#i want to draw LOTS OF IMAGES for the next chapter so it might take a while lol. but i really want to finish before novembers over | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyhaeya · 8 months ago

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On My Command

SEVENTEEN FANFICTION (SERIES)

AFAB!READER x SEVENTEEN - MNID!!!

GENRE: Mafia, Businesses, Dark Romance, Smut, Gangs, RomCom, Action, Fem!Reader x Mafia!Seventeen, Baddie!Reader x Businessmen!Seventeen

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Language, Kissing, Making Out, Persistence. -warnings for this chapter

♡-Mention of other groups like TXT, EXO, ENHA, G-IDLE, LE SSERA, NCT DREAM, RIIZE (this is a series so ig i will be adding more to than these warnings) - MDNI OR I WILL BLOCK THOSE WITHOUT AGE INDICATOR ON BIO.

READER IS NAMED LI MEI QIANG!!!

>>>> IMAGES ARE FROM PINTEREST so yeah, ctto. Enjoy babies. ♡

On My Command - Masterlist (Chapters)

CHAPTER 2

"I heard our rival's CEO is either Chinese or Japanese," Wonwoo remarked, drawing the group's attention. "Who did you hear that from? And why didn't you share it as soon as you knew?" Jeonghan demanded.

"We weren't sure yet... so we decided to wait until Minghao and Hoshi could confirm it," Wonwoo explained. "What we know for sure is that they're not Korean," Soonyoung added, and Minghao and Hoshi nodded in agreement.

Xu Minghao is a Chinese member of Seventeen, known for his skills as both a hacker and a slasher. He's adept with blades, particularly nunchucks, and excels at coding. His contributions to the company include producing, design work, and managing store branches throughout the city alongside Mingyu.

Minghao shut his laptop and whispered something to Soonyoung, who nodded in response.

"I swear, if you keep another thing from us, I'll be the one to cut your tongues off," Seungkwan said, rolling his eyes at their exchange.

"S.Coups told us to keep quiet until now," Minghao clarified, and Wonwoo and Soonyoung. "But we need confirmation soon. The shipments are arriving in three days, and we can't afford any sabotage," another voice chimed in.

"We're aware," Jeonghan replied, glaring at the hacking team. "These hackers are too slow and don't take their jobs seriously."

"You can't blame us entirely. We've already done a lot for the group," Jihoon retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Jun, Dino, have you found any information yet?" Joshua asked, cutting through the argument. "We just returned from another mission, so apologies for the delay. We've confirmed that the rival company is indeed Chinese," Junhui said, tossing an envelope onto the table.

"You had this information all along and didn't share it sooner?" Jeonghan asked, grabbing the envelope and scanning its contents.

"We only just got it ourselves. Don't put the blame on us," Junhui replied.

"Well at least you guys did better on your researching than the hacking team," Seungkwan says, side-eyeing the team mentioned which makes Hoshi want to leap and beat Seungkwan up into a pulp, but of course, he wouldn't do that. Seungcheol would kill them if they caused another trouble.

Wen Junhui, another Chinese member of the group, is renowned for his research skills alongside Dino. He contributes to both planning and production and is responsible for disguises, which he handles with great expertise. His insane visuals are enough to make you think he'd bring no harm.

Lee Chan Lee Chan, known as Dino, is the maknae and excels in cons and disguises. He plays a key role in the group's planning and production and is known for his charisma, which enhances his disguise work.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Woozi, and Deokyeom left for their separate meetings, leaving the remaining eight members in the room.

"This is our first mission failure," one man said, disappointment evident in his voice. "It's not a complete failure yet. The deadline isn't up," Soonyoung assured him. "We were split into three groups, each with four members. We might have managed better if we had worked together."

"Ay, ay, it's alright, Vernon-ah. We just need to learn from our mistakes and do better next time," Seungkwan said, patting Vernon’s shoulder. "Besides, we all had different missions, so we couldn't assist each other."

Chwe Vernon, the American member, has high expectations and views 'failure' as unacceptable. He is involved in both business and gang operations, excelling as a strategist and sharpshooter.

"Even so, it's okay to be disappointed," Wonwoo said, standing up. "I'm leaving," he added before walking out."I’ll leave too," Vernon said, also rising from his seat and exiting. "Those two really have such huge egos," Seungkwan remarked as he watched them go.

You were at work at the beauty store, successfully convincing a customer to buy three products. The sale boosted your confidence.

"Mei, our boss is visiting today because of yesterday's incident," Yuqi informed you, and you acknowledged the news.

Li Mei Quiang / YN, the protagonist, is a persuasive and observant 22-year-old Chinese who has lived in Korea since age six. Your expertise in psychological thinking and sociability makes you effective in your job.

Song Yuqi, a Chinese who moved to Korea four years ago, has become your close friend. She often calls you 'Unnie,' meaning older sister, as she is two years younger than you.

Choi Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu, your best friend and a part-time store employee, is a year older and works as a musician. His social nature and connection to his band add to his role at the store. He also has his own set of other friends that is part of his band, and is practically a social butterfly.

Lee Heeseung, one of the people that you hold close with, your guardian since you were six, took you in when you were lost at the airport. Though his family needed convincing, he became your legal guardian and treated you like his own sister (once he reached his legal age). Ever wondered how a six year old even got there? Well, you were lost at an airport, you didn't know how to speak korean, so he took you with him.

He works at a small company, enough to make a living while taking care of you. He is five years older and treats you like his real little sister.

—AEYA HERE!: Count this as one of character introduction! Hehe, and, oh.

Choi Seungcheol is the boss of the Seventeen group, known for his stern and commanding presence. He has successfully led the group in both business and gang activities for five years.

3 days later.

The tension in the air was palpable as you stood in front of the manager, his eyes drilling into yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “You didn’t recover the stolen products, did you?” His question was pointed, almost as if he was challenging you.

You raised an eyebrow, biting back the urge to lash out. “No, sir...” you answered, your tone laced with thinly veiled sarcasm. His hand shot out, gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He smirked, a sinister glint in his eyes. “You know what that’ll cost you, right?”

A dangerous grin curled your lips. “And why exactly am I the only one getting punished? It’s not my fault your damn store doesn’t have any security.” You swatted his hand away, your voice dripping with defiance. Yuqi and Beomgyu exchanged knowing glances—they’d seen this side of you before.

The manager’s eyes narrowed, caught off guard by your audacity. “You little—do you want me to fire you?”

You didn’t back down. “Fire me? Because your store doesn’t have the budget for a single security guard? Or is it that you’re pocketing the money instead?” You tilted your head, feigning innocence, your voice cutting through the room like a knife.

For a moment, he was speechless, his bravado crumbling. “W-what are you implying?” gulping in his words at the sudden statement you had made. You grinned in a smug kind of way like the proud and confident woman that you are.

“You know exactly what I’m implying,” you shot back, leaning in just enough to make him uncomfortable. “The company’s successful nationwide. There’s no way it can’t afford proper security unless someone’s skimming off the top. Should I take this up with the CEO?”

Yuqi and Beomgyu were silently cheering you on from behind. Your boldness was nothing new to them, but it never failed to amaze. The manager, realizing he was backed into a corner, stammered out a weak excuse before scurrying off, tail between his legs. Of course, he could've defended himself, but you knew too much and he just couldn't find the words to deny it. He'd get away from more humiliation. As the manager, he'd have more power over you, but you towered over him so quickly he didn't have the time to escalate things. He didn't see that coming, he was the new manager after all.

“Damn, that was epic,” Beomgyu whispered, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Seriously, unnie, you’re my hero,” Yuqi added, eyes shining with admiration.

You waved them off, checking your phone as it buzzed. The manager had sent you a message, instructing you to handle an incoming shipment at the airport. A sly smile crept onto your face as you replied with a curt, “Send me the details.”

Jeonghan, Joshua, Woozi, and Deokyeom were sipping their coffees, scanning the bustling terminal. They were waiting for the arrival of a critical shipment—a shipment they suspected had been compromised by their rivals.

“There,” Jeonghan muttered, nodding towards a woman talking to a man who matched the description of the dealer they were expecting. His eyes narrowed as he noticed something off. “That’s not the manager.”

“What do you mean?” Joshua asked, following Jeonghan’s gaze.

“The manager is supposed to be a guy,” Jeonghan replied, suspicion growing in his chest. “Could they be using someone else to do their dirty work?”

Woozi was already tapping away on his laptop, pulling up information on the mystery woman. “Li Mei Quiang... She’s listed as an employee from one of our branches, but there’s not much else here.”

Jeonghan’s mind was racing. “Why would a manager delegate something this important to a regular employee?”

Woozi’s eyes widened as more information came through. “It’s possible the manager’s a spy. He’s only been with the company a month—just before this whole mess with two groups started.”

Joshua frowned, piecing it together. “It was all planned. They sent him in as a mole.”

“And what about her?” Deokyeom chimed in, nodding towards you. “She could be part of it, too. There’s so little info on her, and she’s been working there for two years. Seems like a perfect candidate for a spy.”

Jeonghan sighed, his gaze still locked on you. “We’ll keep an eye on her, but for now, let’s make sure these products don’t end up in the wrong hands.”

The four men watched as you and the dealer loaded boxes into a truck. The tension was high as they followed you to the store, where they intercepted you just as you were about to offload the shipment.

Woozi approached you with a steely determination, flashing his ID. “These products need to be examined first.”

You glared at him, blocking his path. “And who the hell are you to make that call?”

Woozi’s irritation was palpable, but he kept his cool as he showed you his identification. Reluctantly, you stepped aside, arms crossed, watching as they took the boxes.

---

“So, we managed to stop the sabotaged shipment,” Soonyoung said, slumping into his chair, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. “But I’m still not sure about that girl,” Jeonghan muttered, pacing the room.

“You think she’s working with them?” Chan asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Possibly,” Jeonghan replied, rubbing his temples. “She might be more involved than we thought.”

“Relax, hyung,” Chan said, trying to ease the tension. “They wouldn’t send someone important out in the open like that. It’s too risky.”

Before Jeonghan could respond, Wonwoo and Mingyu entered the room, looking drained. “Turns out the ones who sabotaged our products were from EXO,” Woozi announced, breaking the silence.

“EXO?” Chan echoed, incredulous. “What the hell do they want with us?”

“They see us as competition,” Seungcheol said, his voice grim. “They’ve started a business here in Korea, and we’re in their way.”

Their company has been going well for the past 5 years, yet this commotion started about a week ago, making the rest of Seventeen members alert at the suddenness. EXO was a chinese group gang who had recently started their own business here in Korea a few months ago.

“Great, so now we’re dealing with a bunch of sore losers who resort to sabotage,” Seungkwan scoffed.

Seungcheol nodded, his expression dark. “We’ve lost a lot of money because of them. But this isn’t over. We’re going to double down on security and make sure every shipment is checked thoroughly. And as for that girl...”

Jeonghan straightened, his eyes narrowing. “We’ll keep a close watch on her. If she’s working with EXO, we’ll find out soon enough.”

He knew something was different too, but they also could be wrong. Wasting a time on that is just a big no for them given to the situation they're in for now.

Seventeen knew that they've already sent a few spies to their company to take note of whatever they had planned, so EXO was practically one step ahead of Seventeen.

A tense silence settled over the room as the members of Seventeen prepared for the inevitable confrontation. The stakes had never been higher, but they weren’t about to let anyone bring them down.

---

You walked back into the store, still reeling from the encounter. Your mind raced, wondering what the hell just happened. But there was no time to dwell on it—you had a job to do. And something told you this was just the beginning of a much bigger game.

The sun barely broke through the clouds that Sunday, casting a muted light across the room as you moved with purpose, determined to clean every corner of your apartment. Heeseung wasn’t home, so you had the place to yourself—rare time to get things in order on your day off.

As you wiped down the countertops, the silence was interrupted by your phone buzzing on the counter. You glanced at the screen: an unknown number. Ignoring it was second nature; you never took calls from numbers you didn’t recognize. But the phone buzzed again and again, the persistent vibration grating on your nerves.

“The hell is this?” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice as you prepared to block the number. Just as you were about to hit the button, the phone buzzed again, your thumb accidentally grazing the answer key in your frustration.

“You finally answered,” came a hoarse voice, instantly familiar and unwelcome. Your heart skipped a beat, a cold realization sinking in. “Who is this?” you demanded, now holding the phone to your ear.

“Baby… Please… Come back to me,” the man’s voice cracked, punctuated by the sound of soft sobs. Recognition hit you like a wave—this was your ex, the one you broke up with over a year ago, his obsession clearly as strong as ever.You hung up abruptly, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as you massaged your temples, trying to stave off the headache that was beginning to form. The phone buzzed again, the same number flashing on the screen. You blocked it immediately, your frustration bubbling over. “How did this guy even get my new number?” you muttered. You’d changed it twice, yet somehow he’d found you again.

Hours later, the apartment was finally spotless, and the only task left was to take out the trash. You had missed the janitor’s usual rounds, so you grabbed the bag and headed for the stairs. As you descended, the faint sound of footsteps echoed behind you. At first, you brushed it off as someone else taking the stairs, but as you reached the third floor, a hand suddenly gripped your arm, spinning you around.

Your instinct was to fight, to kick the assailant away, but then you saw his face—Riki, your ex-lover. Your body tensed, recognizing him instantly.“Riki…?” you muttered, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Nishimura Riki, the same guy you’d dated for three months before calling it quits. Heeseung’s friend, a year younger than you, with a reputation for being far too obsessive. Even after a year, he clearly hadn’t moved on.

“I told you, we can’t,” you said, your voice firm with frustration. “Babe, please, just one last chance,” Riki pleaded, his voice desperate as he grabbed your hand, ignoring the trash bag you were holding. “I just held the trash, don’t touch that,” you snapped, yanking your hand away. “Let’s talk some other time. Not now.”

But Riki wasn’t about to give up easily. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a desperate hug. “Riki! Let go of me or I’ll cut both your arms off!” you yelled, your voice echoing off the stairwell walls.

“Baby… I don’t know what I did wrong, why did we have to break up?” Riki’s voice was filled with pain, his grip still tight around you. “I swear, this guy is so stubborn,” you thought, pushing him away with all your strength until you were finally free.

“For the thousandth time, you didn’t do anything wrong. We just didn’t work out, okay?” you said, putting as much distance as possible between you and him.

Riki was a good guy—too good. Caring, loving, understanding, he had every quality someone could want. But that was the problem; he was too nice, and you didn’t feel like you deserved it. You didn’t take things seriously, and you knew that if you didn’t end it early, it would only hurt him more. But looking at him now, you realized how wrong you’d been.

You shouldn't have dated him in the first place, right? Your brother had set you up with him, on which you did agree to go on dates until you found it to yourself that you weren't that serious about it, which made you regret your decision.

“I’m sorry, Riki,” you said, your voice softer now as you turned to finally head downstairs. You hurried to the ground floor, feeling his gaze on you until you reached the exit. You placed the trash bag with the others by the side of the building, taking a deep breath as you bent over, hands on your knees.

You watched as Riki’s figure retreated, driving away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Just as you felt a slight relief, another figure caught your eye—a man dressed entirely in black, with a mask covering most of his face and a cap pulled low over his eyes. You’d seen him around the complex before, always looking out of place. You decided not to get involved—whatever his business was, it was none of yours.

Back in your apartment, exhaustion washed over you as you slumped onto the bed, scrolling through your phone mindlessly until sleep finally claimed you.

Across town, in a dimly lit meeting room, a man entered, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Eleven figures were already seated around a large table, their faces obscured by shadows. The man took his place, and the one next to him leaned in, whispering, “What took you so long?”

“Seventeen has upgraded their security,” the man replied, his voice low. “The new system’s protection is too high—I can’t hack into it anymore.”

The leader at the head of the table slammed his hand down, the sound reverberating through the room. “Shut it. Because of your reckless actions, they found out about the shipments! Now you can’t even stay focused!” he shouted, his voice filled with barely contained anger. “Contact those seven boys and the three spies I’ve placed in each of their stores. Seventeen is already on to us.”

The group nodded in agreement, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

The following Tuesday, you were back at work, talking to Yuqi about the argument you had with Heeseung the day before. “Typical sibling fights,” Yuqi remarked with a shrug, while you rolled your eyes in response.

“Even if I’m mad, I don’t have the right to be. He’s the one who raised me,” you said, sighing as you fixed the shelves, Yuqi nodding along.

After a brief silence, Yuqi suddenly perked up. “Oh, unnie, do you have any plans for your birthday tomorrow?” she asked, her tone light.

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Not really. Heeseung said he’s busy, and Beomgyu has something going on, so I guess there are no plans this year.”

"But unnie, we should still celebrate!" Yuqi insists, her excitement has not diminished. "How about we go clubbing? You're stressed, and maybe a night out will help."

You considered her suggestion, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Not a bad idea. I didn’t have anything planned, but I guess this could work.”

The next day, Shuhua picked you up in her luxurious limo, Yuqi and Minnie already inside. You wore a simple black dress with white off-shoulder puffed sleeves and a slit up the side, practical yet elegant. Your makeup was light, accentuating your natural beauty.

As soon as you stepped into the car, the girls squealed in delight, their eyes wide with admiration. “You guys act like you’ve never seen me before,” you quipped, rolling your eyes as you took a seat.

“We just wanted to give you extra attention since it’s your birthday,” Minnie said with a chuckle, the other two nodding in agreement. “Happy birthday, pretty girl,” Shuhua added, handing you a pair of designer bags.

“Thank you, girlies,” you replied, smiling as you accepted the gifts. Shuhua, ever the generous CEO, had picked out something luxurious, while Yuqi handed you a small box containing a delicate necklace engraved with all your names.

“Aww, this is really sweet,” you said, giving Yuqi a hug before slipping on the necklace. The car ride was loud and full of laughter, the four of you enjoying each other’s company until you arrived at the club.

