#psychological bts thriller

[vinetae]

Alice's Game

This is a game.

And you must win.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕!𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛, 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚛!𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘��'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖! (𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎), 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎.

𝙰/𝚗: 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝙾𝙳; 𝙳𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝚓𝚊𝚒𝚕.

This was a request from a friend of mine, and so I decided to try my hand at yandere things and psycho-killer themes. She's not on Tumblr, but says Hi! <3

Heavily inspired by: @dovechim - Lost In The Funhouse

Go follow them, they're amazing!! <3

Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ☺

:readmore:

Drip

The black molded floor sinks in. The ropes snaked around tightly your limbs, a small tear slipped from your duct. 

Drip

It was so perfect. Graduate college, work in the psych ward, settle down in a little town with two or three kids. 

Nowhere in the planner had ‘get kidnapped by your own patient’ penned in.

Clicking on your red pumps echo through the long hallway. The stench of cigarettes, drugs, and something not so moral wash over your senses. Down the hall, several doors lock themselves tightly away from any human contact. Protecting the people outside of it, more so than what’s inside.

“Remember, no touching. You get 20 minutes, then you’ll hear the buzzer go off. He’ll be chained to the chair, so you don’t have anything to worry about. We’ve also installed cameras on the entire floor and rooms for the patients’ safety. 

Yeah right. You think.

They only take these monsters away because they’re scared. You see, the most notorious, psychopaths and murderers have no fear. From the amount of childhood trauma and mental disorders swirling their brains distracts them from any fear they could have. Neurotypicals such as you had something they could only mirror. Never truly experienced. 

Emotion.

The buzzer alarms. You walk inside the dark room, eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent light hanging above a metal table. You look a little closer, gasping quietly at his appearance.

You dealt with plenty of psychos in your life. Your father had -unfortunately- been one of the many you came to study in your adult-age. Your mother, a narcissistic pathological liar, has been anything but helpful to your own past. As a child, you lived in constant fear. While kids your age had been going to the park to eat ice cream with their parents, yours had been hunting your innocence and soul both mentally and physically. At the ripe age of 9, you’d decided that you wouldn’t take their shit anymore.

Maturity didn’t make you grow up fast. 

It was fear.

Fear of waking up with your father standing over your bed, knife in hand as blood trickled down the sheen of metal. Heavy grunts and heaves exile his chest. His crusted beard and shattered glasses hang his expressions.

Only, he had no emotion. 

You figured that out very quickly on your 5th birthday. As curious children wander, you had two makeshift barbies in hand. Your colored two ponytails your half-sober mother had lazily put up when she had been in a good mood. The old wooden creaked open as you fell back on your behind.

Father had been yelling at your mother -as per usual- about something and something. Most of your childhood had been extremely vague. Later on, you found out from your psychology class that the brain subconscious avoids pain of any kind. Your brain had blocked the horrid memories. Only allowing you to remember certain things when it thought you could handle it. 

That’s why you’d joked between your colleagues that your brain had been your parent.

The door creaked open, revealing the rotting stench of what had seemed to be deer and rabbits. You fell to the floor, silently crying out for the animals your father had mutilated. 

That wasn’t even the worst part. 

You glance over, sniffling as your child-like innocence sets itself on a blood-shot red table. Obviously the smell is emitting from that more than anything. You scooted a chair over to get a closer look, screaming as your eyes set on the mutilated, poked, prodded, and bloodied human limbs.

A head stares back at you, laid lifelessly on the table. The eyes had been gouged out, while flesh had been ripped off. A ear lays next to your arm. Stitched with some kind of black thread, then ripped apart once more. Anything you’d seen in your teen years on horror movies had nothing against this. 

Boots clack against the old wooden floors. 

“Doctor? Are you alright?” The guard’s firm but caring tone pulls you from the horrid thoughts. You nod, embarrassingly pushing your black frame glasses higher up to the bridge of your nose, preparing to get to the bottom of what made this man tick. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, as you nod once more. 

The buzzer sounds. 

His dry grin creeps the corner of his lips. 

“Well hello, pretty thing.”

You chuckle at the silly nickname, keeping your professional stance as you take a seat in the chair across from his. You take notice of his situation. A white straight jacket wraps his built figure. Black, greasy locks fall effortlessly in front of his intimidating eyes. The fluorescent light brightens up his skin even more, every freckle and mole visible on his porcelain like skin. 

You’d seen a lot of mediocre good-looking patients but they had nothing on this man.

Pulling your professional mask back on, you flip through his papers, glancing between the two. 

Cherry red lips..

“Kim Namjoon.” You read.

A well built frame. Muscles as big as your whole head-

“No need for formalities, darling.” he leans closer, staring you down through his luscious eyelashes. 

“It’s just Namjoon, sweets.” He leans back, a bored expression plays on his face. 

You chuckle, flipping through more of his paperwork they’d provided you days beforehand. Of course you’d skimmed through it, but you want to make this at least a bit more comfortable without having to look in his enticing chocolate irises. 

_____________________________________________________________

Case #: 2918   Page: 9

Date: June 2nd, 2019.

Last Name: Kim    First Name: Namjoon    Middle: -none-

Race: Asian.

DOB: Sep 12th, 1994.

Details of case: Genocide, use of illegal drugs, Man slaughter, homicide.

Weapon(s) involved: C13H16CINO - Ketamine usage. Dimethoxyethane (DME) usage. 

Habits of patient: Grinding teeth, untimely laughing fits, manipulation, gaslighting,-

_____________________________________________________________

One word has caught your attention.

Persuasion.

He chuckles at your facial expression. You cleared your throat, focusing your attention back onto the subject. 

“You have quite the resume, Mr. Kim” He chuckles, leaning against the metal chair’s back end. A glimmer of curiosity peaks his irises. 

“Only the best for you, Doc.” You chuckle, shaking your head softly at the teases. You reach into your pocket, sliding the recording device across the table to land between you two. You click your pen, glancing at his bored expression. 

“Any time, Mister Kim.” 

Once the session's finished, you start to pack your belongings, making sure the recording device is safely tucked beteen you leather breifcase pouch.

"See you later, Little Alice." He replies, watching as you pack more of your things into what small leather briefcase you'd been carrying around. You nod, still having a weird feeling in the pit of your stomache.

"Can I help you?" You ask quietly. He lets out a dark chuckle.

"More than you know, Doll." You roll your eyes, before turning back to face him.

"My name's not Alice, by the way." He hums, leaning against the back of his chair.

"I'm aware, Miss Y/n".

How'd he know your name? It's not like you wear a nametag.

He stands, stalking over to your figure.

He chuckles at your cuteness.

You stand your ground, fixing your posture to seem big.

It didn't work.

No amount of heels could ever make you feel equal to this man. Not only was he one of the most notorious serial killers, he was freakishly tall.

You words catch in the back of your throat.

"Why did you call me Alice, then?"

He smirks, doing a one-over on your whole body.

"Because," He steps closer. If it hadn't been for the straight jacket, he'd have you up against the wall, screaming for him to fuck you by now.

"You like sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

You huff at his harsh tone.

"And why doesn't my nose belong here?"

He smirks, leaning to the side of your cheek, his hot breath dances lightly on the skin of your lobe.

"Because this is not a place for purity, darling."

You huff.

"I am not purity, Kim." He smiles, walking back over to the chair he'd originally been sat in.

"And I'm not a psycho-killer." He watches as the pink creeps up your face like a child trying to make it past their parents bedroom on Christmas day.

Grabbing the rest of your things, you both hear the buzzing of the door, watching as it opens to reveal two men here to escort you out.

"See you tomorrow." You call back, while making your way out of the room.

This, was going to be fun.

The buzzer sounds once more. The same routine you’d adjusted to for around a week now. Every day, you’d come into the asylum to check on Namjoon. Sadly, you had only gotten so far as learning what you’d already known. His name, family (or lack of), favorite ways to torture his victims, etc. You’d gotten nowhere, and your deadline was this month. You had to figure out some way of helping him open up. 

Your white pencil skirt creeps up the length of your legs every step you take. Thankfully, you’d chosen to wear black shorts under the skirt as always. The black silk button-up you’d picked from a thrift store lays lazily against your risen bosom. The small accentuates of jewelry decorate your typical appearance. 

You walk into the room you’d now referred to as being your ‘office’ mainly because of how many times you'd been here instead of actually being at corp. You noticing as they bring in Namjoon. The straight jacket still wound tightly around his figure. He plops down harshly on the metal chair, the straps lock his limbs down firmly. Once the guard shuts the door behind him, Namjoon glances through his thick eyebrows to your delicate looking figure. The simple gold necklace eases the hard look of your thick black glasses. A small chuckle escapes his chest. 

“What are those for?” You motion to his forearm, noticing a large incision about the size of a pencil spayed heavily on the surface of his forearm. Dried blood clings to the wound.

“Why so many questions?” You mentally roll your eyes at his comment. You lean forward, the dip of your shirt peaking just enough to give him an accidental taste of what he couldn’t touch. 

“Mister Kim, I’m trying to help you.” He scoffs, looking off into the distance to the corner behind you. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t need your help.” You offer a small grin, to which he barely returns. 

More, Y/n. Come on..

You lean forward some more, now giving him a full display of the dips of your laced breasts on full display for his viewing pleasure. 

“Listen. You’re right. You don’t need my help. But,” Your so close to proximity, that you can feel both lines of breath starting to mix. A dangerous concoction indeed. 

“You want it.”

To that, he chuckles at your ignorance. 

“No, Alice, dear.” He leans forward to meet your own posture. 

“You want it.” He leans back, enjoying the view you’re still providing. 

“Sweet, innocent girl. So,” His lips are so close to yours. Your breath staggers in pitch at his closeness. You’re seducing a serial killer. How fucked up is that?

“Very,” His smirk plasters his face before banging his forehead into yours. 

“Foolish.” 

“Fuck!” You curse. 

His words are harsh, you fall backwards, holding the bruised spot starting to welt. You pierce his gaze, a crazy look remains in his gleam. 

The guards come rushing in to restrain him, as they escort you out. His voice rings through the dark room, reminding you of everything you tried to forget. 

“Might as well just crawl back to daddy if you really wanna study a psychopath, darling!” 

Jimin sighs, cleaning the gash around your forehead. 

“That fucker” He mumbles, cursing under his breath as your mind’s too busy with reenacting the scene. Looking for something to use against him. 

“I’m gunna fucking kill him!” He groans, lightly applying the bandage to your gash. You wince, but not from the pain. It had been nothing compared to what your father put you through. 

“It’s fine, Jimin.” He scoffs at your obvious lie. 

“Of course it’s not fine, Y/n! That piece of shit fucking gashed your head! You should be lucky he was in that straight jacket. Who knows what he could’ve done with his sick mind!?” You place your hand on his shoulder, hopping off the table to keep your balance.

“It’s okay, really. All in a job’s work.” He rolls his eyes, handing you a small cup of water. You take it from his grasp, immediately quenching your thirst. Throwing the cup into the garbage, you make your way back over to the cafeteria of the prison. 

You’d been escorted to the main level. There were four floors. 

1st held all of the common criminals. Pickpockets, thiefs, people with unpaid parking tickets, druggies and more. 

Second level is for the more mediocre criminals along with the cafeteria and indoor gym for the workers.

 Third, held people like small murderers and interogation rooms. 

The fourth floor had batshit crazies, people with the same charges as Ted Bundy, Dhamer, Lopez, and Shipman. 

Along with Kim. 

You groan in frustration, throwing the papers across your small apartment’s space. The anger you felt had manifested from this case, along with the news that your father had escaped his death sentence, and broken out of the ward he’d been kept in; about 100 miles from where you had moved. 

His laugh echoed through your head. Flashes from when he’d gashed you in that interrogation room earlier fills your senses. Screams, cries, yells reverberate off the walls of your mind. 

A mix of Namjoon’s and your father’s voice screams in your head. 

You’ll never be normal.

You’re not worthy.

You’re the product of a serial killer.

Shut up..

You know it’s true, Y/n. Deep down, 

You always have.

“SHUT UP!!”

You pick up the glass bottle, throwing it against the wall. The blood-shot red liquid stains your creme white walls. Shards of glass fall to the oak wooden floors. Soaking in all of the pain. Frustration. 

Emotion.

Day 13.

What an unlucky number. The bags under your eyes alert everyone around you of your restless night. You’d tossed and turned all through the night. Images of your father beating your mother, pictures you’d gone to therapy for 5 years to try to rid yourself of. His evil laugh rips through your fears. 

Living in constant fear for your life is not the ideal thought to have right before you sleep. 

In the end, you’d decide to google anything and everything about this ‘kim Namjoon’ person. 

Six hours later, and you practically had been left at a dead end. 

Family of four. Brother went hysterical, falling into the coping of drugs. Sentenced to sex years for sex trafficking and overdosing/torturing victims. 

You laugh hysterically. 

I guess torture runs in the family.

Mother - Neighbours said the family had always been weird. Hauling in animals left and right, even when it hadn’t been hunting season. Mother had always been cooking something in the backyard. Neighbors complained of ghastly and grotesque smells coming from Kim's estate. Police searched, but had come up empty handed. Soon, father went on a killing spree. A total of 16 lives were lost to the hands of Namjoon’s father. 

Something had caught your eye.

When investigated, authorities found descriptive and eerie pictures of a disgusting family dinner. Authorities took 8 months to identify the victims. Finally, they had been concluded. 

A total of 5 bodies - 4 girls and one boy - all around to be 16-21 - had been consumed. 

Your body hunches forward, your lunch threatening to spill from your stomach. Bile comes creeping up your throat. 

He had been a cannibal. 

It was so much worse than you thought..

You make your way back into the room, a patient Namjoon is placed in his usual spot. His creeping smile repulses you. You take your seat, preparing the session. 

This time, you were going to catch him. 

The assignment you’d been hired for had been altered.

“Find some evidence good enough to put him on immediate death row.”

Seeing this bastard’s head chopped off gave you some sick kind of feeling in the pit of your stomach. Watching as it rolls around, after being freshly severed gives you a sense of relief. 

And something that should not be there in a time like this…

His chocolate brown eyes swirl your figure. 

“Good morning, Alice.” He fakes a smile, as do you. 

This is a game.

And you must win.

A smile creeps his face. His black locks frame his face like framing of the Mona Lisa. 

You had to admit, he was gorgeous. 

“Good morning, Kim.” He faints a cheap taken back expression from your harsh words. 

“Damn baby, thought after all these dates we’d already have first names in the vocabulary.” You chuckle, clicking your pen to write the date down on your spreadsheet. 

“These aren’t dates.” He smiles, watching as you pen in the date and time.

“Mmm, You sure dress like it is.” 

You glance down to your outfit. The Wine-stained two piece pantsuit accentuates your hips. The white blouse teasingly pops out between your cropped blazer. The gold necklace you’d previously worn, adorns the thin curves down the front of your chest. 

You can hear his chest heave a short groan at your outfit choice. 

You looked like absolute fucking sin.

“Mmm, You look good in red.” He leans forward, the straight jacket having been discarded for ‘good behavior’ from last week. Anything to get to touch your porcelain-soft looking features. To have you writhing under his touches. To corrupt your innocence you hide behind the insecurity like a masked confidence. 

He could read you like a book. 

A newspaper, even. 

You’re filled with stories for him every day.

Your eyes follow his lead meeting in the middle. You notice the write cotton sweatpants wrapped around his thick thighs. The white-ish cream colored monochrome tones match his top. A long sleeve cotton shirt with lack of strings of any kind. Precautions of suicide, you learned in college. 

“So, tell me.” You lean forward, resting your hands atop the desk, placing the point of your chin in the dips of your palms. 

“Anything, Dear.” He flashes a genuine looking smile. 

Impossible. 

He’s just mirroring my own expressions.

Psychopaths can’t feel actual emotions. 

So, why does it look genuine?

“Tell me about your family.” He chuckles. 

He glances to the walls surrounding the two of you, sighing out of boredom. 

“Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere anyways.” He leans up, placing his forearms on the cool metal table, mimicking your stance. 

“What’d you like to know, princess?”

You flip through your folder. 

‘Wow I feel so special. My own folder~” You tilt his head to the side, trying to get a better look at your features to remember for later, but to anyone else it’d just seem like he’s in his own head, acting crazy. 

Like he is.

“Tell me about the wonderful feasts you had.” His expression falls cold. He leans back, demeanor switching completely. 

“Get out.” He torts, but you don’t budge. 

“Come on. Why did yo-” 

“I said get the fuck out!” He yells, as the two guards come rushing in, pulling you away from the metal table. 

Once he sees that you’re gone, he quickly grabs the folder, stuffing it quickly into the belt area of his pants before being dragged out of the interrogation room. 

Once back in his cell, it’d already been time to rest. His body lays against the cool mattress, shuffling around he finds a comfortable position. On the bright side of being in the top 10 notorious murderers, they deemed him too insane to share a room with anyone else. 

He pulls the thin covers over his head, making sure the red light from the camera in the top corner of his room turns completely off, before the camera sinks back to it’s ‘off’ position. He only gets the non camera luxury because the past few years he’d built up somewhat good connections with the guards. They didn’t like him, but tolerated him more than some of the other inmates. 

It also helped to be in the commission business here. 

The guards always have to be checked for any type of drug or weapon that they could sneak into the facility, which meant taking away their pleasure supply. And to be working in a stuffy, cold, dark and -let’s face it- anything but clean place, it was hard to find the kind of things people were into. Thankfully, Marc, Namjoon’s neighboring door down had a plentiful supply of eroticisms that weren’t even allowed -outside- of the facility. 

Namjoon flips through the papers, having a difficult time reading your chicken scratch. He scoffs at your poor penmanship. 

“A three year old could write better than this.” He rolls his eyes, scanning over the meaningless words such as ‘The Kim family had always been strange and introverted.’ ‘Tied to their house’ 

Blah blah blah. 

He already knows that. 

He lived it. 

One line caught his eye. 

“Lee Y/n.”

He chuckles. 

You’d left your profile in the case file.

He flips through the pages, studying over the content while biting into the apple he’d been given as a token for being a quote ‘good noodle’. 

This good noodle was gonna rip out that guard’s small intestine and use it as a fucking belt if he ever said shit like that again.

He flips through the folder, watching as more information pops up to his enjoyment. 

____________________________________________________________

Name: Lee Y/n

Age: 25

Occupation: Criminal Psychology and Justice Studies. 

Level of Education: Dual-Enrolled all of highschool, Straight A student, Volunteered at psych clinics for 2+ years. Studied at Carnegy another 4 years. 

Hobbies: Reading, History, Criminal studies, Karate, Ju-jitsu.

_____________________________________________________________

Another section of the folder catches his eye. 

_____________________________________________________________

Background Screening Results - 2019

Relatives: No

Recommendations: 3+

Notes:  Father convicted of 6 murders, one being his own 4 year old son, Grayson. Currently resides;

Westwood Mental Institution (2017).

Mother clinically diagnosed with DSM - Schizophrenia, Generalized anxiety, and depression. Currently resides and recovering in Livingston, Montana. 

_____________________________________________________________

So crazy runs in your family too, huh?

Your low wedges plank across the hardened concrete floors. The off-white colored pencil dress you’d chosen to wear sways along with the sing songy tone of your hips. 

“Morning, Miss Y/n!” Catherine calls from the front desk. 

“Morning, Cathay!” You walk past the guards, already knowing the routine. They don’t even need to check you anymore. -Though, they sometimes still do-

You make your way to the room, laying your small briefcase on the metal table, preparing for today’s session. The cold walls block any kind of kind thoughts you have. 

Something was off. 

 Soon, the thick mental door opens, revealing Namjoon. 

By himself..

You stand, wondering where the guards had gone. 

Sirens whirl off in the distance. 

“Hello, My Alice.”

You’re confused. Had one of the prisoners tried to escape? It wasn’t until Namjoon grabs you by the arm, gripping tightly, making his way through the corridor. The guards stop him about 20 feet in front. Guns and flashlights shine and gleam on the both of you. Namjoon sighs, rolling his eyes before quickly pulling a gun to your head. 

“Easy boys. Don’t want a lawsuit on your hands” Namjoon’s plastered smirk sends chills down your spine. 

“Come on Namjoon, leave the girl alone.” One of the guards eases his way towards the both of you, still keeping a distance that Namjoon would prefer. He pretends to ponder for a moment, but a blood-curdling look smears his face. 

“How about… No.” He aims the gun towards the guard, ducking down to save his own life. 

“See? You don’t really care about her.” Namjoon’s eyes crane to look down at your motionless frame. 

“Not like I do.”

Just then, a large explosion goes off in the distance. Namjoon’s grasp on your figure never seems to falter as he bends down, shielding you from the glass shards shattering through the air. 

‘Perfect timing, my friend.” He claps his free hand toward a strange looking man, before hauling you up onto his shoulder, making his way out of the blown through wall. 

‘You’re insane!” You yell. A harsh slap to your ass is applied, along with a shushed tone telling you to be quiet. 

“No, No baby.” He sets your figure down, ripping a length of cloth from his shirt to tie snuggly around your hands. 

“We both are.” He caresses the side of your cheek, before you hit his hand backwards, spitting on his face. The anger was clear as day upon his face. 

“Wrong choice, baby.” He reaches into his pocket, revealing a plastic covered syringe. 

No.

No.

NO!!

“Namjoon please- Please just let me go and I can help you!” You beg, but it’s no use. He flicks the needle, before running a hand through your locks, shushing your shivering figure. 

“Shh, Shhh. It’s okay baby.” His lips meet the crown of your forehead, kissing softly. The sounds of guns firing in the background doesn’t help one bit. 

“Namjoon- Y-you don’t need to do this! Please!” you tried to scoot as far away from his as possible, but his strong biceps held you in place against the metal pole just outside the view of the asylum. 

“This could’ve been different if you had just listened to me.” He sighs, nearing the needle towards the skin of your neck. 

“Namjoon! Please!” you’re practically screaming this time. His free hand comes to cup the palm of his hand against your mouth. 

“Shhh, darling. Be a good girl for me.” A sharp pain rips through your neck. Everything begins to fade in and out. The last thing you see is his disgusting face plastered with a clown-like grin. 

Evil.

Pure, evil.

“My little Alice.”

