texting that definitely crosses lines, deliberately provoking reactions, pink sets making reappearances, and countdown timers that feel like threats (or promises). | drunk texting, emotional provocation, jealousy, possessive behavior, failed rebounds, tequila courage, late night messages, countdown tension, deliberate misbehavior, text conversations, bar settings, alcohol consumption, purposeful disobedience, revenge flirting, provoked responses.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: Sometimes it takes tequila and spite to say what you really mean. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who's ever sent that one text they absolutely shouldn't have (but definitely meant). Also to anyone who's ever tried to move on and realized they're ruined for normal flirting. Special thanks to my friends who had to watch me spiral while writing this - your emotional support and drink recommendations were crucial to this mess.

PLAYLIST

The screen blurs as you stare at his contact—a blank gray circle where his photo used to be. The one of him and Caleb at graduation, both grinning, arms slung around each other's shoulders.

Gone.

Your thumb hovers over the message thread. The last thing he sent stares back at you, clinical and cold:

Hoseok: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢.

Three words.

That's all it took to unravel everything—all the heated glances, the lingering touches, the way he'd made you feel seen and wanted and his.

(Stupid. You were so stupid.)

The phone hits the wall with a satisfying crack. You don't check if the screen's broken. Don't care. Let it shatter like everything else.

Because that's what this is, isn't it? He'd played you perfectly—drawing you in with gentle words and meaningless touches, making you question your own sanity until you were desperate for confirmation. Until you were willing to do anything just to prove you weren't imagining it all.

And now?

Now he's gone.

Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Just another conquest, another game won, another—

A soft knock interrupts your spiral.

"Y/N?" Caleb's voice filters through the door, concerned but not pushing. "You okay?"

You swallow hard, swiping at your eyes. "Fine."

The door creaks open anyway.

Your brother takes one look at you—curled up in your desk chair, eyes red-rimmed, phone face-down on the floor—and something in his expression shifts.

He doesn't ask. Doesn't pry. Just disappears briefly and returns with two mugs of chamomile tea, the kind mom always makes when either of you is upset.

"Scoot." He nudges you over, settling on the floor beside your chair. "Found that terrible rom-com you like. The one with the talking cats."

A wet laugh escapes before you can stop it. "It's not terrible."

"It's horrific." But he's already pulling up Netflix on his phone, patting the space next to him until you slide down to join him.

The tea is too hot and slightly too sweet—he always adds an extra spoonful of honey—but it warms something frozen in your chest. You lean against his shoulder as the movie starts, breathing in the familiar scent of mom’s laundry detergent and that stupid cologne your aunt always gifts him for Christmas.

He doesn't mention how your shoulders shake slightly. Doesn't comment on the damp spot growing on his sleeve. Just wraps an arm around you and lets you hide your face when the tears come faster.

It's going to be okay.

(It has to be okay.)

Your phone buzzes weakly from its place on the floor. You don't check it.

Some things are better left broken.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince yourself this is a good idea.

Kiara had been insistent—persistent—about dragging you out tonight. "You need this," she'd declared, rifling through your closet with terrifying efficiency. "Fresh air. Good music. Hot strangers who aren't emotionally constipated medical residents."

(You hadn't told her about Hoseok. Hadn't told anyone. But somehow she knew—the way best friends always do.)

The dress she picked is shorter than you'd usually wear, black fabric clinging to curves you normally hide under oversized sweaters. Your legs look longer in the heels she forced on you, and the smokey eye makeup makes you look... different. Older.

Less like the nervous med student who stammers through anatomy presentations.

Less like his Chip.

Your throat tightens. You reach for your phone automatically—to check if he's unblocked you, to see if he's noticed your absence, to—

"Don't you dare." Kiara appears in the doorway, looking unfairly gorgeous in a red dress. She snatches your phone, dropping it into her clutch. "No drunk texting allowed."

"I wasn't going to—"

"Sure." She starts fixing your lipstick. "And I'm not planning to get absolutely destroyed on tequila shots."

You manage a weak laugh. "You're buying."

"Obviously." She steps back, examining her work with critical eyes. "There. Now you look properly devastating." Her grin turns wicked. "Let's go make some bad decisions."

And that’s how you somehow end up in one of those trendy pubs near campus.

Which is, by the way, absolutely packed when you arrive—music thrumming through the floorboards and lighting making everyone look airbrushed.

The bass line manages to drown out the voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like him.

Kiara orders shots immediately. The tequila burns going down, but it's better than the ache that's been living in your sternum for days.

"To terrible men," she declares, raising another glass.

"To terrible decisions," you counter, and the lime tastes like freedom when you bite down.

And three shots later, the edges of everything finally start to blur pleasantly.

The music feels like it's flowing through your veins, making your hips sway without conscious thought. Kiara drags you to the dance floor, her laugh bright and infectious as she spins you around.

"See?" She has to shout over the bass. "This is what Friday nights are supposed to feel like!"

And maybe she's right. Maybe this is better than sitting in your room, staring at your phone, waiting for a message that's never going to come. Maybe this—the plethora of bodies moving around you, the asphyxiating burn of tequila, the way your dress slides against your skin when you dance—is exactly what you need.

You close your eyes, letting the music take over. Let yourself forget about gentle voices and surgical hands and the way he'd looked at you like you were something precious right before he—

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight is for dancing and drinking and pretending your heart isn't still beating in morse code: Ho-seok, Ho-seok, Ho-seok.

(But god, even the bass line sounds like his laugh.)

The tequila makes your phone screen swim as you glare at his contactless profile. The gray circle mocks you—empty and cold like his stupid perfect soul.

"Look at you," you slur at the blank icon. "Not even a picture anymore. Too good for pictures now? Too busy being tall and successful and making people question their sanity?"

Kiara—who apparently managed to grab a mojito at some point—now snorts into her glass. "Honey..."

"And your hands." You jab accusingly at the screen. "Why are they so big? Who gave you permission? Stupid... stupid surgeon hands with their stupid... precision."

"Okay, that's enough." Kiara tries to grab your phone, but you clutch it to your chest.

"No wait, I'm not done insulting his perfect face. Which isn't even here anymore because he's too important for profile pictures apparently." You hiccup. "Probably busy being gentle and professional somewhere else. With his stupid rolled-up sleeves and his stupid honey voice and his stupid—"

"Perfect bone structure?" Kiara supplies helpfully.

"Yes!" You slump against the bar. "It's offensive. His whole... everything is offensive. Criminal, even. We should report him to the medical board for being unreasonably attractive while also being a complete—"

"Asshole?"

"I was gonna say bastard but yes." You squint at the screen again. "Look at him. Not looking at us. With his not-picture. Rude."

Kiara pats your head sympathetically. "Come on, disaster. Let's find you someone who actually shows up in photos."

As if summoned by her words, two guys materialize beside your table. The taller one—dark hair, nice smile, definitely not wearing a white coat or speaking in medical terminology—leans against the bar.

"Can we buy you ladies a drink?"

You open your mouth to decline, but Kiara kicks you under the table.

"We'd love that," she says smoothly. "I'm Kiara, this is Y/N."

"James," the tall one offers. "This is Mike."

Mike waves, sliding onto the stool next to you. He's cute, in a slightly tired way—the kind that comes from hospital rotations and too little sleep.

"Med student?" he asks, noticing your distracted glance at your phone.

"How'd you guess?" you ask.

"The thousand-yard stare," he laughs. "I'm doing my internship at SNU. Just started the emergency rotation last week."

You manage a small smile. Med student, intern—at least he's not a certain first-year resident with surgical hands and a talent for making you question your sanity.

"So," Mike asks, "what brings you here tonight?"

"Emotional devastation," you announce before Kiara can stop you. "Also tequila."

He laughs—a normal laugh, not a honey-dripped chuckle designed to make your knees weak. "Sounds like there's a story there."

"Oh, there's a story." You straighten up, warming to your topic. "See, there's this guy—"

Kiara slaps her hand over your mouth. "Who we are not talking about tonight!" She smiles brilliantly at James and Mike. "How about those drinks?"

You lick her palm until she releases you with a yelp.

"Fine," you concede, accepting the fresh margarita Mike slides your way. "No talking about He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Voldemort?" James jokes.

You snort into your drink. "Worse. He's a doctor."

Mike winces sympathetically. "Ah. One of those."

"Exactly!" You point at him triumphantly. "One of those. With their... their competence and their steady hands and their stupid ability to make everything sound like a medical procedure—"

Kiara kicks you again. "Drinks," she reminds you firmly. "We're drinking and dancing and not thinking about certain medical professionals who shall remain nameless."

"Right." You take a long sip of margarita. "No thinking about names. Or nicknames. Or the way certain people say certain nicknames like they're tasting them—"

"Dance floor!" Kiara announces loudly, grabbing your arm. "We're going to the dance floor now!"

As she drags you away, you hear Mike ask James: "Should we be concerned?"

"Probably," James replies, but he's following anyway.

You let Kiara pull you into the crowd, the bass drowning out your thoughts. It's fine. You're fine.

And if you check your phone one more time—just to glare at the blank profile picture and maybe compose a strongly worded text about the audacity of certain medical residents—well.

That's between you and the tequila.

Definitely not between your bones and Mike as hemoves closer, hand settling tentatively on your waist.

You know he’s being polite about it—know he’s asking permission with his eyes, keeping a respectful distance.

It's nice.

Normal.

Boring.

(No. Not boring. Safe. This is what normal flirting feels like. Not... whatever psychological warfare Hoseok had been waging.)

"You're a good dancer," Mike says, and his voice is perfectly pleasant. No syrupy-thick manipulation. No clinical observations about your hip mobility.

"Thanks." You manage a smile that only feels slightly forced. "You too."

He grins—an uncomplicated expression that doesn't hide any surgical precision behind it. "Want to get some air? Maybe..." He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Take a smoke break?"

You don't smoke. Have never smoked. Would normally launch into a lecture about pulmonary health risks and carcinogenic compounds because you're that kind of med student.

But.

But tonight you're wearing a dress that makes you feel dangerous, and your lips still taste like tequila, and somewhere across the city he's probably being perfect and untouchable and—

"Yes." The word tumbles out before you can stop it. "Air sounds good."

Kiara catches your eye across the dance floor, raising an eyebrow in silent question. You wave her off, letting Mike guide you through the crowd toward the exit.

The night air hits your bare shoulders like a slap, sobering and sharp. Mike leans against the brick wall, offering you the pack with another easy smile.

You take a cigarette because you're drunk and stupid and maybe trying to prove something to yourself. Or to him.

(Everything feels like it's about him lately.)

"Here." Mike cups his hands around the flame, shielding it from the breeze as you lean in.

The first inhale burns—acrid and harsh and nothing like the way his mouth had burned against yours. You manage not to cough, but it's a near thing.

"Not a regular smoker?" Mike asks, amused.

You shake your head, watching the ember glow in the darkness. "First time, actually."

His eyebrows lift. "Shit, really? Should've told me. We could've started you with something lighter."

The concern in his voice makes something in your chest twist. Because it's nice. He's being nice. And you're standing here thinking about someone else's mouth and someone else's hands and—

"Sorry," you blurt out. "I'm kind of a mess right now."

Mike's laugh is gentle. "Yeah, I got that impression." He takes a drag, smoke curling between you. "Want to talk about it?"

"God no." You attempt another inhale, managing not to choke this time. "I want to forget about it."

His eyes flick to your mouth, then back to yours. "I could help with that."

The invitation is clear. Simple. Uncomplicated.

You could do it. Could let this nice, normal boy kiss you against the brick wall. Could replace the memory of bergamot with something softer. Safer.

Could prove that you're not still thinking about gentle poison and cloying praise and the way his fingers had—

"I can't." The words taste like ash. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Hey." Mike straightens, hands lifting in surrender. "No pressure. We can just talk. Or not talk." He grins. "Or you can keep pretending to enjoy that cigarette while plotting revenge against whatever doctor broke your heart."

A laugh bubbles up—slightly hysterical but real. "That obvious?"

"Little bit." He takes the cigarette from your trembling fingers, stubbing it out. "Come on. Let's get you some water before your friend murders me for letting you smoke."

You let him lead you back inside, grateful for the simple kindness of it. For the way he doesn't push or pry or try to take advantage of your obvious vulnerability.

It's nice.

Normal.

Right.

(So why does it feel so wrong?)

Your phone buzzes in your clutch.

You ignore it.

Some habits are harder to break than others.

The rest of the night blurs into a mess of well-meaning moments that all feel slightly wrong. Mike gets you water, makes sure you're steady on your feet, laughs at your increasingly unfiltered commentary about medical school.

He's perfect.

And that's the problem.

Because your drunk brain keeps cataloging all the ways he's not perfect enough. His hands are normal-sized. His smile doesn't hide anything. When he touches your elbow to steady you, it's just... a touch. No clinical observations about proprioception or balance compensation.