The night was going well—too well, perhaps. A few hours in, the girls were already passed out, Minnie was nowhere to be found, Yuqi was slumped over the table, and Shuhua was making out with some random guy. You found yourself alone at the bar, the night still young but already feeling drawn out.

It was just after midnight, and you watched the crowd from above, perched on a stool with your legs crossed and your chin resting in your hand. You were starting to feel the effects of the drinks you’d had when a man walked into the room, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

He was striking—tall, around 178-180 cm, dressed in a slim-fitting, jet-black suit that accentuated his lean frame. The suit’s fabric caught the light with a subtle sheen, perfectly tailored to his body. Underneath, a crisp white shirt contrasted sharply against the dark suit, the collar open just enough to reveal a glimpse of his collarbone. His deep burgundy tie added a splash of color, and a simple silver tie pin completed the look. His hair, slightly tousled yet meticulously styled, framed his sharp jawline, softening the intensity of his gaze. The way he carried himself—with a quiet confidence and a subtle, knowing smile—commanded the room’s attention.

His presence was magnetic, and despite yourself, being tipsy, you found yourself drawn into his presence. He started a conversation with you, offering you a few more drinks, making you feel more tipsy and you just couldn't help but feel drawn to this man in front of you. After a few moments of talking, the next thing you knew is that you had your lips all over his already.

~~~You've reached the end. Wait for Chap 3 ;)

On My Command - Masterlist (Chapters)

—AEYA HERE!: YNNIE??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ and who is that man? (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

—AEYA HERE!: your likes, reblogs, follows are very much appreciated. it boosts my dopamine and makes me want to upload asap so yeah, interacting with me really helps ^^

-NOW OPEN FOR TAGLIST!!! MESSAGE ME / COMMENT YOUR @ AND I WILL BE TAGGING THOSE WHO WANTS TO BE UPDATED ^w^

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yoongle--boongle--pie · 1 month ago

Text

Pechsträhne Chapter 10

BTS x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Playlist - Youtube

Chapter Playlist - Spotify

Word count: approx ~18.2K

_________________________________________

Hello my lovely readers, I hope you were all able to enjoy some warmer weather this past week-I know I did. There's a chance chapter 11 might be sooner than next weekend, because your girl had to cut this chapter nearly in HALF. Any who, see you all on the otherside!!!!!!!!

So much love, ~Delyn

_________________________________________

Recap

Y/n threw the covers off her legs, and without thinking tore open her bedroom door to tread on unsteady feet out into the hall. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore and tapping the pressure points has proven useless at this point–she just wanted to sleep. Y/n cowered in the hall in front of a wooden door and waited for the person on the other side to open it, her lip drawn between her teeth to keep any noises in her throat.

Yoongi wrenched his door open, warily scanning his eyes up and down the hall. They stopped on her withering form, sizing up the current state she was in with wide-eyed uncertainty.

“Can I come in for a while?” She croaked. Her hands wrung themselves in front of her in shaky knots.

Yoongi gave a slow, somber nod, and opened the door for her to enter his room that she had just left thirty minutes prior. Except they both understood, wholly so and without question, that a lot could change in just thirty minutes.

Y/n found refuge in the gentle scratching sound of Yoongi’s pencil gliding in smooth arcs across the sheet of paper that spanned the entire surface of his desk. The noises drifting up and over his shoulder from the efforts of his work became her own lullaby; with the hashing small lines like a tinkling staccato of piano keys, and the led grating across the lip of his ruler accompanying it like the languorous drag of a bow on the strings of a cello.

Yoongi had seemed to understand exactly what she needed from the moment he laid eyes on her blubbering mess of a form on the other side of his door, guiding her with gentle hands to curl up under his blankets with a glass of water perched just within her reach.

Her glassy eyes followed his controlled motions with little thought, just watching with an uncharacteristically blank mind. He sniffed and leaned to his left to grab what was left of an eraser, their eyes sharing a fleeting glance when he turned back to his creation.

“Just let me know when I need to leave.” Y/n breathed through dry and cracked lips. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

Yoongi shook his head, keeping his voice low. “It’s fine. I don’t usually go to bed until late anyways.”

They fell back into their melancholy state of being, and Yoongi refocused back on the direction of his pencil. Y/n resituated her head on the pillow, fluffing up its body to give her more support in an effort to catch a glimpse of what he was working on. To Y/n, it looked like some sort of extension to the guest house–the windows matching the same geometric glass pattern from the front facing side of it. Y/n brought her arm up to support the weight of her head, the small boost of elevation helping her take in more of the drawing.

“What is it for?” Y/n hoarsely implored, her curiosity a pleasant interruption to her grief.

“Hmm?” Yoongi followed her line of sight, and halted his next line. “Oh.” He gingerly laid the pencil down on the desk and scooted his chair closer to her, holding the edge of the paper for her to see. The image depicted an addition to the kitchen, and over the addition a new bedroom. The differences he sketched out in some of the already existing details and flourishes made them feel more ornate and dramatic without taking up too much space.

“I like to draw up designs for the property sometimes. Just to practice while I’m still hanging around here.” He coughed into his fist, and laid it flat on the table where it had been previously. “This one is nothing fancy. Just messing around.”

“I like it.” Y/n mumbled, her eyes flitting up to him in the dim light.

He gave a breathy chuckle. “Thanks. I’ll have to show you some of my other designs if you like this one so much.”

“I’m sure I’d like them too.” Y/n whispered, her eyes staring off without purpose into the dark half of his room. From the edge of her vision she could see him eyeing up her vacant expression with constricted thought.

“I can take your room again if that makes you feel more comfortable. So you don’t have to be in…” in the same room where it had happened. The unsaid lingered within the gaps of his speech.

“I’ll go back eventually.” Y/n shook her head, her volume getting impossibly quieter with each word. “I just don’t want to be alone.”

Yoongi sighed, his lips pressed into a flat line as he nodded. “Okay.”

Y/n didn’t know what to make of the response, and shame started to worm its way into her heart at her confession.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Y/n rolled onto her back to peer up at him apprehensively. “I really can leave if you need me to.”

The glare he shot her was stern, but nothing more than a front. “I already said it’s fine. I wouldn’t have let you in if I wasn’t okay with it.” He leaned across to grab his pencil from where he had left it, but kept his chair at its closer proximity. “Stop asking.”

“If you say so.” Y/n fiddled with her fingers and a small imperceivable smile graced her lips.

“I do say so.”

Y/n rolled herself back onto her side to continue watching his ministrations. The new propped up position gave her a much greater vantage point to not only just listen, but to watch each line track behind the glide of his hand. Her eyes began to burn with the efforts of keeping them open, but she would not give in. She steered herself with the thought that he would probably go to bed soon, feeling the need to physically hold her eyelids up against the skin of her arm. But that wasn’t enough to fight the pull.

“Shit.” Yoongi hissed, tapping the button on his desk lamp off to envelope them in darkness. Y/n didn’t know how long she had drifted for, but it had to be more time than it had felt like if the time on the clock was anything to go by. The absence of light left her blinking bleary-eyed at where Yoongi had once sat, only the faint outline of his shoulders visible. She sat up, unsure of what had startled him.

“What is-”

Yoongi urgently shushed her, and held his index finger over his mouth with a tense expression.

“Yoongi-”

Without warning, his door handle shook violently against its backplate and her words styed lodged in her throat. Whoever was on the other side stopped at nothing to jerk at the knob with full intention to break it. She locked eyes with Yoongi, his heavy intake of breath and pleading eyes giving away his own fear.

“I know you’re in there…” A contorted version of her father’s voice called through the piece of wood separating them from his sight. “I heard you. Won’t you just let me talk to you?”

Y/n and Yoongi stayed looking at only each other, too afraid to move even just their eyes in the chance that it would spur on the man on the other side of the door. She could see Yoongi’s hand inch towards his pants pocket where he kept his flashlight, his bravery getting the better of his fear.

“At least I know now…word gets around fast here.” A wicked choke of a laugh coughed from the hall, and her father released the doorknob with one last bang on the door frame for good measure. They tracked his steps down the last of the hall to her own room and with an inaudible gasp Y/n realized she hadn’t locked her door when she had left.

Yoongi seemed to read her mind and gave a small shake of his head. ‘It’s fine. The wards.’ He mouthed to her, but in actuality it did little to soothe her distress. Especially when she heard the stuttering creak of her own door swinging open next store; however like Yoongi had promised there were no footsteps entering into her space, just the slow tread continuing around the edge of the hall and towards Taehyung's door.

Y/n cocked her head to the side when her father walked right past the door to Taehyung’s room, not even bothering to give his knob a single tug–choosing to abandon his usual routine in favor of circling back to Yoongi’s door and giving three more hits to the frame with his knuckles. He barked a few fore fits of what truly must be the worst laugh she had ever heard, and started back down the hall. As he departed, she thought she could hear him mumbling something incoherent–something nonsensical.

Then the rhythm of the words started to grow in familiarity. He was singing. Y/n’s heart dropped past her stomach and straight through the floor, where ice pricked up her arms and into her chest to take up residency where it had once been.

“Schlaf, Kindlein, Schlaf.

Der Vater hüt die Schaf,

Die Mutter schüttelts Bäumelein,

Da fällt herab ein Träumelein.”

A sickening giggle broke through the plodding pace he set and the volume diminished as the distance between them grew. But Y/n could still hear the last line of the verse as clear as day, for she had heard it countless times before when he had sung the same song over each of his children’s beds until they were much too old for lullabies.

“Schlaf, Kindlein, Schlaf."

Yoongi ended up staying in his room with her that night in a makeshift bed on his floor. Neither of them needed an explanation as to why the other didn’t feel so keen in traipsing through the hallways after that. They laid in silence in a mutual understanding, and an unspoken desire to not be by themselves. And it was a wise decision on their parts–for her father continued to break his cycle apart even further when he did a second round down the halls. He did not do any of his usual antics like knock, nor did he try to open any doors. Instead, he prowled up and down the halls for the rest of the night, intermittently singing additional verses of the lullaby until the hour hand on Yoongi’s old style clock hit four. Only then did he retreat down the steps one final time to end his reign of terror on the two of them.

They had managed to get a few more hours of sleep prior to Yoongi’s alarm going off around seven and rousing both of them, both grumpy and disheveled by the offensive ringing. Even with Yoongi’s reassurance that she could go back to sleep for as long as she wanted, she couldn’t bring herself to take up more of his personal space than she already had. She trudged out after him and into her own still open bedroom door to get dressed for her day, deciding there was nothing better to do if she couldn’t sleep. Two days running on very little sleep was surely going to take its toll on her, and she was without a doubt going to pay the price in the upcoming days. She sent a text to Namjoon to let him know she would be joining him again for the day and waited in her room, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness on her bed.

Namjoon had been kind, and saved the task of going around the property and noting the health and growth of the perennial flowers, bushes and shrubs that they had originally had on the docket for yesterday, for today so she could help. They trampled about the vast expanse of the grounds with notebooks, pens and an empty collectors basket in hand, jotting down all of the data Namjoon would toss up to her from his crouched position near the base of each plant. They mapped out the sections one last time and confirmed the upcoming placement of each new flower, herb, and leafy addition as they went: they were pulling all of the stops with the flora this year for the anniversary.

Namjoon carried the weight of most of their discussions, with her feeling much too tired to offer up well thought out and elaborate answers–a stark contrast to her usual tendencies to ramble or offer up her thoughts to keep their conversations rich and everflowing. Y/n knew Namjoon must have sensed the difference, as he had run through every conversation in his repertoire to land on one that was much more superficial than their usual topics.

“The Spring Pop-up party kicks off in a little less than four weeks. Your mom talked about having a make your own bouquet station with a combination of locally grown flowers and some from the property itself for one of the charity stands.” Namjoon lifted up the branch of one of the fully bloomed peony bushes near the front gates. “Everything seems to be growing as planned. And with all of the extra flowers we have growing in the greenhouse I think we will be good to go. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been so stressed about the flowers this year.” He let out a deflated chuckle.

“Smart. Especially with Mother’s Day being around that time frame.” Y/n took note of the still barely budding Hydrangea bushes in her notebook. “How many people are they expecting?” She warily eyed how Namjoon brought up a pair of trimmers and started to snip a few peonies at a specific length, and tuck them into the basket on his elbow.

“A shit ton.” He snorted, and continued on to snip a few more flowers from the next bush. “We are doing a combination of live and dried flowers. So that’s going to be one of your jobs for the next few weeks–clipping and drying stems from around the property.”

“Ah okay.” Y/n stifled a yawn, and scratched at her temple with her pen.

Namjoon gave her a quick sideways glance from the flower he was inspecting. “Their charity map is insane this year. I’m not sure if you looked at it.”

“I haven’t.” Y/n stated plainly with a shake of her head, and held her hand out to help Namjoon to his feet.

He grunted and exalted himself to his feet, nearly pulling the both of them down in the process. "What’s up with you this morning? Did you get any sleep last night? You didn’t even try to have a single one-sided conversation with a flower this morning.”

Y/n heaved a sigh, and bent over to swing the basket of pleasant smelling flowers into the crook of her elbow. “I had a rough night.”

“You want to talk about it?” Namjoon stumbled after her with his brows pinched in mild concern.

“Joon,” Y/n managed a worn out laugh, and scrunched her nose in distaste, “Usually I would be running to you to air out my problems–but this is something I’m not very eager to dwell on any more than I already have.”

“Is it anything I would be worried about?” He tried, and kept his eyes on the ground as they walked back towards the hotel.

“Not exactly. Part of it we can go over as a group, the rest isn’t important right now.”

Namjoon left it at that, satisfied with her reassurance, and moved on to a different topic that he thought might boost her morale. “I was able to draft a couple tea recipes. The only downside is I have to order some of the ingredients–so it’s not exactly going to be a super quick process.”

“That’s fine. We will keep working on what we have been until then.” Y/n shrugged and sent him her best encouraging smile. “Thanks for helping us with all of this, Joon.”

“Always.” His eyes lit up in the early afternoon sun, and a heart warming smile spread across his face that made his dimples show themselves with his joy.

_________________________________________

The last of her free days slipped right through Y/n’s fingers, and before she knew it, her first day as an official employee under the Wörner Hotel and Estate had come and gone. Namjoon wasn’t lying about setting her on excursions over the property grounds under his supervision to collect stems from both the wildflower growth and their own shrubs and potted greenhouse plants at the start of each morning. Besides foraging, she spent the bulk of her days kneeling in moist soil and forearms deep in the substrate to plant the innumerable amount of annual flowers and foliage around the property with the occasional help of a local high school’s gardening and biology classes. That was something Y/n had not been warned about, and thus had not prepared herself to be directing squads of rambunctious teens to different tasks during her first week.

Her mother had returned a few days after she had disappeared with her brother. She must have had some sort of common sense to know Y/n would be upset with her, for she kept her distance and gave Y/n plenty of space to cool down from the betrayal. The only acknowledgement from her being a welcome email on her first day with both of her parent’s signatures at the bottom of it.

With Namjoon now as a permanent addition to their rituals, their nightly meetings had gone up to a head count of four (which Y/n was adamantly insisting on needing a cool name for, as Yoongi turned down her first suggestion of M.A.D Scientists). They had met up each night to practice sending her in and pulling her out of the other side with what they now referred to as “Seance Style” with increasing speed and ease. Their new record was twenty seconds in, and ten seconds out, five times in a row with a two minute break in between each attempt. But Y/n still wanted to keep hacking at it; within herself she knew she still had room to improve her limits.

Namjoon kept them updated on his tea ingredients journey, with the first of the new ingredients set to arrive by the rapidly approaching first week of May. Jungkook had taken to lumbering through the attic from the terrace regularly to check in on her over the week, and keeping her company while she recuperated from the days of no sleep, her first few days back at work, and the constant traveling between worlds. She had also re-initiated the previous rhythm of group game nights–but someone had been consistently missing from their usual lunch seat and game night spot:

Jimin.

She had yet to hear a single word from him since nearly a full week prior at Wednesday night’s awkward dinner experience. And She was beginning to worry about him. Namjoon had given him a bundle of protective herbs, and shared that he had accepted the gesture but didn’t say much else about it. And it set them all on edge–notably because Jungkook still would see the shadowy figure hovering around him when he saw him in passing before work. And she couldn’t help but be colored with surprise when during Wednesdays lunch break, she received a text from him to let her know that her custom ordered copy of her family tree had been delivered to the historical building, and he had it in his office for her to pick up at her convenience. Y/n had a scheduled dancing session with Hoseok that day for the rest of her lunch break, so as much as she wanted to get her hands on it immediately, she had to wait. After conferencing with their group chat, they decided on having her pick it up after her shift ended so Jungkook could meet her at the green house to walk her down just outside the camera’s view. It’s not that they didn’t trust Jimin, they were just being cautious with the unfolding circumstances. She tucked her phone away along with the thoughts of Jimin, and distracted herself by following Hoseok's lead on the dancefloor to whatever music he had chosen for them that week until she had to retire back to the greenhouse.

The sun was warm on the backs of their necks where it snuck through the trees fully dressed in newborn vibrant green leaves, and Jungkook was sure to keep his pinky locked around one of her fingers with each step. They designated his waiting spot to be outside of the historical society on one of the aged wooden benches near one of the many walking trails near its entrance. But he only agreed to wait outside if she promised to keep his contact up on her screen, and if she demonstrated that she had her flashlight at the ready.

Y/n rang the doorbell and retracted her hands to her dirt and mud splattered pockets while she waited for Jimin to come meet her at the front. Jimin pulled the door open merely moments after, ushering her in with a strained smile. He seemed off: his hair disheveled, bags glaringly obvious beneath his eyes, and his mannerisms reserved. There was no real greeting–no teasing or playful banter. Now she truly was worried about him.