©sweethearthigh 2022. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works with given consent from me.

[ginafumbless]

The Crimson Letters-k.nj

Secrets written in blood

Genre: psychological thriller and murder mystery with a touch of romance

Summary: In this psychological thriller we are diving into a heart pounding case that has gripped all of Korea. A detective faces relentless tension as bodies pile up each crime scene marked by ominous crimson sealed envelopes. These chilling letters contain eerie clues about the next victim escalating the nationwide fear and suspense.

Note: Hillo Hillo my beeeeaaaans, I guess everyone of you are doing well!

Well the whole story is not solely my original idea, I found the prompt online and developed a plot. I hope you guys like itttt.

Letterslettersletterslettersletterslett

Chapter 1

Messages unseen

The city lights flickered through the rain splattered windows of Namjoon's small apartment casting a splash of colors across the walls. The room was dimly lit by a single desk lamp, its soft yellow glow creating long shadows that loomed on the walls. The faint hum of distant traffic and the occasional honk of a horn were the only sounds that broke the heavy silence that had settled over in the room.

Namjoon sat at his desk, his elbows resting on the worn wood his fingers absentmindedly turning over the Third envelope he'd received this week. The paper was coarse, slightly damp from the humidity and completely nondescript no address, no stamp, just his name written in red with a precise and neat script. He flipped it over his gaze fixed on the crimson wax seal that held it shut.The seal was simple yet it had an air of old world and elegance. A circular emblem was pressed into the wax edges slightly raised catching the light just enough to cast a tiny shadow on the envelope. He traced the pattern with his thumb, feeling the grooves of the design. It was fragile elegant almost like a family crest, though Namjoon knew it was nothing he'd seen before. He'd spent hours searching through books and online databases trying to find a match but the symbol remained a mystery.

A shiver ran down his spine though the room was warm. These envelopes were beginning to feel like more than just a nuisance. They were a puzzle, a riddle he was desperate to solve but they filled him with a creeping sense of unease. Each time he found one in his mailbox or slipped under his door his stomach tightened and his mind raced with questions. Who was sending them? What did they want? And why him?He let out a sigh the sound barely audible over the rain. He could feel the tension coiling in his muscles the weight of the unanswered questions pressing down on him. He'd been through his usual mental exercises to calm himself, deep breaths, logical thinking, grounding techniques but not tonight they seemed less effective. His mind was too restless too caught up in the endless possibilities of what the envelopes could mean.

"Namjoon?"

Your voice broke through the silence like a gentle breeze soft and full of concern. You stood in the doorway of the small bedroom one hand resting on the doorframe the other clutching the edge of your sweater. Your eyes always so expressive were filled with a mixture of worry and affection as you watched him. Namjoon had always admired that about you, how you could see right through him past the walls he sometimes put up.

He looked up at you his lips curving into a small almost apologetic smile. "Another one" he said holding up the envelope for you to see. His voice was calm but there was frustration evident in it that you didn't miss.

You walked over to him your footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. As you reached his side you brushed a hand gently against his shoulder offering him a touch of comfort. He leaned into it slightly, grateful for your presence. You peered at the envelope your eyes searching for many things as you took in the familiar sight of the crimson seal.

"Empty again?" you asked though you already knew the answer.

"Yeah " he sighed his fingers tightening around yours "But there’s something more to it. I just know."

Your gaze lingered on the seal, the same thought crossing your mind as had crossed Namjoon's countless times what was the significance of this emblem? The sender had gone to great lengths to ensure that each envelope was identical, each seal perfectly intact each piece devoid of any information except for that damned symbol. Smart you thought

You leaned down pressing a gentle kiss to Namjoon's temple. Your eyes leaving the envelope after lingering there for more seconds than you actually thought. The warmth of your lips against his skin was opposite to the coldness he felt from the envelope in his hand. "You'll figure it out" you murmured your voice filled with quiet confidence. "You always do."

Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment letting the comfort of your words sink in. He wanted to believe that he wanted to trust in his own abilities to solve whatever this was. But the uncertainty gnawed at him like a splinter lodged in his mind. He opened his eyes again staring at the envelope as if suddenly it would reveal all its secrets

"Have you thought about going to the police?" you asked your tone careful. You knew how fiercely independent Namjoon was how much he disliked involving others in his personal matters. Moreover, He himself was a detective in the criminal investigation branch not the top echelon of Korea’s law enforcement but a respected position nonetheless. He was used to dealing with mysteries to deciphering the hidden intentions behind seemingly innocuous details. But these envelopes had thrown him off balance.

"I've thought about it" he admitted, "but what would I even say? 'Someone's sending me empty envelopes with weird seals on them'? They'd probably just brush it off as a prank.

"You couldn't argue with that. The lack of any real threat or evidence made it difficult to justify involving the authorities. And yet, the feeling in your gut told you that this was something more than a harmless joke. You wished you had more to offer Namjoon than just reassurance, but for now that would have to be enough.

Namjoon placed the envelope on the desk alongside the others. They were all lined up in a neat row like a collection of strange artifacts. He had resisted the urge to destroy them feeling that they held some key to the mystery. He had inspected them thoroughly, looking for any hidden messages or any signs that they were more than they seemed but they remained stubbornly silent.

"Maybe..." Namjoon began, hesitating as he considered his next words. "Maybe there's something I'm missing. Something that's right in front of me but I just can't see it."

You nodded, "take a break. Let your mind rest and then look at it with fresh eyes. It might Just be right there'' you said.

"I'll try" he said though both of you knew it was more of a hopeful statement than a commitment.

Just like that the stars faded into the sky and the moon lost its light, but the messages remained unseen.

Letterslettersletterslettersletterslett

[handkinkbis]

It's Destined With You day and I want confirmation for whether Shin Yu's under a spell or not at this point

[ilmyg1221]

Jeon Jungkook just wanted to dispose of his latest victim not run into Kim Taehyung doing the exact same thing. Unknown to them both, there was another person and it has now turned into a game of cat and dog. Can Jungkook trust Taehyung? Or will Taehyung betray him to save himself? Maybe Jungkook will be able to think clearly if Taehyung wasn't such a tease.

Themes: Psychological, Thriller, Romance, Ocassional Fluff, Smut

Chapter 1: Rainy Days

Tonight was the perfect night to dispose of a dead body. The rain began like a whisper, a soft pitter-patter against the windshield, a gentle rhythm that seemed to lull the world into sleep, but inside the beat-up gray sedan the tension was high. A low ruble of thunder echoed in the distance as Jeon Jungkook swerves to the left entering a ‘No Trespassing’ zone of an old shoe factory that caught fire ten years ago. Now it was a crumbling skeleton, and tonight it was going to become a tomb.

Yes, tonight was the perfect night indeed.

Bundled in a black raincoat, Jungkook stepped out of the car, eager to get the job done. The rain lashed against his face, a relentless curtain that blurred the world into a mess of gray. He waded through the uneven ground, the mud sucking on his boots with each step. With a grunt his gloved hand opened the trunk lid to reveal a red rectangular cooler surrounded by thick plastic.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he mumbled before bending down to grab it. “You’re were annoying and nosy, and this is where it got you.”

He chuckled as he carried the cooler deeper inside the abandoned shoe factory. He wasn't really sorry. The only person he feels sorry for is himself for having to go through all this trouble. No one bothers with this place anymore, but he knew there was a sink hole that opened here 3 years ago which was another reason why it had been left to rot by the owners. “I should just open a pig farm,” he grumbled as he made his way carefully down a rickety metal staircase, “Then I wouldn’t be doing any of this in the first place.”

Jungkook stood there frozen for a moment for he had heard a low, gurgling sound from above. His could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. Has he been caught? Was someone here with him?

He was not down for a second kill for this month.

It’s just the rain, he assured himself. The raindrops assuring him with their relentless drumming against the surfaces. Soon he found himself standing in front of the sinkhole. “Bye,” he mumbled before letting the cooler go. He watched as it fell deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the periphery caught his eye. He froze, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs once again. A dark figure stood on the opposite side of the 20 feet wide sinkhole. Someone else was here? At the same time that he was? While it was raining cats and dogs outside? He noticed that the man was holding a blue cooler which was immediately let go to fall into the darkness of the sinkhole.

Before he could react, the man broke into a run, heading straight towards him. Jungkook sprinted in the opposite direction. With a surge of adrenaline, he scrambled up the stairs, his legs burning with each step. He could hear the heavy footsteps behind him getting closer. The other figure lunged forward, colliding with him making him fall to the floor. He lashed out with a wild swing, connecting with the man’s jaw with a loud thud. The man staggered back, hand flying to his face, a dark stain blossoming on his knuckles.

The two of them stared at each other for a beat, a look of shared terror etched on their rain-soaked faces.

Continue reading

[btscontentenjoyer]

BTS Halloween Fic Recs

In honour of spooky season, here are some fanfic recommendations that I think fit the mood or theme of the season! What that means to me really is just some supernatural fics that I've enjoyed a lot. Hope you enjoy some of these fics as well, and if you do, don't forget to let the author know by leaving feedback! Most of these stories contain smut or other mature themes so MINORS DNI!

kim namjoon

hungry (for your love) by @minisugakoobies (two-shot, 4k) slight fluff/slight smut

[namjoon x vampire reader, strangers to lovers]

summary: After a century of slumber, you wake ravenous for your next meal. The first human you stumble across, Namjoon, is a fine choice. You just weren’t expecting him to be so cute.

wish granted by @jjungkookislife (4.6k) smut

[genie namjoon x reader, strangers to lovers]

summary: Finding a genie in a bottle wasn’t what you were expecting the night before Halloween. Being granted three wishes sounded like fun at first, but after wasting one, and stumped on the second, you’re not too sure how your night will pan out. And the genie is of no help… he is insanely attractive though!

kim seokjin

useless magic by @raplinesmoon (2.3k) fantasy/fluff

[baker seokjin x witch reader]

summary: As owner of the hot new bakery in town, you should be more than ashamed to admit that your baking sucks. You know this fact. The only reason why people keep coming back to your bakery is that your desserts are enchanted: chocolate chip cookies that provide warmth and comfort, blueberry muffins that give a burst of energy to start the day, chocolate-covered strawberries spiked with love potions. One day, your fellow rival and bakeshop owner Kim Seokjin stumbles upon you in the midst of casting a spell. And chaos ensues.

in the dead of night by @ot7always (14.5k) smut/fluff

[vampire seokjin x reader, friends to lovers]

summary: You didn’t exactly expect Kim Seokjin to show up at your door at 3 am requesting a bite.

min yoongi

mine by @sailoryooons (14.8k) smut/horror/thriller

[yoongi x succubus reader]

summary: Yoongi lives a quiet life. His days are organized neatly, and every week he can expect the same results. Then he meets you. Hypnotizing. Otherworldly. Strange. And his life never goes back to the way it was before.

the dark by @bratkook (18k) smut

[demon yoongi x reader]

summary: your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?

jung hoseok

not today, satan by @gimmethatagustd (3.7k) humor/a lil bit of smut

[demon hoseok x reader]

summary:  If you had known the demon tasked with reaping your soul would be a total #daddy you would have gone to Hell sooner!

what happened in neverland by @kithtaehyung (4.3k) angst/smut/pwp

[mermaid hoseok x pirate reader, enemies to lovers]

summary: you hate him. he’s your enemy. that’s just how it’s always been. so how the hell did you end up here?

the wood by @sailoryooons (16.7k) psychological thriller/smut

[witch hoseok x reader]

summary:  From the moment you step foot in Kill Devil, you know something about the town is off. Determined to find out exactly how your sister went missing in such a small town, you receive unlikely help from the man staying in the motel room next to yours. But there is so much more than what meets the eye with Hoseok and the citizens of Kill Devil.

park jimin

cloud nine by @suga-kookiemonster (5.4k) smut/horror

summary: “he’s here again” viv whispers. “you know who. the hot guy who’s totally into you.” and he is hot – devastatingly hot enough that you know he can’t actually be into you, because the universe simply doesn’t work that way. that still doesn’t stop your heart from pounding when he smiles at you from across the room. 

nectar by @gimmethatagustd (series, 35k) smut/angst/fluff

[human jimin x vampire reader, roommates to lovers, college au]

summary: Humans have this annoying habit of being drawn to danger, and you’re having a hard time stopping yourself from sinking your teeth into your new roommate. You’re not sure what’s more tantalizing: his impossibly good looks or his seemingly innocent way of flirting with the darkest part of you.

the prince’s cinderella syndrome by @jimilter (39.4k) angst/smut/fluff

[cursed jimin x reader, strangers to lovers]

summary:  He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn’t look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don’t know him - no one on campus does. You don’t know why he appears only once a year. You don’t know why he never smiles. But you can’t help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.

lovely demons by @kpopfanfictrash (41.7k) fantasy/angst/smut

[prince of hell jimin x witch reader, enemies to lovers]

summary: As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Helland pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.

kim taehyung

moonstruck by @jungkxook (7.4k) smut/fluff

[werewolf taehyung x reader, arranged marriage au]

summary: in hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted” and the only way to save you is to be mated with taehyung. whatever that means.

et sic incipit by @lavienjin (12.5k) smut/pwp

[incubus taehyung x virgin reader]

summary: For Taehyung, born of old and before the dawn of man, tempting mortals is nothing more than a pass-time to quench his boredom. Everything changes when he met you, literally too good to be true, but no human has ever resisted his pull. And he’s sure that you’re no different.

love you for infinity by @gimmethatagustd (24k) smut/angst/fluff

[ghost taehyung x human reader, long-lost lovers, soulmates (kinda)]

summary: Kim Taehyung and his fiancée met their untimely deaths when they were young and heartbroken. When he’s doomed to roam the earth as a ghost with unfinished business, Taehyung is convinced that finding the soul of his true love and righting his wrongs will set him free. However, you have no intention of being haunted by a ghost for the rest of your life.

jeon jungkook

corrupt by @bratkook (5k) smut/pwp

[vampire jungkook x human reader]

summary: You’d be crying out in pain begging me to play my games. I could corrupt you, it would be ugly.

knot today by @kinktae (5.8k) smut/pwp

[alpha jungkook x virgin omega reader, friends to lovers]

summary: When your first heat approaches and you are left desperate and partnerless, who better to turn to than your alpha roommate that you’ve spent the better half of your life hiding your feelings for?

only when you’re lonely by @jjkeverlast (7.5k) humor/smut/angst

[human jungkook x succubus reader, fake dating, college au]

summary: jungkook has never dated anyone, because of you and you're soft touches that bring him to orbit. it's all it's ever been, just sex between you. although, it brings an unexpected turn when jungkook accidentally blurts you out as his girlfriend to his college friends which results in them expecting you to an upcoming party. what jungkook doesn't know is that you're much more than just someone he meets when he's lonely.

wicked by @noteguk (9.1k) smut

[incubus jungkook x inexperienced reader]

summary; in which incubus!jungkook likes to ruin pretty innocent things, and you might just be the perfect target.

darkroom by @yoon-kooks (10.2k) smut/fluff

[vampire jungkook x reader, college au]

summary:  When you somehow end up in an advanced photography class that you definitely shouldn’t be in, you seek the help of shy nerdy boy Jeon Jungkook to preserve your 4.15 GPA. It isn’t until after you stumble upon him in the darkroom that you realize your cute little nerd is actually a super hot vampire with an icy cold stare and beautiful burgundy eyes.

hotter than hell by @chateautae (series, 136k) angst/fluff/smut

[fallen lucifer jungkook x human reader, enemies to lovers, road trip au]

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

multiple members

ravished by two by @yoonia (5k) smut

[alpha namjoon x werewolf reader x alpha seokjin, fated mates]

summary: Two dominant Alphas, one defining goal. But how far can you catch up with two prime, tenacious males overcome with desire?

compromise by @here2bbtstrash (10k) crack/smut

[vampire taehyung x human reader x werewolf jungkook, twilight au]

summary: you’re torn between the two loves of your life - but maybe you don’t have to choose.

the (hell) house by @whatifyoulivelikethat (two-shot, 25k+) crack/fluff/smut

[ot7 x fwb reader, all kinds of monster sex lol]

summary: Welcome to the Hell House. Some call it resident evil. Some call it a haunted house. Some call it a waste of space (rude). Enter if you dare – the Doctor will ensure that you never come out the same. What’s that? Why are you going with your seven fuckbuddies? You wouldn’t… fuck in there, right? (Yes, you would.)

Thank you so much for taking the time to check out this list! And thank you to these amazing authors for sharing their work with us!! I honestly wanted to read more this month but I ended up not having time and yet I still wanted to put together a little list for the spooky season (thank you to the anon who asked for halloween recs for giving me a little push!) If anyone has more recommendations, I'd love to hear them, so don't be afraid to put them in the comments or send me an ask <3

[sailoryooons]

The Wood | JHS | (m)

☾ Pairing: witch!Hoseok x female reader

☾ Summary: From the moment you step foot in Kill Devil, you know something about the town is off. Determined to find out exactly how your sister went missing in such a small town, you receive unlikely help from the man staying in the motel room next to yours. But there is so much more than what meets the eye with Hoseok and the citizens of Kill Devil.

☾ Word Count: 16,786

☾ Genre: supernatural, psychological thriller, southern-gothic

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

☾ Warnings: Creepy town vibes somewhere in the south, unreliable narrator because she’s a dumb bitch, missing family member, descriptions of nightmares and night terrors, allusions to toxic citizens and intolerance in the southern US, cryptic exchanges, being attacked and choked by a strange entity, sleep paralysis, depictions of anxiety and panic and deep fear, manipulation, cat Yoongi.... sort of, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, slight hand job, a lot of spit and cum, fucking in a nasty ass motel room, mean Hoseok at the end, I don't know why I reference frogs so much please forgive me, ambiguous ending/unexplained ending, implied death of a side character off-screen

☾ Published: May 29, 2022

☾ A/N: Not only is this absolutely a million weeks late, it also is the longest it has ever - and I mean ever - taken me to write a fic. This was so hard for me to write, and I have deleted anad re-written thousands of words for this. The end result is something that I absolutely did not plan. This fic is ENTIRELY different from the original outline and idea, so at times it might seem where this piece doesn’t know where it’s going because it wasn’t until I got to the end of the smut scene last night that I realized what the hell this story needed. 

I want to thank @here2bbtstrash because I could not have written this fic without them, but also for the amazing and thorough beta they gave this. This was one of my choppier/messier pieces and they helped fix this so much and I have giant feelings for M that are very normal. Also a special thank you to @gimmethatagustd for keeping me somewhat sane while really struggling with this piece.

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

Masterlist | Ask | To Love A Monster Collab | Song Inspiration

Only God can save us! 

It’s probably the tenth sign of the like that you’ve seen. Your palms feel sweaty on the wheel, the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you drive through God’s Country increasing. For some reason, as you catch glimpses of old abandoned churches at the end of red dirt roads and leaning fruit stands with no seller in sight, you think that perhaps God has forsaken this place. 

The drive has been unremarkable, but the closer you get to Kill Devil you think perhaps the town is aptly named. You can’t help but get the sense - especially when you stop at a gas station with no one inside and a single working pump - that there is a reason the town sports such a unique title. 

It’s hard to imagine why your sister would ever move here, even temporarily. Outside, the locusts whine, a high-pitched buzzsaw hidden in the boughs draped with Spanish moss. The paint on the road has long since faded, single lanes stretching North to South in an endless strip. 

Sticky heat prickles your skin. Though there’s no one else around save for you and the locusts, you can’t help but look around nervously, eyes scouring the oak trees. The door to the gas station is locked, and the other side of your single-station pump has a red bag on the handle. 

The sk sk sk of the pump is a slow heartbeat. Pulling out your phone while you wait, your stomach flips when you see that you have very little service. You’re about thirty minutes away from Kill Devil and an hour away from any major cities. Peppered along the map are small towns like Kill Devil, home to pecan farms, corn fields, and cotton gins. 

You feel a long way from home.

A tingle slides down the back of your neck. You look up from your phone, gaze sweeping back and forth through the trees and over the cracked pavement of the station. There’s nothing else there, but you have the sense that the trees have eyes. 

The pump clicks loudly and your heart lurches, hand flying to your chest as you shriek and turn. For a few moments, your heart beats so loudly in your ears you can’t hear the chirping of the locusts or your ragged breathing as you close your eyes, trying to level out your moment of panic. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, pulling the handle and jiggling it lightly to ensure any dripping gas is shaken off. 

Naturally, you’re a pretty calm person. The jumpiness belongs to your mother, who screams every time someone turns a corner in the house unexpectedly. It’s something about the feeling that clings to you like a second skin as you get in the car that has you shaken. 

Or it’s the fact that your sister has been missing for two months. 

On instinct, your hand goes to the necklace around your throat. It’s a heart-shaped locket, which would seem cheesy to anyone else. But for you, it’s one of the few coveted items you have from her.

It’s also something that you swear burned you in the middle of the night two months ago. You’re not sure if you believe in spiritual intuition or connection between family members, but what you do know is that you haven’t heard from her, and the local police have been no help. 

Trust your gut. That’s what she’s always said. And you do trust your gut on this, this knowing that something is wrong. 

On the road again, your tension continues to increase. The land has turned to steep up and down hills, pines lined on either side of the road, pocked with deep canyons.

Orange tire tracks appear and disappear on the highway, turning off onto clay roads with washed-out shoulders and deep ruts from all of the rain over the summer. Your sister had mentioned the house she was renting was nearly impossible to get to when the rain was bad.

A green sign that says Kill Devil City Limits passes by. No welcome sign, no little plaque announcing the population. Your music skips in and out, the connection to your phone weak. You switch to FM, flinching at the roaring static that comes through, finger jamming on the arrows to skip through to something passable.

Country. Country. Church. Country. Rock. Pop. 

You leave it on the pop station, turning your eyes back to the road. A logging truck comes roaring up the hill, blasting by your sedan at top speed, making your car shake. Your heart squeezes in fear. You’ve passed over two dozen of them and they never drive any slower or any safer each time. 

You’re going to kill Hanna if you find her lounging in her house, making you come all this way.

She had taken up a story there, investigating the town's eerie occult background for the media company that she worked for. Her editor had stopped receiving updates from her around the same time you’d stopped hearing from her. 