"You doing okay?" he asks for the third time, and his concern is so genuine it makes your teeth hurt.

"I'm fine," you lie, but what you mean is: you're not him.

You're not fine. You're drunk and touch-starved and maybe a little broken, because apparently regular flirting feels empty now. Like eating sugar-free candy when you know exactly how the real thing tastes.

"Want to dance again?" Mike offers, and you almost say yes because that's what you're supposed to want.

Normal girl, normal boy, normal Friday night.

But.

But your skin feels too tight and your head is spinning and all you can think about is how he would handle this—how he'd steady you with those surgeon's hands and murmur something about vestibular dysfunction while his thumb pressed against your pulse.

"I need air," you announce, pushing away from the bar.

Your heel catches on nothing, sending you stumbling.

Mike reaches for you, but you're already righting yourself, muscle memory kicking in as you adjust your center of gravity.

"Excellent compensatory response," you mutter in his voice, then laugh because you're definitely losing it.

"What?"

"Nothing." You wave off Mike's concerned look. "Just... medical student things."

"I get it," he says with a knowing smile. "The terminology gets stuck in your head after a while. My attending at SNU is always going on about proprioception and vestibular function."

Your stomach drops at the mention of SNU. "Which department?"

"Emergency, but we rotate through different services. This week I've been with the surgical team." He shrugs. "It's intense, but the residents are mostly cool."

You nod, wondering if he's ever supervised Mike, if they've worked side by side while you were sitting at home staring at your phone.

He smiles like he understands, but he doesn't. Can't. Because he's never had someone turn basic anatomy into psychological warfare. Never had someone make him question his own sanity with plausible deniability and careful touches and—

"Text me?" Mike's voice cuts through your spiral.

Your eyes flicker down to his hand. He's holding out his phone, expression hopeful.

You stare at it. At his normal, nice, completely uncomplicated contact page with its normal, nice, completely visible profile picture.

"I can't," you say finally, and you mean: I'm ruined for normal now.

His smile is understanding. Kind. "The doctor?"

"The doctor," you confirm, and you hate how your voice catches on the word.

Kiara immediately appears at your elbow—your guardian angel in four-inch heels. "Let’s get some air." She waves to Mike. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her."

"Anytime." He means it too, which makes it worse somehow.

You both make it outside. The night air feels like clarity. Kiara tucks you against her shoulder as you let out a soft sigh.

"He’s nice," she says finally.

"Yeah." You close your eyes, remembering gentle smiles and normal hands and complete lack of medical terminology. "Too nice."

"Oh honey." She strokes your hair. "You're so fucked."

You laugh until you cry, because she has no idea how right she is. How thoroughly, completely, deliberately fucked you've been by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Your phone buzzes.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Your heart stops.

“Y/N.” Kiara mutters, glancing down at your screen.

“Give me a second.” You reply, voice slightly slurred.

Because you know that clinical concern. Know that detached tone that sounds like medical advice but feels like ownership.

Your fingers slip on the keyboard as you type:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜??? 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚎𝚔 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 # 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢?? 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚃

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

The nickname makes you see red. You practically stab the screen with your thumbs:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝚃. 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙿. 𝙼𝙴. 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙳 𝙼𝙴

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚛 𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚝????? 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑????? 𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 “𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢” 𝚑𝚞𝚑?????

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝙾 𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳. 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙲𝙺.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙼𝚛 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕?????? 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you wait.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚄 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈/𝙽.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘??? 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽???

The dots return, lingering longer this time.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾. 𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚍. 𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝙷𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚄

𝐘𝐨𝐮: …𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚝𝚠. 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚆𝚑𝚘’𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎?

You grin viciously at the sharp edge in those two words.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚄 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚠𝚘

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚠.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚝????? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚣 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜????? 𝚖𝚊��𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎?????

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾𝙿𝙴. 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛????? 𝚒𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢/𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚢/𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙴𝚁

You jab at the send button, chest rising too fast, too unsteady, because fuck him.

Fuck him for watching you from a distance. Fuck him for pretending he wasn’t. Fuck him for texting you when he’s the one who left—for acting like he still has a say in what you do, who you see, how much you drink.

Fuck him for making you like this.

Your fingers curl tighter around your phone, the alcohol thick in your bloodstream, pulse scalding under your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but all you can see is him. That fucking look on his face, like you’d somehow made him the victim.

Like he was the one suffering.

You shove your phone back into your bag, stomach twisting, vision tilting—

And then you pull it right back out.

Because you can’t escape inevitability, even as much as you wish you could.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚗

The dots appear instantly, then vanish. Your heart pounds as you push further:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍

A long pause. Then:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝.

Your lips curve, knowing you’ve got him. Even through the alcohol haze, you can feel the shift in his tone—the way the period instead of a question mark betrays his tension. Curiosity. Intrigue.

Attraction.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚡

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. You press on:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚘. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈/𝙽.

Full name. You’re getting to him.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚝??? 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠???

The response is immediate:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝???? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚎??? 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗????

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗??? 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚘𝚗????

Another pause. Then:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚢??? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗???

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Your thighs clench at the curse. Because this—this is what you wanted. What you want. Him cursing. Him losing it, like you’ve lost it—medical terminology abandoned.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚎 𝚍𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐. 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚊𝚕

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚡𝚒. 𝙽𝚘𝚠.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔

The response is lightning fast:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚊𝚕.

The threat has your knees wobbling.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜???

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝

Three dots appear. Linger. Disappear. Your phone buzzes with a location pin instead.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝟸𝟶 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

You stare at the address, feeling slightly bold. Slightly reckless. Because that’s his apartment. Where he’d almost—where you’d nearly—

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚜?

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝟷𝟿 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎

His reply makes you, indeed, not want to behave at all.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢. 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎????

Three dots appear one last time:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝟷𝟾 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔.

You send him a middle finger emoji and watch the dots appear, disappear, appear again.

Let him stew.

You’ve got 17 minutes to decide just how badly you want to misbehave.

(Very badly, as it turns out.)

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[morbidpandabear-blog]

Beneath The Silence

Part 3 of ?

Date posted - March 16th 2025

Hybrid au!

Chital deer hybrid! Jungkook x Reader x Golden Tiger hybrid! Taehyung x Fennec Fox Hybrid! Hoseok x Snow Leopard Hybrid! Yoongi

Eventual OT7 x Reader

Warnings! — Exhausted Hobi, fighting.

( Authors note — This chapter is still under editing. )

Chapter 3 — Familiar Face

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"Take it easy," Y/N murmured, as she and one of her nurses carry the groggy hybrid through the front doors of her clinic, her voice gentle as she carefully helped the fennec fox hybrid into the room she had prepared for him. "Let me get you settled in." She said gently as she and another nurse began to get the exhausted hybrid into a gown. After getting him settled into a gown and in bed Y/N took a moment to assess the situation. This new hybrid was in dire need of care, clearly he was exhausted and mostly definitely malnourished like the two before him. So with a quick deep breath a small outward assessment of his body Y/N got to work, she had no intention of letting him suffer for even a second longer. "Hey," Y/N murmured, guiding a caring hand across his pale face I’m going to check you over, okay? Just relax."

The fennec fox hybrid didn't seem to resist, and he couldn’t muster much strength to respond. So Y/N began. Working quickly, she assessed his condition even further, making sure to give him fluids and check his vitals. She didn’t find any major injuries, only a few small already healing scratches and old scars. So his condition wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She could do this.

Before long, she was joined by the two hybrids she had already been taking care of. Both coming out of their room across the way having been informed by the head nurse that Y/N wanted to see them both. Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s worried expressions softened when they saw the fennec fox man laying on the bed, his breathing slow but steady now.

“Is he okay?” Taehyung asked, his voice thick with concern, his usual confident boyish charm replaced with an uncharacteristic tenderness.

Y/N nodded, offering them a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. He just needs rest. He’s exhausted and a little malnourished, but nothing that can't be fixed."

The two men seemed to relax at the news, though they still hovered near the bed, their protectiveness clear. “But I do have a question, when he ran to me before he passed out he said your name Taehyung” Y/N spoke in a gentle voice, “would he happen to be a pack member of both of you?” Both boys glanced between each other as if wondering if the other would confirm the suspicion, eventually Taehyung leaned in, speaking in a hushed voice, he introduced the fennec fox by name.

"His name's Hoseok," Taehyung said softly, his voice full of fondness. "But we call him Hobi, He’s our third oldest hyung . He's always been the most optimistic of us all, always keeping us smiling even if it was hard for him to do so.."

Y/N nodded, understanding immediately. She could tell just from looking at Hoseok that he was someone who had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, having to keep the younger ones from losing hope. She gently rubbed his arm, reassuring both him and his packmates.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, I promise," Y/N said. "You don’t need to worry, I’ll make sure he’s better in no time.”

———————————————————————————

Over the course of the next week, the three hybrids all seemed to recover rapidly. Hoseok, or Hobi as his packmates called him, began to regain his energy and his usual spark, even teasing Taehyung about his ferocious protective nature. Jungkook’s playful spirit returned, and Taehyung seemed less tense, his previously sharp edges softened by the care Y/N had shown them.

But as the week came to a close, the reality of the situation set in. The clinic was intended to be a temporary stop for hybrids like them, and Y/N knew that it was time to start discussing their future. They couldn’t stay at the clinic forever, and she needed the rooms for other patients.

She sat the three of them down, her heart heavy with the knowledge that they'd have to move soon.

“Alright, guys," Y/N began, her voice soft but firm. "You’re all healed now, and I know you’ll be okay on your own, but… until a shelter home opens up, I have a proposition.”

The three men looked at each other, their eyes filled with curiosity. Jungkook leaned forward first, his expression open and eager.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I have room in my house,” Y/N explained. “I can’t let you all stay here at the clinic, but you’re more than welcome to stay with me until a more permanent solution is found. I’ve got extra space, and you’ll be safe there.”

Taehyung, always the cautious one, raised an eyebrow, but there was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke “You’d really take us in?” Y/N smiled warmly, trying to ease the anxiety in his voice. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure. I want to help.”

After a brief moment of silent communication between the three men, they all agreed. Jungkook grinned, Taehyung nodded with quiet appreciation, and Hoseok, still a little shy but grateful, gave her a small but blinding smile.

A day or so later Y/N had received the temporary emergency adoption papers for all three of the men, and as a group they followed her to her house to settle into their new home.

When they arrived at the house, or more technically the mansion the boys gasped in shock, Jungkook genuinely looked like a deer in headlights. “You live here?” Hoseok asked in utter shock as he stared at the regal cat statues lining the entry stairs. Y/N laughed, “Yes this is my humble abode, come in, my house is your house now too.” She said gesturing the boys inside.

Aside from Y/N’s grandfather being a ridiculously wealthy man and leaving his wealth to her, she had also made a substantial amount from the multiple books on hybrid health she’d written although most of the income from those went towards the clinic or hybrid charities.

After the boys got over the shock they decided to pick out their rooms, although there were multiple unoccupied rooms available Jungkook and Taehyung took to rooming together as neither one wanted to be alone. Hoseok however picked a room for himself albeit still close to the other twos room. Once the decision was made they began the process of settling in.

A week of laughter and shared moments later, the boys and Y/N had decidedly grown close, the three men deciding that Y/N was a special kind of human. One evening Y/N stood over the stove cooking dinner, she had decided to cook lasagna, she had just begun to brown the meat as Jungkook returned from the backyard greeting her as he headed upstairs when the atmosphere shifted. Y/N was focused on the stove, stirring the meal, unaware of the shadow that loomed behind her.

———————————————————————————

The back door creaked open, and before Y/N could register the movement, the intruder lunged. A guttural snarl echoed through the room, and Y/N gasped in shock. But before she could even scream, a deafening roar pierced the air, followed by the sound of something heavy crashing into the wall.

At the same time as the intruder entered the kitchen Taehyung had rounded the corner from the stairs. He’d seen the shadow of the other hybrid and his instincts to protect had him reacting instantly as he slammed the attacker back. The two hybrids collided in a blur of claws, fangs, and fury, a dangerous tangle of limbs as they fought for control.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands shaking as she backed away from the scene. She saw Jungkook and Hoseok rush into the kitchen, their eyes wide with panic, as they rushed to check on her. Their voices drowned out by the sounds of snarls, all Y/N could do was watch as Taehyung fought with a terrifying intensity.

Finally, Taehyung managed to pin the attacker, his jaws snapping inches from the stranger’s throat. The battle slowed, and as Taehyung caught his breath, his furious expression faltered. His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared down at the intruder, his voice barely a whisper as he muttered, “Yoongi-hyung… is it really you?”

The realization hit everyone like a freight train. The hybrid who had just tried to attack Y/N, was none other than Yoongi, another lost pack mate.