He led her with a breakneck speed back to his office that had Y/n all but jogging to keep up with him. Before he even opened the door she could hear loud music booming through the speakers of his record player, deafening all other noises around them once the door had been pushed out of the way. He rushed to the player, and tilted the knob to lower the volume just enough for them to speak comfortably, and scurried over to where an identical leather tube to the one he had shown her during her last visit was propped against the side of his table.

Now his table was another story entirely.

The table that had been neat and tidy when she had first visited, was now an utter wreck. Papers both old and new were strewn across its surface, a couple textbooks and large old leather bound books stacked in every chair except for one, leaving a seat open where his laptop was poised at the ready. And the smell–the pleasant and familiar smell that she couldn’t pinpoint in his office during her last visit was stronger than ever. Jimin caught Y/n’s wide eyed inspection and flushed in shame, but he did not comment to her on the state of his office.

“Here it is.” Jimin gestured to the family tree with both of his hands. “I set up your own website portal too, so you can document whatever information you want to on your own family tree instead of just having to deal with whatever I end up putting on my professional copy. You can put memories, stories–whatever you want.”

“Thank you…” Y/n’s eyes tracked his skittish form as it paced from place to place, removing stacks of books from the surrounding chairs in a futile effort to organize the mess like she hadn’t already witnessed the sight. “Are you…” Jimin stumbled over a crumpled plastic bag and kicked it off to the side with an aggravated grunt. “Are you doing alright Jimin?”

Jimin froze in the middle of lifting a large stack of boxes from the floor near the table to a different spot on the floor closer to the bookshelves like a deer in the headlights. “Yes.” He swallowed thickly, his eyes avoiding hers by checking every corner of his room. “Why do you ask?”

Y/n didn’t feel the need to elaborate on such an obvious question, instead giving him a deadpan stare and gesturing to the pile of soda cans overflowing from his trash bin. His eyes nervously followed to where she had pointed, and he dropped the boxes on the ground and kicked them to the side with his foot.

“Oh. They aren’t all mine.” Despite his excuse, he hurriedly began collecting them in a discarded grocery bag.

His excuses were worthless to her, for she knew Jimin too well to be fooled. His office and his physical state was enough of a sign of his internal disarray–but the sodas were the cherry on top of it all. Soda had always been his poison of choice when stressed. The last time she had ever seen a pile that tall from him had been the summer after her freshman year when he had gotten an email from his birth family asking if he wanted to reconnect and he had been stewing on what decision he wished to make. (Even though Hana Kim had been very gentle about reminding him it was his decision to make). Meaning whatever had caused him to down three burgundy and two yellow and green streaked twelve-packs of soda must’ve been pretty major.

“Uh huh.” Y/n couldn’t decide where to look, the piles of stuff or the papers with indecipherable writing and markings etched into their surfaces. “Is it your finals week?”

Jimin shot up from his bent position with a snap of his fingers, the cans in his hand flying in all directions for him to fumble and catch. “ Yes! Exactly that.” He shoved them into the bag with gritted teeth, and spun back around to her. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

His insistence did the exact opposite as intended, and made her even more worried about him. She opened her mouth to ask him something else, but the words were ripped from her mouth when he came barreling towards her with the family tree tube in hand.

“Well here you go. Thank you for your visit but I really need to get back to work. I apologize for all of this.” He shoved the leather cylinder into her hands, and put a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder to guide her out of the room. “It’s your first week right? We will have to catch up on that–maybe celebrate at the Adelaide together this weekend?” His voice had elevated an octave by the time he had escorted her to the long hallway outside of his door, and softly pushed her across the threshold. Another high-pitched give away that something was unmistakably wrong.

“Sure that sounds–” Y/n ducked from his hold before he could finish their trek through the door, she wasn’t about to let him distract her without a fight, “–Jimin seriously, what is going on?” Y/n demanded, her eyebrows knitting together at his strange behavior and she planted her feet at his door to prevent him from pushing her out. He wavered under her prodding stare, his tongue stuck between his teeth and his face torn between a state of distress and desperation.

“The Adelaide will be perfect. We can extend the invitation to some of the others as well.” Jimin deflected her question, and meandered her out into the hall. Jimin held the door partially closed with his palm, and blocked her view of the rest of his office with his body to rush through his goodbyes. “I’ll text you to get more details later.”

“Jimi-” Y/n’s protests were silenced by the slam of his door in her face.

Y/n walked back to the front in a daze with her leather tube in hand, the gears in her brain chugging along at nearly a mile a minute for any believable reason for his behavior. She had the sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with his finals, but Y/n couldn’t come up with any other rationale by the time she met Jungkook out front. His ultra-observant eyes forced her to retell the interaction the moment they hit a distance greater than a few yards from the building.

“You don’t think he is doing something…bad do you?” Y/n uttered the question that now probably plagued both of their minds.

Jungkook bit his lip and shook a loose curl out of his eyes. “I don’t know.” Y/n saw a ripple of a pained expression float across his eyes where it drifted in and out of her sight as he tried to keep it to himself. “I don’t think he would.”

Y/n kept her eyes level with the path in front of them, and felt her throat grow tight. He wouldn’t, she tried to reassure herself. He was the one that led her to Yoongi in the first place, and even bothered to give her a lead to the information she wanted. And the stuff he had insinuated in the empty exhibit the week prior–he wouldn’t have told her things he was supposed to hide if he was trying to make it worse. Unless her being involved helped him somehow? No. She steeled herself forwards. That’s not the Jimin she knows.

Y/n tossed the leather strap over her shoulder and swung the tube into place on her back to free her hands up for her next move. She leaned over and grabbed Jungkook’s hand that was closest to herself and held it firmly in her own, giving it a few reassuring squeezes. “He’s our friend and he’s innocent until proven guilty in my book. So whatever his reasoning is, we will handle it together–yeah?”

The energy with which she grabbed his hand seemed to startle him, but he quickly recomposed himself with a small smile. “Right.”

The feeling of his warm fingers slotted between her own made her realize how much she had actually grown to miss his incessant company. Even if she had initially hated having to be followed everywhere like she was a part of some witness protection program, she couldn’t deny the void that had started to grow in where he used to be looming behind her every move for her to ramble her thoughts without complaint. Don’t get her wrong–she loved getting to spend time with Namjoon–but she could still enjoy spending time with one while missing the other.

Y/n swung their interlocked hands between them, and felt a bounce slip into her step. Jungkook’s eyes lit up with a ghost of mirth, and he raised a questioning brow in her direction.

“What’s with the shift in energy?” He asked, his eyes giving her a small once over.

Y/n gave a tiny coy shrug. “I dunno. I just missed you. It feels nice to be with you again.”

From the corner of her eye she could’ve sworn she saw a rose tinted flush take over his neck and ears, but he turned his head to survey the roads and obscure the sight completely from her prying eyes. Y/n let an impish grin tug at the corners of her mouth, and couldn’t resist the temptation to use the same annoying tease he had taken to sending her way whenever the chance arose.

“Your face is red.”

He choked on his words, and whipped his head to look at her again with wide rounded eyes. “It’s not!”

“Is too!” Y/n raised her eyebrows in disbelief and giggled at the borderline childish edge to his complaint. “I’m looking right at it.”

“Whatever.” He gave a small roll of his eyes, and returned to scoping out the area for any unseen dangers. Y/n could tell he was just doing it to avoid her playful pointed looks, but otherwise let him be for a few moments.

Then she felt it. The urge to say a phrase they used to say to each other as children bubbled up from the depths of her subconscious. It started as a little nagging pull from her ribs, but then it blossomed into something massive and untamed, taking up her entire chest cavity and stuffing her throat with its suffocating petals.

I love you.

It was a harmless phrase to her–or at least it notoriously been in the past something they had never made a big deal about. It was something she had told him countless times in their youth simply because it had been true. She had loved him, loved him the same way she loved all of her friends, though only those she spent the most time with had felt comfortable enough to casually interchange it with her on a regular basis. It wasn’t until their teenage years that they had all grown out of really saying it to each other. For Y/n, she had just assumed it was because of the stereotype that teenagers are grumpy and disinterested in anything emotionally vulnerable–even between close friends. Or she had even thought that perhaps as they grew older Jungkook had given up on his childish crush on her and moved on, leaving him feeling awkward letting her say such things to him. In that moment however, she felt like the awkward one. Like it was something more than what used to feel so natural for her. Jungkook would be the first person she would be saying it to in quite awhile, and she reasoned that that must be what made the profession feel so foreign. That must be the reason, Y/n chided herself. So much time has passed, it just feels weird to say. I’ll feel more comfortable again sometime soon for sure. Y/n shook her head of the thoughts that lingered around her head like a buzzing gnat for the time being.

Jungkook snuck a glance in her direction again, and seemed to falter in his steps. He did a double take, and his brow fell so low into his now pitch black eyes she wondered if he could even see properly through it anymore. His pace slowed to a stop and he turned to face her with an unrefined yet utterly grueling expression. Y/n shrunk under the weight of it, feeling exposed and embarrassed for reasons she couldn’t understand. He flitted his gaze a few feet behind her, and found purchase in something else to glare into that wasn’t her, much to her relief.

“He’s following us.” Jungkook whispered urgently and used their connected hands to tug her closer into his side.

“What? Who?” Y/n spun her head in all directions, expecting to find Jimin lingering behind them but what she found instead was all the more surprising.

In contrast to her expectations, she set her sights on a dark misty figure frozen mid step from where it had crept in their direction from the woods beyond. It was close at only just a couple yards out from where they stood, however even with their proximity there were no defining features to take in. Just a pulsing, smokey mass in the shape of a man.

The figure seemed caught off guard where it hovered. Most likely unexpecting to be spotted by one if not both of them. It skittered back to the closest tree and hid out of sight behind the aging trunk. Their movements were uncannily silent–it was a ghost after all–but it still settled strange to Y/n’s brain that there was no snapping of sticks and no rustle of leaves to bend at their movements.

Y/n let out a few shaky breaths. “I can see him too.”

Jungkook grunted and tugged the both of them forward into a much quicker pace. Y/n looked periodically over her shoulder to keep an eye on the figure that slunk between tree trunks and crouched behind low hanging branches to keep an equal distance from the duo at all times. She couldn’t keep her eyes on him for more than a few seconds at a time without taking the risk of her tripping over her own feet to keep up with Jungkook’s long strides. The figure grew confident and leapt over a fallen branch to land on the same dirt path they had kicked up seconds before, its feet leaving tracks that overlapped theirs. Jungkook kept his eyes black and his hand gripped hers with so much strength it almost hurt and urged Y/n to walk faster. Y/n took one more glance back at where their feet sunk into the soil at a relaxed pace that somehow covered enough ground with each step to keep up with them. Like they weren’t even trying. The tracks that appeared after each press of its foot looked far too familiar for Y/n’s liking and her natural reaction had her doing what she did best: something stubborn and reckless.

Y/n dug her heels into the dirt and pulled on her and Jungkook’s conjoined hands with all of her body weight, and Jungkook staggered backwards and came to a forced stop with it. The figure followed suit, halting a few feet behind them.

“Who are you?” Y/n called back, her voice breathless from the unforgiving pace Jungkook had set.

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, and his arm pulled hers taut with a forgiving strength. “Y/n!”

Y/n ignored Jungkook’s disdain for her actions and kept her gaze leveled with the shadow, who stood as still as a statue where it had stopped. They shifted, and tilted their head to the side in a silent question. Y/n squared her shoulders, taking a smaller step closer to them only to e tugged back to her original spot from where she was still connected to Jungkook.

“I asked who you were.” She enunciated each word, and grappled for her flashlight to hold up for them to see. “Tell me, or I’ll use this.”

The figure turned its wispy head in the direction which they had come from and used one finger to point towards the trees. Y/n followed the direction in which they pointed, her face curling in on itself with confusion.

“A tree?” Y/n scrutinized the spirit in front of her. The figure dropped their hand to the side and shook their billowy head from side to side.

“If you aren’t going to tell me, you can leave us alone. I mean it.” Y/n pointed the flashlight towards the ground and clicked the switch on to shine a barely visible beam of light just at the edge of their feet in a warning.

The figure careened its head downwards to look at the circle of yellow light while it contemplated its next move. Y/n watched the figure slowly take the toe of its foot and inch it towards the edge of the beam to test the waters of her threat. The tip of their foot met the border of the ring of light, and they flinched backwards at the contact.

Their energy shifted, and they returned sticking their foot entirely into the glow with nonchalance. Y/n’s knuckles ached and her hand started to sweat where her skin made contact with the handle–for nothing happened to the shadow as he wound his foot in circles around the enlightened dirt.

Her threat was empty and her only weapon was rendered useless against whoever this was.

The spirit straightened their head and shrugged, reluctantly turning to the side to wade back into the treeline. Y/n watched with bated breath as they continued further on into the brush, throwing forlorn glances back at her over their shoulder. Y/n peered intently after its departure, the interaction left her puzzled as to what the spirit’s intentions could be from an interaction so…innocent. That didn’t seem to be on her companion’s mind though.

Once the spirit was far away enough for his liking, Jungkook tore his eyes away from the retreating figure and propelled them both forward and up to the front gates in a sprint.

“Jungkook, slow down! I don’t think they’re going to hurt us!” Y/n choked out through her heaving breaths, the container flailing against her back making it more of an effort to run. Jungkook’s pejorative glance was brief–scantily a flick of his iris her way. Still, regardless how scarce of a look it was, it left her scathed with its fury. Hot shame erupted from her abdomen and swallowed her whole. It didn’t feel good to know she had disappointed him.

He pulled them around the border of the gate and cornered her against the stone and away from prying eyes, both ghostly or otherwise. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he looked down his nose at her withering frame, his pupils dilated and his brow angled sharply inward. Y/n fidgeted under such a harsh yet quiet rage, and found herself unable to face it head on.

“What were you thinking?” He interrogated through his own labored breaths. “We don’t know what or who that was–they could’ve tried to kill you.”

Y/n blubbered for her words, never having been at the brunt of his anger before. “I don’t know. I need to keep doing whatever I can to unravel everything. I had you there–”

“I’m not invincible against them, Y/n. I may intimidate them enough to keep them at a distance–but I can’t do all that much physical protection if you insist on instigating them until I’m able to touch them.” He seethed, stepping further into her personal space.

“I’m sorry! They didn’t feel M.A.D at all–just curious.” Y/n’s volume trickled into a whisper at her own poor defense, and turned her eyes down to inspect her shoes as a means to avoid looking at his expression.

Jungkook scoffed and clenched his jaw. “You didn’t know that at first.”

“I just felt it. I need you to trust me sometimes, Jungkook.” She speared him with a moderately defiant look of her own. “I know what I feel.”

“Trust you?” He admonished incredulously, “I want to–but you are just always running head first into danger. It’s hard to have trust in you when it comes to this stuff when you haven't done a very good job at building any for me to give.”

Y/n felt the sting of his honesty and fought the immediate urge to defend herself against it, nothing good would come from this if she let her defensive streak take over. Because she couldn’t deny that at the core of his argument–Jungkook was right. She did have an extensive track record of throwing herself in harm's way with little warning. Y/n swallowed her damaged pride, and fought herself to look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I mean it. You can tell when I’m lying, right?” She raised her brow in a challenge that he didn’t take. He surveyed her face with great attention to detail but did not comment. He licked his lip and gave her a guarded yet expectant look for her to continue.

“You’re right,” she relented. “In hindsight I haven't been great at making the best decisions when things get hairy, but I’m making the ones I think are the best at that moment in time. This whole thing comes with risks I’m willing to take, and I need you to understand that. It’s not just about me anymore. It’s you, it’s my Oma, my brother–it’s everyone living or dead that steps foot on these grounds. If I just roll over and let ghosts and demons run me out of here, who says they’ll stop at just me? What about if Roland or I have a daughter that deserves to take over after us, and whatever my mom has done is still lingering around? Will she push her out too?” Jungkook’s rage simmered down by a few degrees, her words striking something within him to take a few breaths. This she took as a good sign to keep going.

“I’ll try to think more about what you’ve said from now on. However I also need you to trust me when I say I’m not being completely stupid every time I try to make any moves. When I have ghosts trying to torment me simply for being here at every waking–no, scratch that, just every moment–I’m going to want to push back at them just as vehemently.”

Jungkook took in her words with a harsh exhale from his nose. He tongued at the spot where his lip ring should be and ran his tattooed hand through his waves, his body releasing its fuel in almost visible plumes of steam. “Okay.” He relented.

“Okay?” Y/n urged him to clarify.

“Okay I’ll try and trust you more. Only if you promise to try and take yourself into account before you throw yourself into something.” He folded his arms and gave her a pointed look. “And if you actually uphold your promise to not lie and ask me for help when you need it. Don’t think just because some of my original rules don’t apply to you anymore that all of them don’t.”

Y/n scrunched her face up in distaste and ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. “The word rules sounds a bit controlling don’t you think?”

“Fine then. Other parts of our agreement.” Jungkook yielded, but kept up with his stern demeanor.

“Better.” Y/n agreed, and held one of her hands out for him to shake. “It’s a deal then.”

He gave her one last suspicious squint, and took her hand in his with one good shake. “Deal.”

The all encompassing need from earlier came back–and she had to actively fight the proclamation of affection back down her thought and bite her tongue so hard it hurt. What was going on with her? The only thing that kept the phrase at bay was her promising herself that she would approach the subject with him at a much better time than now–because now they were fresh after a disagreement and still pumped full of adrenaline. She didn’t feel like pushing him away and scaring him with her affectionate nature.

With that in mind, she swallowed down the words she wanted so desperately to say, and let him lead her back to the greenhouse. Since with the cameras he could no longer take her up her room without potentially raising any arguments with her mother, Namjoon was on in house guard dog duty from now on (as Yoongi so gently referred to it as). She loved him as her best friend, and that was that. What more could there possibly be to it?