When you called the landlord she was renting from, he was no help. Some idiot who owned seventeen houses dotted around the country, renting them out for twice the price they were worth. 

The local police station had been worse. They’d done a wellness check several times after you called but insisted she wasn’t home. No signs of a break-in, no signs of a struggle. No reason to be missing. They refused to make it an official report, as there was no reason for her to be missing. 

Have you considered she just doesn’t want to talk to you? they’d laughed on the phone. 

It was a joke. Somehow you could not believe they refused to file a report, and you threatened to take it to the state police and anyone who would listen to you. The woman you had spoken to had chuckled then, her mirth sending a chill up your spine. 

Have fun on hold, sweetheart.

You could not fathom how not a single person cared. Not the news, not any authority that you could get in contact with, and certainly not the lawyer you reached out to. 

Let law enforcement handle it. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and it was like it didn’t even matter that an entire person was missing. You’d heard about the blunders of the law enforcement system before, but this was a new level of ignorance and oddity.

It was… unexplainable. 

Which was why now, you were driving into the backwater town of Kill Devil in the southern part of the United States. 

Dropping your speed down, you take the chance to look around. There are a few houses on the outskirts of the town, their yards sprawling with kudzu and their homes leaning heavily with brown vines climbing up the eaves. There are several old, broken-down trucks in the middle of the kudzu fields, swallowed by the invasive vine-like devil’s snare. 

You’d heard of one-stop-light-towns but you had never seen one without. Kill Devil is made up of all stop signs. Everything is built around the courthouse, a red brick building dropped in the middle like a fungus growing its roots outward.

The sheriff’s office is just across the street with Crown Victoria model patrol cars. A taxidermist is right next door, the gold cursive font on the front of the glass door telling you it’s been there since the 70s. 

Kill Devil has everything you expect. Antique shops with dusty windows and dry-rotted awnings, a convenience store that looks straight out of retro America, closed-down shops with empty shelves and shattered glass, and a single diner with station wagons and mud-slicked trucks in the parking lot. 

A single motel stands at the edge of the town center. When you pull into the parking lot, you look up at the sign and frown. Like something out of a horror movie, the Lodging Motel is missing several letters in long-burnt-out neon, three letters blinking in the fading afternoon sun: Lodging Motel. 

Die.

With one look at the crusted, three-paneled windows and mold-covered brick face, you think that you just might die. 

Pink sun sinks behind the rolling hills of pine. You get out of the car, stretching and popping your joints as you look at your lodging with a sour taste in your mouth. You pass the ‘vacant’ sign as you walk to the small square building at the end with ‘front office’ on the window. 

“Yeah no shit,” you mutter. You cannot imagine who would stay here out of anything but necessity. 

In fact, it seems like there is no one staying at the hotel. This fact makes you jumpy as you approach the office, which is just a clerk's window and a woman with sunken eyes and a scowl on her face watching you. You swallow thickly as you give her a weak smile and nervous wave, trying to get past the sudden anxiety trembling in your hands. 

“Hi,” you say. “I have a reservation for-”

A small window that’s about six inches tall and a foot wide pops open. She hacks, fluid-sounding and phlegmy before saying, “I can’t hear you with the damn window closed. What do you want?” 

You clench your jaw. Slowly, you begin again. “I have a reservation.”

“ID and credit card.” 

You slide the materials through the window. She holds them up close to her face, scrutinizing them. Crickets join the singing of the locusts. Mosquitos fly around your head and you cringe, swatting at them as you wait while she rolls her chair over to a cabinet.

Wordlessly, she puts your credit card on a manual credit card imprinter. You raise your brows, unsure of the last time you’ve seen someone do paper credit card printing instead of sliding it through a machine. 

While you wait, you look past her into the office. It’s dingy inside but you can see a box TV and a window unit air conditioner rattling in the window. There are metal cabinets that form their own little skyscrapers around her office. An episode of I Love Lucy plays on the fuzzy TV screen. 

“Here’s your room key.” She tosses it through the window. It’s room three, the key hanging on a diamond-shaped, acrylic keychain with Lodging Motel written in Sharpie. “We don’t got room service or maid service. If you need more towels, the launder-mat is down the street. Don’t run the hot water more than twenty minutes or so. If the AC ain’t on, hit ‘er a few times.” 

“Great,” you deadpan. “Anything else?”

She scowls. “Mind the raccoons. They got rabies.” 

“Thanks.”

Inside the room is just as expected: peeling wallpaper, red shag carpet with questionable stains and the unmistakable stench of cigarettes, sconce lighting with lampshades that look decades old, a twin with a horrible patterned blanket, frayed at the edges and moth-eaten, and a single, square dresser with a box TV on top and a white, corded phone. 

The bathroom is no better. The tub is stained with limescale, cracked tiles, and a lamp that buzzes when you flip it on. You scream when you see the massive roach hanging out in the tub, gagging and running out to look for anything to kill it with. 

You settle on a sneaker, and it’s a battle involving your high-pitched scream as you try and kill it. You do win, but you’re covered in sweat and shaking after your victory.

A sharp knock on the door startles you further. You drift to the front door, looking out the peephole to find that it is cracked and you cannot see the person standing just on the other side. You slide the chain lock in and open the door tentatively, peering out into the now early night. 

“Everything okay?” a male voice asks. “I heard screaming.” 

The voice belongs to someone who absolutely does not belong in Kill Devil. He’s dressed in jeans with large rips at the knee and a plain white shirt that hangs off his frame stylishly. He has a few necklaces on, a single hoop hanging from his right ear that catches the flickering parking lot light. 

And he’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that stuns you. He has a slender face with smooth, flowing skin. His eyes are kind, glittering brown with flecks of lighter shades throughout. The slope of his cheekbones and jawline makes you think perhaps he’s into modeling, which would explain the taste in clothes. 

But it does not explain what someone who looks like that is doing in this shithole town. 

“I had to kill a roach,” you admit, a little hesitant. Your skin tingles under his gaze, your instincts picking up something that you can’t put your thumb on. “I don’t like them very much and it was fast.”

“Disgusting. I had to buy killer for them - it came in a two-pack if you want?” You don’t answer, watching him warily. He picks up on your anticipation and smiles, disarming. “Sorry - my name is Hoseok. You can call me Hobi, if you’d like. I’m staying next door which is just as gross as your room is I’m sure. I heard you yell and I got worried.”

“That’s kind of you. This doesn’t seem like a place where people would care if they heard  screaming.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not from here.” He looks around the parking lot and his eyes focus on a raccoon meandering near the trash. You grimace, thinking about rabies. “Thank fuck, this place feels right out of fucking Deliverance.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling better at his distaste. “One sec, let me slide the lock off.” You close the door and slide the chain before opening it a little wider this time. “Yeah, this place gives me the creeps. Hopefully, I don’t have to be here long.”

“A night is long enough. You want that spray?”

“Yeah, that would be great.” 

Hoseok grins and holds up a finger, asking you to wait as he jogs to his room. He’s only gone for a moment, leaving you in the poorly lit lot with the tk tk tk of the raccoon pilfering through trash and the crickets creek creek creeking. 

Hoseok’s door opens and he’s back, handing you a large, red can of lemon-scented Raid. “Just make sure you drown them. They did outlive the dinosaurs. Makes you wonder what the hell is in that stuff.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem…” He drifts off, unsure what your name is. You laugh, a little flustered by the way his entire face lights up when he smiles, and give him your name. “I like it. Well, I don’t know how long you’re here, but I’m your neighbor for a few days. Try not to catch any infections while you’re in there and holler if you need me.”

“Thanks,” you grin. You hold up the can and add, “Especially for this.”

With a wave goodnight, Hoseok returns to his room. The buzz of something instinctual fades with him, replaced once more with the unsettling frequency the town seems to vibrate at. 

Closing the door firmly behind you and flicking the lock, you shiver. The eerie feeling that had been following you lingers.

After changing the sheets, inspecting the rest of the room and setting the spray can firmly on the pillow next to you, you lay on your back in bed, mattress lumpy and air conditioner rattling. 

-

Moonlight streams through the curtain, catching dust motes floating in the air and turning them into diamonds. You stand in the middle of the room. Cold but humid air clings to your skin, the air conditioner rattling and dripping as it cools the room but does nothing to suck out the moisture. You don’t know why you’re standing in the middle of the room and you don’t remember waking up and getting out of bed, but you face the window, the curtains open just enough to face the empty parking lot. 

Silence blankets the world. The hum of the air conditioner fades and you stare out into the silver-painted parking lot. Above the lot, a street light flickers on and off weakly. It goes out for a minute and flashes back on.

Someone leans against the pole. You can’t make out any features, just that there is a person there, perhaps facing you. The hair on your skin stands on end but you can’t move. Your instincts begin to prickle and there is a sharp feeling in your chest.

Belatedly, beyond your hypnotized stare, you realize the feeling is fear.

Your ears start to ring. You stare out at the shadow and the shadow stares back. Something is telling you to run run run but you don’t know how. Can’t move your feet. Panic begins to rise, your heart beating so fast that you can hear it over the steady whine in your ears. 

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump. 

You can feel your pulse skyrocketing, your chest squeezing tight with terror as the beating gets louder and louder -

Awareness hits you like cold water. You lurch forward in bed, hands flying to your chest as you gasp for air. It takes a moment to get your bearings, the pounding in your heart so hard it feels like you might vomit. Battling the sheets, you rip them off of you, legs sticky with a sheen of sweat. 

The lamp is still on in your room, the curtains are closed just the way you left them, and the bug killer rolls on the bed as you get up. Several paces away from the window, you catch your breath, running a hand over your face. 

“Fuck,” you pant, realizing you were dreaming. 

When your breathing levels out, you glance at the closed curtains. Something niggles at your brain. Slowly, you walk toward the window, feeling the hairs on your arms tingle and stand on end.

Lifting your shaking hands, you grip the curtain tight. Taking a deep breath, you hold it in and pull open the curtain just a bit. 

Unlike your dream, there’s no moonlight outside. It’s so dark you almost can’t see anything in the parking lot. When the lot light flickers back on, your heart squeezes, expecting to see a shadow leaning against the pole. There’s nothing there, just empty lot and a dumpster. Not even the raccoon is around. 

Blowing out your held breath, you close the curtain again and shake out your hands, trying to get rid of the jitters. Rolling your neck and shoulders, you try to work out the tension as you sit on the end of the bed, staring at the faded wallpaper. 

The dream felt so real. You swear that if you turn your head, you’ll see silver moonlight through the curtains. That you’ll see that person - that shadow - standing outside of your window. 

Exhaustion weighs heavy on you. You crawl back into bed, mattress damp and smelling like mildew even with the sheets that you put on it. You’re under a lot of stress and you hate this motel room as much as you already hate this town that you’ve barely started to explore. It makes sense that you’re having weird dreams. 

Blanket pulled up to your chin, you eventually let your lids flutter shut until you’re taken by dreamless sleep. 

-

Morning sun chases away the dregs of your strange dream from the night before. With daylight streaming between the curtains, the room looks no better. It’s a futile hope, perhaps, to keep thinking that the room will suddenly not look nearly as questionable as when you checked in. 

At least there are no bugs. 

Outside, the balmy air is filled with the voices of the locusts. You lock the door behind you and glance toward where Hoseok vanished the night before. His windows are closed and there’s no sign of him anywhere in the parking lot, so you head to your car, stomach begging for food. 

Kill Devil is small in both size and population. The Diner is easy to find, tucked in the southwest corner of the town across from the courthouse. Folks wander about the parking lot, shaking one another’s hands and laughing as the weekend rush of people meanders up the steps for breakfast. 

Your arrival is noted immediately. Eyes turn your way as you walk through the lot, loose gravel crunching under your feet. The lot is more packed dirt than pavement, full of holes and mud softened by rain. 

Seeing a new face in a wretched little town like this probably isn’t common. Though you’re not familiar with growing up in such a small population, you remember what it was like knowing everyone at school. The same theory applies here when a portly man with raised brows stands, screen door in hand as he stares at you.

The man blocks the way to the inside of the diner. You pause and look up, noting the confusion on his face. After clearing your throat, he realizes that he’s completely frozen from opening the door and coughs, bowing his head and apologizing. 

“You uh - visiting?” he asks, holding the door open for you. When you nod, he seems surprised, though that had to be the only answer. “Well, that doesn’t happen often. Welcome to Kill Devil.”

There’s a small host stand with a pile of laminated menus on top. A girl who looks to be about your age stares back at you, wiping her hands on a red apron tied around her waist. She’s in jeans and a t-shirt that says The Diner across the chest, her hair pulled up and stabbed through with a pen. 

“Just you?” she asks, eyes fluttering to the man who shrugs behind you. You nod. “Right this way.” 

The wooden walls are painted white, some of the paint peeling. There are miscellaneous animal heads with plaques underneath stating the names of their killers with a stamp of Jason’s Taxidermy. You try not to make eye contact with their black, glass eyes as you sit in a chair that wobbles from side to side.

You thank the hostess as she wanders off to get you coffee. The family at the table next to you does their best to whisper about who the hell is that as you look over the menu, flipping it to the breakfast side. The laminate is sticky and peeling at the corners. 

It’s a pretty standard breakfast menu. You put it down on the table, nudging the container holding different colored sugar packets and sweeteners while you wait for your coffee. There’s a breakfast bar with people bent over steaming eggs and sitting atop cracked vinyl seats. 

The door opens behind you at a steady rate as people pay their bills and leave while new customers are sitting. A presence at your back sends a cool tingle up your spine, making you straighten and look over your shoulder.

Hoseok stands in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window, turning him gold. For a moment, the diner around you falls to a hush of murmured voices, muting the clinking of spoons against ceramic and scraping chairs.

He’s dressed well again, in a simple white button-up with the button undone to reveal a strip of golden chest. His hair is slightly damp and styled back, an outrageously good look on him. The same hoop earring dangles in his ear but today he has on a few necklaces and rings on his fingers. Somehow, he makes the delicate pieces carry an edge. 

“You survived the night, huh?” he says by way of greeting and then gestures to the chair across from you. “Would you mind company for breakfast?” 

You shake your head, forgetting words for a moment as he smiles, radiant as ever. Hoseok pulls out the chair and sits down, a twinkle in his eye that makes your heart flutter as he plucks a menu from the holder at the center of the table. You can smell his rain and lavender scent from across the table. 

“Thanks again,” you say, realizing you haven’t spoken yet. His brown eyes look at you over the top of the menu, and you can’t help but admire how beautiful they are. Warm, both dark and light, with flecks of chipped gold. “For the bug killer. I haven’t seen any more but I just know they’re there.”

“That’s the shitty thing about the South. All of God's least favorite creatures are here.” He glances at the table of scowling men next to you to emphasize. You hide your laughter with the plastic menu. “What brings you to this shit hole?”

“I’m… visiting my sister.”

“You sound unsure of that. Does she not know you’re coming?”

“She doesn’t.”

While they aren’t technically lies, you don’t know how much you can trust him. Instinct makes you hold the truth from him. After all, you don’t want him to know you’re in a town where no one knows you, and where no one knows you are. By yourself.

Hoseok looks at you again, his eyes narrowed. You feel tension creep into the air between you, your mouth drying out as he watches you silently. 

The arrival of the hostess who is also your server saves you from another question. You both place your order, and you note the way the girl cuts her eyes to Hoseok, wary. Her hands shake a little.

When she leaves the two of you, you ask, “How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks.”

“Enough to win over the locals, hmm?”

His grin is sly as he drums his fingers on the table. “I’m their favorite - you’re perceptive.” 

“My sister is an investigative journalist. She’s made me watch all kinds of shows and read books about psychology and body language with her. I picked up a few things.”

“An investigative journalist, huh?” Hoseok plucks a sugar packet and rips it open with his teeth. He shoots the ripped piece onto the table with a huff of air and dumps the contents on the table. Leaning on one elbow, he begins to trace patterns in the sugar. “So you’re not from here. No one here is smart enough for that.”

“No, she’s been living here since July.” 

“What’s she investigating?” You hesitate again. He doesn’t look up from the patterns he’s tracing on the table, finger steady as it cuts through the white sugar.

“I don’t really know.” He does look up when you say that, gaze razor-sharp. A chill slides up your spine. So you add, “Something to do with the occult.”

Hoseok stops moving his finger through the sugar. He doesn’t look at you, but he’s fixated on the mess he’s made on the table. You chew on your bottom lip, eyes dropping to his little sweetened artwork. You don’t understand the pattern that he’s traced, but it buzzes your brain when you look at it.

The silence stretches on. He remains unmoving and silent. Anxiety starts to creep in and you wonder if he thinks you’re crazy or is going to get up and leave-

With a huff of laughter, he leans back and smiles at you. 

“The occult huh? Interesting subject.”

“Know anything about it?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, what is really considered occult? Most of these Bible thumpers around here would consider being queer witchcraft.” 

“You have a point there. Don’t tell them I’m a witch.”

He grins. “You can join my coven, then.” 

“Do you think they know there’s more than two genders?”

Hoseok’s laugh is infectious. You laugh along with him, visibly ruffling the feathers of the table next to you. 

For a moment, the two of you share a secret smile at your little table, wedged between the people who go to church every Sunday and swear by Fox News at brunch. It feels good to know you’re not the only person completely out of place in Kill Devil. 

The arrival of your server with steaming plates breaks the moment, but you feel better about your morning nonetheless. Especially when the conversation switches from stilted exchanges about your sister and the occult to things about you and Hoseok. 

Over runny eggs on toast and crunchy bacon, you learn that Hoseok is a shop owner in a small town very far from Kill Devil. He brushes over the fact that he’s visiting family to tell you all about his small corner of the world and all of his favorite plants. 

“Fiona is a venus fly trap,” he giggles with a snap of bacon. “She’s my second favorite, but what I really love is my pitcher plants. They eat bugs, mostly, but they like to devour frogs too. The frogs love to hide in them, but sometimes the pitcher plants take kindly to them and don’t eat them. It never lasts.” 

“I would hate for them to eat the frogs.”

“Hmm, circle of life.”

“But the poor frogs!”

Hoseok isn’t swayed. “There has to be a balance to everything. The pitcher plants will kill the frogs eventually. Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey. Their ecosystem doesn’t make sense. In order to pay back the food the pitcher plants bring them, the frog must die. It pays for power, in the end.”

“How do you mean?”

“Everything has a give and take.” He pauses to sip his coffee. He makes a face, opens a sugar packet, and empties it into the coffee. “In order to have life, we must have death. In order to have water, we must have fire, for earth, we must have air. There is a give and take in existence, and it has to stay that way.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“Chaos.”

“You know, a lot of theology believes that chaos created the world.”

“And perhaps it did. But in order to make the world, chaos needed…” Hoseok takes his butter knife in one hand and sticks out his pointer finger with the other. You watch as he places the knife horizontally across his finger, sliding it just so until he slowly lets it go, leaving it teetering back and forth, but never falling. “Balance. There has to be even weight on the scales to make it work.” 

“Interesting. So you think there is true balance in the world.”

“Not always, which is why we must make it.”

“Hmm. You have some interesting opinions.” 

“I am an interesting person.”

You like Hoseok. Conversation flows easily and it seems that he either doesn’t notice or does not care that he draws glances around the room, particularly when he gives a high-pitched laugh, leaning backward on the metal legs of his chair to clap his hands excitedly. You swear you see the table next to you flinch, though you can’t imagine why.

Hoseok insists on paying the bill, though you fight him all the way to the register. The elderly woman behind the till jams the pricing in from the ticket and slams the cash drawer shut when Hoseok hands over the bills. She makes sure not to tell you to have a good day, and you feel her sharp stare as you leave the interior of The Diner. 

In fact, the stares of the citizens are just as intense outside. Hoseok rattles on about a time he got really high and forgot to feed his cat. “Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

“What?” you ask, distracted by the way a group of men leaning against a red pickup glare. “Your cat talks?”

“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”

“No, but I’m sure he was very vocal.” Hoseok smirks, toeing the gravel of the parking lot as you reach your car. You glance over at the pickup truck again, seeing the four sets of eyes fixated on the two of you. “Why does everyone around here stare?”

“They’ll ignore you soon enough if you ignore them.”

“They don’t seem to ignore you.”

He gives you a wry smile. “I guess you’re right. Going to visit your sister, then?”

Digging around in your bag, you search for keys. “Yeah, she lives out in some place called Grave Hollow. How creepy is that?” 

Silence is your only answer. You look up, pausing the search for your keys to find him staring at you with a blank expression. Your heart skips a beat - it’s the same wiped-clean face he had when you mentioned your sister investigating the occult. 

Licking your lips, you ignore the feeling of a weighted stone dropping into your stomach. Hoseok says nothing.

Then, he’s chipper again. “Well have fun,” he chirps, shrugging and giving a wave as he backs away to leave. “Hopefully she has some cool occult stuff to tell you about. You know where to find me!

It’s hard to keep track of the way Hoseok’s mood flips on a dime. You stare after him, but he’s all smiles and sunshine again before turning on a heel to walk out of the parking lot. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he tilts his face toward the azure sky, whistling a tune with a happy cadence. 

Something sticks to you as you watch him leave. You don’t know what it is, this feeling that you’re missing a critical detail. It’s like your instincts are scratching lightly at the door, but you have no key to flip the lock and no crowbar to force it open. 

Anxiety returns when you remember the weight of the eyes still focused on you. Hurriedly, you snatch your keys from your bag and get in your car, tossing your bag on the seat and starting the engine. As soon as it purrs to life, you feel instant relief. 

You hope that it lasts.

-

According to the research you’d done on Kill Devil, the town had been officially founded in the 1700s. Of course, being ‘officially’ founded didn’t mean much in the way of Western colonization. You had little doubt that the migration of people to the South chased out Native American tribes, as was the story everywhere. 

Kill Devil has been named such since its inception, which occurred a little after Georgia had been named an official state. The abundance of soil for cotton and peanut fields made it a wet dream for the expansion of cotton gins and eventually, peanuts - there was even a rumor that peanut butter had been invented in Kill Devil first, but you knew that to be untrue. 

A small town with a small impact. That was Kill Devil at the heart of its existence. It has always had a small population of sleepy folk. No stop lights, one church, a lot of paper companies coming in and cutting down trees, and some farming fields for various reasons.