Shock and confusion filled the air as the two hybrids locked eyes, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Taehyung lept off Yoongi, giving him space to pick himself up. Hoseok and Jungkook stayed by Y/N just in case Yoongi decided to strike again. As Yoongi got up onto his feet dusting off his worn out jeans he hissed out with menace directed at the human, “Would anyone care to explain why you’re here with a human?” He spit the word out like it burnt his tongue just to say it as he glared at Y/N with a look of suspicion.

As Y/N noticed the look of distaste Yoongi sent her way she gulped, thinking to herself that this entire situation has just gotten a lot more complicated.

[yoongle--boongle--pie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 5

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Both Yoongi and Y/n’s faces were blanketed in shock. Y/n’s own mouth hung open in the shape of the same words that had left Jungkook’s, but they were reined in and unspoken as a way to hold space for his own. Scared that if she spoke it would pull them from the alternate reality that they had been put into, that he had agreed to something so easily without his usual fight. 

Yoongi made the first move. 

“I really want to say something snarky, but I’ll save it for later in favor of the current circumstances.” Yoongi’s charcoal eyes wandered over to meet Y/n’s wide and sticky ones. “Y/n?”

She nodded slowly, her neck that was beginning to feel stiff only letting her move it so much before it protested. “I will too.” 

Yoongi’s entire body seemed like it both simultaneously dropped, and straightened with poorly concealed eagerness. “Are you sure?” 

“I don't have a choice. I can’t in good conscience leave this behind on you. Not after whatever the fuck that was.” She shuddered as the memory intruded on her mind again, doing her best to repress it further down. 

Yoongi stood and began to pace with a restless vigor around his room. “Okay. That’s great. That’s-” He ran his hands once through his hair. Twice. Then stopped his ministrations and pulled his chair out from his desk to sit backwards on the seat in order to face them both. 

“We need to start at square one. I’ll tell you what I know so far, and then we can go from there. I’ll let you take the lead, ask me whatever you want.” He gestured to Y/n with his chin, and if she wasn’t so emotionally exhausted she probably would've kissed him for finally saying the words she’d been dying to hear since she had arrived. But she settled for asking the first question instead. 

“Why did my parents change their mind?” 

She didn’t need to be psychic to know Jungkook was fighting the urge to run at the discomfort of her question, but he stayed in his spot with his fists clenched on top of his thighs. He did not protest. 

“I can only have an idea, but I’m not completely sure. What I do know is that they are lying. The reason they gave you was bullshit, and they refuse to tell anyone the real reason why. I tried to confront your mom about it a few months after you had left, and she shut me down immediately. But I could sense it, she was hiding something. I think she has something to do with the spiritual unrest, but I can’t be certain. And then there’s your dad.” 

The end of his sentence hung in the air like a fishing cast, waiting for her to grapple herself onto it. And she did. 

“What about him? I know something’s…off.”  Her eyes glanced at his closed door and settled there, thinking of the sounds of his wandering feet. 

“Something’s got its claws in him, and they both know it. They keep him shut away in his private office or their room. She stopped bringing him out to dinner the moment I caught on. It’s easier to hide from things than face them.” Yoongi wasn’t good at hiding his disdain for her mother in his tone, and she was right there with him. 

“Is he like… possessed?” The word felt foreign on her tongue, having never thought she’d have to think of her father that way. 

Yoongi exhaled slowly, clicking his tongue in thought. “Kind of. You had dinner with him, did he seem off to you at all?” 

She thought back to her first night, recounting his overly positive energy and extremely welcoming demeanor. “I guess he was a bit more…happy than I had expected. I thought for sure he’d be stern with me, or pull me aside to his office to try and talk things out or scold me for running. But he didn’t.” 

“Up until the past year, he has been pretty down and even angry at times. He hasn’t been the same since you left, it really tore him up.” Yoongi paused, inspecting the way he must’ve seen her mind fill with guilt at the thought of her father falling into a depression over her. But she needed to know, and Yoongi shouldn’t have to censor the truth to spare her the consequences of her choices. 

“Don’t worry about how I feel, it’s important that we stay as transparent as possible.” What she said was honest, but it didn’t stop her from pulling her socked feet to rest on his bed so she could hug her knees as a shield for whatever was to come. 

Yoongi continued on, her response seemingly enough reassurance to him that she wouldn’t have another mental breakdown that night. “Out of nowhere, sometime last spring he perked up almost too much, and way too quickly- I’m talking the night before he was hiding away, and by breakfast he was up and practically dancing through the kitchen while he helped the cooking staff prepare the food. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have assumed he was going through a psychotic break.”

A new bed of unease layered itself in her stomach, and made itself comfortable. Last spring was when she had dropped out of her college program, but surely that was just a coincidence. Right? But then her thoughts meshed together- the way Hoseok had almost seemed to accept that she was back already. Jimin’s prodding into why she came back. The way everyone was so quick to welcome her.

He shifted in his chair, and rolled his neck to the side to stretch it out. “Then he started saying weird things.” 

“Like what?” Her words were whispered, her gut telling her she already knew. 

He tilted his head the opposite direction, his eyes closing. “That you would be home soon. Once that started, so did his night time adventures. Your mom was pretty quick to start caging him up and away from us entirely. She wants to look like she’s in control of whatever she’s gotten herself into, but she isn’t. And she knows that I know that.” 

Y/n’s heart dropped to her feet. There’s no way he would have been able to know she had dropped out. This clearly wasn’t a coincidence. 

“Did something I said mean something to you?” He cracked open his eyes to observe her reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“I dropped out of my college program last May. That was the first time since the first Christmas I had spent alone that I had ever contemplated coming back. There’s absolutely no way he could’ve known that because I have never even said that out loud to anyone before.” Her eyes were wide as she looked into Yoongi’s that had now fully opened, thinking about what she had said deeply. Jungkook shifted next to her, reminding her of his silent presence. 

“Why did you decide to drop out?” Yoongi asked his second question so far, his foot beginning to tap itself slowly while he thought. 

She blew out a puff of air. “That’s a loaded question, but the simplest answer is that nothing felt right. I kept just thinking about coming back here and trying to confront them again, or even taking the hit to my pride and settling for a different job here. I had even started to-” She gasped, something she had never put much thought to other than it being a reaction to the stress from finals popped into her mind with bright neon lights. “I had started to dream about being here again. It happened nearly every night for almost a full week before I broke. I dropped out the following week.” 

“Shit.” Yoogi spoke through his teeth, and rolled his tongue across the inside of his cheek. 

“What does that mean?” she let one leg drop to the floor, beginning to feel secure enough to have only one to hold onto. 

He exhaled through his nose before breathing out a quiet “Not sure. But it means you were definitely still being monitored by something while you weren’t here.” 

She physically shook her arms out of the chills that descended them in waves. “I hate that so much.” She shook her hands one more time for good measure. “Do you know who is messing with my dad?” 

 Yoongi shook his head solemnly. “Unfortunately no. Like I said, I can’t always get that many specific details from spirits unless I really know them. And she tried to keep me away from him as soon as it was too hard to cover it up for me to snoop around.” 

“Is that why she didn’t want me around you? Because you could tell something was going on?” She tried to cover the germinating feelings of rage she felt towards her mother by taking a few deep breaths. 

“Partially. I think she knows I’m still trying to meddle in places she doesn’t want me to, and that if we worked together I could get further than before- which wouldn’t be good for her image.” He shrugged, her question seemingly an obvious answer to him. 

“That’s not what she told me.” Jungkook spoke up for the first time since his agreement. 

They both turned their heads at his intrusion. He glanced from one of them to the other, they both silently waited for him to continue. 

“She told me that I’d-” Jungkook clenched his fists even tighter than before, his knuckles white and his face scrunched into a real emotion, not his usual mask of vacancy. He looked tormented by his own thoughts. “She told me that I would hurt you if I spent time around you, and so would Yoongi. That it would be in your best interest if we stayed away to prevent any…accidents.” 

“That bitch…” Yoongi shook his head with a sardonic scoff, and chose to turn his head to look out his window in order to keep any other expletives from spilling from his lips. 

“Why would you guys hurt me? I would have never in my life thought that way about either of you if she and others hadn’t started filling my mind with secretive nonsense.” Y/n inched to the end of her seat in provoked disbelief.

A moment of pregnant silence blanketed the three of them, Y/n's eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of them while Yoongi locked his on Jungkook. Jungkook shifted in his seat, but chose not to speak any further. 

“It’s because…” Yoongi started, giving Jungkook a moment to intervene if he wanted to, but he didn’t interject, so he continued. “Jungkook has similar abilities to mine, but his have… different strengths. I won’t go into the details because that’s his story to tell. Your mom however, has known about both us for quite some time. She only started getting weird about them over the past couple of years when she started seeing them as a threat to whatever the fuck she is trying to cover up.” He stood up abruptly, and strided over to his window to pace quickly in front of it. His entire body was tense, and rippled with agitation. “Fuck- no offense to you, but your mom is pissing me off. She’s just loaded with low blows lately, huh?” He choked a laugh that was void of any humor and he leant his hands on the window sill and tried to compose himself. . “She knows that’s a sensitive spot for Jungkook, and she stuck her fingers right on it and pressed as hard as she could.” 

“You do not have to apologize to me. I’m in the same boat.” Y/n held her hands up in a show of submission, both feet now brushing the floor as she shifted herself on the comforter to look at Jungkook. He was still avoiding both of their presences, but he still looked visibly upset and it disturbed her. What he was fighting with within his mind she didn’t know, but she still wanted to comfort him somehow. She raised the hand closest to him and inched it closer to his own stiff fists still weighing heavily on his lap. She let her hand hang in the air above his own, giving him the chance to pull away from her if he wanted to, but he just looked at it with a distant look in his eyes. Y/n brushed her fingers across his knuckles with as much tenderness as her still slightly shaky hands could muster, and when he didn’t retract himself she grabbed his hand with more confidence. Worming her fingers into the middle of the fist and spreading it open in an effort to try and ease the tension from within it. His fingers twitched to close around hers, but stopped themselves each time they made the move to try. She let the gesture speak for itself for a minute, before lifting both of their hands and giving them a gentle shake. 

“See? I’m okay. Nothing to be worried about. If you don’t want to tell me anymore right now you don’t have to.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a small reassuring smile, leading their conjoined hands to rest on her lap where she sandwiched his hand with her free hand to guide his fingers closed around her own. She wasn’t sure if it helped, but he wasn’t running away and his shoulders slumped down ever so slightly -so it had to be doing something. 

Yoongi turned back around, taking in the sight of the two of them with a sigh before coming to plop down on her other side. “What else do you want to know?” 

She thought for a moment, before deciding to change the subject for a moment in order to spare Jungkook a moment to relax further.  “The spirits that-” She broke off as the hand on top of their intertwined ones instinctually lifted up to brush across her neck, Yoongi’s eyes following the movement closely. “-that were in my room. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but the man I couldn’t recognize.” She tried to picture them again in an attempt to find anything she could latch onto, but it made her heart race much too quickly everytime she would get to the man’s face- even with trying to use Jungkook's warm hand gently squeezing her own as a tether to reality. “Have you seen them before?” 

Yoongi didn’t look away from the hand resting on her neck as he spoke. “I would hope at least one of them would look familiar- they’re your ancestors. I’ve only seen them in their full apparition a handful of times, but I often sense their imprints around the house. They have a pretty recognizable story, so it's easier for me to be certain of their identity. Do you know about what happened to Hadwin’s wife, Annelise?” He finally looked up at her eyes as he asked his question.  

She hummed in acknowledgement, the face of the woman suddenly aligning with an old, fuzzy black and white picture she had seen a few times in one of their family photo books as a child. “She was the one that passed away during premature labor, right?” She tried to pull anything else about them from her memory, but her parents had always tended to avoid the more upsetting parts of their family history when they would tell it to them as children. 

Yoongi nodded. “ Premature labor or a miscarriage it's not certain. Healthcare wasn’t as great back then as it is now. Either reason, they’ve always been one of the more…depressed couples around the property for obvious reasons. The past couple of years though, their feelings have been amplified tenfold. She used to show up all the time in my bathroom and where she goes, Hadwin follows. He’s overly protective of her, used to always yell at me when he saw me get too close. He only came at me once, but I thought it was just him trying to scare me away. I put up warding in my room since then- but I still hear her crying sometimes. That’s how I can tell she is trying to show herself. I could hear her through your wall and sensed that something was  very wrong. I just didn’t know how wrong, so I went to get back up.” His eyes flickered to the side of Jungkook’s head, then back to hers, where they shined with remorse. “I should’ve gone to get you first. I’m sorry-” 

She held her hand up to cut him off. “It’s fine. You didn’t know -not fully anyway. What’s important now is figuring out how to prevent it from happening again, or trying to.” Which brings me to my next question.” She felt a rush of determination in her soul, her residual fear temporarily pushed aside by the revival of anger at her mother. “How do we stop them?”    