_________________________________________

The following day, Jimin had reached out to schedule dinner at the Adelaide for the upcoming Saturday evening, and to request her availability on that following Thursday for one of his ‘dates’. When she had tried to pry into his strange behavior, he apologized and doubled down with the excuse of his final exams taking a toll on him at the moment. Y/n decided to accept the answer for now, and agreed to dinner and sent her schedule for Thursday.

Thus the last of her first week went by with minimal further hiccups. Besides the figure that had followed them from the historical society, the ghosts had been relatively quiet on her end–and she didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. Jungkook seemed to be taking what they had discussed to heart, making an effort to give her space to make her own choices when any discussions of their spiritual endeavors came up, and in turn Y/n was trying to be more open in how she communicated her thoughts and experiences–not that she had any new ones to share yet.

Friday afternoon arrived as a peaceful and welcoming embrace from a physically exhausting first official week at the greenhouse. That morning they had convened in their group chat and decided to let Y/n try and explore a preset path from Yoongi’s room, down to the landing, and back while on the other side. The night before, Yoongi had taken to calling it Paralrealm–a play on words he seemed quite proud of himself for. His splice of the words paranormal, parallel, and realm had a good ring to it, and he was tired of saying ‘other side’. It was clever enough that Y/n didn’t feel the need to fight it (though she did roll her eyes that he could come up with acceptable names so easily while hers were primarily shut down).

Y/n had just gotten off of work and sat freshly showered and changed on her floor, back bent over the family tree with scouring eyes while she waited for Jin to text her to come down for their evening game night. The lack of eventful paranormal encounters left her with enough time and mental space in the late evenings to log in to the website portal Jimin had made for her, and to document which ones were M.A.D and what basic information she had of them from her own memory. She went over both her dream, the girl in the hutch, and the people she had seen while on the other side with them again in her head to try and locate them on the tree. Specifically the man she had caught a brief glimpse of who wasn’t evil. She closed her eyes and replayed the altercation in her mind.

Y/n heard the unmistakable crunch of bones, pulling Y/n to a stop and alarm bells sounded in her head. Her feet rushed to hang her upper half over the banister, blinded by the thought of her grandmother being defenseless against the inhuman creature below. Y/n’s grandmother–Margaret–cradled a clenched fist to her chest. The man she had landed a punch on was unrecognizable–his skin nearly completely rotted and hanging in peeling sheets from his skeletal frame. Red and pink muscles and tendons rippled as he bent backwards from the blow, his jaw knocked completely loose by the impact.

Y/n threw her hands into the air in unexpected victory. “Get him, Oma!”

Margaret looked up at Y/n in some wicked cross between amusement and reproachful rage.

“How nice of you to join us, Entlein.” What was left of the man’s face shifted in Y/n’s direction, his dislocated mandible quaking with the effort it took to rise and meet his upper teeth in a disfigured smile. Y/n’s heart stopped, and she felt as though she might pass out at that very second. Her disembodied knees almost collapsed out from beneath her in the face of the frightening sight before her.

“Flieh Y/n!” A shorter, not yet decaying man leapt onto the demon from within the dining room, sending the latter careening backwards out of her sight.

Y/n opened her eyes to scan them across the surface of the thick paper. Her finger followed the lines to each potential set of brothers, hesitating over one duo in particular. Bear and Duane. Born in the same year yet different months–irish twins. The sound of the normal brother’s voice rang through her head.

“Ich war noch nie jemand der sich so leicht vor Faschisten verneigt. Oder hast du vergessen woher wir kommen, Bruder?”

Her German may be a bit rusty, but she had been able to pick up enough of it to get a good enough idea of what he had shouted. Faschisten. Fascist. This word left a prominent taste in her mouth, because she vividly remembers having to ask her father what the word meant nearly decades prior: which Bear himself laid at the dead center of the memory.

Y/n’s great uncle Bear stood in front of a roaring fireplace, withered and frail with old age, with a poker in hand that he wielded it in the same way one would wield a gun. He was minutes deep in one of his countless retellings of his experiences both on U.S soil and overseas –Much to the adults chagrin and the children’s entertainment. It was an especially troublesome predicament for her own grandfather Johan, and her mother, whom had been trying their best to get him to sit (he was a high fall risk the last few years of his life not that he cared).

Y/n crawled from her designated spot on the floor next to her sister (where all the children had been shoved to be subjected to her great uncle’s antics so the adults could have the couches), and over to her father’s lap to continue listening to his story with poor attention. For her mind had been stuck on a word she didn’t recognize, and her stubborn attitude made it nearly impossible for her to think of anything else. She gestured with her hand for her dad to bring his ear closer to her so she could ask him, which he obliged to with a chuckle.

“Yes, Entlein?” He posed his ear close to her face, the glow from the hearth casting harsh shadows onto his features.

Y/n craned her neck up to whisper back, “What’s ‘Faschisten’ mean?”

“Oh~” Her father gave her a mischievous smile and moved her from one knee to the other and spun her to face forward, calling out to the crazed old man in the center of the room. “Old Bear!”

Her great uncle spun on his heels to point his stick at the where the two sat on the couch. “Y/n wants to know what ‘Faschisten’ means.” Her father shook her shoulders with a boisterous laugh.

Her mother sighed, and muffled a giggle. “Oh dear.”

“Oh now you’ve started it.” Yoongi’s dad, Eunwoo, let out an exaggerated groan and rose from his seat near her father. “Anyone need anything from the kitchen while I’m up? Perhaps a glass of wine–or an entire bottle?”

A chorus of laughter echoed throughout the crowded space as he departed into the hall to get himself a drink, and to placate the few requests he had received.

Bear on the other hand, waved the poker in a grand flourish and did his best attempt to stumble through the children with an animated “run” to where she sat, with Johan hot on his trail to keep him from a potentially dangerous tumble.

“Listen closely, Entlein.” Bear stood on unsteady legs in the middle of the crowd of children that started to scooch back away from him to make room for Johan to wait on standby. “ A Faschisten is someone who tries to tell you what to do and how to be.” He took his poker and began to swing it in swift whooshing arcs through the air to emphasize each listed phrase, while the children scattered in all directions in heaps of giggles to dodge him. “They are power hungry, chicken-hearted, dunderheads that use fear and hate as a weapon to divide the people against each other. For they know that we are more powerful than they’ll ever be if we stick together.” Bear threw the poker off to the side, and a wave of nervous shouts rang out from the adults as they ducked away from its overarching path.

Bear crept towards her with an exaggerated hunch of his shoulders, and his bony fingers out and splayed in front of him like a sneaking beast. “They rely on the dumb and the privileged to do their dirty work for them. So it’s our job to keep them away from us and our friends by staying smart and diligent. Lest they try to…” He stopped in front of her and wiggled his fingers as a threat. “Snatch you up!”

He lunged forward, one of Johan’s hands supporting most of his weight while Bear rained an onslaught of relentless tickles down on her sides, her laughter choking up and out of her throat with reckless abandon. When Y/n started to feel like she couldn’t breathe, he let up on her only to whirl around on the rest of the children (ignoring Johan’s protesting hands around his waist) to try and chase after the rest of them with his hands outstretched and barking laughter shaking his shoulders.

“Who’s next?” Bear roared in maniacal laughter that at his age should’ve been impossible, erupting the room into chaos.

The children all shot off in different directions to run and hide, climbing over sofas and scampering out into the hall to avoid being his next victim.

“Remember!” Bear boasted, “Stick together!”

Y/n followed after the wave of fleeing children, grabbing Matilda’s hand and hoisting her up and out of his reach just in time to miss his swooping attempt at grabbing her.

“Hurry up!”

They ran towards where Hoseok beckoned them from the doorway and the three of them sped off down the hall, past a few other scattering children and up the stairs in a skittish rush. Y/n skidded to a halt to help Namjoon lower himself into a toy chest in the playroom and prop the lid with a few thin plastic rings for air, while Hoseok and Matilda took off down the rest of the hall with thundering steps towards their room.

Once Y/n was sure Namjoon was safely tucked away, she rounded the door to the playroom and onto the landing, catching Yoongi and Amelia waving urgently at her from around the corner of the opposite hall for her to come with them. Y/n started forward, sprinting across the landing to meet them. Two hands grabbed for her ankles and Y/n screeched to a halt to stop herself from tumbling forward.

Johan, her grandfather, was on all fours on the stairs with a grin on his face. He moved to his feet and onto the landing, lifting her into the air while she shrieked with laughter.

“Careful near the stairs!” Margaret shouted up at them, hovering in the foyer to watch the interaction with the frail arm of hers not leaning into her cane being supported by Hoseok’s mother Misuk. “You’re much too old to be playing like that, dear!” She scolded up at him from below.

Johan took a few steps further onto the landing to appease his wife, and twirled Y/n in circles around the space. “I’m still doing it alright, aren’t I? I haven't even hit my sixties yet!” He jerked to a stop and held her up in the air with two hands with a grunt. “Now tell me where your friends are, Entlein and I’ll spare you!”

“Never!” Y/n gasped through her giggles.

“Get him!” Hoseok and Matilda barreled around the corner with pillows in hand, whacking at his abdomen and legs in a flurry colored pillow case.

“No!” Johan threw Y/n onto one of the fluffy armchairs and fell to his knees flopped to the floor dramatically to their pummeling pillows. “You can’t defeat me!”

Y/n heard more footsteps running from below, and recognized her father’s playful stomping following along behind them. Jungkook, Jimin and Jin weaved around the women and into the foyer. Jimin cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted up at her.

“He’s coming! Run!”

“Oh he’s going to get you!” Johan wheezed through theatrical coughs, putting on his best show of a melodramatic death.

Matilda raised her pillow above her head, an evil glint in her eye. “Quick he’s down! Kick him in the butt and then we can put him in the trunk!”

Johan blanched, and rolled onto his back while he choked around his words. “Woah woah woah! Gentle on Opa. No need for all-OOF!”

Yoongi and Ameila joined the battalion with pillows of their own, silencing any of his further distractions with a firm pillow to the stomach and face. Y/n leapt to her feet, catching a pillow Yoongi tossed her way and planting her feet on the top of the landing as the other three boys whizzed past her and away from her father who had just chased them up the stairs. Y/n held her pillow up, coiled and ready to swing at a moment's notice.

Her father playfully gnashed his teeth and encroached further towards her with dragging steps, his hands at the ready to block any of her hits. “Here I come!” He sang, taking the last few stairs in threes to get up to the top. Y/n held her ground, only taking a few steps back so her father would be off the stairs to please her Oma’s wishes, and swung Yoongi’s pillow at his legs with all of her might.

Y/n scanned Bear’s QR code on the family tree, and quickly typed in her own description:

“Loved twinkies and a great story. Eccentric. Troublemaker and instigator. Not M.A.D: Ally?”

Y/n moved onto his brother Duane, and tapped in a short: M.A.D. her fingers hovered over her keyboard and thought about how Bear and her Oma had fled from him. The fear in her grandmother’s eyes when he had gotten close to the doors, his terrible and haunting voice and decaying face. Y/n wrote the last bit into his section: “Is this the “him” they refer to?”

A knock at her door spurred her into action to scramble the family tree into a coil and snap it into its container. She hadn’t been expecting any visitors, and usually if one of the boys from their group wanted to pay her a visit they would message her first. The second knock pierced her eardrums by the time she was snapping the lid back in place.

“Just a minute!” Y/n breathlessly shouted, and struggled to her feet with tingling legs to prop the container against her plant stands. She padded over to the door and pat at her cheeks to center herself, her hand enclosing on her door knob and whipping open the door with the best inconspicuous face she could muster.

A brightly colored gift bag, roughly the size of her torso was planted on her doorstep with whoever had left it behind long gone. Y/n furrowed her brows and lifted it into the air to inspect the shiny exterior. It was lightweight, with white tissue paper spilling from the mouth of the bag in all directions to hide whatever laid beneath it from her vision. Y/n stepped back into her room and promptly shut the door, moving to place the bag on her desk and whipping out the first batch of tissue paper onto the floor.

From the first look she could tell that the item was made of a pillowy soft fabric. Lifting it carefully in front of her, it became apparent that it was another one of her old dresses from before she had left for school. It had been freshly washed and cared for–now just waiting for its moment to be worn again. Y/n placed it to the side and reached for the next clothing item folded along the bottom of the bag.

This one was new–the tag that still dangled from its hem making that abundantly clear. It was a lovely, square-necked, cotton dress that was cut from an elegant floral fabric. Y/n held it up to herself to note the comfortable length and check the sizing, and after a skeptical examination she found it was just her usual size. Y/n splayed the dress onto her bed, and plundered about the bottom of the bag for some kind of note as to who this was from (though she may have already had an inkling). Her fingers found the edge of a small envelope which she hastily flipped open and shook the letter into her hands to read the elegant penmanship.

I wasn’t sure if you would need another outfit for tomorrow, so I had this one washed for you just in case. You don’t have to wear it if you already had something else in mind–I just wanted to make sure you had a few options.

As for the new one, I saw it while I was out at the outlets recently and it made me think of you. If you don’t like it or it doesn’t fit, let me know so I can exchange it for something else.

With adoration,

Jimin

Y/n felt her face heat up at his kind gesture, and quickly moved to hang both up into her closet for the following night. She finished tucking both away with her other dresses when a third knock came. She whisked herself over to the door and repeated what she had just done, opening the door with a less force inconspicuous expression.

Jin was waiting on the other side, donned in comfortable clothes and a plastic bag full of games dangling from his wrist. He greeted her with a welcoming grin and held the bag up to her eye level.

“Decided to just come up and get you myself. Are you ready to play?”

Y/n followed him downstairs to the main floor, expecting him to guide them to the dining room where they usually played. Instead he stopped at the front door and started slipping his shoes on, gesturing for her to do the same.

“Where are we going?” Y/n gave him a suspicious side eye, but bent to shove her own shoes on nonetheless.

“The guest house. It’s gorgeous out and I’ve been stuck behind the desk nearly the whole day. I could use some fresh air–” He cut himself off, casting a worried glance back up at her from his laces. “--unless that’s not okay…”

“No thats…” Y/n swallowed and shook her head of any thoughts of the lake. “That’s fine. I haven’t been there yet since I’ve been back.”

Jin nodded, and finished tying up his sneakers and held the door open for her to exit first. “Hoseok will meet us there. He’s finishing up his last customer.”

They kept their conversation light, mostly about Jin’s time at work while they walked; taking extra time for him to lament about particularly grating guest interactions from the week, playfully calling the list the hall of shame. But as they reached the trail towards the lake, she felt her steps slow on their own volition–slow enough that Jin seemed to notice, looking back at her from where he stopped a few feet ahead.

“If you're uncomfortable with the guest house we can always go to one of the garden areas instead–it’s really up to you.” His brow pinched in concern.

“No,” Y/n shook her head adamantly, “this is where you like to go. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Y/n released a shaky laugh and moved to catch up with him.

Jin spared her a mildly unconvinced glance but heeded her words, starting forwards again. Y/n had to remind herself she had taken the same path with Yoongi almost a month prior and it hadn’t been that bad–though things hadn’t been feeling as stirred up as they were now. She glanced up at Jin’s face that mirrored her own reflective expression, the two of them equally stuck in their own thoughts.

“Will you be joining us at the Adelaide tomorrow?” Y/n piped up, keeping her eyes on the ground in front of her.

Jin blinked, retreating from his own thoughts to think over her question. “Yes I will. Hoseok too.”

“Really?” Y/n looked taken aback, her brow knit at the declaration. “I thought he and Jimin were still licking their wounds from whatever happened?”

“Nah,” Jin shook his head, “they got over it. Like I said they would.” He used his shoulder to bump against hers lightly. “It’s hard not to get over things when we all live on the same property.”

“That’s true.” Y/n chuckled. “Who else coming? I know Joon is.” Y/n phrased her question casually, trying to get a read on Jin’s reaction.

Jin scratched at one of his ears and cleared his throat. “Taehyung will be performing, but will join us at our table once his set ends. I think Jimin invited Jungkook.” He trained his gentle brown eyes on her face, surveying her schooled features intently.

“Huh–that’s nice.” Y/n was glad Jungkook would be able to join in on her celebration, however she couldn’t deny how bad she felt that Yoongi would be the only one left out of their merriment. Maybe it was for the better, she rationalized to herself, otherwise they’d have to pretend not to know everything going on with each other already for the sake of keeping their meetups secret.

“I…” Jin trailed off, and drifted his eyes to the treetops. “I was thinking of inviting Yoongi if you’d be alright with that.”

Y/n snapped her neck to look at the side of his face, and she had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping downwards. “R-really?!” Real smooth Y/n, she internally scolded herself for her poorly concealed reaction.

“Yeah. He already misses out on everything else with his job, and I know you probably miss him too.” He circled his attention back to the path in front of them, now actively avoiding her gaze. “We had a good time all together in town anyways.”

Y/n smirked, and returned the gesture of a shoulder bump back to him. “Especially the carriage tour. I think we should do another one–get everyone on it.”

“Well I was trying to be nice.” Jin sputtered, his eyebrows raised to serve her a pointed look. “I can rescind my offer–it’s my head on the chopping block after all.”

Y/n’s laugh was abruptly cut short, not having expected Jin to outwardly reference her mother’s rules infront of her. He seemed to realize his mistake, his ears and cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

“Jin-”

“I grabbed a good selection of games, you can choose the first one.”

Any further questioning had been effectively shut down for the rest of their walk. Jin had retreated back in on himself like he had taken to doing often since her return, and just like she had learned to do, she didn’t pry any further.

They arrived at the yellow guest house, treading over the freshly mowed grass and tapping the entry code into the keypad front door. The guest house wasn’t small by any means, but it wasn’t nearly as vast in size as the main estate. It had four bedrooms, one on the first floor and three on the second, a fully functional kitchen,dining room, family room and a screened-in sunroom that acted as a playroom for most of its life that faced the distant lake. They had spent time here as children during the summer, camping out in the spacious grassy area that separated the house from the lake and sitting around the stone firepit with faces sticky from s’mores, telling each other scary stories: some fake and some true.

This was the house that a family that didn’t live on the property would stay in if the main house's rooms were full, especially her cousins. Her aunt had even lived here full time for a couple year’s with her wife before they had been married when she was finishing up her Phd–then the two of them moved to Finland in search of colder summers.