There’s no reason that for a tiny little dot on the map, the town should be significant. 

And yet it had called your sister here. 

The car bounces, the suspension whining as you drive down the dirt road. A clay wall comes up on either side of you, roots of trees sticking out periodically. There’s no shoulder to the road, the rain has deepened the ruts on either side. You’re careful to keep in the middle, slowing down as the road tightens on corners. 

Pine stretches as far as the eye can see. You pass the occasional neon tape, marking sections of trees for the paper company to let grow a little longer before hacking them down. Several metal gates with keep out and declaring different hunting clubs flash by. There’s even a sign that says Rucker’s Meat Processing. 

GPS is unreliable out in the sticks where the cell towers don’t quite reach. You keep an eye on the flattened paper map in the passenger seat, marked with your red marker to make sure you take the right road.

A sigh of relief escapes you when you see a little metal post with a turn-off sign: Kill Ditch South. The house that your sister is renting lives off of that, only a mile down the road or so. Long drives appear between the trees, houses parked at the end of them. You feel a little less alone in the woods now knowing that there are people around. 

Though you’re not sure how helpful they would be if something was wrong. 

Worry creeps into your stomach as you slow the car. There’s a little mailbox with the address your sister gave you. It’s at the end of a short drive that’s been layered with gravel to make the incline easier on tires. It crunches beneath the tires as you drive toward the modest, white house. Your sister’s Four Runner is parked outside, making your heart thunder. 

Turning the car off, you slide out into the humid air, hands trembling. Locusts scream, hidden in the trees. The sun is at its zenith, beating down on you as you slowly walk toward the house. It’s a single-story with two sets of windows facing the front. A wrap-around porch that leans to the side stands empty, save for a single bench. 

As you pass your sister's car, you notice that the grass underneath is dead and dry. As if the car hasn’t moved for a while, denying the grass any sun to live. It makes you feel nauseous, feet like anvils as you take your first step up the stairs. 

The creak of the wood makes you flinch. 

“Hanna?” You call, voice shakier than you want it to be. “Hanna, it’s me! Don’t freak out!”

No one answers. Your stomach bubbles like acid, the slow drip of sweat down your neck making a chill rattle up your spine. You reach the door and swallow thickly, lifting your hands and knocking loudly. 

“Hanna?” 

Nothing but the sound of the locusts answers you. 

Your palms feel sweaty as you knock again. This time, your voice cracks when you call, “Hanna? Please answer the door.”

Wind sweeps across the trees. One thing about the wind in a land of pines and hills is that it’s loud, making a whooshing sound as it’s picked up by the boughs of the trees, rattling and letting their needles shake to the floor. 

It’s cool at your back and you feel your lip wobble when you lower your hand to the doorknob. When you twist, the door opens immediately, swinging of its own volition when you let go. 

Inside the house is the kind of silence that terrifies you in horror movies. The air is heavy. Your ears ring, searching for any rasp of sound to tell you that your sister is home. Licking your lips, you step over the threshold, the wooden floor cracking beneath the weight of your feet. 

To the immediate left of the door is an open kitchen. There are dishes on the dry rack and plants in the window, though they are wilted and dry. You chew your lip as you step further into the house, eyes sweeping around.

A blue, painted table stands in the middle of the kitchen. Piles of mail sit on top of it with a fake plant centerpiece and your sister's car keys.

Across from the kitchen is an open doorway with a stacked washer and dryer, and a folding table. It smells faintly of detergent, clothes folded in neat piles as if Hanna had just completed a laundry day.

Everything is silent in the living room. The couch looks cozy, with piles of blankets draped across it. There’s a faint smell of vanilla, though the wick on the candle doesn’t look like it’s been lit in a while. Dust collects on the TV stand and there are sandals by the door that leads to the back porch. 

Chewing your lip, you gently press your fingers to the door of Hanna’s bedroom, holding your breath. The sudden fear that it’s going to swing open and you’ll find your sister dead in her bed nearly incapacitates you, making the room spin a little as the door fully swings open. 

Nothing. No Hanna, no rotting smell of a dead body. Just an unmade bed in a room that smells vaguely of her cherry perfume, a bathroom with the door open, and a pile of clothes near the hamper.

The sight of the clothes on the floor and right next to the hamper slams you with a wave of nostalgia. You walk into the room and you unceremoniously plop yourself down on the edge of the bed. It sags underneath you but you don’t care, letting your face fall into your hands and letting a sob rip through you. 

Hanna isn’t here. You knew she wouldn’t be, but the relief that you don’t find her dead is so poignant that you can barely breathe past the snot clotting your nose and the way your throat constricts as you let out the fear. 

The sobs subside and you wipe your face, hands coming away sticky and wet. Through swollen eyes, you look around the room. With a wipe of your hands on your jeans, you get up and start looking around, pulling open drawers and looking for evidence of the last time that Hanna was in this home. 

It’s slow going. You’re unfamiliar with the space and you don’t know what to look for. It doesn’t seem like she had packed anything, but then again, how would you know if she did? 

There are signs that she hasn’t been in the house in weeks. Rotted food inside of the fridge, molded bread in the pantry. 

Outside, weeds grow around the steps. A cricket pops from the railing to the grass where its green body vanishes. The yard isn’t much of a yard - it’s open to the trees and a kudzu field to the west. 

Back inside, you grab Hanna’s keys and open her car. There is nothing inside that looks like she was trying to make a quick getaway. An extra pair of shoes shoved in the back, and an empty grocery bag she was using for trash - all normal things. 

In the passenger seat, you strike gold. 

Hanna’s journals and folders sit in the passenger seat, stacked in a leaning tower with pages sticking out from the edges of her books and slanted handwriting scrawled on the folder tabs. Gathering all of it, you head back inside and deposit the stack on the kitchen table before looking around the house again to see if there’s any sign of her. 

Something in your gut tells you that Hanna hasn’t been in the home for at least a month, if not more. 

Dread creeps into your stomach as you gather items and pack a bag. Your intention is to keep it on you at all times in the event that you find her cold and alone somewhere. The thought of needing it leaves a sour tang on your tongue, but you pack it nevertheless.

Bag over your shoulder and stack of Hanna’s investigative work in hand, you head off to your room at the motel. The afternoon sun still burns hot over your head, but you have no intention of sitting in the empty house that carries the scent of your sister’s absence. 

-

… While most historical accounts and official state documents indicate that Kill Devil was founded in 1730, journals buried deep in the city’s crumbling library have written records of townsfolk living in this settled town long before it was declared an official town. The journals reference the town as Covenstead and are filled with generations of the same family names. 

Booth. 

Park. 

Warren. 

Kim. 

Jung. 

Jeon. 

Min. 

Generations of these families settled in Covenstead and built what is now Kill Devil. From the description of the town in the collection of journals, it appears that the general layout of the town is similar to Kill Devil’s current city map. 

Throughout the journals, there is a reference to the Wood. It seems to be a place mentioned in reverence, and there are allusions to celebrations in the Wood with entries dated in alignment with sabbats on the Wheel of the Year. 

Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe seeing him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter. 

Your finger traces over your sister’s writing. She still writes in her cramped, crooked way, with the sabbats of pagan holidays crammed in the margins. You smile, biting your bottom lip again as you go through the written notes of her study. It is dizzying and you’re unsure what exactly you’re looking at, but something tickles the back of your mind as you reread the entry she copied from the long-dead Yoongi Min. There’s something you're missing.

This time, your eyes snag on a word. 

“The Covenstead,” you murmur, reading it over again. “Why would he call it the Covenstead? Is that just an older way of speaking?”

A tingle pricks your neck as you stare at the entry. You can’t understand what made your sister think this entry was odd besides the old-fashioned writing and reference to Mabon, because she writes nothing more on her analysis, and none of the journals she had been studying were anywhere you could find. 

Sighing, you push away her notebook and pull out a collection of folders and papers that she had on the town. It’s mostly renderings of the town in its heyday with maps and newspaper articles. There seems to be no correlation between her clippings of new business openings and random town news. 

Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building

Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies

The Grove Neighborhood Building Plans Accepted by Mayor

Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident

Something catches your eye in the article about the mayor’s son who fell into a well and died at the bottom. You reach for your sister's notebook and flip to read the small dates shoved into the margins.

Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident

June 19, 1781

Litha: Summer Solstice

June 19-23

Grabbing the other newspaper clippings, you climb off of the bed and lay them flat against the sheets, each crinkling under the excited press of your fingers as your brain whirs. It’s a puzzle your sister seems to have figured out already, and one you don’t expect to understand.

But you do. 

Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building

February 14, 1899

Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies

March 19, 1899

Ostara: Spring Equinox

March 19-22

You suck in a breath as you look at the next clipping, using your pointer finger to keep your place on the sabbats calendar your sister has written down to see that the article for the new neighborhood The Grove is dated only a month before the mayor's son fell tragically in the well. 

“Holy shit, Hanna,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your mouth and staring with burning eyes at the dates. “They match with pagan rituals? Something good, followed by something bad… like revenge? Punishment? Payment?” 

The question bothers you. A flutter in your gut tells you that you’re asking the right questions as you stare at the pages, unseeing and trying to understand what your sister is getting at. She didn’t write down her thoughts explicitly - in case anyone stole her work, she’d said - and now you’re wishing she weren’t so paranoid. Or that she at least used a computer. 

It isn’t an easy answer to puzzle out. An ache has settled deep in your temples and your half-eaten dinner has long gone cold. You decide you’ve earned a shower, though you don’t go into the bathroom without the bug spray armed and ready. 

Briefly, you think about Hoseok. Such an oddity to the town. You can’t help but think about the way he changes from light to dark so quickly, face becoming shadowed and eyes masked, expression there and gone so quickly that you’re unsure if you saw it at all. 

Strange. It’s all very strange. 

-

There is a shadow in the parking lot again. This time, it’s closer. The bulb burning above the lot flickers, but stays on. The shadow stands just beyond the silver halo of light it distributes.

No moon hangs in the sky. It is dark dark dark - impossibly dark. You stare through a crack in your curtains, watching the shadow as it watches you. Dread weighs down the pit of your stomach and you feel a fresh wave of terror-laced nausea sweep through you. 

You slide a foot backward gently, preparing to step away from the window. The shadow twitches and cocks its head to the side, not unlike a dog curious about something it’s heard. You suck in a sharp breath and hold it in, air screaming in your lungs, heart racing a frantic staccato. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck it seems to say, beating until it’s all you can hear and feel, pumping your system so full of adrenaline that you feel light-headed. 

Your heart turns into a drum, frantic. It beats louder and louder and you feel rooted to your spot on the carpet, the soles of your feet surgical-stitched to the ugly shag carpet. You stare and stare and stare at the shadow and your heart is hammering so loud boom boom BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM-

Sweat-drenched and gasping for air, you sit up. Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it under the palm you have pressed against your chest. But the banging is coming from the hotel door, a steady stream of closed-fist hammering and Hoseok’s voice calling your name. 

Peeling the covers back from your damp skin, you stumble to the door, nightmare-drunk and disoriented. You forget to remove the chain from the door, yanking it open and immediately slamming it to a stop as the chain pulls, refusing to let the door open.

Hoseok is on the other side, hair slightly disheveled, brows pulled together. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a casual look by anyone’s standards but still effortlessly put together. 

“Shit, hold on,” you slur, tongue heavy in your mouth with sleep. Closing the door, you slide the chain out, then reopen it successfully. “Sorry, is everything-”

“What’s going on?”

“What?”

His gaze is thunderous as he looks past you into your room. “You were screaming at the top of your lungs.”

Heat flushes your neck and face. “I-I’m sorry. I was having a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m not mad. What’s going on?”

In the shadow of the night, he looks dangerous, made up of edges and eyes narrowed. “Can I come in?” 

You open the door and move out of his way. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Out of habit, you latch the door when you shut it.

Hoseok is a little out of place in your room. Even when dressed down, he looks like he belongs on a private jet, lounging among soft, polished leather and sipping exotic coffee. Not in a rundown motel room with peeling wallpaper and smoke-stained ceilings. 

“What’s all this?” Your stomach plummets when he sees the journals and papers on your bed. you rush to shove it all under the blanket but Hoseok is fast, plucking a sheet of paper and looking over it, face pinched. “Is this what you meant by your sister studies the occult?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just um- looking over her work.” 

“You know about the occult?”

“Not at all.”

He glances at you, razor-sharp. “Then why would you be looking it over for her?”

The atmosphere shifts. It occurs to you that he doesn’t know your sister is missing. Has no idea that you’re desperately trying to put together pieces of a broken puzzle, without any clue on where to find the remaining parts to view the entire picture. 

You weigh the options of lying, losing precious time as the silence hangs heavy and awkward between the two of you. He watches, brows raised and expectant, fingers gripping the paper. 

“My sister is missing.” It feels weird to say it. Your tongue feels heavy and as you stare over his shoulder at a fixed spot on the wall, it feels like someone else enters your body to tell him, “I came here because no one would help me find her. She was here studying the town's occult myths for work and vanished. I had this… horrible feeling when she stopped calling and answering.”

“Have you contacted the authorities?”

You scoff and throw a glare at him. “Of course I have. It’s useless and frustrating. No one seems to give a shit that there is a missing person, and every lawyer, law officer and city official I talk to don’t fucking care. It’s like they’re all programmed to give me the same answer. They keep telling me that they’ve seen her around or that she’s probably ignoring me on purpose. They make me seem crazy.”

You expect him to tell you to leave it to the authorities. That’s what Hanna’s boss had told you to do. No one seems to be alarmed, no one cares. But you do. Desperately. And you cannot wrap your head around them looking the other way. 

You’re preparing for the same reaction when Hoseok surprises you by saying, “You’re not crazy.”

“I’m not?”

He quirks a brow and his rosebud lips twitch in a smirk. “Well, you probably are. But not for this. Have you asked around town about her?”

You shake your head. “I only went to the house that she was staying at. I wanted to see if maybe she really was ignoring me or maybe just… I don’t know. In the zone for work. She wasn’t there and it doesn’t look like there was any sign of distress.” 

“Take me there.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” He tosses the papers onto the pile on your bed. “We’ll be safe.”

“First of all,” you hedge. “How do I know that? I barely know you. Second of all, what is going there in the middle of the night going to help?”

“I’m good at investigating. Maybe I’ll see something that you don’t.”

“Sorry, are you a cop now?”

“No, it’s hard to explain but I promise I’m trying to help you.” When you don’t move, Hoseok grimaces. “Look,” he explains evenly. “I really am trying to help you. I haven’t been entirely honest about why I’m here in this town. I came because I was also interested in some things happening here. Now I’m worried your sister is involved.”

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. “Involved how?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s a coincidence. Believe it or not, those do happen. But I’d like to visit her house to see if there’s anything at all that sticks out to me.” You hesitate, chewing on your lip. You don’t really know him, and now you trust him even less with his reasoning. “Please,” he adds. 

You relent. “Fine.” Hanna is your main goal. You don’t trust Hoseok, but you wonder if he really can help you when no one else has. “Let’s go.” 

Damp air rushes through the open windows of your car. You lowered them as you got in for a quick escape if Hoseok attacks you while you drive. He says nothing in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the pine trees rushing behind you. 

Outside, the world is painted night-blue from the moon. There’s a weird hue to everything, making it feel as though you’re wading with heavy limbs through a dream. It’s no better when you arrive at the dark house.

It looks terrifying at night. There’s no street light to guide you, only that of the silver moon and the bright halogen lights of your car. You turn off your vehicle but switch the headlights on, turning on the high beams to shine on the house. 

On the edges of where the light fades to shadow, your fear lies. The trees look taller than in the daylight, their branches like craggy limbs and reaching fingers. Anxiety bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach. 

Each crunch of the grass beneath your feet falls too loud against the heavy silence. Here, you notice that the crickets are no longer singing. It’s just the hush of the wind gusting through the canyons and the far-away swell as it blows up the hills. 

Though it’s not cool outside, there’s a chill on your skin. Hoseok walks up to the house, the beams of the car’s headlights throwing his shadow across it in jarring, monstrous shapes. You keep your eyes focused on him and your keys tucked in your hand, ready to use them as a weapon if needed. 

Hoseok doesn’t seem concerned about your anxiety or the silence thrumming around the home. He walks up the steps and opens the door, vanishing into the dark mouth of the threshold. For a moment, you stand in the front yard, getting tunnel vision as you stare at the darkness in the doorway. 

You imagine stepping over the threshold into that cool dark, letting it suck you in. You imagine that as soon as your shoes hit the creaking floor, Hoseok will snatch you by the waist and pull you into the belly of the beast. Once in his clutches, he’ll throw you to the ground and the last thing you’ll remember is-

Hoseok reappears in the doorway. You blink and the waking nightmare melts away, so vivid that you’re shaking where you’re standing, looking at him in confusion. He hops down the stairs, scowling as he crosses the front lawn in a few long strides. 

He pauses when he sees your face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“I…” you shake your head, trying to dispel the weird vision you had a moment ago. “Nothing. I just don’t like the dark very much.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you find anything?”

His lip twitches. It’s almost impossible to detect, but you’re so focused on his face and trying not to picture him as the man in the terrifying thought you had moments ago, that you see it. “No.” 

Lying. He’s lying. You clutch your keys and your breath quickens. He moves to round the side of the car and take the passenger seat, but you step in front of him. He pulls up short, eyes narrowing as you stand between him and the vehicle, blood pumping. 

“I think you’re lying.”

“About what?”

“A lot of things.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“My instinct.”

He hums. “Instinct isn’t always a good thing.” He looks you up and down. “I didn’t find anything,” he says again. “I just got a really weird feeling inside of the house.”

“And?”

“And it’s the same weird feeling I’ve gotten in other places where people visiting went missing. Including the motel we’re staying at.” That makes you recoil. You feel the blood drain from your face, making you a little dizzy. You don’t know what’s going on, don’t understand what he’s getting at. “Your sister’s notes were about the covenstead here.”

That word again. The covenstead and not Covenstead, like a town name. “It was the town name before it was Kill Devil.” 

“No,” he corrects. “It was a landmark. A covenstead, for people who lived here. A coven.” 

“A coven.” He nods. “Like vampires and witches?” 

Hanna’s notes had included all of those pagan holidays crammed in the margins of her work. Marking dates of occurrences that coincided with sabbat holidays. “Hoseok,” you say slowly. “Are you telling me that a bunch of witches live here and have kidnapped my sister?”

He regards you for a moment, eyes flickering up and down. His face is unreadable and dark in the night air, eyes shadowed and haunting. “That’s actually exactly what I’m saying.”

“Witches aren’t real.” 

He frowns. “I can prove that they are.” 

“How?”

He gestures to the car. “Let’s go.” 

-

When you were younger, your sister always believed in magic. You remember spending all of October huddled on the couch with crocheted blankets, watching Halloween movies with the blanket pulled warm over scabbed knees, with popcorn-greased fingers tucked under heated thighs. Hanna always picked the movies - Halloween was her time of the year and you were happy to indulge. 

Hanna’s choices were always superb. Hocus Pocus received more airtime than anything else, replayed between Halloweentown one and two, Practical Magic, The Witches and The Addams Family among others. Every night of the month was crammed full of magic and spells and haunted houses, sweetened by candy corn and Butterfingers. 

Those were the nights that you loved the most. There was no fighting, no whining and crying over Hanna stealing your hair clips or you breaking her hair dryer. It was just the two of you, pressed skin-to-skin and spelled by the scrolling movies.

It’s as close to magic as you’ve ever been. You don’t think you were ever closer to her than in those moments. Under the blankets and the dim candles your mother lit, you were one being, melded. You knew when she would gasp at every jump scare and whisper each one of her favorite lines. 

Thinking back on it, you wonder if Hanna was onto something. She always insisted that parts of the movies had to be true. Stories are rooted in history, and though myth and legend changed with culture, colonization and the introduction of new religions, science and ideas, there was something about the concept of magic and spirit that felt real to her. 

It was why she went to school and majored in journalism with minors in folklore and history. She had even started a master's program for occult studies and folklore, spending late nights studying between traveling across the country from haunt to haunt for her job. 

Staring at her work on the bed of your hotel room as Hoseok adds some of his own notes and findings, you have never missed her more. There is a sudden ache inside of your chest, so strong that it takes your breath away. Your hand goes to the necklace at your neck, feeling flushed, heart pounding. 

Hoseok is explaining how there used to be a coven of witches that lived in the Wood long before Kill Devil existed. The Wood, Hoseok explains, is like a living and breathing conduit of power. It was something that gave the coven power but also needed to be fed. 

The Covenstead. You remember the journal entry that had called it the covenstead. A place where witches commune and live together as one functioning body of magic. That much power does things to a place, skews the way the world works a little bit. He gives examples of places all around the world with similar experiences: the Bermuda Triangle, Door To Hell, Reed Flute Cave. All places where an abundance of magic and energy warps the way life functions. 

But the Wood was strange before the witches got here. Hoseok rolls out a map, fingers tracing the lines of the city. Clarity snaps like a rubberband stinging against skin as you stare at it, lips parted, inhaling sharply. 

The city roads make a pentagram, and at the very center is the courthouse. 

“This is on purpose,” Hoseok explains. “There are other places in the world where the way the city or town or village is built is like a pentagram. Usually, these are called portals. They’re different from faerie rings which have their own power and distortions. These portals are for practicing witches and those who know how to use them.”

“Portals for what?”

“Creatures of great power that exist in worlds that don’t belong to us. Part of what gives witches their ability to perform magic is their energy. They are attuned to the world around them in a way that humans are not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you understand the concept of third and fourth dimensions?” 

“Third dimension is what we live in,” you answer mechanically, somewhat familiar with the idea. “If a fourth dimension existed, we wouldn’t know because it moves in a way that we are unable to perceive. The fourth dimension, in theory, is movement and sight we would never have.”

“Exactly. But witches are attuned to that. These pentagrams,” Hoseok murmurs, tapping the map. “Are made to connect to the fourth dimension. Pentagrams are not inherently evil or even paranormal, but similar to sacred geometry, they… radiate at a frequency that other dimensions do. Powerful symbols like this have existed since Mesopotamia.” 