He laughed lightly and gave her a small crooked smile. “You were attacked by a ghost not more than 15 minutes ago, and you already want to get started?” His shoulder bumped hers playfully, dominoing her to bump Jungkook’s, who’s head lifted to look at them both with scrunched brows in response. 

“Yeah. I’m not just gonna let that motherfucker make me catch a glimpse of heaven’s gate and just sit by and let him get away with it.” She tried to crack a joke at her own misery, but Yoongi’s face was wiped of anything casual by the end of her sentence. 

“Holy shit- Was it that bad?” His wide and worried eyes scanned her face and neck again, and the playfulness that was previously present was gone. 

“I thought you could tell?” She tilted her head in confusion, and finally let her hand drop from her neck and land lamely in her lap. 

“I could tell you were scared shitless and I saw that your neck was red, but I didn’t think-” Y/n got a sudden feeling of Deja Vu when Yoongi’s large hands pushed her jaw up to inspect her neck. He let out a quick grumble before leaning over to turn on his bedside lamp, his hands finding her jaw again and tilting it side to side. “Fuck. You’re starting to bruise.” 

That made Jungkook finally seem to come back to life from his inner turmoil, and release a displeased grunt. “What?” His voice was wobbly and from the direction her head was tilted she could faintly catch him also turning to look again. 

She jumped up from her spot, untangling herself from the two of them and rushing into his bathroom to look. The second she smacked the light on, she had to hold in the urge to cry again. Faint purple and red splotches were already starting to rise to the surface of her skin in a line where the man -no, Hadwin, one of her own great uncles- had tried to strangle her. She saw the tears building as she began to feel her chest restrict, her ribs felt like they were crushing her lungs in on themselves.  This threatened to tip her over the edge into another panic attack but she held her ground. Before she could pass the point of no return Yoongi stepped in to lean against the door with a grave air about him. 

“We need to take you somewhere. We don’t know if there’s something more seriously injured that we can’t see.” 

She shook her head frantically. “ And tell them what? ‘Hey doctor, I know this looks really fucking suspicious but it was a ghost, I swear! Totally not the two men whom her mom hates right now that brought her in!’ They will for sure buy that and not try to question anything.” She couldn’t keep her hands still, they came to perch their palms on her forehead in distress.  Yoongi seemed to not know what to say as Jungkook squeezed into the doorway to stand next to him, his arms crossed over his chest and a defiant look on his face. 

“Oh god…” She tried to will the tears away by focusing on stress more than sadness, leaving her eyes with just a nervous sheen over them. “I’m supposed to be up at five in the morning tomorrow to start down to D.C with Jimin and Taehyung. How am I going to cover this? How am I going to be around anyone until this decides to clear up? I’m not even going to be able to go to sleep after this-” She tugged at her collar in a futile effort to stretch it up higher, but it just slipped right back down to rest at the base of her neck.  “Can we go to a convenience store or something? Is anything even open? I need a color corrector and a very expensive setting spray to even think about trying to cover it up.” He placed her hands on the edge of his sink in exasperation before adding on a “And the biggest scarf known to mankind.” 

“We can try but it’s nearly ten.” Yoongi rubbed his forehead with a tired sigh. 

“Go check the green room. They have a bunch of makeup stuff in there that gets left behind all of the time. Cleaning staff takes stuff like that home, extra goes into a lost and found box.” Jungkook seemed to disapprove of her not going to a doctor, but gave up the information with little fight. 

“Would one of you mind sneaking down there? I don’t want to run into anyone like this.” She gestured to the still darkening bruise, looking at them with pleading eyes. 

Jungkook huffed and nodded. “You stay here, I’ll be back.” He pointed at the both of them, leaving a longer emphasis on Yoongi than Y/n thought necessary, before slipping from the room quickly. 

“I guess I can keep asking you questions while we wait?” Y/n looked back at him through the mirror, and he gave a half hearted shrug in response. 

“We can, but if Jungkook is going to be joining our little demon hunting partnership I should probably wait until he comes back to go over any plans of action.” The way he kept staring at her neck made her feel a bit insecure, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. A beat of silence passed, and they just looked at each other until he broke it again. 

“Y/n, I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t go to you first. We could’ve gone to get Jungkook together. If I had been any slower you could’ve-” 

“But I didn’t.” She turned to face the real him instead of his reflection. “That’s what I have to keep reminding myself of- Is that I didn’t die. I’m here and we will have to figure something out- and quickly. There’s no way I’m sleeping in there until we do, I’d rather sleep in the greenhouse.” 

He didn’t seem to fully accept the circumstances, but something she said took his mind off of his guilt enough for him to think of something else. The quick glimpse of his tongue peaking out to wet his bottom lip gave away that he was cooking something up in that brain of his. 

“I can take your room tonight and you can stay here if you’d like. While you’re gone tomorrow, I’ll bring Namjoon up during lunch and we can ward your room off as best as we can.” Before he even finished his sentence he had already made up his own mind, disappearing into his room and opening his closet. He wrenched out a small bag to stuff his workman’s suit in it, and moved to hunch over his desk and dressers to scoop his things messibly into the opening. 

She followed back into his room after him, a protest already poised on the tip of her tongue. “I can’t possibly in good conscience make you sleep in there- not after what happened to me.” He scoffed in response and pulled the string of his bag closed. 

“Y/n, you almost died because of a poor decision on my part. I can handle a couple spooks for tonight if it means they can’t try to do it again. And anyways, I can sense them and have experience telling them to fuck off. This isn’t my first rodeo.” His words were slightly muffled as he rummaged through his shoes, trying to find his work boots. He stood up with a quiet ‘ah’, a pair of black steel toe boots dangling by the laces from his right hand. 

“Well, I’ll need clothes for tomorrow then at least. I don’t want to have to wake you up at four-thirty just so I can grab some pants.” She felt guilty for not putting up a bigger fight, but she couldn’t deny the small part of her that rejoiced at not having to sleep in that room tonight. And she guessed by the way he was giving her a teasing smile, that he could sense it. 

“Do you want to tell me what to grab? Or do you want to come with me and grab stuff?”  

She settled for going with him, not wanting him to have to carry a bunch of her stuff back and forth for her. When they left his room and turned into hers, it took her a moment to collect the confidence to round the corner. She kept expecting Hadwin’s rotten face to be staring back at her, or for the woman to be crying in  a heap on her bathroom floor still. Just waiting for her to walk right back into their awaiting arms. But neither were there. Her room was silent and empty as if nothing had ever happened, but the air hung heavy with the unseen, and she hated it. Yoongi set his things at the foot of her bed, and insisted on helping her grab what she needed- she didn’t need to have his psychic senses to know that they were on the same page- she shouldn’t linger in here for very long.  While she grabbed her clothes and folded them into a pile to make them easier to carry over, he took charge of gathering her basic toiletries for her. She was palming through a couple turtlenecks and trying her best to focus on weighing the coverage options, but her mind kept wandering to the line of black salt at the base of her door and up to the wooden box tucked away above her head. Pausing for a moment to inspect it with her eyes, her mind waded to the shore of a new question to ask. 

“Yoongi,” She called over her shoulder, and he wasted no time poking his head around to check on her with an affirmative hum. “What were you doing at the lake?” 

His body followed his head out of the bathroom, his hands juggling her toothbrush, make up bag and the travel bag she had shoved underneath the sink the day she had arrived. He was zipping it closed as he spoke. “I was trying to get a read on her.” 

Her. He didn’t have to clarify any further. 

“And did you?” Y/n’s hands hooked loosely on a brown turtleneck and gave it a gentle tug off of its hanger. “Get anything from her, I mean.” 

He sighed and shook his head dejectedly. “No. I rarely ever do.” He scratched a brow and placed the bags next to her leaning stack of poorly folded clothes. “Actually…” He picked up the long white sweater placed on top and shook it out, tucking the sleeves in neatly and folding it forward- much nicer than she had originally done. 

“I was hoping you would be able to help with that. You were able to draw her out within 24 hours of being here, yet I try multiple times a week and get nowhere. I think she’s an important piece of the puzzle as to what’s going on. And whenever I try to scope around it’s like she’s…” He trailed off as he folded her jeans for her, a low rumble emitting from his throat as he thought on what to say next. “Covered. Hidden away. She’s there, but it’s like something doesn’t want me to reach her.”

“Oh.” It should’ve filled her with fear, thinking of her sister’s dark eyes and shrieking voice. Or picturing how she looked standing in her room, her small voice calling for her to wake up. But it didn’t. It filled her with irrepressible fury at the thought of something using her sister the way it had, especially if that something had to do with her mother. She couldn't stop her fists from clenching around the shirt in her hands, as she felt the unmistakable urge to protect her. Whatever she had seen in her dream wasn’t her sister, and she knew that. 

They didn’t speak any further, working in silence as they folded and then carried everything around her doorway and into Yoongi’s. It was when she emerged from Yoongi’s bathroom in her sleep clothes, and padded her way over to his bed to sit on its surface again while they waited for Jungkook that her eyes began to feel heavy. Yoongi sat on his desk chair facing in the direction of the door, a book nestled in his hand and his ankle crossed over his knee while he read from its pages. The sound of the pages turning every few minutes was the only thing stopping her head from lolling forward onto her shoulder as she struggled to stay up straight. She was staring intently at his very enticingly fluffy pillows just beckoning her to sink herself into their soft embrace when Jungkook clunked his way through the door with a large cardboard box in his hands, startling them both from their tranquil state. 

“I wasn’t sure which one you would want me to grab. I just brought the box.” His sneakers thumped across the rug much to Yoongi’s protests to take off his shoes as Jungkook plopped it next to her on the bed, and waited impatiently for her to sift through it- which she did. Her eyes widening at the sheer amount of product to sift through. His perceptive eyes locked onto the stack of her things neatly placed behind Yoongi on his desk, and he shifted with obvious discomfort. “Are you staying here?” 

“I suggested that we swap rooms for the night until Namjoon and I can get into there tomorrow to put some stronger protection up. Is that alright with you, Mr. Guard Dog?” Yoongi gave him a teasing smile as he shut his book, uncrossing his legs in preparation to stand. 

Jungkook gave an almost inaudible scoff. “‘S fine.” But the angle his eyes were set at told them otherwise. Yoongi gave him a tired chuckle and pat his shoulder on the way to the door, which Jungkook tried to dodge, but was too slow. A low sound of disapproval escaping from his mouth at the contact. 

“We can meet up here tomorrow night after dinner. We should all get some sleep and get back to our rooms before your dad begins his night march.” He paused with his hand on the door knob giving them each a miniscule nod. “Goodnight, Yn. Jungkook.”  Then he was gone. 

Jungkook stayed, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room while she managed to find a few products that would work. She placed them on the desk to her left and moved to slide the box off of the cream colored comforter, Jungkook’s hands flying out to help her in moving it to  the floor near the door. 

“You can keep all of it, if you want.” His shrug was nonchalant, but his eyes held a kind of sweet harmlesses that had her heart lurching.  Images of his younger self, always offering her small gifts or being sure to share any snacks he was given with her came alight with comparison. He had always been -for a lack of a better word- more catlike than the other boys. Choosing to show his care in acts of service than with words, and enjoying quality time over being pressured to talk. She thinks that’s how they had worked so well as children. Her never stopping the needless flow of nonsense she would word vomit onto him, and him just listening- helping her collect whatever rocks she had wanted no matter how far, or spending hours while she lined her stuffed animals just right. It wasn’t until they were five when he started being more comfortable using his own voice, and that’s when he let his shyness melt away to let his more playful and outspoken behavior really shine. Sides of him she’s now only gotten to see glimpses of during their times playing games with the others, not being able to contain himself at the face of a challenge. The anger she felt towards her mother rose even higher than it was. Whatever buttons she had pushed, sent him spiraling back in on himself- and she could see it plain as day.  

“I’ll look through it more closely in the morning, thank you Jungkook.” She smiled up at him from her spot on the bed. He merely nodded, but the corners of his mouth twitched in an almost perceivable smile. And that was progress that she welcomed. As she watched him turn to leave, she couldn’t stop herself from calling out to him getting to her feet to meet him at the door. 

“I really don’t care what my mom said. Whatever she was getting at, she was lying. Please don’t let her get under your skin, I really have missed you- I hope you know that.” She let her words hang between them and she stepped closer. His expression was masked again, forcefully pulling itself to remain neutral and pulling his lip up by the metal ring for him to nibble on with his teeth. She could see it though- much like riding a bike, relearning his subtle changes was coming back to her the more she hung around him; his eyes churning with something akin to uncertainty to say the least. So instead of overthinking it, she did what she would have done when they were children. She hugged him. And much like he would when they were small, he stood still as her arms wound themselves around his middle tightly. She didn’t stay there too long as to not push him too far too quickly, but him not pushing her away was a good sign.  She released him to find him staring at her, his mask falling briefly to reveal shining eyes clouded with despondency. 

“Goodnight Jungkook.” She whispered. He didn’t respond, opening the door and shutting it behind him.