Jin held the door open for her to shuffle in after him, leaving the main door open to let in the fresh air but latching the storm door shut in its place. She followed behind him, letting her eyes take in the obviously still lived in home–chairs left pulled out and fresh flowers in a vase on the table.

“Who stays here now?” She inquired, almost missing the half step down into the sun room.

Jin’s hand shot out to hold her upper arm to keep her from stumbling forward. “Taehyung’s family likes to stay here when they come to visit him. It’s easier on his uncle to have their own space.”

Y/n scrunched her face, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Is his uncle alright?”

“He is.” Jin dropped the games onto the glass top of a wicker table. “He just needs quiet.”

Y/n could tell from his closed off tone that there was more to the story, but didn’t feel like gossiping about Taehyung’s family would be what Jin considered respectful. Instead she meandered over to the white and yellow floral patterned cushions of the outdoor sofa behind the table and plopped onto the one half. Y/n sorted through the selection with pursed lips, her eyes lighting up at the rainbow colored box of Hues and Cues, holding it up for him to see from where he made himself comfortable on the floor.

“This one for sure.”

Jin scrunched his nose in protest, but relented to her choice. “Why do you always choose violence?”

“Because it’s my specialty.” Y/n stated victoriously, and popped the lid off to start setting up the board in front of them.

From out front, Y/n heard a rhythmic ticking sound, followed by the muted thud of something metallic falling onto the grass and the unlatching of the storm door.

“Honey, I’m home~” Hoseok sang from the front door, traipsing around the corner slightly winded, and his hair tousled by wind swept up and out of his eyes.

“Did you run here?” Jin reproved, leaning back on both of his hands to give him a judging stare.

“No, you know I don’t run silly.” Hoseok plucked the empty lid from the table as he sidled by Y/n to sit on the couch next to her, and bonked Jin on the crown of his head with it. “I biked.” He enunciated, and settled back against the cushion, his arm draping across the back of the couch and turning to greet Y/n with a radiant smile.

“Afternoon, m’lady.” He tipped his head in her direction, completely ignoring Jin’s complaints.

The three of them played multiple rounds of the game, and even managed to play a few others in the bag before Y/n had noticed how much time had passed. The sound of her phone ringing pulling her from the nail biting final Skip Bo stand off between Hoseok and Jin for second place. Y/n answered it without looking, her eyes following the speed that Hoseok’s nimble fingers flipped his cards onto the table.

“Where are you?” Jungkook’s voice demanded from the other side of the line, and Y/n frantically turned down the volume to prevent her seatmates from overhearing who she was talking to.

“Hey sorry Joon, I’m at the guest house playing a few games and lost track of time. Can you snag me some dinner?” Y/n kept her voice light, and she could almost hear Jungkook’s gears turning in his head at her quick cover up. She saw Jin’s wandering eyes return back to the game, having bought her lie.

Jungkook got the hint and lowered his speaking volume. “When will you be back? It’s past nine.”

“Soon. We are just finishing up this round and then we will be on our way. You have them put my plate in the fridge–let them get home–I can heat it up myself. Will we still have time to go over those landscaping plans though?”

Jungkooks breath barraged her eardrums from where he breathed out a sigh directly into the microphone. “No. It will be almost ten by the time you eat and make it upstairs. Too risky. ”

Y/n deflated, her lower lip sticking out in a small pout. “No sweat.” Full sweat, she internally moaned. “We can go over them Sunday or just do it on Monday.”

“Text the groupchat when you get back to your room. Remember our deal.” With that, Jungkook ended the line with such an ominous closing statement she had to laugh. He had never been one to talk on the phone, and his blunt nature left for interesting and vaguely threatening sounding interactions that she had grown to find endearing.

“Everything alright?” Hoseok didn’t bother looking up from his cards when he spoke, lurching forward to add one of them to a pile at the center of the table.

Y/n blew air from her cheeks, and dropped back next to him. “Yeah. Namjoon and I were going to go over a few things we couldn’t get to today and I just lost track of time. It’s fine though, I can work through them another night.” Y/n was trying to convince herself that there was no reason to be disappointed, Sunday was right around the corner for them to continue furthering their exploration of the Paralrealm.

One step at a time, she self soothed, jumping out of her skin as Jin jumped up with a victorious shout.

_________________________________________

Saturday had been uneventful, with most of them keeping to themselves in perperation for what they all intended to be a long night. The clock was ticking, and evening was closing in on them. Y/n found herself jittery with the excitement of getting to spend time with everyone in one place that wasn’t restricted to the confines of a tense dinner under the watchful eye of her mother.

She had taken extra care to make herself look presentable–trying a new hairstyle she had found online and dolling herself up in the mirror just enough to enhance her features without overdoing it (solely for the reason of having to take it all off before bed, and if she ended up having a few drinks she wanted to keep the barriers from her and a good night’s sleep to a minimum). Her phone chimed from her bedroom, and she stumbled out of her bathroom to grab for it, noting the time and taking blind steps to her closet to slip on the burgundy dress Jimin had brought up for her over her head, and roughly zipping it up before letting herself get distracted by the endless buzz of notifications.

[Y/n has been added to a new group chat with 7 other participants]

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]:Yooo

[Jimin 🤗 ✨] Just wanted to make sure everyone was on time. I have a reservation already booked, but we have to all be there at the same time to be seated. Busy night. Where do we want to designate as our meet up spot?

[Joon 🌱]: Lobby??

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]: Lobby is packed like a can of sardines lololol

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]: There’s also a Ballet group down in the theater tonight

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]: Whatta bout out front?

[Jimin 🤗 ✨]: That works. See everyone there~

[Jungkook]:👍

[Joon 🌱]: Out front??

[Joon 🌱]: Oh–nvm I just caught up.

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]: LMAOOO NAMJOON

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]: I thougt you were one of the smart ones?

[Joon 🌱]: *thought

[Jimin 🤗 ✨]: *thought*

[Hoseok ❌💍❌]: stfu. All of yu

[Jimin 🤗 ✨]: *you*

[Joon 🌱]: *you

[Jin 🛎️] *you

[Jungkook]: 👍

[Jungkook]: 👍You👍

Y/n audibly laughed at their teasing, clicking off her phone and shoving it and one of her flashlights into a small over the shoulder bag and stepping into one of her nicest pairs of shoes she owned that were still comfortable to move freely in–she doubted with the group she was going with that she would be seated for more than half of the night.

There was one last buzz from her phone, and Y/n stopped with one hand on the door to pull out her phone to check the latest development.

[Zoltar]: I won’t be joining tonight. I hope you all have a fun night–congrats on your first official week as part of the team Y/n.

It was difficult to deny the disappointment that brewed within and pulled a frown down on her features. She had truly hoped he would’ve been able to join them for their first outing all together since she had returned, but she couldn’t be picky–she knew he was probably trying to play it safe.

By the time she arrived at the propped open front door, Jimin and Jungkook were loitering about the path and participating in a playful back and forth about Jungkook’s picky eating habits. Both of them looked stunning to say the least–and she thanked whatever god was out there that she had decided to put extra effort into her appearance for once–otherwise she might have had to turn around to avoid being seen next to them.

Jimin leaned up against the stair banister in a crisp royal blue button down with black slacks that cut off above a pair of shiny shoes, and his hair now streaked with a rich brown from the fading blonde dye pushed back and away from his face. His hands, neck, and wrists were glittering with simple silver pieces that added an extra level of sophistication to his outfit. The weird behavior he had displayed was nowhere in sight, just her normal sweet and cheerful Jimin waiting below.

Jungkook went for a pair of black dress boots, black pants and a cotton black button down that complimented his wide shoulders extremely well; so well that Y/n had to replay the reminder of them all being her best friends like a mantra in her own head to keep her thoughts from wandering off into territory they shouldn’t. Not because there had necessarily been rules set about them being romantically involved with each other or anything–they weren’t related by any means. It is just how the relationship has always been. Friends. And it didn’t make sense to blur those boundaries now.

Just friends, Y/n sustained the thought when she caught her eyes drifting from Jungkook’s wide grin to the couple of buttons he had left undone (he hated thing’s feeling tight around his neck) and the small patch of skin it left exposed to her vision, or the way Jimin’s mouth stretched into a dazzling smile during his next jesting comeback to Jungkook that made her stomach summersault within her abdomen. Friends. Just enamored in a friend way.

A sharp suggestive whistle cut through the air from behind her, and she spun to find Hoseok skipping down the stairs to her side.

“If I would’ve known you were going to dress up like that I would’ve tried to find something nicer.” He laughed, and gestured down to his equally exquisite attire that had Y/n vehemently detesting his statement with a shake of her head. A red botanical printed short sleeve button down left half unbuttoned to display a black shirt and long necklace dangling from his neck. His pants were black, but in the shine of the lights from the chandelier above them she could see embroidered patterns dancing across the surface of the fabric.

“That must be a joke because you look better than I ever could.” Y/n gaped, a hand impulsively reaching out to poke into one of his pants pockets to inspect the design on it. “This fabric is gorgeous–is this custom?”

Y/n looked back up at his eyes, only to find him staring down at where her hand gripped at his pants pocket with a smirk and a low chuckle.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, damn.”

Y/n blanched at his obvious teasing and quickly removed her hand from his pocket. This only spurred his laughter on even further, and he threw an arm over her shoulders to steer the both of them through the door and down the steps to join the other two at the bottom.

Jimin instinctively stood a bit straighter at their arrival, his eyes glazing over where Y/n and Hoseok were pressed together and followed the path the arm he had over shoulder to where his hand fell off her arm. Jungkook’s giggles died down for a few moments, but his smile remained, albeit smaller than before but still genuine.

“Breathtaking as always.” Jimin reached both hands forward to squish her cheeks together in good fun, and Y/n swatted at his hands. “Right Kook?”

Jungkook choked under Jimin’s instigating stare, and nodded with flushed cheeks. “Y-yeah.”

“Ah how we’ve all grown~” Jimin lilted to the slowly accumulating group with a sigh.

Hoseok clicked his tongue and jerked his head to the side, his expression taking on a forced look of sympathy. “All of us except you–still as tall as you were ten years ago.”

“Careful with yourself tonight sunshine, don’t want your reserved seat to mysteriously vanish. ” Jimin refuted, his lower eyelid twitching.

“Are you already pestering everyone?” Jin reprimanded from the doorway, adjusting the sleeves of his ornately embossed burnt orange dress shirt that was tucked neatly into a pair of pressed dress pants, and fixed Hoseok with a critical eye.

“Yes.” Jimin and Y/n answered at the same time, making Hoseok bring a hand up to his chest in mock offense and took a step back from the two of them.

Hoseok shook his head in disbelief. “After all the places I’ve driven you to.”

“I have a car. You took me to a doctor's appointment one time.” Jimin dead panned.

Hoseok pointed a delicate finger at him, “And you still remember it–that means it was memorable.”

“It was memorable because I was going for a surgery.” Jimin rolled his eyes, stopping them on where Namjoon pulled their attention with the loud clamber of the door shutting behind himself upon his exit from the estate. He was in a soft black turtleneck that hugged every inch of his torso and matching jacket decorated with green foliage, and a pair of matching slacks.

Had all of her friends always been this hot? Y/n swallowed down a nervous lump in her throat.

“Are we all ready to go” Namjoon cleared his throat, and gestured down the path for them to make their way towards the hotel.

“Try and stick together when we get in.” Jimin’s honeyed tone rose above the distant vibrations of the bustling crowd infesting the hotel grounds and courtyard. To make his point he held his arm out for Y/n to take, and she gratefully did so. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was bu-”

“Like a can of sardines.” Hoseok chirped to Y/n’s left where he snaked his own arm through her other one.

Jimin billowed out a peeved sigh. “Yes–like a can of sardines.”

However annoyingly persistent he had been, Hoseok was right: The lobby was shoulder to shoulder, with guests lining up for both the Adelaide, the cafe, and to make their way to the hall that led down towards the theater. Jimin had gone from holding her arm to holding her hand, tugging her forwards after him to keep her from slipping into the sea of people. About halfway through the lobby, they had shoved Namjoon up front since he was the tallest and widest of them to part the crowd, the rest of them filing after him like school children in a line with their hands on the person in front of them. Jungkook had wedged his way behind her to take Hoseok’s spot, and kept one of his hands curled tenderly around her forearm, while her hand gripped onto the back of Jimin’s shirt.

They managed to squeeze their group past the line of patrons and into the reservation line, the wait staff taking little time to get their oversized group out of the way and seated to make room for the rest of the crowd.

The center tables of the Adelaide had been cleared to make room for a dancefloor, and all the tables had been set and prepared for the surge of guests with the approaching end of spring. Y/n noted they had added an extension from the stage out towards the dancing area that ran right alongside the back of their booth. They shuffled into their seats, Jimin and Hoseok securing the seats next to her much to Jungkook’s disappointment, but Y/n had to send him a secret shrug and tried to remind him they weren’t supposed to be super close while with the others with the tap of a finger to her lips.

“Shit!” Hoseok exclaimed with a groan, “They have the Medina’s Empanadas back on the appetizer menu–we are going to have to get at least three orders of those because I can eat an entire order myself.”

“Language!” Jin smacked Hoseok’s hand with the back of his menu. “We are in a public space!”

Y/n and Hoseok exchanged knowing glances and stifled their giggles behind their hunched shoulders.

Namjoon gasped from the other end of the table, his eyes widening at something on the menu. “The opera house special!”

Hoseok scrunched his nose in distaste. “Isn’t that just cheese?”

“Absolutely not.” Namjoon made a noise in the back of his throat. “It’s a multi-course extravaganza!” He brought a hand up to tick off his list on his fingers. “Imported fruits and cheeses with a hand selected wine, a rotating entree made with locally sourced ingredients, and a french dessert. This is an event specialty.” His eyes glowed with excitement and he trailed off behind his menu, “They even have brillat savarin included with it again…”

They compiled their long list of appetizers and Namjoon’s Opera House special, and relayed it to the poor waiter tasked with their monstrous order. They watched him scamper away back into the kitchen, and Jin raised his eyebrows up into his hairline with a coy shake of his head.

“I don’t think the kitchen will have anything left by the time we leave tonight. Our paychecks might be garnished for the damage we are about to rain down on this establishment.”

“They can handle it.” Y/n laughed, and brought her lavender lemonade to her lips to sip at while she skimmed the rest of the drink menu. Her eyes caught on a new cocktail added to their limited edition specials list: A lemonade based drink cheesily coined the ‘Adelaide’, with strawberry rum and grenadine. When the waiter stopped by to deliver the next round of drinks she was sure to ask for one of her own.

Once they all had a drink of some sort in their hands, Namjoon raised his glass of wine into the air with a gracious smile. “To Y/n’s first week. May her time here be long, prosperous, and impactful beyond words.”

A chorus of cheers followed, and tears pricked at her waterline at what to anyone else would seem like a simple friendly gesture, but between those that knew her true intentions, they meant the world to her. She couldn’t be more grateful for them at that moment, and Yoongi’s absence suddenly felt more glaring than ever.

They didn’t have time to exchange much more banter, for the lights dimmed and the music faded into quiet. There was not a single seat left vacant, and there was already an older couple swaying on the open floor to what had been playing over the speakers. The heavy red curtains shuttered, and without any prerequisites, a lively drumbeat kicked up from behind their velvet confines. The curtains dropped dramatically with a brandish of roaring brass, bringing in the full band and an extravagantly dressed Taehyung, standing proud and oozing with confidence and charisma.

The intro didn’t give him much time to spare, and he immediately jumped into the quick cadence. He absolutely took over the stage, floating down the catwalk with his microphone stand with trotting feet that slid in time with the beat, crossing over one another and back again. He must’ve been holding back on his dancing the first night, for he was ostensibly better than she had remembered, and this must’ve been what it looked like when he pulled out all the stops. His body was unable to stop using its own language to accompany the sounds coming from his mouth and the instruments that surrounded him as he flew from place to place.

When he dropped to his knees just behind their table, Y/n observed that the black lacy shirt he had under his sparkling jacket was completely see-through. And so her never ending torment of the night began–for he reached a hand out to graze her jaw that mimed the slow drag of the sultry adlibs he crooned from his throat and her ability to breath was ripped out from her with it. It was impossible to keep herself together when he was so close, and touching her so gently while his shirt left little to the imagination. Oh good lord have mercy, Y/n beseeched to the heavens, and embarrassment flooded her system. Her face was hot as burning coals, and as per usual that appeared to fill him with never ending joy, giving him an extra pep in his step as he leapt to his feet to skip back to the center stage and finish out the song.

Her hands came up to cover the sides of her face from Jimin’s snickering, and she couldn’t bear to look at any of her friends in fear of the onslaught of teasing she was bound to receive. The only person she had glimpsed while turning back to the table to take a sip of her drink was Hoseok–who looked less than pleased before realizing he was being watched–wiping the scowl from his face and gifting her a gleaming grin.

Taehyung was halfway through his set when Jimin rose from his seat and held out a hand for her to take, gesturing with his head back to the dance floor. “Let’s celebrate.”

He tugged her out of her seat and onto the dancefloor, twirling her about in an exuberant gesture and leading her in a dance that was much faster than anything else her and Hoseok had been working on. She lingered on the dance floor for one song after the other, eventually trading off with Jin and Namjoon for a song or two. After Taehyung’s set ended and they switched back to playing lively music over the speakers so people could continue dancing, he joined in on the merriment, and swept her away from the rest of them for a few songs. With his energy around, he somehow managed to drag Jungkook on the dance floor for one song with them much to Y/n’s surprise.

The only ones who hadn’t joined in on the festivities was Hoseok who sat with a recuperating Jungkook, the former engrossed in a conversation with the latter, his finger gliding around the rim of his glass and his head propped on his chin. On occasion when she was being spun around with reckless abandon by Jin or led in an elegant swing by Jimin, she would spot him sending forlorn looks her way. After the fourth time, she gestured for him to join with a wave of her hand, but he just gave her a tightlipped smile and mouth an ‘I’ll pass”.