“I… how does this prove that magic is real?”

For a moment, you’re distracted by the way Hoseok’s artful fingers pluck your sister's notebook from the bed. He flips until you’re looking at her journal entries and the newspaper clippings with dates and headlines. 

“Witchcraft is different in every culture and part of the world. These holidays have roots in Celtic and Welsh craft. It was brought over by the pilgrims when people fled England and traveled here. This is old - not as old as whatever lives in the Wood, but old enough that it’s powerful. These dates you’re looking at? They’re sacrifices to keep the Wood powerful.”

“How do you even know all of this?”

“I’ve studied it my entire life.”

“Why?” 

“It’s just something that runs in my family. We’re very spiritual people.” Something about the way his voice wavers makes you look at him sharply. Hoseok isn’t looking at you, busying himself with sifting through papers. There’s a pinch in your gut that makes you think he’s lying, but you’re afraid to push the matter. 

“Get some rest,” he says, breaking your exhausted train of thought. “We can talk more in the morning when you’re not exhausted.” 

“Yeah.” You rub your weary eyes. “Yeah, okay.” 

With Hoseok gone, you crawl into the bed, leaving the light on, staring off into the distance as your hand clutches your necklace. Your lip trembles and your throat constricts painfully. When you close your eyes, you feel tears slide down your face. 

Tucking your face into the pillow to hide your tears, you let out a small, aching sound. You just want to know where your sister is, and somehow you’ve landed in the middle of a hateful little town with strange little people and a strange little fantasy.

Crying is inevitable. But at least it puts you to sleep.

-

This time, you know you’re dreaming. You don’t know how you know, but you do. There’s a watery feeling to the hotel room when you open your eyes. As though you’re both there and you’re not.

You glance at the clock but the numbers are all wrong. You rub your eyes and look again, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t make sense of them.

You want to sit up. You move your arms - no, you try to move your arms. They don’t move, suddenly too heavy to slide under the covers of your blanket and peel it back. Panic sparks in you as you try to shift your legs, but though you can feel them, you can’t move them.

Terror as you’ve never known slides between your ribs, sharp and poignant. You can’t breathe and you know you’re dreaming and yet you can’t move. You close your eyes, brain repeating the same words over and over again: wake up wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP-

It doesn’t happen. You open your eyes and your room still has the dream-glazed light to it, and you still can’t move. Something shifts in your peripheral vision. Your heart seizes in your chest so sharply you think you’ll die. 

You cannot turn your head to look at the shadow that moves just beyond your sight. Tears slip from your eyes, hot, wet and burning. You can’t wipe them. They blind you, turn your vision into an opaque, watery mess as something slides to the foot of your bed. 

When you feel the mattress dip, you try to scream. The sound is locked in your throat, with so much force behind it that you wait for your vocal cords to explode. The fear is raw now, your eyes wild, tears leaking as you mentally thrash and thrash and thrash. 

Weight shifts on either side of the bed and you have the sense that there is someone crawling on you but you can’t see beyond your crying, can’t hear beyond the pounding of your own heartbeat slamming in your ears, blocking out every other noise and-

Something invisible to you grips your throat. You still have the instinct to move, driving you to madness as your brain signals for your hands to fly to your assailant and yank and remove the hold on your neck. 

It’s crushing. You gasp for air, no noise coming out as the grip tightens, and you know with certainty that this is it. Whatever dream this is will kill you, this time. 

The realization that you’re going to die suddenly mutes the terror. It slides behind a glass door, beating its fists, but it's duller now. You have sharper clarity, and briefly you think of what Hoseok said about beings from the fourth dimension, and how the witches summon them through their craft here. To this place. Where you cannot perceive them. 

You wonder if this happened to Hanna. You miss her, your sister, with big dreams and fast smiles and a head full of magic and wondering. This, you think, is how you go. And perhaps you’ll join her. 

Thoughts blend together, sloshed wine in a glass. They’re warm and liquid and have no shape to them, no real purpose. It’s like you know you’re thinking, but you don’t know of what. Darkness pools at the edge of your vision. It feels cold and alone but you drift toward it, away from the pain. 

And then you can breathe. 

Air comes sweeping in, forcing its way into your mouth, into your lungs. Your lungs inflate so painfully that for a split second, you think they’re on fire. Oxygen burns its way through you and bursts of color explode on the canvas of your closed eyes - you don’t remember closing your eyes. 

You roll over in bed, coughing, mouth wet with spit and phlegm as you try to gulp in as much air as you can. 

High-pitched ringing whines in your ears, and there are muffled sounds on the other end of it. The motel room tilts back into vision, melting into place. You think that the room has reloaded into your world wrong - everything is crooked. 

Then you realize you’re laying on your side, gagging and gasping for air. There is a hand against to your back, palm cold, fingertips freezing. The touch, you realize, feels full of energy, your spine tingling where it’s pressed against you. 

Lurching away from the touch, you roll to the side of the bed, looking at the person whose hand had been pressed against you. 

Hoseok’s tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, shirtless and in sweats. He’s panting, flushed, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his body. But it’s his eyes that stop you from scrambling away. They’re dark, burning like two pieces of coal as he looks at you, kneeling with his hands in his lap, palms facing the ceiling. 

Hoseok says something. The ringing in your ears has just started to die down and you shake your head, unsure of what he means and not confident in your ability to speak. 

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck just happened to me?”

“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” 

He lifts his hands and you flinch. The look on his face is pure heartbreak, shrouded in golden light. “Please,” he murmurs. “Let me help you. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

It’s quiet, save for the sound of the humming air conditioner. 

Trust your gut, your sister had said. 

So you do because he’s offered to help you thus far. You nod, giving him access to you. He sags in relief, shuffling forward tentatively as he takes your face in his hands. His palms are impossibly warm. Your eyes flutter shut at the touch, unable to look at him this close, this boy of light and something, as he cradles your face. 

Warmth pools in your face, saturating down to your neck and chest. The ache in your lungs eases, and the lump in your throat continues to recede. You don’t want to ask what he’s doing. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel the terror of moments ago ever again, and with the way Hoseok is touching you, so close that his breath fans your brow, and you can smell him like rain and lavender, you want to embrace it. 

There’s no thought process to the way you lean up into him. Your eyes are closed, your breath shaking as you seek him. Hoseok makes a surprised noise, but it vanishes as you press your lips against his.

Relief sweeps through you. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before, every drop of terror fading away, momentarily forgotten. Every ache vanishes. It’s just Hoseok and the way he burns brighter than the sun, and the way it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

After a brief moment of hesitation, he kisses you back. It’s sweet and soft-lipped, his fingers pressing into the side of your face gently as he pulls you to him. You follow his pull, both physically and something like a tether, getting up on your knees to get closer. 

Hoseok breaks the kiss, nose brushing yours. You open your eyes, half-lidded and feeling dizzy from just the gentle press of lips. His eyes are dark, but you see the light flecks of brown in them, like an entire world of sun and stars exist in their depths. 

“Make it go away,” you whisper.

You don’t specify. The pain, the nightmares, the fear, the weird town, the worry about your sister. You want it all to stop and this person you barely know - you feel as though he can take it away. Or mute it. 

He nods, eyes closing as he kisses you properly. You forget what you were worried about, and it’s all you can do not to fall headfirst into Hoseok. His mouth is warm and wet, tongue soft but greedy as he pries your mouth open, drinking you in. 

Hoseok’s lips tingle against yours, sending a shiver skating down your spine. You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers tangling in the silky strands there. He hums appreciatively when your nails slow-scratch at the base of his scalp. 

Carefully, Hoseok shuffles you into his lap. Your knees dip on the mattress on either side of his hips, straddling his waist. His hands find the hem of your sleep shirt and pull upward. You break the kiss, a string of spit connecting your flushed mouths before the garment breaks it.

The room is cold, air hitting your bare chest and hardening your nipples immediately. You whine but Hoseok is fast, pressing your chest to his as he attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking at the tender flesh sharply. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, letting your head drop backward heavily. Your eyes are shut and the world feels like it’s spinning. He has one hand on your hip, the other on the small of your back, pressing you to him to keep you warm and to rock your hips gently into his. “Feels good.”

He hums in response, sucking wet stains onto your flesh as he moves toward your chest. You push your tits out to meet his searching mouth, gasping lightly when the rough drag of his tongue swipes across your nipple. 

The sensation is overwhelming. Your fingers dig into the back of his neck as Hoseok sucks your peak greedily. You’re grinding into his lap on your own now, panties clinging to your hot, sticky folds as you seek friction. He’s hard beneath you and you want to feel him. 

Letting you rut in his lap, Hoseok drags delicate fingers over the curve of your ass and thigh, and his nails leave goosebumps in their wake. The feeling between your legs and at the base of your spine is heady as he lets go of one nipple with a sharp pop, tongue tracing a sloppy line to the other. 

Hoseok’s teeth tease the tight bud and you whine. “Oh?” he asks, voice rough and low. “Gonna be a baby about it?”

You shake your head, but your lip juts out as you look at him, dazed. “Want more.”

“Tell me.”

Dropping one hand from his neck, you take the hand resting on your thigh, guiding it between your legs. Hoseok presses the pads of his fingers to your underwear and you let out a keen. It’s not nearly enough, but the pressure sends another wave of arousal flooding through you. 

“Hmm,” he hums, dragging his fingers back and forth over the damp cloth. “Soaked from just that, huh?” You nod and he bites your collarbone. Fuck, he’s going to kill you, sending another tremble down your frame. He hooks a finger in your underwear, sliding against your glossy folds experimentally and he curses, “Fuck. Pussy is already messy and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please.”

“What do you want? I already asked.”

“More.” Hoseok presses your clit, letting you drip onto his fingers, but he doesn’t move them. You grit your teeth. “Want your fingers,” you ask through clenched teeth. “Fuck me with them, anything. Please.” 

He grins, face wicked before he kisses your nose. “See, you just had to tell me.” 

You’re tense as he pulls your underwear to the side, shoving the fabric against your thigh. Cool air hits your cunt. You can’t recall ever wanting someone like this, vibrating uncontrollably as he traces your slit with his fingers, lazily circling your clit.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you drop your forehead on Hoseok’s shoulder. He lets you sag against him as he plays with your pussy, fingers barely dipping to tease your hole and gather juices before coming back to trace your clit, applying delicious pressure. 

It feels so good. It’s mind-numbing, letting him do what he wants. Hoseok pants in your ear, breathing stilted between chaste kisses against the side of your head. 

Painfully slow, Hoseok inserts a single finger into your wet heat. The sound you let out is high-pitched and loud. It’s not nearly enough, but you lose all sense of asking for more as his finger slides in deep, pressing against your front wall to massage that delicate spot inside of you.

“Oh shit,” you stutter, unable to help it. 

He laughs, voice deep when he asks, “Yeah? That the spot?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He slow-drags his finger in and out of your pussy, fucking you slowly. He curses, teasing you only for a moment before he gifts you another. The stretch is so much better, and you melt. He thrusts leisurely, not hard and fast but deep. Your walls swallow his fingers, gripping them and begging him not to stop as a tight coil winds in your stomach as he presses hard against your g-spot.

It’s messy, the wet drag of his fingers in your cunt. You feel the slow drip of arousal every time he pulls back, soaking his hand. It drops down your thighs as he picks up the pace. You lift your hips a little, adding a bounce to his motions. 

“Oh? You wanna do it?” He stops moving his hand and you let out a desperate sound. He laughs. “No, go ahead. If you’re so eager, do it yourself. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Seeking balance by holding his shoulders, you grip him tight, face tucked in his neck as you maneuver yourself, using your knees to lightly fuck yourself on his fingers. It feels so good, and you adjust the angle until you feel him hit that spot again, making you see stars. 

It’s electric, this feeling rippling in your bloodstream. It feels different with Hoseok and you can’t place why, but your orgasm is building so sharply in your stomach that you nearly stop thrusting, overwhelmed by the sensation. 

The pressure in your stomach winds and winds and winds until it snaps, every muscle in your thighs and ass squeezing tight, your hands turning to an iron grip, breath stuck in your lungs as you let out a strangled sound, squeezing Hoseok’s fingers as you come. 

Hoseok is whispering something in your ear, but you can’t hear him over the thundering heartbeat of your pulse, shaking as you come down from your high. When you do, you’re vaguely aware that he’s pulled his fingers out, but he’s massaging the tight ring of muscles, making you shiver.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Wanna see you stretch yourself on my cock like that.”

“Wanna,” you mumbled. 

Your limbs are heavy and lazy as you shuffle, uncoordinated. Hoseok laughs, finding you endearing as you scowl and shift off his lap. His touch is featherlight as he pulls your panties off. You need him, completely naked and shivering as your eyes drop from the smooth, carved planes of his chest and abs to the heavy imprint of his cock in his sweats.

And the wet stain mess you’ve made. 

Flushed, you watch as he looks up at you, smirking. “Go on.” 

Scooting toward him with eager hands, you rest with your feet tucked under you. Dipping your touch below his waistband, you grasp him firmly, cock heavy in your hand. He sighs, head tilting back a little while you slide your grip along his shaft.

Brushing your thumb over his tip to collect hot, sticky precum, you spread it, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you stroke him gently, testing the waters. His hips twitch and his mouth parts, gold light of the lamp turning him into Giovanni’s Apollo. He is ethereal, a burning sun and you suddenly understand why Icarus flew to his demise.

Maybe you will too. 

With your other hand, you push Hoseok’s sweats down. Though you could feel the size and swollen weight of him in your hand, it’s still a marvel when you see his thick length, dark tip oozing precum. 

A hiss escapes his teeth when you give him a firm squeeze. He lets you pump him lazily, and your mouth catches the underside of his jaw, teething and sucking sharp marks into his skin. He tastes like something electric and a little bit of sweat, your tongue buzzing. 

“Hmm,” he hums, fingers gripping the back of your neck to pull your mouth back up to his. It’s more spit and him gasping into your mouth more than anything. “You know how stunning you are?”

You feel heat creep up in your cheeks. Hoseok shuffles away from you and you let go of your grip on him, watching his dick slap against his stomach, smearing precum. He sits near the headboard, leaning against the wallpaper and staring at you with hungry eyes. 

“You’re going to make me shy,” you say softly, though you still crawl toward him. You can feel the slick slide of your inner thighs. He pumps his cock lazily, giving you a look that says he doesn’t believe you. “You’re pretty.”

“Think so?”

You nod, a little light-headed and uneven. You tilt toward the side and he catches you, hands sticky from your mixed arousal. Bending down, you capture his lips. Hoseok runs the crown of his cock through your folds and you moan, lips parting. He drinks in your sounds, licking them from the roof of your mouth. 

For a moment, it’s just the teasing and sloppy kissing, pausing to pant into each other's mouths, slick from sweat. He presses the blunt head of his dick into your hole, dipping only a little before retreating and sliding back up to tease your clit.

“Hoseok,” you growl, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the iron tang blooming in your mouth. He hisses out a laugh and does it again. This time, you lower your pussy, trying to catch him on an angle to sink down on him. “Stoooop.”

“Whiny baby,” he teases again. “Cock-hungry, huh?”

“Wanna be full.”

“Mmm.”

Hoseok repeats the motion, but this time lets you sink slowly on the length of him. The stretch stings, hurt-laced pleasure as you suck in a sharp breath and hold it. It feels like your lungs might burst, shaking as you slide down until your ass rests on his damp thighs and you feel the tip of his cock deep in your gut. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, leaning forward, palms pressed to his shoulders. They slide a little, his skin warm and sweaty. You dig your nails in for purchase and he sucks in a sharp breath, but lets you claw your way back to sanity from the feeling. “Deep.”

His hands find purchase on your ass, digging in and massaging. “Come on, then. You were so eager for my fingers.” 

You lift your hips a little, the slide delicious against your warm walls, and drop down with a wet smack. You both moan at that and you grin, putting the weight into Hoseok’s shoulders as you lift your hips again, hypnotized by the wet schlick of your cunt sliding on his length. 

Everything fades away again. Your thighs burn as you increase your movements, chasing the buzz that has settled deep in your stomach. Hoseok lets you use him, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt drips into his lap. 

His nails bite into the meat of your ass and you feel dragged under by the pleasure, the sting of his grip and the pressure of his cock hitting your g-spot sending you further and further.

Your legs grow a little tired, movements sloppy. Hoseok doesn’t mind, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting upward to meet you, hands supporting your weight under your ass. He helps lift you, pulling you up and down until you’re mumbling incoherently. 

It feels mind-numbingly good, and the tension in your stomach grows taught and tight, your second orgasm oncoming. 

“Come on,” Hoseok demands between clenched teeth. “Give it to me.” 

You nod, sliding a hand between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure and speed to get you shaking again. White spots appear in your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting him take over and fuck up into you, cunt gushing as you come hard enough around him that you fall forward. 

Hoseok lets you lay on his chest, dead weight as he claws at your ass and thighs, rutting up into you. You’re dimly aware of the soaked mess of your smacking bodies, but your ears are ringing and you feel lighter than you’ve ever felt before. 

You begin to whine in oversensitivity just as Hoseok slams into you as deep as he can, cock twitching and filling you up. You shiver as he grunts, hips bucking with a wet squelch as he gently fucks you through his orgasm.

Both of you lay there in a messy pile as his cock softens inside of you. Cum pools between your pressed bodies, but you don’t care. The room is humid, the light dim with the haze of how far gone you feel. Hoseok traces soft circles on your hips with his fingers. Your mouth is pressed against his jaw, breath kissing his skin. 

You could fall asleep here, you think. It’s nice to forget for a while, to let your body feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, the shaking of his thighs against yours, the ache in your muscles. 

Heaviness tugs at you, so close to pulling you under, but Hoseok stirs. You feel drunk, letting him peel the two of you apart until you’re stumbling to the shower. The air makes your tacky, cum-covered skin cold. 

It’s hard to fit both of you in the shower, but you manage it, rotating under the rough spray of the hot water, hands exploring and kneading sore muscles. Your lips are abused and feel bruised, but it doesn’t stop you from seeking the comfort of his mouth, the world turning to static every time you kiss him. 

The motel room smells like sex and sweat when you return to peel clothes back on. Wordlessly, Hoseok takes your hand and leads you to his room on the other side of the wall. It has the same faded wallpaper, the same dusty and stained lampshades, but it looks more lived in.

There are added pieces in the room. A dehumidifier hums in the corner, and there is a hamper full of clothes. Hoseok has added plants near the window, plasticky leaves vibrant green and shiny. Burnt-out incense sits on the plastic folding table he’s erected, books and papers splayed out over its surface. There’s a collection of crystals you can’t identify.

An inviting bed beckons you. You both fall into it, heavy-limbed and sighing. It smells like Hoseok, a mix of rain and lavender. There’s a sense of trepidation as you roll over on the mattress.

Carefully, Hoseok pulls you to him. He presses your back to his chest, one arm going under his head as he yawns and smacks his lips lightly, the other looping over your waist.  

“No one is going to bother you,” he sleep-slurs. “I got rid of them. And they won’t go against me.”

You hum, sleep crawling up and stealing your thoughts. You wonder how he got rid of them and why they’re afraid of him. 

It isn’t until he mumbles a response that you realize you’ve spoken your question out loud. “Because,” he sighs, words slow and soft, as he drifts off to sleep. “I told them you’re mine.” 

Hoseok’s words are lost on you because you’re long asleep. 

-

No dreams disturb you. When you wake up, you feel the weight of the night before on you. It’s cool and empty behind you as you startle, realizing you’d fallen asleep with Hoseok there. You look over your shoulder, blinking away sleep, and see that it’s just you in the dark room.

From the bathroom, you can hear the shower. You relax a little, groaning as you roll to your back and stare up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. Your thighs still burn with the soreness from the night before and you bite your bottom lip, trying to conceal your grin. 

Gently, you bring your hand to prod at your neck where it had hurt so much last night. You remember the lock-limb nightmare, the feeling of needing to scream. The thought that you were dying. 

Hoseok had saved you, but it begged the question of how. You remember asking him last night, but you cannot remember what he answered. You’re also surprised to find that you’re not in any pain from whoever or whatever had attacked you. 

Unease turns your stomach but you decide to crawl out of his bed, wandering around his room. A salt lamp casts an orange glow on his makeshift desk. You’re drawn to the mess on top of it, looking at the stacks of books and frowning. They’re not in English - or any language that you know, embossed symbols and shapes on the covers and cracked spines. 

Lifting a heavy, green canvas book, you flip it over in your hands. The edges of the paper are yellow and oxidized with time and there is a gold symbol pressed on the front. Your fingers trace the groove, remembering what Hoseok said the day before about sacred geometry. 

Putting it down, you select another book. It has a pentagram on it. When you flip the book open, the pages are filled with slanted writing, diagrams, and shapes. You recognize sabbat dates and stop when you get to a picture of interlocking shapes. You trace the symbol absently, wondering what it means. 

Why does he have books like this? 

A current of electricity slides up the finger that’s tracing the symbol. You squeak in surprise and drop it, cringing at the loud clatter that it makes against the table. The shower flips off and you look at the shut door. Hoseok moves around before opening the door, sticking his head out. He’s dripping in water, hair slicked back, golden skin glistening. 

Despite the night before, you avert your eyes, shy. He doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, instead asking. “You okay?” He glances down at the books. “Good luck reading those.” 

“Yeah,” you answer absently.

He grins. “Be out in a second.”

When Hoseok shuts the door, you feel unsettled. Rubbing your arms to fend off a sudden chill, you continue looking through the things on his table. There’s a small glass case with the exoskeleton of a frog. You cringe, thinking about Hoseok’s pet frog awaiting death in his pitcher plants.

Hoseok’s phone starts vibrating on the desk, making you gasp. Your hand goes to your chest, feeling the way your heart pounds violently against your rib cage. Looking at the screen, you see that someone named Yoongi is calling him. 

You hesitate, cocking your head. The name rings familiar, and you watch as the call goes to voicemail. The screen fades to black but you keep staring at it. Not for the first time on your trip, you get the sense that you’re missing something, that there is something right there. 

A text from Yoongi comes in, lighting up the screen. 

Jung, you better not be fucking around with your prey again. We need to prepare. 