She waited a moment to be sure he had left, before locking the door and checking it twice, and shuffling with heavy feet over to Yoongi’s bed. Wasting little time curling herself under the plush comforter with a hefty sigh. She kept the light on until the last second, waiting until her eyes were practically stuck closed as she stretched her fingers over to tug on the lamp’s string, enveloping the room in darkness. For the first time since she had arrived, she didn’t feel like she had to force herself to will the spiraling thoughts from her mind. They simply dissipated naturally, letting her enter sleep with not even an ounce of fight. 

_______________________________________

She had woken up an extra half hour earlier than she had intended, in hopes to give herself as much time as she needed to blend the now fully formed bruises, creating an ugly necklace of reddish purple and yellow into an invisible memory. After spraying it with an ungodly amount of setting spray that she was sure was probably a cancer risk at that point, she only had fifteen minutes to pull her clothes over her head with extra care not to rub the sticky sheen keeping her secrets in place. 

She tiptoed out of her room and down the steps, where Jimin and Taehyung were waiting with sleep tinged eyes at the dining room table. Three mugs of coffee were placed in a triangle in front of them. Her feet only just hit the threshold of the dining room when Jimin’s tired eyes found hers, instead of his usual warm smile he seemed disturbed, and for a moment she was worried that she had actually wiped off all of her hard work but he quickly and unknowingly soothed those thoughts. 

“It’s so early, this is torture~” He fake cried into his mug, and Taehyung agreed with a zombie-like grunt. 

“I didn’t force you to say yes, you guys insisted that you would help.” She felt her nerves eb away, and the sweet tingle of relief flowed over her limbs at having not already been caught as she covered her nerves with a sip of the coffee Jimin held up for her to take. 

“What- and look inconsiderate after you had asked so nicely? What kind of person do you take me for?” Jimin shook his head in fake offense, downing the rest of his drink with an exaggerated gulp and slamming the mug down. “ Let’s get on the road before Taehyung bails on us.” 

Taehyung sputtered around his drink with indignant disbelief. “Don’t make me look bad!” 

Y/n and Jimin could only laugh at him as he stumbled to follow them, his coffee still in his hands and his jacket only thrown on one shoulder- tripping over his own feet to slip on his shoes that he hadn’t even bothered to fully put on. 

“Not as smooth as you make yourself out to be, are you?” Jimin jested, taking initiative to open the door and start down the steps with Y/n trailing after him, nearly missing Taehyung's voice echoing out from inside the house with a disgruntled “Oh shut up.”  

Once they had wrangled Taehyung into the car, th ride was mostly filled with just the voices of Y/n and Jimin as they talked quietly while he drove. Trying to keep their voices low as to not disturb Taehyung who had only made it 20 minutes into the drive before falling asleep with his forehead pressed against the window. The entire drive Jimin was his usual friendly self, but there was something she couldn’t put her finger on about his demeanor. There wasn’t anything in particular that she could pin down as to what was off. She couldn't tell if she was imagining the way his eyes would linger on her for only a half second longer than usual, or if he was actually licking at his lips more than usual or if she was just looking into things too much with her heightened anxiety and her own constant checking of her neck in the passenger side window. 

Taehyung had only risen once they stopped outside of a fast food restaurant for breakfast 30 minutes outside of the city to slur his order over Jimin’s shoulder. Once the bag was placed in her lap with her as the designated distributer, Taehyung finally began to participate in the conversation. 

“So how much are we expecting?” He took a very large bite into one of his breakfast burritos and a sip of his second coffee, staring up at them from between the front seats. 

Y/n pensively took a sip of her own drink. “Just the stuff from my room and a couple boxes from the shared space.” She giggled and tossed a hashbrown into her mouth from where they kept them in the bag in her lap. “I can’t decide if I want them to be up and gone out of my hair by the time we get there, or if I want to have the pleasure of waking them up to the sound of me taking the nice cooking pot they like to use and my store of toilet paper that they decided was theirs.” 

Jimin chuckled at her devious tone, his eyes unmoving from the road as he reached his hand into the bag on her lap for one of the crispy potato rounds. “ Sounds like you really want them to see you take that pot.” 

“Oh you don’t know the half of it. They burnt all the others so I bought myself a small set, and they must have concluded that I had done it out of the goodness of my heart and were up for grabs. “ She felt her blood boiling at the memory of her coming home to find them scraping the bottom with a metal spoon while they stirred. 

“I’m glad I never had to deal with any of that.” Taehyung shook his head and held his hand out to pass him a few hashbrowns, and she turned her body to place them in his hand, wiping the grease off on her pants. 

“You never went to college or anything?” She kept her body turned at an angle in her seat to look at the both of them. 

“No, never felt the need to. I did take a lot of private lessons though -few kinds of dance and cycled through different vocal lessons.” He coughed as one of the hash browns went down the wrong pipe, patting his own chest and taking a sip of his drink to qualm it. 

“What kinds of lessons? Just jazz and the likes or anything interesting?” She watched him then choose to shove the rest of his burrito into his mouth, his eyes catching hers and his full cheeks resisting a shy smile. He pointed to his mouth and held up a finger, signaling her to wait. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t choke so much if you didn’t try to eat everything in two bites.” Jimin glanced back at him incredulously through the rearview mirror with a disdainful shake of his head. He took his hand off the wheel again to reach blindly for his drink, which Y/n picked it up for him to make it easier as she watched him pat around for it twice. He gave her a kind smile as a thank you, choosing instead to take a sip from it straight out of her hand instead of grabbing it from her. She lowered it back into the cup holder when Taehyung spoke up from the backseat again, ignoring Jimin’s scolding. 

“For dance I did jazz, swing and ballroom. Vocal was just done with an emphasis on classical jazz.” He wiped his face off with a napkin and peeled the wrapper away from his next burrito.

“He’s leaving out the best one on purpose~” Jimin’s teasing tone rang out from the front, a sly smile slinking onto his face. Taehyung groaned out reluctantly around his first bite. 

“Oh?” Y/n matched Jimin’s sly smile and they shared a mischievous look. “ You must tell me what this is.” 

“His mom made him take opera lessons.” Jimin gave a coy nod of his head, relishing in Taehyung’s embarrassment from the back seat, where his large bite stopped him from cutting them off much to his dismay. 

“Opera?” Y/n grinned wildly back at the man who’s ears turned pink at the wake of their teasing.  

He forcefully swallowed and rose up to defend himself. “Listen, my mom loved that stuff- it was her only condition for me to not go to college. If you guys tell anyone else I’ll tell Alonzo not to let either of you backstage anymore.” He used one of the hashbrowns he reached up to point at them as a threat before popping it into his mouth.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Y/n slid her fingers across her lips and mimicked locking them with a key. 

“Not with me though.” Jimin cackled and gestured to his cup, which Y/n held up again for him to take a sip of. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes and went to take another large bite but he paused, and with a hesitant look up at the back of Jimin’s head, he seemed to reconsider his teasing and took a smaller one. He washed it down with another sip of his drink. Y/n took note of the dwindling dark circles under his eyes, and the slight puff in his cheeks that were turned to watch the trees pass by at high speeds. 

“Thank you both for doing this again- Especially since I know you’re not a morning person.” She made sure to direct a look in Taehyung’s direction, which he returned with a small smile and a tip of his drink. 

Jimin scoffed lightly “He wouldn’t have such a hard time waking up if he didn’t stay up so late and drink abhorrent amounts of caffeine during the day.” He snapped the turn signal up and looked back over his shoulder to make sure they were in the clear to merge back onto the highway. 

“It’s not my fault I sleep like shit every night. That’s why I started drinking all the caffeine in the first place.” Taehyung shook his head, and tossed the crumpled up wrapper up to bounce off the top of Jimin’s head. 

Y/n laughed at the way Jimin had to restrain himself from pulling the car over and strangle him, picking up his cup and offering him another sip as a distraction that he took begrudgingly. His eyes flat in irritation. 

“What? Do the ghosts of the estate keep you up~” Y/n’s tone was teasing, but she also couldn’t deny she was curious if they would shy away from the topic even two hours away from the property. 

Taehyung gave such a large eye roll that she was sure would’ve made his eyes fall out if his head if he hadn’t had tilted it back with it. “Ugh, do you really believe all that stuff they say?” 

That had her doing a double take in his direction. “And you don’t?” She was so busy looking back at him that she missed the sideways glance Jimin shot her way. 

“No. It’s just a bunch of superstitions, and people predisposing themselves to look into everything too much just because the place is old.” He shrugged. 

“No way you have been around as long as you have and don’t have a single doubt.” Y/n laughed in disbelief and turned herself forward to watch the road run beneath them from the front window.

“Not even a little bit.” He stood firm, and Y/n was genuinely at a loss for words. She turned to share a dubious look with Jimin, but found his gaze steady out the front of the windshield, a subtle way to avoid her eyes and make it look like he wasn’t. 

“We are almost there, if you want to start making a game plan for when we get there?” Was the only thing Jimin’s soft voice said, and she wrinkled her nose in displeasure but submitted for the time being. 

When they finally got into the city and slid into the spot behind her shared living situation, she was only slightly disappointed to see that none of her roommates were home- but as she turned the key and swung the door open to see the state of things- she was sure it was god taking pity on them. It was trashed. Her pots were filthy and stacked on top of a tower of dirty cereal bowls, and paper cups and plates were strewn about the apartment on any surface flat enough to hold them. The smell of stale air and dirty dish water made her blood boil, and she stomped over to unlock her bedroom door that she was thankful she had enough semblance to lock when she had made her speedy exit. Thankfully it was in the same condition she had left it, and she heaved a sigh of relief. She spun on her heels and wheeled back out into the shared space, taking it all in with a twitching brow and her hands planted on her hips. Turning her attention back to where Jimin and Taehyung were propping up the flattened cardboard boxes near the door that they had stuffed in the trunk. 

“Alright. I’ll take to cleaning up what’s mine from out here- you guys can take my room and I’ll meet you there.” She began to roll up her sleeves but Taehyung stopped her by blocking her blazing path to the counter with a large hand on her exposed elbow. 

“I got the kitchen stuff. Just send me the list you made- I’m used to being on dish duty anyways.” He pushed himself passed her and took off his hoodie to leave him in just a plain white t-shirt and tied it up around his hips, his hands already placing themselves under the running water to check its temperature. 

She tried to protest but Jimin spun her by her shoulders and pushed her gently down the hall towards her room, leaving her in there by herself momentarily to grab half of the boxes left propped at the door. In the meantime to settle her rage, Y/n wandered over to her shelf and plucked her bluetooth speaker from it, smashing the power button on with more force than she needed. Seeing the blue light pop up, she connected her phone to turn on some background noise. She had to turn the volume up in order to hear it over Jimin’s loud clambering symphony of juggling as many cardboard boxes as he could through her small doorway. 

They didn’t waste time getting to work, falling into a natural rhythm of Jimin unfolding and taping the boxes up and her filling them up in disorderly manner, shoveling things in and holding it down while he taped them shut. Once all the boxes propped open, she set him on stacking all of the totes from beneath her bed and closet by the front door, and she stuffed her clothes carelessly into trash bags. She didn’t need to make it nice, she would just be unpacking it again later, she told herself in order to excuse it. Everything else she was going to leave out for free for any other struggling college student to grab, she decided. She no longer needed her comforter set, or the cheap dorm furniture she had barely managed to scrounge the money for -but someone else might.  Everything except the pots. Even if she didn’t need those, she’d be damned if she let them use those any longer. She’d either take them back to the estate's kitchen, or donate them. With the three of them, it only took a few hours to get her stuff packed away. Now they stood outside,  the fresh chill of the early spring feeling good against the light sweat they had all worked up from lugging the boxes and furniture up and down the stairs. She was tasked with supervising, and Taehyung took up handing Jimin boxes, where the latter expertly packed them away in the open trunk-somehow making more space with each tote.  The sound of a car honking behind her made her jump out of her skin, and Jimin nearly dropped the box of miscellaneous bedroom items in surprise. She couldn’t hold the fire that ignited in her gut as she watched her now ex-roommate pull into the spot next to them. Her hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail, donned in designer athleisure as she stepped from her expensive car and shot her a blinding smile that was practically dripping with joy. Not at seeing Y/n- no, she knew better than that- at seeing her leaving. 

“I didn’t know you were coming today, I would’ve tried to be here.” Her perfume and overly preppy tone nearly suffocated Y/n as she was pulled into a lousy side hug. Her sights already set on her two friends loading the car. “You didn’t mention how hot your childhood friends were. If you had I would have definitely pressured you to take me back to visit the old place.” She whispered into Yn/s ear, a smirk evident in her tone. 