Y/n didn’t have any time to dwell on his reaction for she was whisked away by Jin and galavanted around the floor in a hopping step. Her feet were beginning to ache, so she resigned to her seat for a break and to enjoy her next ‘Adelaide’ cocktail that she had left on the table, and possibly her final one–for she had lost count of what she had that night and knew it wouldn’t be wise to continue on. She had always been a bit of a light weight, and while these weren’t very alcohol heavy and had been spread out across a few hours between being buffered with copious amounts of food, she was still lingering on borderline drunk.

It was only her and Hoseok at the table, Jungkook having excused himself to the bathroom for the time being, and the others were still tearing up the dancefloor much like they used to do as children–uncoordinated and carefree–and Taehyung seemed to fit right into the environment like he belonged there.

“Are you having a good time?” Y/n asked, regarding Hoseok from over her shoulder with tired droopy eyes.

He brought his fruity drink to his lips and took a small sip, letting the flavor develop in his mouth before speaking. “Of course, it’s a hoot and a half in here.”

Y/n turned in her chair to face him head on, her knees brushing against his thigh and her head lolling back against her seat. “Promise?”

Hoseok swirled his drink absentmindedly, training his eyes on the sloshing liquid to watch how it gleamed in the changing lights, and lifted his eyes to the ceiling while he took a second sip. His next words were mumbled into the edge of his glass and he took one hand to pat at her knee gently.

“Promise.”

Y/n frowned, and got up from her seat to head towards the back of the stage area to the greenroom, excusing herself to the private bathroom. The alcohol in her system made her thoughts flighty, turning over and out as quick as they came. By the time she made it outside the greenroom she had forgotten what she was even frowning about. Something about Hoseok?

She ambled clumsily over to the bathroom to lean up against the wall by the door for Jungkook to finish up. Y/n closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall, taking a deep inhale through her nose and letting it linger in her lungs before releasing it out of her mouth. The music was softer but could be heard clearly over the small speaker in the upper corner, and she thoughtlessly found herself humming along to the melody. A cool breeze seemed to surround her entire being, and fleetingly she felt like she was falling, but her feet remained firmly on the ground beneath her.

“Oh my! Don’t you look hotsy-totsy~” A woman trilled from within the room, making Y/n’s eyes blink open with more difficulty than it should have.

A head of dark hair, short and swirled against her temples sat perched on one of the make up chairs. Her lips painted ruby red, a stark contrast to the cream colored, short and sparkly dress she wore. She laughed, a high pitched twinkle, and the feather in her hair blowing in the breeze of her movements.

“Did I spook you?” She quizzed, her grin stretching and making her cheeks plump and rosy. “I must apologize as that wasn’t my intention. It’s not everyday we get new ladies in here–especially not ones so…” She let her eyes do a slow once over of her figure. “...pretty.” She brought a hand up to stifle a giggle. “They usually get those downstairs.”

Y/n stiffened, her outfit was outdated by over a century, and there had been no one in the greenroom when she had entered–not that she could see anyways.

“The name’s Bea.” The woman stood far shorter than Y/n, and took graceful strides towards where she stood, stopping a few feet away and holding out a gloved hand. “The bee’s knees of the Adelaide. Though the new egg is quite the snazzy showman if you ask me.”

A beat of silence passed between them, and the woman nodded her chin and reanimated her face like she was starting over, a cloddish chuckle tumbling from her lips. “This is usually where we would shake hands.”

Y/n robotically held her hand up for the woman to take, and Bea did so easily as if she was alive and well–just cold, and left a lingering tingle along her palm.

“Now that’s better.” Bea winked at Y/n, and sank her teeth into her bottom lip with a tilt of her head. “Now what’s a doll like yourself doing back here? You’re not who that psychopomp is after, are you? Not that you would necessarily see me complaining about your company around here…You’d be quite easy to carry a torch for.” One dainty gloved hand reached out to run a couple fingers along the side of Y/n’s cheek,

“Psychopomp…?” The end of Y/n's voice turned up an octave at the end, and the woman retracted her touch with a tilt of her head. The music from the hall grew more distant, and warbly. Like the the RPM had been put on a setting far too low for the song.

“And how! The lad in the room over. Sends a lot of us into a tizzy, but he doesn’t scare me.” Bea took a step back to examine Y/n again. “No…You look too lively to be next.” She leant into Y/n’s ear, pressing her hands onto shoulder’s to reach. “But as for someone else near you, the smell of death is quite strong–someone at your table perhaps? I’d know your onions if I were you.”

Y/n’s mouth went dry, and felt full of cotton, and her ears rang. Her shoulders, face, and hand tingled with the aftershocks of her touch and she couldn’t bring it to herself to move just yet. Y/n’s eyes tracked Bea where she sauntered to the door, pulling it open and giving Y/n one last final look.

“Anyhow, I’m up next. Don’t want the big man to get hot under his collar if I’m late again.” Bea wiggled her fingers seductively in Y/n’s direction, and disappeared out into the hall. “Break a leg~”

_________________________________________

Y/n barely registered Jungkook’s worried face blurring into her vision, the snapping of his fingers in front of her eyes bringing her back down from whatever stupor she had found herself in. Jungkook looked taller than she had ever seen him–had he somehow managed to grow a few feet while he was in the bathroom?

No, Y/n blinked a few more times, and the sensation of the cold floor beneath her bare thighs and her hands pressing into the floor made themselves clear to her. She must have fallen down, she surmised, and gratefully took Jungkook’s offered hands to stand back up. Jungkook’s mouth was moving, but the sound was muddied, coming in and out of focus as if she was twisting the end of a spyglass.

“What?” She croaked out, her voice feeling unnatural as it left her mouth.

“I asked you how much you had had to drink.” Jungkook retorted, his hand supporting most of her weight up against the wall.

“I came here to go to the bathroom…” Y/n started, surveying the room she was in through a daze.

Jungkook’s eyes raked over her face, a scowl blooming on his features. “I figured. But ‘s not what I asked.”

“I need to pee.”

Jungkook huffed, and released her to go do what she needed to.

“Will you stay out there? I don’t want her to come back.” Y/n slurred, plopping herself down on the toilet haphazardly, feeling much more out of it than she had before…before…something.

“Who?” Jungkook asked through the door, he fought to keep his tone flat instead of his usual blunt demand.

“Bumble bee.” Y/n mumbled. “Egg.” Y/n tried again the single word echoing off the bathroom walls and reverberating back to her in a mocking torrent. She stood up to flush the toilet and waddle over to wash her hands.

“No, that can’t be right…” She muttered to herself, turning off the spigot and drying her hands to her left. The harder she fought to think, the buds of an impending headache ebbed at the edges of her skull, fighting their way through for dominance over all else. Think, Y/n. She tried harder to remember but came up with nothing.

She bumped open the door to find his stoic face fashioned with worry, his hands held out in front of him to ask for permission to help her.

“Something isn’t right.” Y/n whines, a hand coming up to massage at her aching temples.

“I can tell. You’re drunk.” He noted plainly, carefully handling her elbow in an attempt to guide her back into the main area.

“No!” Y/n denied, shaking her head. “Well yes–a little. But no–I was fine when I first came in here. Then something…” Y/n smacked her palm to her forehead. “God why can’t I remember?!”

“Take it easy.” He scolded, propping the door open with his foot and herding her out into the narrow hall.

“No. It was spooky, Kook.”

He tightened his hold ever so slightly on her elbows. “A ghost?”

“I think so.” Y/n lamented, a groan peeling from her lips. “I can’t remember anything–why can’t I remember?”

Jungkook twitched his nose, his guard up and his face indiscernible. “Let’s just get you to bed.”

“It was important!” She hissed, wrenching herself from his grasp and stumbling into the stone wall of the hall. “Trust me, please.”

His lip twitched, and he fought to keep his face void of his thoughts. He didn’t answer, but he stopped fighting her on it so it was a win in her book. He just held his hands up as a precaution in case she fell again, while she inched against the wall towards the tables. With each step, she felt more and more of her control returning to her, like clouds were dispersing from her brain so she could see clearly again. Like-

She gasped, startling Jungkook behind her into thinking she was falling, instead she whirled on him with as much seriousness as she could muster. “I was in there!”

“In where?” He pleaded, his placid demeanor cracking to show his growing agitation.

“In the paralelo-” Y/n couldn’t control her own tongue and tried again with a huff. “The parallelogram.”

“The Paralrealm?” He furrowed his brow at her in disbelief.

“Yes! That!” She pointed at him in victory, their crawling pace having them nearly arrive at the door.

“How–”

“The woman.” Y/n stated matter-of-factly. And grabbed for the door handle to pull it open but Jungkook’s hand shot out to stop her before she could.

“You can’t just say that and then go back out there.” His dark eyes were disapproving. “Trust, remember?”

Y/n blinked up at him lazily, and moved her head in a ‘duh’ motion. “I know–that’s why I’m going to find Yoongi to tell him about it, and then go to bed.”

Pushing past him and out into the clambering energy of he Adelaide, she was almost blasted backwards by the warm air and the sheer smell of food and alcohol from within. The lights blurred in her vision, moving too fast for her to process and it hurt her eyes, so she held one arm up to block the streaks of color from tormenting her retinas. The music had been switched from the older classics to music with a more modern touch, letting Y/n know that it was past midnight and time for a younger crowd to enjoy the dancefloor.

She floundered over to their table where Taehyung, and Hoseok sat in an uncomfortable silence. Their faces lifting from where they hade been bent over their phones and brightening at her arrival. Though Taehyung’s quickly fell into one of unease.

“How much have you had to drink?” He asked gently, his eyes quivering over her face and unsteady legs.

“Barely anything.” She dismissed, and continued on past their table towards the door. “I’m going home–I’m tired.”

Was she mad as well? Scared? She couldn’t remember.

Hoseok and Taehyung both rose from their seats, offers to walk her back spilling from their mouths but shut down immediately as Jungkook trudged past them and to her side.

“I got it. I haven’t had anything to drink anyways.”

Ahh yes, she had been mad, she glowered up at the root of it taking a hold of her shoulders and steering her to the door.

“Tell everyone I said goodnight and that I love them!” Y/n called back over her shoulder, blowing them a clumsy kiss as she did so.

Taehyung guffawed at the scene, and jumped up to catch the flying kiss in his hand and hold it to his heart with a wide boxy grin and a wink. “Will do!”

Leaving the Adelaide was a much easier task than arriving, with the crowds now dispersed and freeing up the lobby and courtyard for easier travel. Y/n pouted the whole way back, her mind a jumbled mess on what was going on inside and outside of it. She barely even registered that they had made it back to the estate, until her subconscious started ringing alarm bells.

“Wait! She’ll see–the cameras.” Y/n grabbed onto Jungkook’s arm to stop him from opening the door, but he was much stronger than her, and easily removed her hands to continue his ministrations.

“I don’t care.” He laid any other protests to rest, and pulled them both inside the foyer to begin the trek up the stairs with her.

They made it to her room, and he sat her down on her bed while he dug through her closet in search of one of her trusted old t-shirts and sleep shorts. “Go wash your face. You told us all to remind you after your second drink, so don’t yell at me.”

Y/n listened to his commands, albeit with a silent mock of his words as she went, and completed the tedious task of scrubbing her face and settling her hair to its natural state. Jungkook hovered outside the open bathroom door awkwardly, holding her clothes in his hands and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Y/n turned off the faucet and let the water drip down her face back into the sink. She was distracted now, her eyes taking in his fidgeting stance and blank yet somehow still expressive rounded eyes, and the way he watched to make sure she didn’t buckle under herself again. The bundle of clothes in his hand a tangible show of his care towards her.

This moment encapsulated their friendship perfectly. Reserved, blunt, neat, with an attitude like a geode that just needs a little extra prodding to open up versus herself: loud, playful, messy, hard-headed and an open book. A whirlwind of traits that shouldn’t be as compatible as they were, yet here they still were.

There it was again.

That stupid feeling that she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him how he felt about yet.

Only this time, alcohol and the scrambled mess whatever had happened in the bathroom combined to remove nearly all of her inhibitions. Meaning, she wasn’t all in her right mind enough to stop the petals of adoration from spilling from her mouth and onto the floor.

“I love you.”

_________________________________________

Next Chapter

Lullaby Translation:

Sleep, little child, sleep

The father tends the sheep,

The mother shakes the little tree,

At that, a little dream falls here

Sleep, little child, sleep

taglist: @rkive-joonie @kokoandkookie

25 notes · View notes

9w1ft · 20 days ago

Text

Happy Eye Day

to celebrate 6 years of the eye theory, i reached out to you all for questions! thank you all for sending them. i picked out 9 to answer. this was a lot of fun!!

if you have any favorite eye theory memories or your own answers to these questions, feel free to add them on!

(if you’re new to the eye theory, tap here!)

👁️ Where were you—physically and emotionally—when you first began piecing together the elements that would become the eye theory?

I remember it was early spring 2019.. rep tour had ended that past november, taylor had reportedly bought that lotto ticket in ireland, TheSwiftLife app had closed on february 1st, and we had just started getting inklings that a new era was upon us as taylor had begun shifting her instagram aesthetic from reputations’ deep monochrome palette to one of pastels and dreamscapes. i had been coming off of a true puzzler high. i was super super into the taymojis as some of you remember, specifically how the main app account had been distributing them via their page throughout the previous year, and trying to draw connections between that activity and general kaylor activity. all of this to say, that chapter of my kaylor journey had closed and i was eagerly awaiting the next. one day in march, i think, @swift-79 approached me via dm’s with the idea which became the eye theory: that the right side eye that appears on the rep tour poster photo, a shattered version of which appears on the skin of the CD, which was packaged with the rep album promo magazines, was in fact a photo of karlie’s eye. perhaps, even, partially her face. her realization, which she came across and pieced together with her coworker, came after taking a photocopy of the CD skin and cutting out the different shards of the photo to try and piece them together to see if they created a full image. what they noticed in doing so, was that the resulting image seemed to focus a lot on the right side eye, and, when hanging the image up on a wall, up against the full photo, they suddenly noticed how much that side of the photo was reminiscent of karlie’s face. she came to me and asked my opinion, and i began the process of evaluating this over the next few weeks, with my ultimate goal being to see if i could find the seminal photo of karlie that it might have been based on.

👁️ How long did you sit with the idea before deciding to share it publicly? Was it a quick impulse or a slow build? What was the first image, lyric, or moment that made you go, “Wait… something’s going on here”?

one thing i had been struggling with is that while a lot of photos looked similar, there were certain structural differences between taylor and karlie’s faces, mainly, their brows. over the years i’ve absorbed this knowledge: that you never want to upkeep your brows in a way that makes them look symmetrical. rather, they should look like cousins. in the case of taylor and karlie, their more arched eyebrow exists on opposite sides. so while the shape of karlie’s eye itself often matched up super well with taylor’s, the brow placement never really worked. and so while i really could have put together an initial theory post sooner, i was adamant on getting it as right as possible because i knew the first impression among readers would make all the difference.

i remember it was while i was looking for exact photos, i had been pouring through karlie’s work and came upon a piece of estée lauder promo on youtube, where karlie was showing how to apply a serum on your face (the eye area) using your hands. she had placed her hands over her face in a similar fashion to that of the rep tour poster photo, and i at once paused the video, took a screenshot, and tried to match it up with the poster photo. and due to the angle of the face, i flipped the photo of karlie and realized how well it now matched. it was kind of a… jaw dropping moment for me. and i continued on to find a handful of examples where a flipped photo of karlie’s eye really made a great match with the right side of the rep photo. to swift-79’s true credit, she pushed me along with writing the op and got the post timing right. i might have waited longer but she was correct in thinking that we ought to post the theory before taylor truly began rolling out ts7 and the opening in the conversation went away. so we posted on April 18 (i think?) some time after midnight my time.

👁️ What kind of response or engagement were you expecting when you hit “post” on the first eye theory entry? Did reality match that expectation?

i really didn’t think it would take off the way that it did. oh my god. like, i did have faith in the theory, quite a bit, but at the time ts7 theories were all that was on everyone’s mind at the time, counting palm trees, cushion buttons, stairs, holes in fences, etc… so putting out an abstract post rooted in rep era and rooted in kaylor felt like it wouldn’t capture the attention of tumblr. boyyyy was i wrong! perhaps, as people were more open to clowning (as rollouts often allow for), people were more open to something like the eye theory. or maybe, it’s just that it’s that good. that’s what i happen to think. that if you notice it and recognize the essence of karlie’s face in the right side of the photo and it clicks? there’s simply no turning back. it’s the most giddy feeling i think ive ever felt. the moment that i couldn’t unsee it. i think this was true of a lot of people.

👁️ When was the first time that Taylor or Karlie did something that seemed to be in response to, or recognition of, the eye theory? What happened and how did you feel?

It certainly was a thrill for taylor to go on and release the ME! music video only an handful of days later, by putting her hands onto her face not unlike the rep photo, and then for the opening shot of the music video including a snake with a blue eye to the left and a blind looking eye to the right. that morning i was at the bus station sharing pleasantries with my neighbors, one earbud in my ear and another on the conversation, and eye on my phone, when i noticed it all. i had to excuse myself and walk to work instead because i was quite literally having a nervous breakdown 😆😆 oh and of course weeks later taylor goes on to share the lover album art on instagram live with a HEART OVER HER EYE. with karlie, i distinctly remember the first time she took to instagram with a post of her showing off her makeup, when she zoomed in on her eye.. oh man. to this day, it TRULY never gets old. the mischievousness is contagious. felt like the universe winking at me.

👁️ Were there any posts, interviews, or moments happening in the fandom or in the world of pop culture at that time that felt like they were directly feeding into what you were observing?

in general, the culture of the time was high theorizing over ts7. taylor was still on tumblr and we all were too, and it definitely affected the mood around theories. everyone had an appetite for it! maybe that’s what helped it along in the beginning and in the early days. i think that in principle, evil eyes as a motif are something that weave in and out of the cultural zeitgeist in waves, so it’s a little bit hard to fully say oh, everything in the taylor swift expanded universe suddenly included eyes because we pointed out the eye theory. but i did sense a certain amount of pop culture connection. over the next few weeks people in taylor’s circle most definitely covered eyes in their social media posts and for what it’s worth, i firmly believe it wasn’t all simply coincidental. especially if you believe taylor was going somewhere with her best laid plans in lover era. i think it’s plenty possible that people who were in on celebrating her journey and may have been in the know about this may have helped out or found it funny or celebratory.