It doesn’t sit well with you. When the screen goes dark, you tap it, bringing up the preview. What the hell does Yoongi mean fucking around with your prey? And what are they preparing for? You swear you remember the name Yoongi, retracing your thoughts. 

You feel the blood drain from your face. You do know that name. 

“Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

“What?” you had asked him. “Your cat talks?”

“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”

Slowly, you stiffen, remembering Hoseok’s words after breakfast. It had seemed silly then, that Hoseok was talking about a cat. But it’s not the only place you’ve seen Yoongi’s name. 

Trust your gut, your sister always said. 

You look at the bathroom door once before turning on your heel and creep from the room. You pull the front door open slowly, wincing and holding your breath as the outside world makes noise. Slipping through, you’re careful not to let the door click loudly before running to your room. 

With the same care, you shut your door, flipping the bolt lock and sliding the chain in the door. The room feels like it’s spinning, your tunnel vision making you dizzy as you sweep your gaze back and forth, looking for the piles of your sister's research. It’s sitting on the floor, shoved off the bed where you let him fuck you last night. 

The urge to vomit flips your stomach as you dive for the papers, riffling through them and scanning, feverish and sweaty. You find the entry you want, finger pressing to the page as you read it multiple times, fear making the words tangle.

Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe to see him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter. 

Yoongi. 

A sick feeling coils in your stomach as your hands tremble, eyes scanning the list of names your sister scribbled out as old families in Kill Devil. There’s another one you remember, the one that Yoongi used in his text to Hoseok. 

Booth. 

Park. 

Warren. 

Kim. 

Jung. 

Jeon.

Min.

A shaking hand presses to your mouth. Jung. “Fuck,” you squeak, looking at the wall separating you from Hoseok’s room.

It occurs to you that all this time, you thought the citizens were looking at Hoseok with contempt. How easily hatred can be confused for fear. Hoseok, who had shown up every time you were having a night terror. Who seemingly knew all the right things to do to ease you.

Hoseok, who had flashes of darkness that terrified you. Whose expression could go blank as he thought about something, but flip on a dime to a bright, sunny boy. Hoseok, whose presence always gave you a weird tingle, triggering some sort of instinct you couldn’t place. 

Something happens then. With absolute certainty and a razor-sharp resolve that you’ve never experienced, you know your sister is dead. Perhaps you’ve always known. The sudden burning of your locket that night two months ago, the way that it looks like she ceased to exist. The eerie feeling dogging you, nipping at your heels. 

Hanna is dead. The pain is only sharp for a second, a slice of agony as you bend over, arms wrapped around your stomach as you let out a silent scream. The grief is powerful but abrupt as you hear Hoseok call your name on the other side of the wall. 

You stand. Because now you can’t mourn. Now, you must leave as quickly as possible. Because you hadn’t been trusting your gut, ignoring that weird little sense of something wrong. 

Now isn’t the time to scream over what you know. Now you must get away from-

“Was it the books or the phone call?” 

You whirl around. Hoseok is leaning against the wall by the door. The bolt is still flipped and the chain is still in place. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at him. He looks at the papers on the floor and back to you, smirk razor-sharp. Of course, he could get into the room without opening the lock. 

All of the features you thought were beautiful are suddenly terrifying. “It took you way too long to puzzle it together, but I guess you’re not nearly as smart as Hanna.” You open your mouth but nothing comes out, throat constricted. “You were so easy to convince though, so I guess that’s something.”

“I don’t…” your voice is raspy, shaking. 

“When you kept calling the city officials, I knew it was only time before you showed up here. I’ve been living in this fucking shit hole waiting.” He tsks and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you forever.”

“The citizens?”

“Stay out of my way and stay out of the Wood. They’re the frogs I let live, so long as I find other ones.”

“Why?” you ask, shaking your head. It’s the only question you can think of. It’s the only question that matters: whywhywhywhy. “Why help me?”

“Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey.” 

It dawns on you that he had said as much at breakfast while he was tracing symbols on the table. He had been talking about his frogs, but he had been talking about you too. How many signs had you missed because he fucking smiled at you? Something dangerous lurking behind light flirting. 

He points to himself. “Pitcher plant.” He points at you with a grin. “Frog. Ribbit.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, fear replaced by a hatred that burns so hot the edges of your vision flash red. But it isn’t him you’re mad at. It’s you. For being so easily deceived. For being so casually influenced in a matter of days. “Fuck you, and your fucking town.” 

“I did fuck you. You were special, though. I hope that makes you feel better. Didn’t fuck your sister. You’re cute, and I had time to spare.” 

“All of this for what? To get off on the chase? The manipulation?”

He scoffs. “I already told you what this place is. It isn’t my fault you didn’t put it together. I almost hand-fed it to you. The Wood gives us power, and the Wood needs sacrifices.” Hoseok pushes himself off of the wall, his smile like the first light of the morning sun. “I’m taking you to the Wood.”

[kingofbodyrolls]

Coming Home (m) | PJM | Part one

When your best friend, Park Jimin, who you’ve had a crush on since forever, suggests you stay at his house to heal and find yourself again after a series of traumatizing events had haunted you for years, you don’t hesitate to accept. Within those walls, a safe haven is woven, where wounds can heal and memories find release. As he nurtures your shattered spirit, an unexpected intimacy unfurls, leaving the fragile barrier between friendship and deeper emotions in question - can you keep your feelings hidden?

→ Pairing: Jimin x reader (female, “Y/N”) → Other characters: Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, OC (female, she is the therapist) and another OC (male, he is the perp). Also readers parents and mention of Jimin's. → AUs: Best friends to lovers!au, detective!jimin → Genres/themes: thriller/dark, yandere vibes, slice of life, healing after trauma, angst, smut and fluff. → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 → Word count: 20k → Warnings: Mention of past abuse and sexual assault (r*pe), trauma, stalking, trust issues, insecurities, thriller vibes, angst, fluff, slice of life, healing after trauma (including therapy sessions), blood (only in the beginning), BIG feelings, protective Jimin, previous character death (a parent), Jimin being soft and loving, self defense. → Disclaimer about warnings: I know nothing about sexual or physical abuse (I only know psychological because I experienced that, not in a sexual context though). This story is fiction, I do not mean to say that this is how one would go through their emotions or handle this situation. This is a delicate and fragile subject, so proceed with caution. I also know nothing about police work or the work in emergency/hospitals. Also, I don’t own BTS or know how they would act in a similar situation. This story is purely fiction, a fragment of my imagination. They just inspire me so much 💜

Cross posted to AO3!

→ Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings

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Rain pelts down relentlessly, each drop a sharp reminder of the danger chasing you. 

The downpour blurs the line between raindrops and tears as they cascade down your face. 

Clothes cling to your skin, suffocating, strangling. 

Keep moving, keep running, the mantra plays on a loop in your mind. 

With each pounding heartbeat, the echo of footsteps grows louder. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowns out the sound of the rain, but the fear in your heart is deafening. 

Each breath is a desperate gasp, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the promise of danger lurking in the shadows. 

Every second counts, and the darkness seems to conspire against your escape, threatening to swallow you whole. Amidst the chaos, doubt gnaws at your resolve. 

Why did things have to turn out this way? 

Could you have done something differently?

But you push those thoughts away; now is not the time for self-doubt. 

The world around you blurs, but your heart beats like a war drum, urging you to escape the nightmare chasing your every step. Clenching your fits, you find a sliver of strength and determination within yourself, vowing to fight until the very end. 

Your tears mix with the rain, blurring your vision again, but you can’t afford to stop. The pain in your chest isn’t just from exhaustion; it’s the weight of a thousand regrets and shattered dreams. 

Memories flash before your eyes like lightning strikes, and you wonder if you’ll ever get a normal life again. But amidst the turmoil, one thought anchors you: survival.

The empty streets seem to stretch endlessly, dim streetlights casting flickering shadows that dance around you. An eerie feeling tightens in your chest - what if he had followed you? 

Exhaustion gnaws at your limbs as you continue to run, legs turning to jelly beneath you. In the distance, a familiar fence and yard comes into view, you feel a twinge of hope surrounding your heart. 

You quicken your pace, stumbling forward, almost there. 

The front door is within reach, and relief wash over you. 

You slam your body against the door, desperate for refuge. Pain sears through your shoulder, but you hardly notice. 

Knocking feverishly, you hope someone, anyone, will answer in this dark hour. But the silence that follows only heightens the fear bubbling within you. 

The wind whispers, carrying with it haunting whispers that seem to echo your own terror.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

His eyes snap open, frustration already creeping into his mind. What in the world is going on outside this time? 

Those blasted drunk teenagers just never seem to learn, do they? Groaning, he begrudgingly leaves the comfort of his bed, fatigue tugging at every step he takes down the hall to the front door. 

Should he open it and scold them? 

Or maybe he should just yell from inside? 

“Go home and sleep it off!” he yells, clenching his jaw with irritation. 

Just as he turns to retreat to his bed, the knocking grows louder and more insistent. He can’t ignore it any longer, and what’s worse, he hears someone crying amidst the chaos. Mortified by the possibility that someone might be hurt, he gives in and opens the door. 

What greets him, he had not expected at all.

You. 

As the door swings open, your heart leaps with relief, and tears of joy blur your vision. 

There he is, Jimin, your best friend of countless years, his dark brown eyes locking into yours. 

Without a second thought, you rush inside, seeking refuge in the familiar space of his home. 

Your back collides with the nearest wall, and you bury your face in your hands, overcome with emotions you’ve been holding back for too long. Jimin is taken aback by your sudden appearance, his mind racing to process what just happened, as he runs a hand through his dark locks. 

It takes a moment for him to register that it’s in fact you, his dearest friend, standing before him after a long period of time. He can’t help but look you up and down, trying to find words that seem to escape him in this moment of surprise and bewilderment.

His eyes widen, mouth agape, as he struggles to comprehend the sight before him. 

“Close and lock the door, dammit!” your voice trembles, the fear palpable in every syllable. Shivering uncontrollably, you stand on the threshold of his home, vulnerable and on edge. 

Jimin snaps out of his stupor and hurriedly complies, shutting the door in a swift motion. He watches you, torn between terror and warmth reflected in his eyes. Seeing you in such distress, his heart aches, but he knows not how to ease your pain. 

You stand here, trembling and panting, a state he’s never witnessed before. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a comforting embrace, but your body remains unresponsive, numb to the touch.

“What in the world happened to you?!” Jimin’s eyes widen in shock as he tightly grips your arms, searching for answers in your tear-filled eyes. You can’t meet his gaze and instead fidget with your fingers, the burden of your secret weighing heavy on your heart. 

With a sudden realization, Jimin’s eyes dart downward, and he gasps as he sees your bare and bloodied feet.

“OMG! You are bleeding! Did you run here barefoot? What happened?” he urgently asks, his mind racing with concern. 

He rushes into the kitchen, his voice a mix of worry and instructions to stay put. You can’t find the words to explain, so you merely nod as he returns with bandages and a glass of water.

The sound of your sobbing fills the room as Jimin carefully tends to your injured feet, his hands gentle and comforting. He’s always been there for you, a pillar of support, and in this moment, you’re reminded of why he’s your best friend. 

The glass of water he hands you feels like salvation, a small act of kindness that speaks volumes about the bond you share.

As the silence envelopes the room, you take a deep breath, unsure of how to articulate the series of events that led you here. 

Jimin sits besides you, his presence a source of solace, and you feel a flicker of courage to share your pain. You know that you can trust him, that he’ll listen without judgment, and that thought alone is enough to make you feel a little less alone.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Jimin begins to say, but you immediately shake your head, chanting ‘no’ repeatedly, your heart pounding in your chest. An uneasiness settles in Jimin’s expression, his concern growing with every passing second.

“You have been missing for five fucking years!” Jimin’s voice raises, a mix of frustration and desperation evident in his tone. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and implores you to slow down and relax. 

The gravity of his words sinks in, and your whole world comes to a halt. 

Five years? It couldn’t have been more than a few months, you think in disbelief. 

You lock eyes with him, and the floodgates of your emotions burst open. What started as sobs turns into pained screams and gut-wrenching cries. Your whole body vibrates with anguish, and in that moment, you find comfort in Jimin’s embrace. 

Being in his arms feels like coming home, and you instantly feel safe, your body beginning to relax under his touch.

“I have to call the police, Y/N, and you know that,” Jimin says with a heavy heart. Deep down, you know he’s right, but the thought of facing what happened to you is terrifying. 

You nod, trying to hold back the tears that fall from your red, swollen eyes, the realization of your missing years cruising you from all sides.

Jimin leads you into the kitchen, gesturing for you to take a seat on a worn stool beside the counter. 

As you sit down, your eyes wander around the room, landing on familiar photos adorning the walls. Some feature Jimin, his family, and others of you both together, capturing moments of laughter and joy. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you remember the warmth of those times. 

Jimin’s presence beside you is both comforting and heartbreaking. The burden of the past five years hangs heavily in the air, unspoken but palpable. 

Despite the reunion, a sense of distance lingers between you, as if the chasm of time has carved an unbridgeable gap.

“Y/N, I have to make the call now,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern. 

“I promise I’ll find you some new clothes and finish taking care of your feet afterward” his words are reassuring, but you can’t help the unease gnawing at your heart. 

The prospect of facing the consequences of your disappearance looms before you, and you can’t help but wonder how much has changed in your absence. You glance at the photos once more, your smile now tinged with melancholy. The memories they hold are precious, reminders of the bond you share with Jimin, but they also serve as a reminder of the time you can never get back. 

As Jimin steps away to make the call, you find solace in the familiarity of the kitchen, a place that once felt like a second home. The creaking of the floorboards and the faint scent of a home cooked meal bring a sense of nostalgia, but the gravity of the present is too heavy to ignore. 

Uncertainty lingers like a shadow, and you wonder how your life will unfold from this point on.

Still sobbing, you watch as Jimin rushes around the house, his voice firm and commanding as he makes the urgent phone call. 

“It’s Y/N! You have to come now. Yes! Y/N! Get your asses down here. Get all of them!” 

The gravity of the situation settles heavily in the room, leaving you both anxious. Jimin returns with a first aid kit, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He kneels before you, gently inspecting your injured feet again. The pain is excruciating, and you instinctively pull away, hissing at the contact. 

“It hurts” you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His worried gaze meets yours, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. 

“I bet it does… Where have you been?… I have so many questions,” he says, gesturing with his hands. As you place your feet back in his hands, he notices the depth of the cuts, and his concern deepens. 

He realizes that you must have endured a long and harrowing journey to get such severe injuries. You find it hard to answer his questions; there’s so much to say, yet the words fail to form, you feel a mix of guilt, fear, and relief at being found, but the overwhelming weight of the past five years makes it difficult to find the right words. 

So you remain silent, unable to provide the answers he seeks. Jimin accepts your silence for now, recognizing that the wounds go far beyond the physical cuts.

He gently tends to your injuries with gauze and the bandages from earlier, his touch a mixture of tenderness and sorrow. 

The unspoken questions hang in the air, leaving both of you grappling with the uncertainty of the future. You both forget the prospect of a new change of the clothes he promised as time tickles by.

About ten minutes later, a sharp knocking at the door sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in place. Jimin offers reassurance, but the anxiety hangs heavy in the air as he walks to open the door.

In come a group of uniformed police officers, and trailing behind them, you spot medics from the ambulance. 

The realization that your disappearance is something serious only adds to the anxiety gnawing at your heart. 

One of the officers stands out from the rest, with mint hair that catches your attention. He exchanges greetings with Jimin, referring to him as ‘Detective Park’, and you deduce that they must work together. 

It dawns on you that Jimin has achieved his childhood dream of becoming a detective. It pulls at your heart strings, proudness filling your heart.

The man with mint hair approaches you, introducing himself as Detective Min Yoongi. His calm and composed demeanor sets you at ease momentarily. “Hey Y/N, is it alright if I ask you some questions?” he says, his voice smooth and unwavering. 

As the atmosphere fills with tension and unspoken questions, you brace yourself for what lies ahead. 

The presence of the police and the sudden arrival of the whole police squad hint at the gravity of the situation, leaving everybody in the room on edge. 

The minutes tick by, and the gravity of your disappearance and the uncertainty of the future loom large.

“Dammit Min! Let us take care of her first before you make her re-play what happened to her!” An unfamiliar voice shouts, the paramedic’s frustration evident in the sharp tone. 

You glance over and see a tall man with broad shoulders approaching, carrying a bag of medical supplies. Behind him, a younger guy with a smile as bright as the sun follows closely. 

The tension in the room heightens as Detective Yoongi steps aside to let the two medics pass. 

The tall man’s protective stance and the younger guy’s warm demeanor catch your attention. Their presence offers a glimmer of relief amidst the uncertainty that surrounds you. 

The paramedic’s concern is palpable, and you feel a wave of gratitude for someone looking out for you in this disorienting moment. 

Detective Yoongi, on the other hand, seems resolute in his approach, keen on getting to the bottom of what happened. 

The conflict between his determination and the medics’ insistence on prioritizing your well-being leaves you torn and uncertain of what to expect next. 

As the medics attend to you, their professionalism and care give you a sense of security. The man with the broad shoulders, voice’s boldness in defending you feels like a comforting aid, assuring you that you’re not alone in facing whatever ordeal lies ahead. 

With a mix of emotions swirling inside you, the room becomes a whirlwind of activity.

“Hi. I’m Seokjin, and this is my buddy, Hoseok. We’re going to take a look at your cuts on your feet and determine if you have to ride with us to the hospital, okay?” 

Seokjin’s voice is gentle and comforting as he introduces himself and Hoseok. They both exchange a side-eye with detective Min, unimpressed by his approach. 

You feel a glimmer of relief at the soothing tone of the medics, finding comfort in their presence. You allow the paramedics to tend to your feet, the pain and discomfort still fresh from your barefoot run. Hoseok unwraps the bandages Jimin had put on you, inspects your feet and notices the bruises. Instantly, you withdraw your legs, hiding them under your gown, as if trying to shield yourself from further scrutiny. 

The sudden attention draws everyone’s gaze, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

“I, I…” you stammer, looking down, afraid to share the source of your bruises. 

Your voice trails off, and fear grips your heart. However, the medics’ caring demeanor slowly breaks through your defenses, reminding you that they are here to help, not harm. 

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” Seokjin says, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

You flinch, instinctively trying to pull away from the touch, unable to fully accept comfort in this moment. 

Hoseok and Seokjin exchange a knowing glance, understanding the depth of your unease. 

Instead of pushing further, they give you space and time to process. Their empathy creates a safe space, allowing you to slowly open up and trust in their care. 

With their gentle presence and understanding, you start to feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you can get through this.

As the paramedics continue to tend to your injuries, you notice that all the police officers have circled around Jimin, engaging in small talk. 

The room feels charged with tension, and you can tell that Jimin is both grateful for their support and eager to ensure that you receive the care you need. Jimin’s gaze shifts back to you, concern evident in his eyes as he observes the way you deflect any attempts at physical touch. 

His mind races, trying to understand the reasons behind your reaction. He’s torn between joining the police officers and focusing on your well-being. Hoseok’s interruption brings him back to the present. 

“We should take her to the hospital to get checked,” he suggests, pulling Jimin’s attention away from the crowd. “It’s hard to determine the extent of her injuries here.” 

Jimin’s heart sinks at the realization that your injuries might be more severe than he initially thought. He feels a sense of urgency to ensure that you receive proper medical attention, yet he knows that he can’t push you to do something you’re not comfortable with. 

“I’ll go with her,” Jimin says, the determination in his voice clear. 

He glances back at the police officers, who nod in understanding. They trust his judgment and know that your well-being is his top priority. 

As Hoseok and Seokjin prepare to take you to the hospital, Jimin steps beside you, offering a gentle smile. 

“You don’t have to worry. We’ll all take care of you” he reassures, his voice soft and comforting. He understands that you may be hesitant, but he’s determined to support you every step of the way. 

With Jimin’s unwavering support, you find a flicker of reassurance amidst the uncertainty. 

“Jin is just going to get the stretcher from the ambulance, and then we can go to the hospital,” Hoseok says reassuringly. You nod, the load of exhaustion settling heavily on your shoulders. 

Your body feels like it weighs a ton, and even the simplest tasks seem daunting. Seokjin arrives with the stretcher, and you manage to sit down with the help of Hoseok. 

“Please lie down, and we will secure you.” he says with an encouraging smile. The softness of his voice offers a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos. 

At your side, Detective Min Yoongi appears, determined to take your statement. 

The idea of reliving the events feels overwhelming, and you shake your head, too tired to delve into the details.

“I think it will be alright for her to get checked out at the hospital first, no?” Seokjin suggests, his voice firm yet understanding. 

The conflict between the detective and the paramedics become apparent, each prioritizing their own objectives. Detective Yoongi grumbles his acceptance, a begrudging nod signaling his reluctant agreement. 

As the paramedics wheel you out of Jimin’s house and towards the waiting ambulance, you feel a mix of emotions - exhaustion, uncertainty, and relief. 

The events of the night have taken a toll, and the path ahead remains uncertain. But for now, you take solace in the reassurance of the paramedics and the support of Jimin and his colleagues.

On the way out, Jimin informs you that he’ll follow in his car since he couldn’t be with you in the ambulance. 

You’re secretly relieved that the paramedics insisted on you riding alone. 

In the ambulance, Hoseok gently tends to your feet again, his touch soft and comforting as he removes the gauze. You wince as he cleans the wounds properly, the pain a sharp reminder of the night’s events. 

“How come you have all these cuts on your feet?” Hoseok’s voice carries a mix of curiosity and concern, and you can sense his genuine desire to understand and help. He wraps your feet in fresh bandages, his soothing gaze never leaving you.

“I ran barefoot,” you offer a simple answer, not yet ready to delve into the details.

“But why were you not wearing any shoes?” Hoseok persists, his gentle tone an attempt to coax the truth from you. 

“I didn’t have time to grab them” you reply, turning your head away, already weary of the questions.

Hoseok’s caring eyes sweep over you, and he notices the black and yellow discolorations on your legs and arms. His concern deepens as he observes the evidence of further injuries. 

“I know you’re tired and don’t like me asking questions, but I need to ask some to help you, you know?” he explains, trying to establish a connection with you.