Y/n blanched, and shoved her back with a stuttered out “Leave them be, Brit. We will be out of your hair shortly.” But Her ex-roommate didn’t seem to hear her, or she just didn’t care. Probably both Y/n thought as she watched her introduce herself to a very disinterested Jimin. Taehyung merely gave her a tight lipped smile as he lifted one of the large trash bags of her clothes on top of the stack of boxes. Y/n watched her roommates' obvious attempts at flirting with them with poorly disguised disgust; her relentless attempts only stopping briefly when Jimin turned to slam the trunk shut over her belongings. He didn’t spare her a glance as he stepped around her to the driver's side door, opening it up and grabbing his watered down drink and raising to his lips to take a sip. Popping his head up, he rested his elbows on the hood of the car and locked eyes with Y/n, completely ignoring her roommate attempting to block his line of sight. 

“You ready to go back home?” His agitation was layered between a thin veil of politeness, his people pleasing nature the only thing stopping him from being outwardly mean. 

Brit glanced back and forth between the two of them, taking a step towards Taehyung only to be cut off as he jumped into the backseat and slammed the door in her face, his own looking up at her from behind the tinted window with a boxy smile and a cheeky wave of his hand. Y/n reveled in her ex-roommates floundering expression having not been used to rejection, let alone from two people at once. 

“Gladly.” Y/n couldn’t help the petty grin spreading over her features, her face deviously bright with delight at one of her tormentors getting her just desserts.  She pushed past Brit and casually slipped into the passenger side seat, not bothering to give her any more attention. 

“Wait!” She clomped up to the driver’s side where Jimin was still lowering himself into his seat, him pausing to regard her with a sickly sweet smile. “Would I be able to get your number before you go? Maybe I can show you around D.C the next time you come to visit.” She bit her lip in a seductive manner, her eyes half lidded as she encroached on his personal space. 

His smile never left his face, but his tone was icy. “No thank you, I think I’ve seen enough.” Promptly shutting his door and bending over to buckle his seat belt. Y/n heard Taehyung’s window release pressured air as it rolled down a couple inches, just enough for him to call up at her. 

“Don’t take offense to him- it’s just after seeing the state of the apartment, we just can't be sure how important cleanliness is to you.” He didn't give her time to respond by rolling his window back up quickly to shield his shit eating grin. Y/n couldn’t stop the surprised bark of laughter that wrenched from her chest as Jimin quickly backed out of the spot and turned back into the side alley. Taehyung joined in with his own maniacal giggles, the two of their faces red as they slumped into their seats to face each other- Their hands grabbing at each other aimlessly in an effort to high five through their struggling breaths. 

“Now that was a bit impolite…” Jimin’s words said one thing, but his poorly concealed grin said another. 

“No- I’m a number one feminist and will always be. But sometimes when someone chooses to only sit as low to the ground as possible, the only blows you can throw at them are from their own level.” Y/n finally managed to contain herself, her breathing labored as she used the sites filtering from her window to plant her feet back on the ground.

“Agreed.” Taehyung's voice was muffled by his knees, having bent forward in an attempt to calm himself down from their shared laughing fit. Jimin had to bite his lip to stop his grin from spreading any further, and reached with his hand to turn the radio up to tune out Taehyung's residual snickers from the back. 

_______________________________________

The car was suffocating with the smell of garlic and oregano, a stack of pizzas precariously balanced on Y/n’s lap. Hoseok had called halfway through their trip home with an awfully coincidental craving for Italian food from a restaurant that just so happened to be on their route home. They had bribed him into agreeing to help unpack the car by saying they’d pay for it, which worked in their favor: because like their hero he had himself, Jungkook, and two luggage carts lined up at the edge of the driveway to load all of her belongings on. Jungkook didn’t look at her, nor move to greet her when she got out of the car, but she just took it as him still being nervous to be super social with her around everyone else. While Jimin took it upon himself to organize the stuff neatly on the carts, Taehyung and Jungkook had been assigned to carry each item from the car to his side with Y/n and Hoseok to hold the carts in place to keep them from rolling. 

“How was the drive?” Hoseok chirped over his full cart to her half full one. 

“It was fine! I realized halfway home that it probably would’ve been faster for you to just get me from my apartment rather than the Philly station last week- but oh well. Now I know for next time.” Y/n’s eyes followed Jungkook and Taehyung, as the latter playfully pushed the former out of the way in an unspoken race to the cart, triggering Jungkook’s competitive nature to leave him in the dust each time he tried. They must all be on lunch break, because Jungkook was still in a set of red jogger scrub pants and a red Wörner Hotel and Estate workman's shirt. 

Hoseok playfully whined. “You don’t mean you’re going to go back to D.C again, do you?” He had one foot propped on his cart to idly push it back and forth. 

She hesitated to answer, distracted by Jimin scolding the two younger men who nearly pushed him into the growing stack on his cart in their efforts to beat each other to his side first. A smile finding itself at home on her face at the spectacle. “Actually, I guess I’m not sure. I’ll see what kind of fun events are planned for the anniversary year and then I’ll decide.” She directed her grin at him, and his grew even brighter than she thought possible in return. 

“I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop for all of them then. I don’t want to have to drive you back to D.C ever again.” He winked back at her, but his words held more weight than his face and tone gave away. 

The sound of the trunk slamming shut shook her attention from their conversation, watching as Jungkook and Taehyng each fought the other to see who could open the passenger side door where the pizzas were left first.

She gestured with her arm to the two of them “Are they always like this with each other?” As she asked, Taehyung managed to wrench the door open with a victorious shout. His preemptive celebration proved to be his downfall. Because in the split second he raised his hand up, Jungkook swiped his underneath them and grabbed the pizzas, taking off in a sprint back up the side path to the estate. The first real smile she had seen on him in nearly five years rounding his cheeks as he ran, and and equally giddy Taehyung hot on heels. It made her heart warm with nostalgia at the sight, even if she was slightly bummed at his insistence to not look at her that way.

“Unfortunately, yes. Tae is the only one resilient enough to physically challenge him, and Jungkook relishes that challenge since all of us have given up trying.” Jimin rolled his eyes, tossing the last trash bag of clothes onto her cart. “I’ll push this, you just guide us where to go” Jimin gestured her to take the front, and Hoseok gave her a friendly salute as she took the lead. The two carts trailing after her steps. 

Jungkook and Taehyung had met them at the front with the doors open, both winded and no pizza boxes in sight. With the five of them, they had her stuff piled in the hall outside her door in no time. Her excuse for not putting it in yet was that she wanted to bring it as she unpacked, but in reality the thought of going into her room yet had her skin crawling and her hand itching to go up and poke the tender bruises hidden on her neck. They all stumbled into the dining room to enjoy the cooling food, tired and drained. 

Jungkook sat in the seat furthest away from her, and purposefully kept his eyes either on Taehyung or his plate. Y/n tried not to be offended, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe she had pushed his boundaries too far too soon with the hug last night, but she tried not to let her thoughts linger on it by turning her attention to the slice of pizza hanging from her hands. As soon as Jungkook had scarfed down almost half of a pizza, he took off back to the hotel without so much as a wave to anyone. But maybe that was a normal occurrence, because no one seemed to bat an eye at his behavior.

Taehyung stretched with a deafening yawn. “I’m going to take a nap- gotta make sure I’m not falling asleep during rehearsals tonight.” Rising from his chair he clicked his tongue and waved at everyone, disappearing with the sound of his footsteps bounding up the stairs. 

The three of them that were left behind seemed content sitting in silence for a moment. Jimin’s eyes were clouded with fatigue, and if his slow bites were anything to go by, he would probably be stealing Taehyung’s ideas for an afternoon nap himself. She decided she would break the silence, finding it odd that Hoseok hadn’t jumped to do so himself. 

“Did you work today?” she dropped her piece of crust next to the already nibbled on on her plate and dusted her hands off. 

Hoseok grunted around his slice, pulling away from it with a thin string of cheese connecting his mouth and the slice. “No not yet- I work tonight at the hotel convenience center from 6-10.” He blotted at the grease left on his chin from the bite with a paper napkin. 

Y/n nodded passively, noting that he seemed a bit more quiet than usual. She eyed him from over her glass of water, watching as he kept shifting in his seat: his back straightening and slouching back down, or shifting his weight from one leg to the other. 

“Are you feeling okay?” She tilted her head at him as he shifted again to the left of his seat. 

He immediately halted his movements and nodded quickly- almost too quickly. “Oh yeah. Just get antsy sometimes when I sit. Especially from having a job that forces me to sit for long periods of time.” His response was nonchalant, and so was his posture. But the way in which his head sharply twitched to the side -a tick he has had since childhood- told her he was leaving something else out of his response. She didn’t pry, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. So she dropped it with a shrug. 

Once they had finished eating and the leftovers were wrapped, Jimin excused himself immediately. Her suspicions were correct about Jimin, had not more than a second after the fridge door had been closed did he bid goodbye to go lay down with eyes so heavy they were practically closed. Before Hoseok could slip away from her, she stopped him on his way out of the dining room. 

“Sorry I haven’t gotten to spend as much time with you lately. I’ve just had a lot on my mind with coming back, that’s all.” She shrugged apologetically, and looked into his eyes to try and get a read on his response.

“Gah what are you talking about? We see each other every day now. Does our time playing games together not mean anything to you?” His tone was coated in mock offense.

“No, I mean just us. I feel like I’ve gotten to spend time one on one with almost everyone except you.” She brought her fingertips up to fiddle with the pendant of a necklace hanging around her neck. 

‘Oohh, you want to spend alone time with your ex-husband. I see how it is. How scandalous~” His grin was teasing as he wiggled his eyebrows at her with a laugh. 

“Oh shut up. You know what I mean.” She shoved his shoulder back as he attempted to bring her into a hug. 

“Well then what do you have in mind?” His smile was warm as he looked at her with gleaming eyes.

Y/n wracked her brain for an idea, thinking through the pamphlets she had stacked in her bedside drawer when her eyes caught the upright phonograph in the corner. She turned to give him a simpering look.

“Care to join me for a dance? You said you don't go in for another three hours- I’m sure you can spare me five minutes of your time.” She skipped over to one of the smaller record holders that housed a stack of rotating favorites in it before he could respond. Plucking up a Glenn Miller Vinyl, she propped open the heavy top and carefully slid the old worn disc out of the package and placed it on the table. She took a hold of the small crank, and began to slowly push it in small circles. The steady ticking was the only sound in the room as she waited to feel the resistance kick in. Once it did she turned to face him, finding him still standing where she had left him looking almost lost. 

His usually upbeat gaze flickered momentarily, and for a second she thought he might turn her down- something that would have never crossed her mind as he was never known to turn down a dance growing up. But he shook his shoulders out, a reserved smile plastered onto his lips as Moonlight Serenade’s first note wobbled from the phonograph next to her. 

His voice was low. “Of course.”

He came around the table to her side, taking her hand softly in his own and placing it to perch on his shoulder before settling his hand on the dip of her waist. Grabbing her other hand, he led them in a gentle sway in time with the music. After she seemed to gain enough footing of the motions he deemed her ready to move in slow circles. Guiding her around the room as they rocked, she found the motions coming back to her with practised ease- having danced with him more times than she could count as children. If she looked hard enough, she could almost see his youthful face tugging her onto the dancefloor of the ballroom during one of the many parties hosted, or just during the day for fun to teach her what he had learned from his mother that day. 

“Do you think you remember enough for me to spin you, or should we stay like this?” His voice was right next to her ear with how close he was holding her, he had to pull his chin back to look at her face. 

“I think I’m confident enough to give it a go.” 

He lifted the hand he was holding and spun her twice in a large turn, letting her hang there for a second before giving a firm tug on her arm to twirl back into him. 

He clicked his tongue in approval. “Not too bad.” 

“I haven't had much opportunity to practice since I’ve been gone.” She wrinkled her nose in shame. 

“Well we will have to change that. Jimin and Taehyung would love to take you dancing down at the Adelaide I’m sure.” Hoseok easily pulled them back into a slow  graceful step, moving them in wider circles around the room. 

“Not you?” She looked at him hopefully. 

He breathed out a sigh through his nose. “I don’t dance as much as I used to. I’m probably too rusty to be down there competing with them.” 

“Well then, we will have to change that. You and I can get ‘unrusty’ together.” She gripped his hand a bit tighter as he swayed them backwards. 

He gave her a rueful smile and dropped her hand. The song coming to an end much faster than she had wanted it to. “We’ll see.” The next song started to pick up, but he was already making his way out of the dining room and towards the foyer. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n. Thanks for the dance.” He nodded over his shoulder, before following in Taehyung and Jimin’s footsteps up the stairs. Leaving her by herself with only Glenn Miller’s ‘String of Pearls’ to fill the void where Hoseok once stood. 

She wasn’t by herself for very long however, because a very frantic looking Namjoon stumbled through the doorway before the song could end. His eyes found her still standing where Hoseok had left her, probably looking a bit lost by herself in the dining room. 