but anyways this was the beginning of 6 glorious years of learning just how ubiquitous evil eye motifs and eye covering poses etcetera really are in our culture. both in looking back at past stuff taylor and karlie had done or was involved in and thinking about what did or didn’t “count”.. but also, as eye symbols exist in our everyday world. it brought so much joy into my life, to turn a corner and see a poster on the side of a building with the corner ripped off, leaving a cartoon of a dog missing half their face, etcetera. it was everywhere and it was too too funny. a lot of mutuals and close followers remember what that was like, i think, the little inside jokes that came from that setup.

👁️ Did you talk to anyone else about the theory before you posted it? Was there anyone who validated or challenged it early on?

aside from the the idea originators, i do think i ran it by some of my mutuals at the time for opinions. in particular i was excited to share with @theprologues because during rep era we had both been following evil eyes as a symbol in general. the swarovski bracelet, taylor’s eye ring, karlie’s 2016 evil eye nails or her jacquie aiche custom eye patch jacket, etcetera. once i posted the original post, i had so many enjoyable conversations with many bloggers of the time, some that are still here, some that have sadly moved on from tumblr. i did get challenged by some, i have some funny stories actually, but overall i was on cloud nine and there was nothing that could bring me down from it. the weeks i had spent looking into it beforehand truly did pay off in that regard, i think. not that i could persuade everyone but rather that nobody could dissuade me. my ego happily grew from there 😌

👁️ What is your response to people that don't believe in the eye theory? Even if both eyes are Taylor's, it's undeniable that Taylor and Karlie reacted to the theory and ran with it.

i think often the premise is misunderstood, but i haven’t been in too much of a rush to correct anyone because the theory has its own legs and people not believing it doesn’t hinder my enjoyment of it nor does it stop stuff from happening. often i see people mistaken that the theory is about the rep album cover photo, when it’s only ever been about the tour poster photo. sometimes people don’t put in the effort to look for photos of both of them where the angle of the face can be matched, etc. also i feel like some people get really focused on a pixel level on the photo instead of taking a step back and looking at the photo and simply recognizing that the right side of the photo looks like karlie and how that’s the overall point, a point which makes sense under the premise that karlie is the hidden muse of the reputation album.

as you have alluded to in your question, i don’t really find a discussion of the truth of the theory to be too productive because i think it’s pretty clear that it’s real. the reaction to it, from them both, has been so real and continued. and i think that is the more important point, that it’s this sort of inside joke that we have with them. and if they can have an inside joke with some kaylors, what does that mean of kaylor? sounds farfetched but i truly believe it, even as time passes. also, i think it’s possible to enjoy the theory without believing it to be actually true. and for me, if the community at large is more happy and having more fun, that’s more important than proving something to prove some people wrong, you know?

👁️ Why do you think this one is so special to them? As you've said before, sometimes they tend to stop things the second we pick up on the trend. But they just keep on with the eye flagging.

i’m not sure but honestly part of me wonders if it’s just because it’s funny to them 😆 or that it’s like a.. low cost high payout thing to do. a way to make some of us smile! it’s also possible that it’s origins are more sentimental and precious than we know. at one point i floated the idea that the gold heart locket is actually a lovers eye locket, that maybe a picture of karlie’s eye is in the locket, or maybe karlie has one too with taylor’s eye in it, and i think in that case it could just be a really sweet motif for them. maybe it feels like a good luck charm sort of thing?

at the same time i assume at some point it’ll come to a more quiet happy place where it’s only something referenced every once in awhile. i think i’ve archived everything annually to gauge that, to see the extent to which it is still being referenced. their social media presence overall has really dwindled in recent years but even this year, we have gotten one or two things each month so far.

👁️ How has the “eye theory” evolved since its inception? Have there been any surprising developments or revelations that have reshaped your perspective?

i think the biggest thing for me has just been seeing the reception of the theory as it finds new audiences and reaches new shores. the eye theory’s presence on platforms like tiktok and twitter grew, and we got name dropped in major magazines, introducing a new wave of enthusiasts to our ongoing exploration… through the eras tour many of you sent me clips and pics of eye stuff that happened on tour, some of you incorporated eye patches and embroidery and stickers into your outfits… i had fun exchanging eye theory friendship bracelets… it’s been such an amazing couple of years. i’m continually amazed by the community that has formed around this theory. your insights, enthusiasm, and shared discoveries have enriched this journey beyond measure. it’s shaped the way i’ve thought about communication, what i value, and the way i think about taylor and karlie, too. it’s really helped this all become my happy place. i LOVE every moment ive had crashing out with all you day in day out. here’s to six years of seeing, connecting, and staying curious! and here’s to many more. thank you all for being part of this ever-evolving narrative 🫶

#all eyes on us #feeling emoshunul

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the-100-days-of-junkan · 5 months ago

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Day 61

I was wondering what day would land on my Birthday, woulda been funny if it was yesterday’s piece, but alas, I was merely a day off.

Anyway your eyes do not deceive you this isn’t a sketch with colors I actually finished this one in it’s entirety. As a treat to myself after spending like 2 weeks working on the comic. Unfortunately it’s going to be awhile before we get more full pieces, look forward to day 91 I guess??

One thing I’ve always liked to do is draw little icons for the ships I like, I haven’t made a lot of them but they’re usually fun. I never made one for Junkan until this post because paranoia, but now we’re in the fuck it era. And can I just say that shading Junko’s hair is consistently one of the most fun things about drawing her at times? Like the colors I get to use are so nice and the sense of flow, it’s just perfect!~ Anyway time for a story I alluded to yesterday.

Eventually during one of my desperate searches for Junkan fics I would go to Wattpad since it was the only other site I could think of that might have something. Wattpad is a site I have never really used at all, both because I don’t really like the formatting of the site, and because I’ve not exactly been given a good impression of it by the rest of the internet.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a few fics, and some of them seemed to be taking the Soft Junkan angle. So I click one, and it can be summed up as “If you clicked on this wanting a Junkan Fic, fuck you, you’re a freak.” And I’m like “Alright that was a waste of time, next one.” and so I click another and it’s the exact same thing.

And the format would always be like the first chapter is used to just tell you what you’re about to read. And then it’s the second chapter is the twist that it’s someone deriding you for wanting Junkan. But some fics couldn’t even hide it, if you just hovered over the preview you’d see the actual contents is just bashing Junkan shippers.

So then I made this little image to amuse myself.

To be clear also this isn’t like, supposed to be some attack on the people who made those posts. I’m sure they’re just teens trying to have a moral high ground over shipping, which makes sense when you’re young like that. I mentioned it before but when I was getting into Danganronpa at the tail end of my teens I fucking hated Togafuka. Now I don't give a shit because why should I???

I find it more funny than I do like, annoying. It ain’t worth starting anything over. I just think it makes for a fun anecdote from this year.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

#danganronpa #junkan #junko enoshima #mikan tsumiki #enomiki #junkomikan #junko x mikan #shipping #tsumiki mikan #enoshima junko

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greetingfromthedead · 5 months ago

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11. An Unfair Life

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3.1k

Author's Note: I am so happy to be back with five new chapters! Expect weekly updates for chapters 11 - 15! I am very grateful for all the support this series is getting! It makes continuing so much easier! It means a lot to me to hear that others are loving what I write!

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"How are you feeling?" you ask Knives, who sits on the very edge of the warm light cast by the gas burner. "Is your wound giving you any trouble?"

"I am fine," he says offhandedly, staring into the flickering flames.

"I know better than to just believe you. Is there any tightness in your side? Any pain? What about when you take a deep breath?" You continue, your tone amused and light, despite the underlying concern.

"Everything is fine. No pain, no tightness," he sighs, rolling his eyes and leaning backwards to look up into the starry sky.

"Then why have I seen you clutching your side? Is there something you're not telling me?" You don't yield your questioning.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds, avoiding eye contact by still gazing upward. He can't admit the reason why his hand has reached for the bandaged wound so many times. It's not to soothe pain, but to feel it. This is the only way he has found to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head for the past few days. Ever since the night you spent in each other's arms, some nagging images have kept returning. His head constantly gravitates to that moment when he held you close or the way you care for others or when the officer came close enough to you to share your breath or when he thought you were in danger. He can't let anything blind him to who you really are—a human. If he forgets that, he is no better than his brother.

"You're doing it again," you comment with some concern as you observe his hand reach across his body to cup the still healing wound. "Let me see."

Knives avoids your advances by letting out another deep sigh and getting on his feet, leaving you kneeling on the sand. He doesn't even bother looking at you; he just steps away.

"I'm just trying to help you. Please let me check. It would be worse if you ripped something!" You try to speak sense into him.

"I don't need your help," Knives replies, his tone icy and dismissive.

"What has gotten into you?" you ask, the frustration evident in your voice.

"So you want to keep your little secrets, yet you want me to lay down everything? Sly as always," Knives continues, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"What?" You're taken aback, feeling a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"You hope to gain my trust, yet you're nothing but secretive? You don't fool me with your act of caring," Knives nearly hisses, finally turning his eyes to you. He looks down with a cold, unwavering stare.

"What are you on about?" you ask as you get on your feet, anger getting the best of you. "You call me secretive, yet you barely speak to me! You're a grown man with a voice! Use it! If you want to know something, then ask! All you do is pretend to be mute! Do you expect me to read your mind or something?"

You step closer to him as you talk, your hand rolling into a fist, and part of you wants nothing more than to punch him for the comments he made. He might be bigger than you, and his muscular build hints at his strength, but if all else fails, you could just knee him in his side. You can fix him up later. You're not afraid of him at this moment, partially because you know his weakness, partially because you still trust him and believe this is just triggered by something else.

As you stare up at him, you disarm Knives completely. He really thought he could just force himself into a mindset where you are nothing but a regular human. The same as the other humans that live in his head—ruthless, selfish, and cruel beyond words. But as he meets your gaze, he can't continue that thought. He sees something more in you, something that draws his thoughts and makes the air hitch in his throat.

"So what is it? What bothers you so much? All you have to do is ask. Don't bottle it up until it blows up in both our faces!" You remain angry and annoyed, your voice higher than normal.

Without even realizing it, you lean closer, and you stand on your tiptoes to look him square in the eye as he shifts to face you more.

"If you don't understand something, just talk about it. Ask, and I will tell you the best to my knowledge. You've done it before. Talk to me." The anger starts to dissolve in you as you look at him. The coldness on his face starts to disappear too, replaced with something that looks almost sad to you.

Knives is beyond words. He can't get his thoughts in a row. He really believed he could just snap out of the feelings of confusion and the haunting thoughts of you. He has always managed to follow his own path. He has made up his mind and walked along that road until there was no more road. But this time is different. Every route he takes leads back to you. It consumes him, knowing how weak he has become. He can't do anything like this. He can't respond. He can't look away. He could reach out towards you, but what good would it do? He can't gain an upper hand with you. It feels as if you have your arm in his guts, twisting and moving them around, making his stomach tingle with unsettling and strange feelings.

You slap away his hand that instinctively reaches for the wound in his side. Knives's eyes widen at the sudden contact, and he lets his arms hang by his sides. You finally pull back, calming down enough to turn your gaze back to the gas burner.

"You know, it hurts when you say something like this," you admit more quietly, "I am not here to keep anything from you. But I don't know how to talk to you when you get quiet. I don't know if I should keep talking by myself or if you want me to shut up. You're a hard person to read. I don't want to push you away, so I left it up to you to initiate. Sorry if it made you feel like I was hiding something from you."

Knives watches as you return to your spot on the sand, but you look different. It's almost like a heavy weight has been put on your shoulders, something pushing you down, making you hunch over and curl up. A pit forms in his stomach, but not the tingly kind, not the one that makes him unsettled; this one is bottomless and empty. He sits down too, across from you, the circle of illumination between you.

"Why would my words hurt you?" Knives asks, confused.

"Because I've come to see you as my friend, and I hoped you trusted me. I see I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed you thought the same of me," you admit quietly, only because you truly think he doesn't understand such simple things. Sometimes he sounds like a child to you; his world seems black and white, simple truths he has made up for himself.

"But why take something to heart if you don't think it to be true?" He continues, just as lost as before. The pit in his stomach is still there, making him feel like he should take back his words, but there is no undo in this situation.

"Because if someone you trust says something, it makes you think they see something you don't," you continue explaining to him something that seems obvious, "Especially when you hear something you know to be true among the accusations."

Your deep sigh catches Knives's attention, and he looks up to see your down turned face, the light of the flame casting harsh flickering shadows. It is hard to make out your expression, but it appears sad to him, making his stomach drop further. Everything about this situation annoys him. From feeling something resembling regret for saying anything at all to the way he doesn't know what you're conveying. It's like he's drowning in a sea of confusion and frustration.

"What do you mean?" Knives decides to ask, despite feeling like he reveals too much of his weakness by doing so.

"You called it an act of caring," you remind him, keeping your eyes on the burner in front of you. "I choose to care. I choose to be there for everyone who needs me. There have been so many days where it all feels too much. Days when anger seems like the only emotion I can feel. Days when disappointment and sadness threaten to crush me. But I still choose to be kind. Even if the only thoughts hammering in my head are, Why me? and It isn't my fault that we're here, dying and suffering!, I still choose to care for everybody. It's not their fault either that we're here, so I put on a smile and reach out my hand. It is an act of caring."

From all the answers you could have given him, this one pains him the most, and he can't even tell why. You could have just admitted that you don't actually care at all, that you do it for your own personal gain. It would have made sense to him, a simple truth that he expected anyway, something that aligns itself with what he thinks of humans. You could have refuted it by saying that all you ever do is truly and deeply care with every fiber of your being. He would have a hard time believing it, but that's what you have always displayed to him. He could call it a lie, and it would fit with his perception of humanity. But your real answer is an unexpected blade that twists in his bottomless guts.

"So why do you do it?" He asks, his eyes searching yours for the bravery you always seem to display towards him.

"Because none of this is their fault. They didn't choose this life; they did not choose to be pushed to the edge. They didn't have a choice when they were born onto this forsaken planet to fend for themselves with every breath they take. I can't blame my anger on them."

"But not everyone makes the same choice as you when it comes to caring. Some of them choose to do harm instead. Yet you extend them the same sort of kindness as you do to everyone else. Aren't they deserving of your anger?" Knives wonders, remembering the story of why your house is the only one left in your village.

"I am not judge, jury, and executioner. Everyone was dealt an equally unfair life here; I cannot blame anyone for the bitterness that they feel, especially when I feel it too. I have nobody to be angry at for the life we lead. All I can do is try and be better. This is nobody's fault."

Your words hold power over him. Now he understands how it feels to be hurt by words, because yours just made him bleed. The blade that you twist guts him, and he is reminded how he cannot gain the upper hand with you for whatever reason. You disarm him with everything you do and say.

"If you choose to care for everyone, no matter who they are, why did you say you don't care for Stephen?" Knives asks about the snippet of your conversation with the officer that he happened to overhear.

"He is a special case," you mutter as you turn your head away, looking at the darkness beyond the illuminated circle. "He is manipulative and deceitful. He is a narcissist who has no trouble twisting reality itself to fit with his narrative, and you have no idea he is doing it until it is too late. He made me question my own sanity, guilting me into staying with him and making me feel like I was the crazy one. I did care for him; I truly did, but every time he used it against me, it chipped away at me. Little by little, until there was almost nothing left. And he still spun his stories, told me he loved me, and assured me I was his world. It took me too long to realize just how dangerous he is. The only thing he cares about in this world is his image, and he will do whatever it takes to bolster it. He will trap anyone with his words and keep them in his net with his actions. He is cunning. I'm just glad I became aware of his true nature. I got away, and I never intend to fall into another one of his traps."

"He used you? Used your kindness for his own good?" Knives asks, unintentionally leaning forward into the light. Stephen sounds like a regular human being, and he hates that.

"Worse. I was nothing more than a badge for him, someone who made him look good, someone to brag about to others. I was barely a person. More like a tool or award."

Knives wonders where your courage went. You never showed fear towards him, yet now you hide your gaze, and you make yourself smaller, as if trying to hide between the grains of sand. He has never seen that side of you. Even as you stared at Stephen the moment Knives barged into the clinic, you looked brave. You looked angry. Nearly as angry as he felt.

Knives doesn't know what to say, staying frozen in time until your voice snaps him back: "See what asking gets you."

I have nobody to be angry at for the life we lead.

Your voice keeps repeating in Knives's head, hammering at something painful. You are wrong. You do have someone to blame. Him. He was the one to push the first domino and set everything and everyone on this path. To be fair, this wasn't the outcome he was aiming for. But it doesn't matter anymore. What a mess. Yet that is not what bothers him. None of his failed plans are the issue here. What doesn't let him sleep is the thought of how you would react if you knew. What if you were aware of everything? Knives has so many secrets, and now he has found out that he is the root of your anger.

He stares up into the sky. His eyes shift from one star to the next, travelling across the universe, visiting the millions of suns that light up the night. He used to be among them. He might still be if he didn't crash the ships. This planet would be barren and empty with nothing but worms calling it home. None of the humans who call this their birthplace would exist. You included.