You flinch when he places his hand on your skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

Memories of the past five years flood your mind, and you can’t help but pull away, mortified by the unwanted touch. The burden of your experiences is heavy, and sharing them feels like an insurmountable task. 

Yet, amidst your discomfort, you find a glimmer of hope in Hoseok’s genuine concern, knowing that he may be the one to help you find the strength to voice the events.

You take a deep breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. You know you must tell Hoseok, and later, Detective Yoongi too. Gathering all your courage and mental strength, you feel your body tense as you prepare to share the painful truth.

“I was abducted and abused,” you say in a faint, low voice, your eyes darting away, unsure about the reaction you'll receive. 

The weight of the words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel Hoseok’s presence, supportive and patient, as you struggle to find the right words.

You take another breath, steadying yourself before continuing, “And sexually assaulted” you whisper, almost as if speaking any louder would cause the memories to become too overpowering.

The silence that follows feels suffocating, but you know you can’t take back what you’ve shared. 

Your vulnerability lies bare before Hoseok, and you wonder how he’ll respond. In this moment of revelation, you realize that speaking about your past is just the beginning of a journey towards healing. 

You brace yourself for what comes next, hoping that the weight of your experiences will now be shared, lessening the burden you’ve carried for so long.

Hoseok looks at you, his eyes glistening with tears he’s trying to hold back, not wanting to cry in front of you. 

“Y/N, fuck, I’m so, so sorry that happened to you” he murmurs, his voice is filled with raw emotion. He attempts to give you a reassuring smile. But the pain in his eyes betrays the facade. 

The weight of your trauma hangs heavy in the air, making the atmosphere in the ambulance feel dense and suffocating. For the rest of the ride, Hoseok falls silent, the words caught in his throat. 

The ambulance finally stops, and the doors open, revealing the outside world again. 

As they wheel you out of the vehicle, Seokjin notices the tension between you and Hoseok. Concerned, he asks what happened, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Hoseok hesitates, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. He’s torn between sharing the information with Jin and wanting to protect you from further pain. 

In the end, he decides to keep his head down, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. Feeling drowsy, you manage to recount the horrifying events to Seokjin, who listens with sadness in his eyes. 

His reassurance that you’re safe now provides some comfort amidst the overwhelming emotions. “You should agree to get the sexual assault kit done. Maybe they can find the guy in the system, you never know.” he suggests, his concern evident in his voice.

As they wheel you inside the hospital, you find yourself surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses ready to help. Hoseok’s presence beside you provides a sense of security, and you notice how he smiles at a particular nurse with a boxy smile, displaying a reassuring camaraderie.

Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind “Jimin?” you ask, looking at Hoseok for reassurance.

“He will be right behind you in a moment. He’s probably parking his car” Hoseok assures you, waving as he and his partner step back outside.

As the nurses wheel you further into the hospital, you feel a mix of emotions - fear, exhaustion, and relief. 

The trauma you’ve experienced still weighs heavily on your mind, but the support and care from those around you offer a glimmer of hope. 

You take a deep breath, knowing that you’re in good hands, and that with the help of the hospital team, the police and your best friend, you’re one step closer to finding justice and healing.

Jimin keeps a short distance to the ambulance, his heart pounding in his chest as he refuses to lose track of it. 

With each passing second, the urgency in his movements grows. 

When the ambulance finally arrives at the hospital, he finds himself racing to find a parking space, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. 

The ambulance is fortunate to park in front of the emergency department doors, allowing medical personnel to respond swiftly. 

Jimin spots a free parking spot not too far away and practically dumps his car, almost forgetting to lock it in his haste. He dashes to the front doors, his feet carrying him as fast as they can.

As he approaches the emergency department, he spots the ambulance parked to the side, with Hoseok and Seokjin standing outside, restocking items. 

His heart sinks at the sight of the ambulance, knowing that you’re probably inside, dealing with the aftermath of what must be a traumatic event. 

Jimin’s emotions are a whirlwind - concern, worry, and determination. He knows he needs to be there for you, to offer support and comfort during this difficult time.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, determined to be by your side. 

Jimin arrives, panting and out of breath, his heart pounding as he seeks answers. As he reunites with Hoseok and Seokjin, his gaze instinctively searches for you, hoping to see you safe and cared for. 

Your journey to healing has just begun, and Jimin is resolute in his commitment to stand by you every step of the way.

He greets Hoseok with a worried smile, but something is off. Hoseok’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, a telltale sign that something serious has happened.

“What happened?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice, upset that something has clearly affected his dear friend.

“It’s better that Y/N tells you…” Hoseok replies, turning away from Jimin, reluctant to share the details.

Jimin isn’t satisfied with that response. 

Their years of friendship have given him the ability to sense when something is wrong with Hoseok. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, silently urging him to open up. 

Seokjin intervenes, understanding the need to share the truth. He places his hands on the two friends, offering his support. With a sigh, he encourages Hoseok to speak.

“She was assaulted…” 

Hoseok finally reveals, his voice carrying the weight of your trauma. Jimin freezes, his heart sinking at the revelation. He struggles to process the information, grappling with a mix of shock, anger, and a fierce desire to protect you.

“How?” 

Jimin asks in a stern voice, determined to understand the details despite his internal turmoil. He knows he needs to be strong for you, but the truth is overwhelming. He braces himself for the answers, ready to face whatever comes next.

“... Sexually” 

Hoseok’s usual sunshine and brightness vanished, leaving the outdoors heavy with the weight of the revelation. Jimin felt the anger take root in his body, making his blood boil. He was furious that such a thing could happen to you, and he regretted not being there to prevent it. 

The surge of emotions overwhelmed him; he couldn’t bear the thought of you going through such pain.

“Thanks” he muttered, his voice tinged with urgency, and turned towards the doors in a hurry. He had to see you, make sure you were alright given the circumstances, and let you know he would be there for you no matter what.

But before he could leave, Hoseok’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

Turning back, he faced his friend, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“There’s one more thing you should know…” Hoseok began, his expression filled with genuine sadness. Jimin braced himself for more devastating details, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

“She was also abused. Liked multiple times… probably over a long period of time.” Hoseok said with a frown, the burden of the truth evident in his words.

“What!?” 

Jimin almost shouted, his emotions spiraling out of control. The reality of what you endured felt too much to bear. He needed to see you, to hold you close and reassure you that you were safe now. 

Determination and love swelled within him, driving him forward. He had to be there for you, to let you know that he loved you and that he would protect you with everything he had.

As you settle into your hospital room, you feel grateful for the solitude, thankful to be the only patient in it at the moment. 

The nurse with the boxy smile, Taehyung, you learned, tends to you with professionalism and attentiveness, his reassuring smiles putting you at ease. His presence feels like a calming force amidst the turmoil of recent events.

 As he ensures your comfort, he gently inquires about what happened to you, just like the paramedics did earlier. Taking a deep breath, you recount the harrowing experience, trusting Taehyung to listen without judgment. His genuine concern is evident as he nods in understanding, offering you unwavering support. 

Remembering Seokjin’s suggestion about the assault kit, you express your willingness to go through with it. Taehyung agrees that it’s a good idea and asks if you’d feel more comfortable with a female coworker conducting the examination. 

You contemplate the option for a moment, acknowledging your vulnerability in this situation. Finally, you decide to have a female nurse perform the exam but request Taehyung to be present by your side for comfort.

“I’d appreciate having you there,” you say, appreciating the calm and caring energy he exudes. Taehyung nods warmly, assuring you that he’ll be right there to support you through the process.

The hospital room takes on a sense of tranquility as you put your trust in Taehyung, knowing that you’re in capable hands.

As Taehyung explains the process of the examination, you feel anxiety wash over you. The police involvement is a daunting prospect, but you're grateful that Jimin is part of it. 

When the door opens, and Jimin steps in, a sense of comfort washes over you, his familiar presence easing your tension.

“—You Taehyung?” Jimin asks, panting, concern evident in his expression as he approaches your bed. Taehyung stands in front of Jimin, almost like a shield, protective of you.

“Yes” Taehyung responds firmly. 

“Who are you?” he asks, sizing Jimin up with a discerning look.

“I’m a friend of Y/N. Detective Park Jimin” he replies, his eyes searching your face and body for any signs of discomfort.

“Oh.” Taehyung mutters, stepping aise to give Jimin space by your side. You try to sound tough, assuring Jimin that you’re fine, but he sees through the facade.

“You’re in no shape or form fine, and it’s okay to acknowledge that,” Jimin says, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside you, his supporting gesture speaking volumes.

When you ask if Jimin can be present during the examination, Taehyung hesitates for a moment before agreeing, on the condition that he sees Jimin’s identification. You feel relieved when Jimin shows his badge, securing his place by your side.

“I don’t have to be here if you’re uncomfortable with it, Y/N” Jimin says gently, squeezing your hand reassuringly and you feel your cheeks blush.

“I would prefer you. I don’t want somebody from the police that I don’t know” you reply, squeezing his hand back, the trust and affection between you two evident.

“Okay then. I’ll just get a female nurse to come and do the vaginal exam now” Taehyung says, leaving the room with a mix of sadness and determination in his eyes.

The weight of the situation settles in, but with Jimin by your side, you feel stronger and more ready to face what comes next.

The vaginal examination has been anything but pleasant, but you’re grateful that Jimin stayed by your side the whole time, providing a sense of security amidst the discomfort. 

After the female nurse and Taehyung leave the room, you find yourself alone with Jimin again. 

His presence is both comforting and unsettling, and you can sense the burden of unspoken questions between you. Jimin’s eyebrows keep furrowing as he paces the room, a clear sign of the many inquiries swirling in his mind. 

You can tell he wants to ask you so many things, but he’s also aware of the sensitivity of the situation. 

He starts to speak a few times but falls silent just as quickly, understanding that this may not be the right moment. Time seems to stretch on, with each passing moment carrying the weight of unspoken words. 

The room is filled with an atmosphere of both comfort and tension, the air charged with emotions that neither of you knows quite how to express.

You feel the urge to break the silence, to tell Jimin everything that has happened, but the words catch in your throat. 

It’s hard to put into words the trauma you’ve experienced, the pain you’ve endured. It was easier to tell the paramedics and Taehyung, because they aren’t as close to you. 

There’s a fear that sharing the details might make it all too real, and might make Jimin think less of you. 

Yet, in the midst of the silence, you find a sense of solace in Jimin’s presence. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, a deep connection that doesn’t require words. You know he’s there for you, ready to listen and support you whenever you’re ready to share.

As Jimin continues to pace, you catch his eye and manage a small, appreciative smile. It’s a signal that you’re not quite ready to talk yet, but you’re thankful for his presence. The gesture seems to ease some of the tension in the room, and Jimin’s features soften.

For now, you both find comfort in the silence, knowing that when the time is right, you’ll have each other to lean on. In this moment of vulnerability and uncertainty, the unspoken words between you carry more weight than any spoken ones ever could.

The silence in the room is broken by the entrance of Taehyung, a warm smile on his face. Despite the gentle expression the news he brings sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Hey Y/N,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that we have called your parents, and they are on their way”.

You freeze at the mention of your parents.

Jimin looks at you, sensing your sudden unease. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems momentarily puzzled by the tension in the room before it dawns on him. 

“Shit. You didn't want them to know…” he trails off, his eyes dropping to the floor with a sense of defeat.

In a small and timid voice, you ask, “What did you tell them?”.

Taehyungs’s reply is gentle but regretful, “Only that you are in the hospital, nothing else”. He offers an apology, acknowledging that calling the emergency contact is standard procedure. You can see the sincerity in his eyes as he feels remorse for causing you further distress.

The conflicting emotions inside you are overwhelming. 

Part of you wants your parents’ support and comfort during this difficult time, but another part dreads their reaction, fearing their judgment and disappointment. 

You glance at Jimin, hoping to find relief in his presence. Jimin, sensing your distress, reaches out to hold your hand, offering silent support. Taehyung seems to understand the complexity of the situation and takes a step back, giving you both some space.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you finally manage to say, appreciating his concern and understanding, “I just… I’m not sure how they will react.” 

Taehyung nods, his expression sympathetic, “I understand. I’m sorry for any added stress this may have caused you. If you want, I can talk to them on your behalf, explain the situation.” 

You consider his offer, grateful for his willingness to help. “Let me think about it” you reply, feeling torn but also relieved that Taehyung is willing to be a buffer between you and your parents.

As Taehyung leaves the room, you turn to Jimin, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I’m scared, Jimin. I don’t know how they’ll react, and I don’t want to burden them with all of this.” 

Jimin’s eyes soften with understanding. 

“We’ll face it together, Y/N,” he assures you. 

“Whatever happens, I’m here for you, and we’ll navigate through this together”. In that moment, you realize the true depth of Jimin’s care and support.

The room falls into silence, and you find solace under the duvet, hiding your body away from the world. Jimin takes a seat beside your bed, the concern evident in his eyes.

“I know you don’t want to tell your parents everything that happened,” he begins gently, searching for a way to support you without pushing too much. 

“But maybe you could just… not tell them all of it” he offers, his voice soft with compassion. 

You’re taken aback by his suggestion. 

How could he know what you’re going through? 

You hadn’t even had the guts to confide in him yet. “Did the paramedics tell you what happened to me?” you ask timidly, avoiding his gaze as you fidget with the duvet and your fingers.

Jimin’s heart breaks at the vulnerability in your voice. 

He nods, his eyes filled with sorrow. 

“I’ve been friends with Hoseok for some time, so I asked him to tell me,” he admits, squeezing your hand gently. 

“He didn’t want to. I’m sorry, I know I should have asked you instead.” 

You finally meet his gaze, seeing the pain and empathy in his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you reply softly. “I understand why you wanted to know, and I appreciate your concern.” 

Talking about what happened is difficult for you, and you appreciate Jimin’s effort to understand without pushing you to share more than you’re comfortable with for now. 

“I don’t know if I can tell my parents everything,” you admit, the burden of the trauma pressing down on your shoulders. Jimin doesn’t push; he simply listens and holds your hand, a silent source of comfort. 

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he assures you. 

“Take your time. Whatever you choose to share, I’ll support you, and so will your parents” you nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you knowing that Jimin will be there for you, no matter what. 

“Thank you” you whisper, feeling grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

The room fills with a quiet understanding, the unspoken bond between you and Jimin providing comfort and reassurance. As you face the difficult road ahead, you find strength in knowing you’re not alone, and that you have someone who cares deeply for you by your side.

“So you’re suggesting that I only tell them that I was abducted and nothing more?” you ponder out loud, turning to Jimin for guidance. 

He nods his head in understanding, his expression gentle and reassuring. The burden of the decision feels heavy on your shoulders, torn between protecting your parents and seeking solace in their support.

A sudden knock at the door statles you, causing your head to whip around in panic. 

The dreadful feeling in your body intensities, fearing that it might be your parents. Thankfully, it's Detective Yoongi who enters, peeking his head in. You remember him from earlier, and his presence makes your heart race.

“Hello, Y/N, how are you doing?” he greets you, a mix of professionalism and concern in his voice. Jimin acknowledges him with a nod as the detective approaches the other side of your bed.

“Ehm, okay, all things considered, I think” you reply, trying to steady your breath because you know exactly why he is here and where this conversation is heading.

Detective Yoongi’s gaze softens, and you can sense his desire to help and understand.

“I’ve spoken with Hoseok, and I know it’s been a difficult time for you. We’re here to support you, Y/N. Can you tell us anything about the person who abducted you? Any details you remember?”

Yoongi looks at you and then glances at Jimin, seeking his approval. Jimin meets your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, when finding none, he nods and gives your hand a soft squeeze, providing reassurance.

Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens, his protective instincts kicking in. 

“She’s been through a lot, Hyung.” 

Detective Yoongi nods in understanding, recognizing the delicate situation. “Of course. Take all the time you need, Y/N” he says, conveying his support and patience.

You take a deep breath and begin recounting the night five years ago, the events that led to your abduction, and the aftermath. 

As you mention Jimin’s presence there that night, you see his reaction, the anguish and pain etched across his face. You feel a pang of sadness witnessing his emotional turmoil in response to your words. 

The Detective listens attentively, his professional demeanor mixed with compassion, creating a safe space for you to share your story. 

With every word you speak, the burden of the past bears down on you, and the memories threaten to consume you. Jimin’s unwavering presence beside you offers some comfort, a salvation in the storm of emotions.

It had gone late, and everybody was going home, some of your friends talked about taking a taxi, but you had declined, saying it was only a short walk home for you. 

The streets were eerily quiet, lit only by the dim glow of streetlights. The chilling wind sent shivers down your spine, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as you walked down the familiar path to the forest. 

If only you had chosen to take the taxi, like Jimin had suggested, none of this would have happened, you think now, replaying the nightmarish events in your mind. 

As you walked home, you heard the unmistakable sound of a car approaching from the side. At first, you brushed it off, but then a window rolled down, and a man’s voice called out to you, offering a ride. 

You declined, trying to keep calm. 

But he persisted, his words becoming more sinister with each attempt to lure you in. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as the car suddenly accelerated, blocking your path. 

Panic surged through your veins, and you froze in your tracks, fear paralyzing your body. 

Before you could react the driver lunged at you, grabbing you from behind. 

You fought with every ounce of strength, but his grip was unyielding. Your desperate attempts to break free only fueled his aggression. A harsh chemical smell filled your nostrils as he forced a cloth over your mouth. 

The world around you blurred, and darkness enveloped your senses. Your mind became hazy, and you lost track of time, lost track of yourself. 

As you recount the horrifying memory, tears stream down your cheeks like a heavy downpour, mingling with the raw emotions that have been suppressed for so long. 

The weight of the experience bears down on you, and you can’t help but feel the burden of self-blame for not making a different choice that night.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jimin’s voice breaks the suffocating silence, his touch a comforting anchor. 

“You are safe now. I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you again” he intertwined his fingers with one of your hands, as he hugged you tightly with the other. 

The action sends a weird tingle down your spine.

The memories are a torment, and you struggle to find the words as you recount the horrors you endured. Your voice quivers, and you take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. It feels like the past is clawing its way back into your present, engulfing you in darkness.

“I woke up in this unfamiliar room,” you begin, your body trembling with the weight of the memories. “There was a bed and a change of clothes, but nothing felt right. I knew something was terribly wrong” your eyes meet Jimin’s, seeking solace and strength.

As you continue, your voice becomes softer, as if you’re afraid to give voice to the nightmares that haunt you. 

“He forced himself on me, even as I screamed, cried, and begged him to stop. ‘No’ meant nothing to him” you utter, the pain evident in your voice. 

Tears glisten in Jimin’s eyes as he sobs softly, his heart aching for the pain you endured. 

He feels terrible and the only way he knows how to alleviate some of the pain, is to hug you tightly. 

“I’m so sorry” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion, “I wish I could have done more, found you sooner.” 

“You did your best, Jimin,” you assure him, leaning against his shoulder. “You were the light in that darkness, the reason I held on. It’s not your fault” you stroke his back gently.

“Did you ever try to escape?” Yoongi’s question hangs heavy in the air, and you feel your heart tighten with dread. Memories of the countless attempts to break free flood your mind, each ending in devastating consequences.

“Yes,” you reply, the weight of your past pushing you closer to breaking point. “But every attempt only led to more pain. He beat me until I couldn’t move, leaving me bruised and broken.”

You take comfort in Jimin’s embrace, seeking support as you bare your soul, “I thought I could escape, find a way out of that nightmare. But hope faded, and I felt trapped. There was no way out.”

The ever calm Detective leaned forward, his eyes focused intently on you, “Tell me everything you can remember about the surroundings. Even the tiniest details could be crucial in finding this man” he implored, trying to elicit any information that might lead them to the perpetrator.

You close your eyes, trying to recall the blurred images from your escape. 

“I remember it was a rundown neighborhood. Lots of abandoned buildings, overgrown with weeds,” you begin, your voice wavering as the memories resurface. 

“The streets were dimly lit, and there was this eerie silence that made me feel terrified.” 

Jimin’s hand tightens around your arm, offering silent support as you continue. “I ran through narrow alleyways, twisting and turning, trying to put as much distance between me and that place. But everything felt the same, like a never-ending maze.” You sigh deeply, frustration lacing your features.

The Detective’s brows furrow with concern as he takes notes, piecing together the fragmented information. “Did you notice any landmarks or signs?” he asks, hoping for a breakthrough.

You shake your head, feeling helpless and frustrated with your inability to provide more details. “I… I don’t know,” you stammer, your voice laced with disappointment. 

“I was so focused on escaping, I didn’t really pay attention to anything else” you pout defeatedly.

Yoongi’s expression softens, understanding the immense trauma you endured. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures gently. 

“You did what you had to do to survive. We’ll do everything in our power to find this man and bring him to justice” he states assuredly with conviction.

You appreciate his comforting words, but the fear lingers in the back of your mind. 

What if they can’t find him? What if he comes after you again?

Jimin interjects, his voice firm with determination, “We won’t rest until we catch him, Y/N. You’re safe now, and we’ll make sure it stays that way.”

Yoongi nods, sharing the same determination. “We’ll keep investigating and following every lead,” he says, his gaze unwavering.

“Have you ever seen his face?” as the Detective inquires further, memories flood back, and you nod slowly, acknowledging that you had seen his face. 

The room grows tense as both detectives exchange meaningful glances, sensing the gravity of the situation.

“Would you be able to describe him to a sketch artist?” Yoongi asks, his voice steady but his eyes filled with concern.

You take a deep breath, mustering the courage to relive those horrifying moments. 

“I can try,” you reply, feeling the weight of the task ahead. 

Despite the fear that grips you, you know that providing any information could be crucial to catching the man who tormented you. Detective Yoongi then asks about the perpetrator’s name, and you recount how he demanded to be called ‘Hyun’. 

The room falls silent for a moment, filled with a heavy tension as you recall the haunting memories.

Exhaustion settles in, and you yearn for a moment of respite to process the traumatic events you’ve just relieved. 

However, your desire for peace is interrupted when there’s a knock at the door. As it slowly opens, your parents enter the room, their faces a mix of worry and relief.

Tears well up in your eyes as you see your parents, and you reach for them, seeking comfort in their embrace. 