“You. Greenhouse. Now.” He pointed at her with his finger with an authoritative glare. His eyes were stern, clearly he wasn’t going to be taking no for an answer. He barely gave her the time to fumble the record back in its sleeve, watching every step she made through the dining room and out the door he had left open. He shut the door swiftly behind them and took the steps two at a time to get to where she was already making her way down the path. His shoulders were tense, and his steps quick as he led the way to the door, yanking it open without much thought. She kept her head down as she entered the threshold, feeling like a scolded child as she planted her feet next to each other awaiting his next command. 

“Let me see it.” His tone was not to be argued with and she immediately snuck a shy glance up at him. He was sucking his cheeks in, and he had both hands on his hips with one brow raised in a silent challenge. 

“I need soap. I covered it up.” Her voice felt small coming from herself. 

He huffed, and slid past her into the storage room. 

“He’s not mad. He just doesn’t beat around the bush when he’s serious. Probably where Jungkook gets it from.” 

Yoongi’s voice made her head snap up to find the source. She hadn’t even noticed him hunched on one of the back stools, black twine and an array of dried plants in front of him that he was fiddling with. 

“I didn’t get to take my lunch yet- it's been too busy. But I was able to just leave a bit early entirely in its place. Once we get everything in order we will head up there.” He didn’t look up from the small bundle he was stacking. He seemed to also be nursing the wounds of a scathing Namjoon if the way his ears were twinged pink and his head lowered was anything to go by. 

Namjoon rounded back around the corner, a bottle of hand soap and a clean rag in his hands held up for her to see. “Will this work?” 

She nodded meekly, and he didn’t wait for anything else as he stalked into the nursery room. She took that as her cue to follow. 

“Yoongi, grab some solomon's seal off of the shelf. The fresher the specimen the better. If it’s dry, get some hot water and pour just enough on it to rehydrate it and give it a mash with something heavy.” Namjoon called out from the back of the large room, his voice echoing off of the walls and making its way back to Yoongi in the other room. She had already left the entryway too early to see if he complied, but she could hear the distant clinking of some jars and assumed he had. 

Namjoon was leaning over a large sink, his hands turning the spigot until the water billowed off a gentle steam by the time her timid steps made it to his side. He turned, grabbing a stool in each hand and scraping them across the floor to sit in front of the sink. He didn’t ask her to sit, just gave her an expectant look until she lowered herself down onto its surface. He saturated the rag with hot water and lathered it with the soap until it foamed, only sitting when he was satisfied with how it looked. 

“Let me know if I’m pressing too hard, or if you want to take over.” He folded her turtle neck as far down as he could, and took the warm rag over her neck in circular motions. She winced at the abrasive rag running across the sensitive surface, something she should have really thought about before she did the second layer of setting spray. She didn’t speak up however, knowing very well that any pressure would probably hurt. She could tell the moment that the make up started to wash away, his breath hitching and a sudden long exhale following the pause. He didn’t stop his movements, just making them a hair lighter. 

She swallowed nervously. The quiet getting under her skin and making her self conscious. 

“How bad has it gotten? It was pretty bad this morning when I woke up.” 

He still withheld any answers, giving her an austere glance instead. 

“I’m sorry. I tried to run…” She felt like she didn’t know what else to say but to apologize. 

“Don’t. I’m not mad at you.” He halted his scrubbing in favor of rinsing the now discolored rag off to try and wash some of the product from its fibers. “I’m mad at the guy who’s unharmed, sitting at my table right now.” 

“He didn’t do anything wrong.” Y/n immediately jumped to his defense, not willing to sit here and have anyone else blame him for something he couldn’t control. 

“Like hell he didn’t.” Namjoon scoffed, lathering more soap onto the rag and holding it up. She raised her chin defiantly while he resumed his cleaning. 

“He didn’t. Stop blaming him for something he didn’t do, he’s trying his best to fix everything.” Her voice wobbled as Namjoon passed the cloth along the front of her throat near the front of her throat. 

“That’s exactly what I mean.” His tone came out harsher than he had intended, and his cheeks dusted pink. “Look- I know he has good intentions, but when you poke the bear, you’re poking the fucking bear. It doesn’t matter if the bear is doing something wrong, it’s still going to lash out at you for poking it.” 

“We hadn’t even done anything yet. Jungkook and I didn’t accept his offer until after.” Y/n tilted her head to the opposite side for him to have easier access to it. 

Namjoon made a noise of surprise from the back of his throat. “Jungkook? No way.” 

“Yes way, he even agreed before I did.” She folded her arms across her chest defiantly. 

This seemed to make Namjoon think for a moment, the stroking of the rag slowing down with his thoughts. When it didn’t look like he’d comment further, Y/n pushed. 

“Namjoon?” Her voice was warbly again as he went over a particularly stubborn patch of setting spray. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, but didn’t meet her curious eyes.

“Jungkook had seemed pretty torn about something my mom had told him. And I think I may have made it worse because he won’t even look at me today.” She followed his movements as he turned to wring the cloth out again under running water, repeating the same motions he had previously. 

“What was it?” 

“My mom had told him he wasn’t allowed near me because something about his abilities could accidentally hurt me. But I don’t see how he ever could, or why that would bother him so much.” Whatever she said struck him from his cycle, and he lowered the rag to rest on his lap. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching briefly before he held his mouth open in search of his words. 

“What did you do to upset him?” He opened his eyes, scanning them over his clean up work. He didn’t comment on what her mother had said, but he didn’t look pleased.

“I hugged him. We used to do it all the time, so I didn’t think anything of it. I should have asked  him first with how long it's been…”  She trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed at the confession. 

A small smile perked on his lips and he brought the rag up to wipe away any leftover soap suds. “I doubt that’s the reason- not when what your mom said to him has been resurfaced for him to grapple with.” 

“What does it mean though?” Y/n was prying, and she knew it. But she wasn’t sure if Jungkook would ever open up enough to tell her on his own. 

Namjoon dropped the soiled rag into the sink and turned the faucet off. “It really is his story to tell Y/n.” 

She visibly deflated, her hopes dashed.

He rose from his seat, pushing it back where he had found it. “But like I said- he’s probably just processing what your mom said and facing some of those insecurities that come along with it. Let's go back to the front. The solomon’s seal should be good to use by now if he followed my instructions.” 

Yoongi was where they had left him,still  fiddling with the twine with pink ears. The only difference was now a ceramic bowl of what she assumed had been the solomon’s seal, now an earthy mush. His dark eyes flitted up to watch them enter, and widened marginally at the sight of her fully formed blemishes. 

“Jesus. Y/n, are you sure you don’t need to go anywhere?” He wasn’t hiding his concern at all, the twine dropping onto the table and long forgotten. 

She shook her head. “No, I will just keep covering it during the day the best I can and hope for the best. I don’t want any law enforcement getting involved when my mother already has a vendetta against you.” 

“And you will put this on every day until they are gone.” Namjoon cut off Yoongi’s response, holding up the small ceramic bowl for her to inspect. “Soloman’s seal has been used as a topical agent for bruising for a long time. It’s not a replacement for medical care, but it's better than nothing.” He dipped two fingers in grabbing a large amount of the salve, and smeared the slimy mixture all over her throat in a ring. “You might experience a bit of swelling over the next day or so, and your voice might be hoarse. Try and avoid others for the next two days- we can say you caught a cold or have allergies or something.” Once he finished pushing the tincture around to where he wanted it to go, he went back into the nursery room where she heard the sink turn on.

Y/n moved to sit across from Yoongi, scooting the stool in and folding her hands on the table in front of her. “So…what’s the plan?” 

“Well step one, we need to prepare the ingredients into different charms. I know my way around it a tiny bit, but Namjoon knows more about all of the properties and what to and what not to use.” He ran a finger thoughtfully over his lip. “It would actually be beneficial for you to help in some capacity- with it being your space and all. Do you want to help assemble, or do you want to finish them?” He laid his hands flat on the surface of the table and leaned over the small accumulation of items in front of him. 

She looked at the twine, and small mesh tea satchels stacked on the table and she thought. The wrapping part looked the easiest- and would give her the ability to learn from watching what they did- so that’s what she chose with her finger pointed at the pile. “That part.” 

He chuckled at her short response, and slid the stack over to her side of the table right as Namjoon swung back around the corner and blew past her to his shelves with freshly cleaned hands. He rushed around the room snatching up different glass jars as he went, only stopping to place some on the table when his arms got too full. He disappeared one more time around the storage room door to clammer around in there, emerging with multiple bundles of dried branches and sprigs of different kinds and placing them gingerly on the table in front of him. 

“Alright, are we ready?” Namjoon propped one knee on his stool while he addressed them, looking more like a college professor than her childhood friend. They both nodded in response, Y/n chirping out a childish “Yes, Sir!” that earned her a non serious glare from Namjoon and a muffled laugh from Yoongi. 

Choosing to ignore her he started on dividing the plants in front of him into categories. “We are probably going to want to cleanse the space first, so we will start with what we need for that then move onto the wards. Rule number one of cleansing is to keep it simple: Too many over complicated things muddy your intentions and make your goal less succinct. Each person has their preferred method. Some people do best with smoke cleansing through either hand made bundles, or incense. Others like to do sound cleansing, grids, sigils or some combination of all of the above.” 

Namjoon lifted up two large piles of stalks for her to see. “This is lavender, and common garden sage that I grew last summer. If you want, you can also add other herbs to it like rosemary, eucalyptus or cedar- but I like to stay with only one or two things in our bundles. You can always make two different kinds, or supplement with incense. Whatever makes you feel the best.”

He placed them back on the table and began to pull pieces out carefully so as to not damage them. “Incase you ever want to do this on your own, it’s important to note that you do not buy or use any bundles with anything labeled white sage. Not only is that a closed practice so it wont work, but it’s also an endangered plant -so it’s best to stay away from it entirely. From what I’ve read, blue sage and home grown garden sage is fine. I’m also just an advocate for growing it yourself when possible obviously, then you can always be one-hundred percent sure where it comes from without question.” 

Y/n nodded obediently as Namjoon spoke, soaking in as much information as she could from his words. She picked up one of the mesh tea bags and began to mess with the ties while he expounded further. Feeling oddly similar to how she felt in the few in person college lectures she had attended. 

“What’s important is both acknowledging historical prevalence in spiritual association, while also giving things their own meaning to yourself. For example: Violets are usually used for heightening spirituality- but I personally find them comforting and love using them in some of my own protective work. Individuality is just as important as tradition.” He finished trimming the sage and lavender to the height he deemed acceptable. “Maybe this upcoming week that’s something we can work on together, finding what plants trip your trigger and make you feel safe, comforted, powerful, and all of the above. 

Namjoon finally sat completely in his stool, shimmying himself forward and holding up a handful of each and passing it to Yoongi, who took it and began to stack them neatly in front of him. “I will pick out what we use today, and then I’ll throw out a couple options for the two of you to add as you please. When we get to the warding you can be a bit more personal with it.” He cleared his throat and began a demonstration for Y/n on how to tie them. Taking the small bundle gingerly in his hand, and winding it tightly to make sure no loose leaves fall, explaining that anything falling loose can be a safety hazard. 

They fell into a quiet rhythm after that. Namjoon explaining the properties of each plant he brought onto the table and handing them off to Yoongi to sort into neat woven stacks before Y/n would take them and wind the twine carefully around each bundle. When it came to the tea bags, he instructed her to make one for each doorway and window in her room as well as for her bed from the plant selection in front of them.  He then brought out small candles and pieces of parchment, drawing designs on them in pen. Smearing oils and dripping different colored wax on them. 

“What are those?” Y/n asked, wanting to know as much as she could in order to protect herself. 

Namjoon twitched his nose and kept his eyes down, following the drip of black wax onto the paper. “A sigil. In my personal opinion, I think when putting up wards you do it with someone you trust enough to keep certain parts secret from each other.That way if one of us were to end up…compromised or scared, there’s the safeguard of something being there that we don’t know what the exact intentions are and how to counter them.  You should each make something that The other doesn’t know about. Whether that’s today, or later next week. We can trade off- Jungkook too.” He snuffed out the candle with his fingers, and folded the paper closed so the wax stuck it together like glue. 

“We?” Yoongi’s voice was gruff. The side eye he tossed Namjoon held a thousand -seemingly irritated- unsaid words behind it.

“Yes. We. You dragged me too far into this, and I can’t in good conscience let you two keep going without offering my expertise to prevent whatever the hell last night was from happening again.” Namjoons face held a condescending air as he gave Yoongi a pointed look. 

“Fucking hell. Years I’ve been trying…” Yoongi shook his head and looked aimlessly upwards with a disbelieving scoff.  

Y/n finished tying up the final pouch and slouched with a tired sigh. Her hand came up to pick at the dried paste on her neck, in the middle of peeling off an entire section when Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s chiding simultaneously rained down on her in a chorus of “Don’t pick at it.” and “Leave it.”