Knives doesn't understand why all of this bothers him. Especially to the point of sleeplessness. What does it matter if one human's anger stems from what he did? None of the others concern him. So why does yours? It feeds into the pit in his stomach, the one that appeared there as soon as you made it clear that he hurt you.

The night is still relatively young; it just gets dark quite early. Knives should feel tired after being on the road again for a few nights. Only in a tiny village were you offered a space in an attic with actual beds, but those were just as rough as the thin mattresses on bumpy sand that you have to make do with the rest of the nights. He doesn't sleep well, waking up to every turn of his own or the shuffle of your thin sleeping bag. But now, there is no sleep for him at all, so he sits up, the blanket that covered him bunching up in his lap. With utter frustration, his hands slide across his face, fingers tangling into his dark hair. His digits curl, pulling on the strands, causing numb pain on his scalp. With a sharp exhale, he opens his eyes again, staring down until his shoulders relax and his arms fall limply on the blanket.

Knives turns his head to see you curled up on your mat. It is a cold night, colder than usual, but it doesn't really bother him. He is more than capable of withstanding both a chill and the desert heat; it has never bothered him. He barely even thinks about it. Humans are so fragile. So weak and delicate, in constant need of something. A human life is so easily snuffed out, yet somehow they are still here, inhabiting this planet, having foiled every plan Knives has ever had. It is a strange paradox. He gets up, grabbing his covers and walking over to you. He drapes the blanket over your shivering body like it is nothing. He doesn't linger, turning his eyes away as soon as he lets go of the edge.

He walks away, passing the two sleeping toma as he climbs up the dune that shelters your campsite from the wind. Far out in the distance he sees the faint glow of light on the horizon. This is your destination for the coming day. Apparently it is a bigger settlement, set up on the edge of a cliff to harness the howling winds and turn it into electricity. Your face lit up when you talked about this place. Knives was too captivated at that moment to commit the name of the town to memory; he only recalls the spark in your eyes as you praised its beauty. Knives can't believe what he has turned into. How can it be that he has become distracted and lost? How can it be that feelings and emotions have clouded his judgment? What has become of the logic and reason that used to guide him? His head is filled with your voice, your face, snippets of your very being, but underneath all that nonsense is something else. A broken melody. Scraps of a song he has never heard before. It is something new, but something still out of reach.

Some sand crumbles down the side of the dune as Knives sits down, pulling one knee up against his chest to rest his arm on. The strong breeze messes through his outgrown hair. He keeps his eyes on the horizon, fixed on the goal in sight, but it is a superficial one. For him there is no real finish line anymore. Nothing to achieve. Nothing to strive for. There is nothing in this world he desires.

This is nobody's fault.

Wrong.

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You can check out the Apple Blossoms Masterlist for more info.

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#trigun #fanfic #fanfiction #millions knives #x reader #knives x reader #plant boi #writing #apple blossoms

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter five: the honeymoon pt. 2

summary: you and carmy enjoy the last few days of your mini-moon.

warnings: light smut, husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 3.2k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist (mentioned song - lizzy mcalpine's 'dancing queen' cover)

a/n: hi cuties. here is part two of the honeymoon in chicago. i will be writing an epilogue to finish out this series, then my focus will be back on the world of 'burn your life down.' please enjoy all of this fluffy, lovey dovey content because these two deserve.

part four | masterlist | epilogue

This feels right, you think to yourself, stretching out in the abnormally large bath tub that overlooks the Chicago River. This being the bath, your honeymoon, the non-stop sex between you and your insatiable husband.

You’re up to your shoulders in bubbles, the temperature of the water just the right amount of hot, and you’ve got to admit that you need a recovery bath from the last night or so.

“You gonna join me in here or what?” you ask Carmy, a flirtatious smile on your face as you steal a glance his way.

He sits facing you, a few inches away on the floor of the bathroom, the sketchbook that you got him as a wedding gift laying in his lap as he continues to make furious strokes with one of the wildly-expensive-yet-worth-it pens that you purchased in addition to the sketchbook.

“Nah,” Carmy exhales, the corners of his lips curving up into a smile as he looks at you like you might disappear. “I just wanna look at you a little longer.”

“I know it’s kind of our thing now. But maybe tomorrow night?” he offers up, half apologetically. You shake your head, as if to let him know it’s no problem, and Carmy returns his attention over to what he’s sketching.

“Watcha workin’ on over there?” you ask, curiously, in reference to the broad strokes of pen on paper that you can hear.

“It’s a surprise,” he answers almost too quickly, his focus unbroken as he keeps his head down, buried in whatever it is he’s drawing.

You inhale deeply, letting out your breath on an even deeper exhale and it feels as if you’re melting into the warm bubbles that surround you.

“I’m just glad you’re drawing again. You always seem to light up when you do it,” you sigh, settling into the comfort of your bath, even though you now have to accept that Carmy won’t be joining you tonight.

You close your eyes, listening to the sound of your bubble bath playlist that plays over the speakers of your phone – the easily recognizable voice of Leon Bridges filling your ears as your shoulders relax.

“Why don’t you draw something? For our next tattoo,” you suggest, your eyes beginning to close.

“God, I love you so much,” is Carmy’s reply, without missing a beat.

Opening one eye, you sit up slightly to get a good look at Carmy, shooting a quizzical look his way.

“Well, yeah. But are you referencing anything in particular this time?” you giggle, peering over the edge of the tub in hopes of getting a look at what he’s sketching. Carmy tuts, clutching the sketchbook close to his chest so that he’s sure you can’t see.

The two of you exchange a look, then a laugh, before you resign yourself, sinking back into the tub. Carmy can’t take his eyes off of you, watching you close yours. He looks down at his sketchbook, the image of you in the bathtub, your hair tied up in a messy bun on top of your head beginning to take shape on the page. With deep blue eyes full of love, he finally answers your previous question with:

“You encourage me to dream, baby.”

A beat.

“It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

You inhale again, peeking one eye open just for a moment as you grin.

“I love you too, Bear. So, so much.”

You take another breath, and a beat, before reiterating, “And I meant what I said. You should draw something for our next tattoo.”

“You really want my scribbles on your body forever?” he asks, skeptically, completely discrediting the talent that you know he knows he has.

“I married you, didn’t I?” you shoot back with a shrug.

He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head incredulously.

“Don’t know if that’s the same.”

“Seriously, Bear. I know we talked about maybe adding some ink to mark this chapter of our relationship… but I really want you to draw it. You don’t have to make up your mind now but, just think about it, okay?” you continue, this time opening both of your eyes to look at him – just so he knows that you mean it.

“Sure,” he nods hesitantly. “Uh… yeah. I’ll think about it.”

You hum along to your playlist as the song changes, and Carmy returns his attention to his sketchbook, stealing glances your way as he continues to work on his drawing of you. You swear you’ve slipped into the kind of relaxed state that yogis traveling to an ashram for the first time can only dream of, as both you and Carmy settle into a comfortable and quiet rhythm.

Carmy hasn’t felt this inspired in a long time – noting that he hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long time either – and he’s more than willing to admit that it’s all the love (and all the sex, because it’s certainly not hurting) that’s sparked this creative kick. He was nervous before, before checking into the hotel earlier today, that maybe he wouldn’t be able to relax – the idea of going to the spa with you tomorrow is still absolutely terrifying – but it’s moments like these that remind him that he may not be so bad at this whole relaxing thing after all.

It could be minutes, hours, days when you decide to get out of the tub – having lost track of time entirely since you checked in at the Langham hotel. Without saying anything, you pull the plug on the bathtub, allowing it to drain as you stand up, grabbing for the fluffy, plush white hotel towel.

And you know that you could put on a robe, just like Carmy, but you have a better idea.

You’ve been saving the little white slip dress that Natalie bought you for just the right moment, and you think this might be it. You can feel Carmy’s eyes on you as you disappear from the bathroom, leaving him where he sits on the floor, and back into the bedroom in search of where you hung the slip dress earlier this evening.

You wonder how long it will take – if he’ll follow you back into the bedroom – but he doesn’t, so you take your time drying off. The white slip dress slides off of its hanger easily. You pull it over your head, allowing it to settle gently over your frame, noticing just how softly it drapes over your figure.

Nat really nailed it with this one, you think to yourself, the pads of your feet hitting the ground as you head back into the bathroom to hang up your robe.

Carmy’s gotten up off the floor, having carefully set his sketchbook down on the long counter, confident in the way he stands, waiting for you. He watches you like a hawk as you begin hanging your robe on the back of the door, a smirk beginning to form on his face.

“What?” you ask, because you know exactly what he’s thinking without even having to look at him.

“Nothin,” he answers, cheekily.

As you turn around, Carmy’s taking a step towards you. You busy yourself with taking your hair back down, watching your reflection in the mirror as Carmy approaches, coming up behind you. You can feel his hands slide along your hips, pulling you towards him as he begins to leave soft kisses on the tops of your shoulders.

“Jus’ wanted to let you know how beautiful you are,” he mumbles in between kisses, pressing his hips against your ass. “That’s all.”

“That’s all? You’re insatiable, Carm. You know that?” you ask him with a giggle, watching him in the mirror this time.

“Oh come on,” he counters you. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” You moan as soon as you feel one of his hands bunching up the material of your dress, his lips curving into a smile against your skin as he hears you. “Putting this on for me.”

“Baby,” you sigh happily, beginning to understand just how fun a honeymoon is supposed to be.

“This feels familiar, doesn’t it?” he begins to tease you, moving your hair to one side of your neck.

“Remember when we snuck into a dressing room…” he continues you, his piercing blue eyes bearing into your soul through the mirror image – just like that night. “... during the James Beard Awards…”

“How could I forget?” you gasp, his teeth nipping at the soft skin of your neck. “It was Syd’s first win and neither of us could wait till we got home.”

You remember it well, especially now, as Carmy begins to grind his hips into your ass, his eyes pleading with you in the reflection, begging you to let him fuck you.

“Friday night and the lights are low…”

You smile, as soon as you recognize the lyrics to one of your favorite songs. Only this time, it’s nothing like the version you and your best friends sang at karaoke night, this version done as an intimate, acoustic singer-songwriter cover. Carmy’s hands are patient, slowly exploring your body as you turn around to face him, surprising him as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He sends you a questioning look and you smile back as you lean in, placing your mouth over his in a messy kiss.

“I love this song,” you whisper against his lips, pulling him in for another kiss as you press your body closer to his. “Dance with me, Carm.”

“Yeah?” he asks, with a single, amused raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smirk. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Instead of answering (or protesting, considering he had his sights set on fucking you up against the bathroom counter), he just embraces you, holding you close to him as the two of you sway back and forth to the song, exchanging heated kisses. It’s here, in the midst of a push and pull of desire, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe and the slip dress his sister bought you, that you and Carmy have your first dance as man and wife.

It’s exchanged kisses, teasing remarks, and eager hands till the very end of the song, both of your feet coming to a halt, too consumed with the passionate makeout that Carmy’s engaged you in this time. Your hands travel to where his robe is tied closed, beginning to open it as your breathing picks up.

“Think we can count that as a first dance?” Carmy asks, in between kisses, his lips moving at a feverish, more desperate pace this time.

“Definitely,” you reply, the softness in his eyes matched so well with the softness of the music. It’s then that you kiss him again, your mouth beginning to trial south every time you return to him.

“Baby,” he moans, as he watches you kiss lower and lower, anticipating what comes next.

“Said I’d make it worth your while. And right now, I want to go down on my husband,” you rasp, your voice low and sultry as you drop to your knees.

Carmy moans as soon as he feels your mouth on him, your tongue coming out just to taste the tip of him. His right hand tangles in your hair, beginning to grasp at the back of your head as he lets out a:

“Fuck.”

———————————

Your vintage lace slip dress, plucked from the ground where it was carelessly thrown the night before, and Carmy’s denim jacket draped over your shoulders.

That’s what he wakes up to, Carmy, your husband, as you climb back onto the bed, having left your brown paper bag filled with all kinds of goodies on the nightstand next to him.

It may seem silly, bringing his denim jacket considering you barely planned on leaving the room, but he brought it for moments like this, when he knew you’d inevitably want to wear something of his while heading down to explore the rest of the hotel.

“Think you’ll even need that?” you’d asked as you watched him pack his bag for this weekend.

“Gotta be prepared, babe. You’ve been stealing my clothes since day one,” he had pointed out, making it clear that he was only packing options at this point. You’d giggled, making a comment about how considerate your then-husband-to-be was and a declaration that you were nothing if not consistent.

“Good morning, my love,” you say as you climb onto the bed, settling at the foot.

Carmy just smiles dreamily, his curls a wild, beautiful mess, as he sits up, reaching for your hands so that he can pull you over him. You smile, leaving a quick good morning kiss on his lips as you mutter something about morning breath.

“Fuck off. You love me,” he teases in response, laying back down.

“Fuck off. I do,” you parrot him, nodding happily, as you settle over him, straddling his hips.

With your hands still in his, Carmy brings your conjoined hands up to his lips, leaving a kiss to each knuckle, his eyes fixed to yours, his focus unbroken. He smirks, seeing you in his denim jacket, just like he predicted. It looks damn good on you and there’s something so primal about the way he feels when you wear his clothes – the fact that you’d showcase to the world that you’re his stirs something inside of him that feels intoxicating.

“I went downstairs to the hotel cafe. Got a few pastries and coffee for us,” you say, as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“Thanks, baby. But I’m not hungry yet,” Carmy replies, something in his voice that tells you he’s got something else in mind. You quirk an eyebrow in his direction, letting out a loud laugh as he flips you over, rolling you onto your back.

“Think we should work up an appetite first.”

“Again?” you giggle, heat pooling between your legs as you think of how he fucked you up against the bathroom counter last night – after you went down on him.

Instead of answering, he captures your mouth with his, groaning into the kiss as he lays his body over yours. You could care less about the morning breath as Carmy winds you up with the way he kisses you, the way he touches you, and you’re sighing out in pleasure as his hand slips between your legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he spits through gritted teeth, as soon as he realizes that you’re not wearing any underwear.

“You go down to the cafe like this?”

You smirk, letting out a devious chuckle at his discovery.

Before you can properly answer, Carmy’s fingers are dancing over your wet heat, earning well deserved gasps from you as you buck your hips into his hand, a sudden possessiveness taking over.

“Fuck, Carm,” you groan, knowing exactly how to wind him up. “Yeah. Might have to punish me for it.”

“Think so, sweet girl,” Carmy mutters, before his mouth is on yours again.

———————————

It’s your last night at the Langham hotel and you and Carmy have barely left your room – save for the trip to the pool downstairs. You find yourself curled up with your husband, your head buried in the book you're halfway through in a cozy silk PJ set as Carmy works on something else, a few pages deep into his new sketchbook.

“How’s your book?” he asks, his focus still on the page before him.

“Good,” you answer quietly, looking for a good place to pause. You look over at him, smiling as you notice the very cute face he makes when he’s concentrating.

“Watcha workin’ on?”

A light blush runs across Carmy’s cheeks as he prepares to show you.

“Uh… just been sketchin’ up some ideas… you know. Ever since you asked about, you know… the tattoo,” Carmy answers, suddenly feeling shy about showing you his work.

“Yeah?” you ask, only to be met with a nod as Carmy hands you the sketchbook.

You take it, your eyes eagerly scanning the page, considering it’s the first time since you gave him the gift that he’s let you see anything he’s been working on. You smile, a look of awe in your eyes as you take in all of the little food-related tattoos that he’s drawn up.

“I like this one,” you say, pointing to the nest of spaghetti he’s drawn, clearly meant to be a single portion of carbonara. “I mean, I like all of them… but I like this one.”

“Yeah?” he asks, only a little surprised that you like any of them really.

“Yeah,” you nod in response. You look down at his work, then back up to Carmy before gesturing towards the page. “May I?”

“Uh… sure,” he answers anxiously, the sound of the page turning only magnifying his nerves.

He’s so incredibly talented that it hurts, and it’s not till you get back to the very first page, the one where he's drawn you in the bathtub that your heart stops.

“Carmy,” you gasp, looking down at the sketch.

“You hate it,” he’s quick to say, offering up a way out, almost too eager to beat you to the punch if that is how you feel.

“Baby, of course I don’t hate it. I-,” you shake your head, marveling at the drawings below as you trace your fingers over the broader strokes of the pen. “It’s just… no one’s ever drawn me before so. I’m kind of… in awe right now.”

Carmy inhales, then lets out the breath on a deep exhale, because he’s drawn you before – considering he’s barely made time for his art in the last five years anyways – and that they just aren’t things he’s shown you yet.

“What do you think?” is all he asks, his eyes searching your face for a reaction.

“I think,” you say, returning his gaze with yours. You can tell that he’s nervous, that this feels extremely vulnerable, and you know exactly how to pivot. “... that you’re incredibly talented… and it’s really, really not fair.”

He laughs.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replies, brushing off the compliment.

“No, I mean it, Bear,” you harp, making sure he hears you.

“Okay,” he nods, and you know it’s the best you’re going to get when it comes to him accepting your compliment on the spot.

You take a beat, before handing him his sketchbook back, returning your attention to your book as the two of you settle into a quiet rhythm of spending time with each other. This is exactly how you pictured this weekend going – spending time together, doing absolutely nothing, and fucking all day long. You’re not quite ready to go back to real life yet, but you also miss Aioli, and you know you and Carmy have another shot at this when you go on your real honeymoon in a few months.

“Maybe I should bring this with me… you know… on our honeymoon part two,” Carmy says, gesturing towards his sketchbook. It warms your heart to see him so excited, so inspired and relaxed.

“Definitely,” you reply with a smile. “Let’s do it all over again in a few months. When we go to Japan.”

“You wanna take a bath?” you ask, an implied, ‘you said you would join me’ in your voice as you ask the question.

Carmy licks his lips, a small smile threatening the corners of his mouth as he answers,

“Deal.”

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yoongleboonglepie · 1 month ago

Text

Pechsträhne Chapter 10

BTS x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlist-Spotify