She shot her hand down to her lap, her lips puffing out in hidden giggles at how similar they were behaving. Just as she was beginning to mockingly mimic the two of them, someone knocked on the green house door. The intrusion catching all of them off guard- Jungkook would just usually walk in. Her eyes ran themselves over to the foggy surface. The outline is tall and wide, and unmistakably masculine. The man whistled jovially before knocking again. 

Y/n’s hair rose on the back of her neck as she recognized the whistle, having heard it countless times as a child. She almost snapped her neck to look at the two men in front of her in full blown panic. She needed to hide, and quickly. Their wide eyes sharing the same sentiment as they bounced all over the room in search of where to shove her..

Her father knocked on the door again, calling out for Namjoon as he did so. 

_________________________________________

“One moment- Be right there!” Namjoon’s voice was breathless as he wrenched Yoongi from his seat by his shoulder and around to her side of the table, pulling her stumbling along with him as he passed her and into the nursery room. 

His voice was hushed and urgent. “Take her out the back. Now. Don’t let anyone else see her-” 

“I know. I got it. You go.” Yoongi grabbed her hand and tugged her to the back corner of the nursery in a run. Before he was able to open the door, she could hear her father boisterously greet Namjoon with almost too much enthusiasm. 

“Hey kid! I came to talk about those plans you sent over.” His voice trailed off just as Yoongi managed to unlatch the heavy slightly rusted lock. “Huh that’s weird. I could’ve sworn I heard Y/n in here. Is that her in the back?” 

She heard his loud steps start towards the room, but Yoongi wasted no time shoving her out first, closing the door until he was just peeking at her through a sliver. “Run. I can sense Jungkook, he’s probably back from the gym.” 

She was still frozen for a moment as she heard her father’s voice get louder, greeting Yoongi from the entrance. 

“Go. Now.” Yoongi hissed once more, slamming the door closed and locking it. His response to her father muffled behind the thick frosty panes. She jerked into motion, her feet carrying her as fast as she could from behind the greenhouse and up towards the front of the estate, avoiding the path in case her father happened to look for her there. 

The dewy damp grass crunched beneath her feet as she ran, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a pair of black boots running alongside her from her peripheral, mimicking the same sounds. But when she glanced back she saw nothing- just her own footsteps indenting the grass from where they had landed. She didn’t care to stop and investigate, running all the way up to the front steps, and pulling open the door with more force than necessary to tumble inside. Her feet carried her up the steps two at a time, and down the hall to Jungkook’s room where she knocked in quick succession. He barely had time to open the door more than an inch before she flew in through the gap. 

“Close it! Please.” She managed to get out in between her labored breaths. Jungkook didn’t take time to ask questions, shutting the door immediately and locking both locks. He spun back around to look at her with unveiled concern. 

“Are you hurt?” His tone wavered, too caught off guard to mask his emotions quick enough and letting them bleed through. 

She shook her head. “May I sit?” She must’ve been more out of shape then she remembered, still struggling to catch her breath from her sprint.

Relief mellowed out his features, and he gave a curt nod. She didn’t hesitate to round the edge of his metal bed frame and plop herself onto the edge of his neutral toned comforter. He hovered up to her, scanning her with his blackened eyes. “What happened?” 

“I was at the greenhouse helping Yoongi and Namjoon make wards and stuff for my room, when my dad showed up. I ran from the back and up to you before he could see me- Yoongi said you were home and to find you.” Her breaths were slowing down as she calmed both her mind and her heart. 

He merely hummed in response, standing over her still, but his eyes were melting back into their brown counterparts. 

“Can I stay here for now? I don’t know how long they’ll be and I have no interest in unpacking in my room by myself or risk running into him.” She leaned back onto her hands, a weathered chuckle escaping her lips. 

He nodded. “I just need to shower. I’ll be right back.” 

He grabbed a fallen stack of clothes he must’ve thrown on the shelf near his door when he had rushed to open it, and slipped into his bathroom with rushed grace. She took the time to make herself comfortable, laying her back onto his bed and leaving her legs dangling off to kick around aimlessly. To try and keep herself occupied, she practiced recalling all the information she had learned from Namjoon that day, busing her mind with organizing the facts in her brain as best as she could to keep her anxiety at bay over how her friends were holding up -especially Namjoon and his inability to lie. She held up one hand as the nerves tried to creep up on her, and began to tick off her fingers repeatedly. Rosemary: Protects one from negative spirits. Clove: Protection and luck. Thyme: Protects from, and removes negative attachments. She wracked her brain for the next one getting further lost in thought, her dread for having to unpack bleeding into her productive thoughts and making her feel a childish reluctance to move forward with her day for the sake of not having to. The only thing keeping her from begging Jimin to help her with his expert organizational skills was the recollection that Yoongi had said they would meet up tonight to make a plan of action. She didn’t have to distract herself for very long, as within 5 minutes she heard Jungkook’s shower turn off, with him emerging moments later in a pair of sweats and a clean hoodie. 

He shook his wet hair out, and tossed his towel and laundry into the hamper placed by the bathroom entrance. His eyes looked for her the instant he entered, and locked onto her scowling features with a questioning eyebrow raise. 

“What’s on your neck?” He stood in front of her now, looking down at her with a scrutinizing glare. 

She shot up from her reclined position, in her haste to recollect herself she had forgotten she had sticky leaves on her skin that could get on his comforter. “Sorry! It’s Soloman’s Seal.” She took extra care to recall its name, the syllables leaving her mouth clumsily. “Namjoon said it should help with the bruising.” 

He sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in thought making him look angry for a moment before shaking his head. “No doctor, huh?” 

“Nope.” She gave him an impish grin. “Stubborn and reckless, remember?” 

This made the ghost of a smile grace his features, and he sat next to her on the bed. The same way they had sat the day prior. 

“Right. How could I forget?”  His tone was the most playful she had heard it be directed at her since she had arrived a week ago, and it made her heart soar at the baby steps they were making with each other again. 

“I’ll be too busy unpacking and fighting demons tonight for one anyways- remember?” She nudged his elbow with hers in an attempt to keep the tone light, but he didn’t seem to appreciate jokes about it as much as Yoongi did. She remembered the way he had closed himself off last night about what her mom had said to him and immediately felt guilty- backtracking her joke before he could get upset again. “Sorry- I know you’re not as comfortable with it yet.”

He looked off towards his door, his eyes distant as he let out a quiet “ s’okay”. 

Her cheeks felt warm with shame for ruining the inch of himself he had shown before she clumsily made him close off again. She hastily tried to change the subject,reaching for the first thing her mind could cling to. 

“I learned about some cool new plants today- well not new per say, just new properties-  Do you want to hear about them?” She knew it wasn’t a strong conversation starter, but she was trying her best with her limited social skills. 

He remained silent for a moment, thinking. For a second she thought he might’ve closed off again, his fists clenching and unclenching next to him. But then to her surprise, he reverted their discussion down a new path. 

“Y/n if I tell you something, will you make me a promise in return?” His eyes, when he turned them on her were molton brown with emotion, and so incredibly vulnerable. 

The unexpected sight made her throat close, her voice escaping her. The only thing she could do was nod robotically. He turned his gaze forward again, his breath quickening slightly and his tattooed hand coming up to mess with a piece of his curled wet hair. 

“Do you remember anything about my mom?” 

If she was taken aback before, she was practically sent to the moon with how unpredictable the quiet question had been. Noticing her silence, he turned to look at her, patiently waiting for a response. Gazing into his eyes, she thought back as far as she could reach into her memories. She hadn’t gotten to spend much time with her before she died, having succumbed to stage 4 breast cancer by the time she was four. 

“Just that she was very sick. I don’t remember much from before that.” She gave him a sorrowful shake of her head. 

He sighed again. “That’s what I expected. My memories of her are hazy as is, so I can’t really expect you to remember her that well.” He brought a nervous hand up to fiddle with his lip ring.

“My mom was like me and Yoongi. Special.” He cleared his throat, his voice already sounding strained around the last word. “I don’t know how much you know about South Korean spiritualism, but it’s a pretty divisive thing. Most people look down on it, with I guess the closest equivalent to what we call psychics here being called shamans there- one of the most controversial aspects. The disdain towards it had a lot to do with confucian and later christian influence, but either way it’s not exactly something you talk about super openly. Especially not when my mom was a kid.”

He avoided her eyes as he spoke, choosing to let them roam about his room. “Anyways- She had started to show signs of her abilities at a young age, and her parents were not spiritual whatsoever. They had been certain that she must have had schizophrenia or some other kind of mental health issue, and dragged her to as many psychiatrists as they could. It made her really struggle to accept herself, and eventually did make her struggle mentally as a result. That was until she met my dad.” He coughed, visibly uncomfortable to be speaking so much. Y/n didn’t pressure him, instead letting him take his time by sitting reserved by his side. 

“When I came along, she was elated. I found her journal in highschool, and all she wrote about was how happy she was to be here with my dad, and to be around so many people that loved her. Your grandmother being a notable person she wrote about often.” He spared her a quick glance, and her face must’ve read with obvious befuddlement because he clarified further. “Your grandmother was also spiritual, but the German American folk and christian hybrid kind. My mom wrote about how my dad would sit and translate their conversations for hours when he would come home from work, my mom and your grandmother trading ways they dealt with spirits and their own experiences. She and all the other parents here treated my mom with such kindness that it helped her really accept herself and her abilities.” His voice trailed off, cracking so minutely she almost missed it. 

“Then when I was born she really struggled to breastfeed. They tried all they could naturally, but relented, eventually going to a consultant that referred them to oncology. Then there were many other doctors after that. Turns out it was breast cancer affecting her supply.” His voice fully broke this time, and his eyes glossed over. “She always said I was the reason that she was able to find out as soon as she did, and that without me they probably wouldn’t have been able to even try treatment at all without me.” His chin wobbled slightly, and Y/n felt her own eyes begin to water. Reaching out with her hand, and hesitantly placing it on his arm. She didn’t want to force anything more, but wanted to let him know she was there. 

He took in a shuddering breath. “The day she died, I was there. We knew she didn’t have that much longer, so I would spend any afternoon I wasn’t out with you sitting in her room. Practicing both the English and Korean alphabets together and coloring. That afternoon, I had been telling her all about the flowers they had planted that year for the spring, and trying to recreate them for her with crayons. Then she suddenly sat up all excited, and asked me to take her to see them.” He let out a wet chuckle, his brown eyes nearly shielded with the thick well of tears that hung on their edges. “I was a kid, and was just so excited to see her get up I didn’t think anything of it. I took her hand and led her out front, my drawings forgotten on the floor. I took her down the front steps, and around the side to look at the flower garden. I was making sure to take the time to show her all of my favorites. And without thinking I let go of her hand to pick a few for her.” 

Without warning Jungkook grabbed her hand securely in his like she had held his yesterday, and let their intertwined hands sit between them. Y/n squeezed back reassuringly. 

“When I turned around  to hand them to her, she was gone. Like she had never been there in the first place. I ran back into the house, calling for her everywhere. But it didn’t matter. Her body was still in her bed where she had left it to follow me out the front door.” The tears freely fell from his eyes, no longer being able to keep them in. Y/n’s own fell not long after, and she quickly brought her free hand up to wipe them away. 

“I blamed myself- sometimes I still do. Maybe If I hadn’t let go of her hand I could’ve kept her with me. Brought her back inside and gotten more time with her. A part of me knows that’s not how it works- but I can’t help it. Ever since then, my abilities have kicked in full force: just like hers had when she was younger. I started seeing everything. I can see where spirits are, I can get a really good reading on people…and I can tell when people are going to die. My mom called it the gift of an angel- to guide those with a friendly smile during their last moments. But I always felt like it was a curse. Watching people leave but not being able to do anything to stop them. Sometimes I couldn’t even tell they were dead, like my mom.” 

Y/n couldn’t stop the sniffles that bubbled out from her nose, and the tightness in her throat made it difficult to swallow. This time he turned to her, his face wet and his nose pink. But his eyes were an open book: Scared, worried, and distraught- yet more determined than she had ever seen- not even the looks he would give her when they were kids compared. 

“Y/n I know what Yoongi wants to do. He wants to talk to the spirits, and even traverse the spiritual realm to do so. I know this because he's been asking me to for years. I need you to promise me that when we do - that if he ever sends you in there- you won’t let go of my hand.” As if to emphasize his point, he lifted their hands and squeezed hers as tight as he could without hurting her. 

“Jungkook-” 

“Promise me Y/n.” His eyes were unyielding, and his face was crumpled in on itself in desperate anguish. 

Her breath left her mouth in quivering waves, another tear tracking down her cheek. 

“I promise, Jungkook.” 

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A/N I'm so sorry y'all. I cried so much writing this chapter lololol. Tried to balance the sad with fluff. No spooky times...for now

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