You feel a mixture of emotions; relief to see their familiar faces, but also anxiety about possibly explaining what had happened. As your parents approach you, their eyes filled with love and concern, your heart swells with mixed emotions. 

It has been so long since you last saw them, and their presence brings comfort and a sense of home. However, the burden of the truth you carry prevents you from fully embracing their warmth. 

You don’t want to burden them with the horrific details of your ordeal, afraid that it will shatter their perception of you.

Your parents greet Jimin with warmth and confusion directed towards the other man in the room. Detective Yoongi introduces himself and explains that he’s here to help with the investigation. 

“He’s the detective in charge of my abduction case,” you explain, watching their expression shift from curiosity to shock and then concern. 

They eye him cautiously at first, but the firm handshake seems to ease their worries a bit. Jimin stands up, feeling a pang of guilt for not being able to protect you, even though he knows it was not his fault. 

Your parents look at Jimin, grateful for his presence. Jimin gestures for your dad to take the chair, and your heart swells with gratitude for your best friend’s support. With a soft smile, your father sits down beside you, and you appreciate the familiar comfort of his presence. 

Jimin steps back, giving you and your parents some space, but you can see the concern still etched on his face.

Detective Yoongi, now realizing the delicate dynamics, reassures your parents that they are doing everything they can to find the perpetrator and bring him to justice. He explains that your statement is crucial in the investigation and that they’ll do their best to support you throughout the process. He hums in approval and leaves the room.

Amidst the lingering tension, your parents turn their focus back to you, showering you with affection and love. They express how much they have missed you and how glad they are to have you back home. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” your father asks, his voice filled with love and worry. You nod, attempting to mask the pain and trauma that still lingers within you. 

You don’t want them to see the broken parts of you, fearing it will break their hearts too. Tears well up in your eyes as you feel the weight of their love, and you wish you could tell them everything, but you can’t bring yourself to share the horrors you’ve endured.

You squeeze their hands gently, offering a grateful smile.

 “I missed you both so much too” you say, your voice quivering with emotions.

As your parents speak, telling you that you can have your old room back at home, a mix of emotions floor your heart. Relief, fear, and uncertainty clash within you. 

You had imagined returning to your apartment, your sanctuary, after being rescued, but reality dawns on you like a heavy cloud. Your apartment is gone, leased to someone else while you were missing, and the truth hits you hard.

Your wide eyes betray your uneasiness, and your mother picks up on it immediately. 

Her comforting presence beside you offers a glimmer of reassurance, but your mind is still racing. She begins to explain the situation, how your absence resulted in losing the apartment. 

You can’t help but feel a pang of sadness and nostalgia for the place you once called home.

“I understand, mom” you say, trying to put on a brave face, but the disappointment lingers. Deep down, you had hoped to return to your apartment, to reclaim a piece of your past. Yet, it seems that life has moved on without you, and the reality of it stings.

Your dad’s explanation about them not paying the rent during your absence makes logical sense, but it adds to the weight on your shoulders. You don’t want to burden them further, and you know they have their own lives and financial responsibilities to take care of.

The conflicting emotions within you intensity. On one hand, you appreciate your parents’ offer and their unconditional love, but on the other, you crave a sense of comfort, independence and the familiarity of your own space. 

You long to heal and rebuild your life on your terms, without feeling smothered.

Taking a deep breath, you gather the courage to express your feelings. 

“I appreciate it, mom, Dad. I really do,” you start, your voice wavering slightly. 

“But I think I need some time to find my own footing again. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, but… I need some space to heal and find myself again”. 

Your parents exchange a glance, a mixture of understanding and concern evident in their eyes. They love you deeply, and they want what’s best for you. After a moment of silence, your mother speaks softly, “We understand, sweetheart. We’ll support whatever decision you make. Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what”.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you feel the weight of their love and understanding. 

In that moment, you realize that while you may not have your old apartment, you have something more precious - a family that will stand by you through thick and thin.

As your parents express their concern and worry about your safety by staying by yourself, you try to reason with them, emphasizing your independence and adulthood, you’re almost twentynine years old! 

However, your mom’s heartfelt response tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how much they care about you. “I know you want me close and safe, and I appreciate that more than you can imagine,” you say, trying to convey your love and gratitude. 

“But I also need to find my own way and regain some semblance of normalcy.”

You explain as Jimin interjects, “She can stay at my place.” 

You whip your head to look at Jimin, feeling tears fill your eyes at his caring offer.

The tension in the room escalates as your parents ponder Jimin’s offer. They are cautious about trusting someone else with your safety, especially considering the circumstances of your disappearance. 

However, Jimin steps in, ready to prove his dedication and reliability.

“I understand your concerns, and I promise, I will do everything in my power to protect her,” Jimin says firmly, looking straight into your parents’ eyes. 

“I blame myself for what happened, for not making sure she got home safely that night, and I will not let it happen again. She will be safe with me” he assures them with a stern yet comforting look. 

His sincerity and determination leave a lasting impression on your parents. You can see their hesitancy gradually giving way to trust. Jimin’s gesture of holding their hands and expressing remorse further strengthens their belief in him.

“I will never be able to forgive myself if something happens to her again,” Jimin adds, his voice laced with regret. “I promise you, I will be her guardian and protector.”

Your parents eventually agree to the arrangement, recognizing that Jimin’s dedication to your safety outweighs their concerns. 

They also think that Jimin will be able to keep you safer, with him being a cop now. They thank him for his commitment, and you can see a sense of relief wash over them. 

Your mom still wants to make sure that you are completely comfortable with the situation, and asks if you are fine staying at Jimin’s place.

“I promise you, I’m okay staying at Jimin’s,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “He’s been there for me since I got back, and I trust him completely”.

Your mother’s worried expression softens as she looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. “Are you sure, sweetheart? We just want what’s best for you”.

You nod, giving her a small smile, “I know, mom. I know both of you worry about me, and I appreciate that. But being at Jimin’s feels… comforting. It’s like I have a sense of security there,” you give a small smile. 

Deep down you know you won’t feel safe or comfortable with your own place like you initially thought, but this was a good compromise.

Your father places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If you ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe, don’t hesitate to call us, okay?” we’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“I will, dad” you promise, feeling grateful for their understanding. 

“But please know that I need some time to myself too. I want to try and rebuild my life, and I think being at Jimin’s will help me with that, until I feel comfortable eventually getting my own place,” both your parents nod, accepting your decision while still trying to protect you. 

They express their love once again, and you can see the worry lingering in their eyes as they bid you goodbye.

As they leave, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of emotions settling in. Jimin returns to your side, looking concerned as he takes the seat beside you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and you blush at the touch.

“I will be,” you reply honestly, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s just… it must be hard for them, you know? To see me like this.” 

Jimin wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. “They love you, Y/N. And they’ll do whatever they can to protect you. It’s natural for them to worry.” 

You nod, feeling comforted by his presence. “I know. But I also need to figure things out on my own. I need to feel like myself again.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Jimin says firmly. “I’m here for you, every step of the way. We’ll face this together.”

You look up at him, finding solace in his unwavering support. “Thank you, Jiminie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles softly at his nickname, his eyes filled with warmth and love, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here for you.” 

With Jimin by your side, you know you have someone who truly understands and cares for you.

As you prepare to leave the hospital, haven met with the sketch artist too, the weight of what lies ahead settles on your shoulders. You’ve endured so much, and now the road to recovery stretches out before you like an uncertain path. 

Jimin stands beside you, his presence a constant source of strength, but you can’t help but feel the apprehension growing inside you.

Taehyung approaches you with a sympathetic smile. 

“Y/N, I’ve arranged a few appointments with a psychologist for you,” he says gently, handing you a small card. “She specializes in sexual trauma and can help you work through everything you’ve been through.” 

You take the card, trying to hold back the emotions that threaten to spill over. 

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you say softly. Feeling your heart warm at his kindness, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

Taehyung nods, his eyes filled with empathy, “Just take it one step at a time,” he advises. “Healing isn’t easy, but you’re not alone in this journey” he assures you and bids you goodbye with a soft smile and wave of his hand.

You know he’s right, but the fear of facing your trauma head-on still lingers. The thought of reliving those harrowing moments again fills you with dread. Jimin senses your unease and pulls you into a comforting embrace. 

“You don’t have to do this alone” he whispers, his voice soothing.

You find comfort in his words, knowing that he’ll be there every step of the way. As you leave the hospital, you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you; relief to be out of that place, anxiety about the therapy sessions, and gratitude for the support you have gotten so far.

As you step into Jimin’s home, a mixture of relief and vulnerability washes over you. The walls seem warmer, the air more comforting, and the thought of having Jimin nearby offers a sense of security you haven’t felt in a long time. 

You can’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering support.

Jimin leads you to the guest bedroom, its inviting decor and cozy atmosphere offering a stark contrast to the horrors you’ve endured. The room feels like a sanctuary, a place where you can begin to heal. You thank him softly, words barely escaping your lips as you try to convey the depth of your gratitude.

“I want you to feel at home here,” Jimin says with a tender smile. 

“Take all the time you need, and remember, I’m right across the hall if you need anything, okay?” 

His reassurance soothes the residual anxiety that clings to you like a shadow. You nod, a sense of trust growing between you and Jimin, knowing that he’ll always be here to catch you when you stumble.

“I’ve taken a few days off work to help you settle in. I hope that’s okay” he explains as you follow him into the hallway. 

“That’s very sweet of you Jimin” you feel a blush creep up on your face, as your heart feels full of love with his kind actions.

As Jimin gives you the rest of the tour of his home, you can’t help but marvel at the simple yet elegant design that surrounds you. 

Each room holds its unique charm, and you find yourself drawn to the minimalistic aesthetic that exudes a sense of tranquility. 

The bathrooms feel like a serene oasis, adorned with white and blue tiles that create a soothing ambiance. You imagine yourself soaking in the bathtub, letting the worries of the day dissolve in the warm water. 

The guest rooms, tough simple, offer a cozy retreat. 

His home office is a testament to his dedication and hard work, with a touch of understated elegance in the dark gray hues that enhance the room. It’s a place where he has likely spent countless hours diligently pursuing his career as a police officer and now detective. 

Moving into the heart of the house, the open floor plan of the kitchen, living, and dining room leaves you in awe. 

The kitchen, with its white and wooden accents, feels like the heart of the home, a place where love and warmth fill the air. The wooden tabletop and thick black metal legs of the dining table strike a perfect balance between rustic and modern, inviting you to gather around for shared meals and laughter. 

The living room, with its magnificent dark green couch, beckons you to sink into its comforting embrace. As you envision spending cozy nights here, watching movies or simply enjoying each other’s company, you feel a sense of belonging settling in your heart.

Throughout the tour, Jimin’s excitement and pride in his home are palpable. 

It’s evident that he has put love and care into every corner, turning his house into a home - a place of comfort and refuge, not just for himself, but for those he cares about.

As you continue to explore the rooms, you can’t help but appreciate the changes he’s made since the last time you visited. It’s a reflection of how he’s grown, just as you have, over the years.

“This place is beautiful, Jimin,” you finally say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “I can see how much effort and love you’ve put into making it your own.”

A soft smile graces his lips and he looks around the familiar space with newfound pride. “Thank you, Y/N” he replies. “I’m glad you like it. And I hope you’ll feel at home here too.”

You nod, feeling the burden of your past gradually lifting as you step into this new chapter of your life. This house, with its comforting embrace and the man standing beside you, promises a future filled with hope, love, and healing.

“Did you renovate it? I don’t remember it looking like this when we were kids” you inquire, genuinely curious about the transformation.

“Yeah, I did it myself,” Jimin replies with a proud smile, his hands finding refuge in his pockets.

“It’s really stunning! I also liked how your parents kept it before. But this looks so modern,” you point out, acknowledging the aesthetic choices he’s made.

As you stand in the kitchen, you can’t help but notice the emotions flickering in his eyes when you mention his parents. Sensing there’s a deeper story behind the changes, you ask, “How come your parents don’t live here anymore?”.

His eyes hold a mixture of nostalgia and pain as he reveals, “My dad died of cancer three years ago. My mom couldn’t keep up with the big house, so I bought it from her, and she lives in a small apartment in the city insead.”

You feel a pang of sorrow for him and his family, realizing the significance of this home in their lives and the changes they’ve had to endure. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say, offering genuine condolences.

“How were you supposed to know?” Jimin chuckles softly, his laughter carrying a hint of vulnerability. “It’s okay, really. You couldn’t have known.”

His ability to lighten the mood in such a sensitive moment surprises you, but it also speaks volumes about his resilience. Jimin seems to create an atmosphere of ease around topics that could be emotionally overwhelming, and you can’t help but appreciate his ability to find comfort even in the face of loss.

The rest of the day rushes by in a blur of conversation and laughter, leaving you with little time to process the burden of your emotions or even the movies you watched together on Jimin’s TV. The comfort of his company and the safe haven of his home envelop you like a warm embrace.

As the hours pass, you find yourself relaxing in Jimin’s presence, your guard slowly lowering. 

When a low rumbling sound fills the living room, you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Are you hungry, Y/N?” Jimin asks, amused by the hungry protests of your stomach. 

He tries to suppress his grin with his hands, but the laughter bubbling from him is unmistakable. Cursing your traitorous stomach internally, you can’t help but nod in defeat. It seems your body is making its desires known without your consent. 

Jimin assures you that he has some leftover lasagna, and your mouth waters at the thought. As he brings the steaming dish to the table, the savory aroma fills the room, making your stomach growl even louder in anticipation.

Taking your first bite, you’re pleasantly surprised at how delicious it tastes, and a satisfied ‘mmmmh’ escapes your lips. 

Jimin cuckles in response, his eyes twinkling with joy at your enjoyment. You can see the genuine happiness in his face as he watches you savor the meal.

“I take it you like it. I’m glad,” he says with a hint of pride, his own plate half-empty as he eats alongside you. 

You nod enthusiastically, your mouth full, and give him a thumbs-up to emphasize your approval. As you continue eating, the conversation flows effortlessly, and the laughter comes easily. 

Jimin’s ability to make you feel at ease and comforted shines through, and you find yourself opening up more than you ever thought possible. As the evening wears on, you realize that time has flown by, and you can’t help but wonder how you could feel so comfortable and at home with someone you’ve been apart from for so long. 

But in Jimin’s presence, it feels like you’re rediscovering a piece of yourself that you thought was lost forever.

As the night deepens, it becomes apparent that sleep is elusive, no matter how much you try to coax it. 

An odd sense of anxiety grips you tightly, and you find yourself restless and uneasy. 

You can’t quite understand the reason behind these sudden jitters, especially since you’ve slept over at Jimin’s place countless times in your younger days, but together is different; the weight of your past trauma seems to be pressing heavily on your mind.

Jimin, ever the perceptive friend, picks up on your unease. 

He offers a comforting reassurance, assuring you that you can always knock on his door if you need anything. His touch on your hand feels like a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty, offering a sense of calm amidst the turmoil of emotions.

With a grateful smile, you bid him goodnight and retreat to your designated room. 

But once you’re alone, your mind becomes a battleground of thoughts and emotions. The reality of what has happened to you, the journey of healing that lies ahead, and the uncertainty of the future all bombard your consciousness like a relentless freight train. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, you mind spinning with questions and fears. 

How will you find the strength to heal? Will you ever be able to overcome the haunting memories? Can you ever trust again after such a traumatic experience?

The silence of the night only amplifies the cacophony in your head. The ceiling above you becomes a canvas for your restless mind, and you find yourself staring blankly, unable to shut off the overwhelming thoughts.

Every creak and rustle in the house feels magnified, and your heart races with each little noise. Despite Jimin’s presence just across the hall, the fear of facing the darkness alone feels suffocating. 

You try to remind yourself that he’s there for you, but your mind is stubborn, refusing to relinquish its grip on the fear that has taken root in your heart.

Hours pass, but sleep remains elusive. 

The minutes stretch into eternity, and you’re left feeling like a prisoner of your own mind. 

The night feels like a never-ending struggle between the desire for rest and the fear of letting your guard down. 

The morning sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over everything in the room. 

The pleasant aroma of pancakes fills the air, offering a momentary distraction from the weariness that clings to your body. But no matter how hard you try to revive yourself, the undereye bags and puffy eyes persist, bearing witness to the restless night that robbed you of much-needed sleep.

You walk into the kitchen where Jimin’s cheerful voice breaks through the haze of exhaustion, greeting you with a bright smile as he expertly flips pancakes on the stove. 

“Good morning, Y/N, did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice a melody of kindness and warmth. Despite his cheerfulness, his eyes widen in concern as they meet your tired gaze. 

He instinctively knows something is amiss.

You can’t help but sigh in response, slumping onto one of the wooden bar stools. Your body feels heavy, burdened by the weight of a night spent wrestling with haunting memories. 

“Not really,” you admit, your voice tinged with fatigue and vulnerability.

Jimin’s eyes soften with sympathy, and he gently scolds you for not reaching out for company when sleep eluded you. 

“My brain just wouldn’t shut off,” you confess, a hint of frustration seeping into your voice.

“I kept thinking about the past and all the stuff that I missed… about my future too,” you bury your face in your hands, seeking solace from the exhaustion that permeates your body.

In this vulnerable moment, you find comfort in Jimin’s presence. It’s as if his caring demeanor and genuine concern create a sanctuary for your weary soul. He doesn’t push you to talk about the details of your thoughts; instead, he simply stands beside you, a steady pillar of support.

As the pancakes sizzle on the griddle, the aroma fills the air, intertwining with the tender atmosphere between you and Jimin. The morning light casts a gentle glow, and for a moment, you feel a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm inside you.

Jimin places a plate of warm pancakes in front of you, garnished with chocolate and jam. He offers this simple gesture as a balm for your tired spirit. 

“Here, have some breakfast. It’ll give you some energy” he says, his voice tender.

In that moment, you realize that this is more than just a shared meal. It’s an act of love and care, a way for Jimin to nourish not only your body but your soul too. And as you take a bite of the pancakes, you can’t help the blush that creeps on your face and feel grateful for having someone like him in your life - the kind of friend who stays by your side, offering comfort and understanding.

“It smells really good and looks so yummy, Jimin,” you remark with a genuine smile, appreciating not only the food but also the effort he’s put into making you feel at ease.

Jimin’s own smile widens, pleased to see you enjoying the meal he prepared. He joins in, savoring the taste of the pancakes alongside you. The moment is filled with a sense of calm, a temporary respite from the tumultuous thoughts that have been plaguing you.

But even in this tranquil moment, Jimin’s concern for your well-being doesn’t waver. 

He clears his throat gently, drawing your attention. 

“Maybe you should make an appointment with the psychologist, like that nurse Taehyung suggested,” he suggests softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. 

The sincerity in his words touches your heart. You can see the earnestness in his eyes, the depth of his care for you. His genuine concern is both comforting and overwhelming, reminding you that you don’t have to face your pain alone.

With a small chuckle, Jimin adds, “Of course, you can talk to me too. I wouldn’t mind lending you my ear.” 

It's an offer that comes from the heart, a promise to be there for you in any way you need. You feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful to have Jimin in your life.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you reply, recognizing the wisdom in his suggestion. 

“And thank you so much, Jimin. It means a lot to me, all that you’re doing to help me,” a lot more than you would ever know, you almost want to add.

Later that day, as the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue through the windows of Jimin’s living room, as you stood there with Jimin, you found yourself facing an entirely different challenge: self-defense. 

Jimin stressed the value in being able to defend yourself, should you ever need it (especially with your perpetrator still at large). 

It is a practical and necessary step, given the circumstances. Jimin’s concern for your safety is evident. And you appreciate his determination to empower you. The seriousness of the situation loomed over you, but Jimin’s presence was a reassuring anchor.

“Alright, pay close attention,” Jimin says, his voice steady and encouraging. His arms gently wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against his solid frame. Feeling his heartbeat against your back brings a sense of flutters and comfort as you listen intently to his instructions and you already feel your breath quicken.

“First, if someone tries to choke you from behind, you need to act quickly,” he explains. 

“Use your elbows to strike their ribs or stomach. It forces them to loosen their grip.” 

As he demonstrates the movement, his arm guides your own, helping you to mimic the motion. His warm touch feels electrifying, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Your elbow hits his arms, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he adjusts the pressure. 

“Good job” he praises you, a smile evident in his voice. Jimin’s encouraging words spurs you on, and you feel your confidence growing with each practiced movement. 

“Remember,” he says, his tone becoming more serious, “Don’t hesitate to use your elbow, knees, and even your fists if necessary. Your safety comes first.”  

He demonstrates the proper stance, weight distribution, and how to strike effectively without injuring yourself. As he continues to teach you, you find yourself amazed at his patience and skill. 

He moves with fluidity, demonstrating each technique with precision. It must be his dancing major, that gives him so much grace. You are entranced by his elegance and register your heartbeat quicken and your breath shorten. 

While the situation was serious, his lighthearted spirit shone through as he let you practice some kicks on him. 

“Nice kick!” he grinned, clearly impressed by your progress. 

“But keep your balance steady. You don’t want to lose it and give your attacker an advantage.”

With Jimin’s guidance, you practice each move diligently. It was physically demanding, and hard to keep your mind off his strong muscles, but his presence and encouragement made the experience far more manageable. 

He patiently corrects your posture and movements, helping you understand the importance of control and awareness.

As the session is nearing its end, Jimin demonstrates one final move. 

“And if you ever find yourself cornered,” he said, “A quick powerful kick to the groin can create the opening you need to escape.” 

With a nod you chuckle nervously, and take a step back and mimic the movement from earlier, visualizing the scenario in your mind. 

“Trust me,” he says, meeting your eyes with a serious expression, “It’s a highly effective move.”

Jimin’s eyes twinkle with pride as you execute the move with determination. 

“You’re doing great, Y/N,” he says, his voice gentle yet resolute. “Learning self-defense is about feeling empowered and in control. It’s not about being invincible, but knowing you have options.”

As you walk into the living room, a sense of excitement fills you. 

“I’ve made an appointment with the psychologist, and she actually had a spot for me tomorrow morning because someone canceled theirs,” you share with a bright and hopeful tone, eager to let Jimin know about the progress you’ve made.

Jimin’s attention shifts from the movie he’s watching, and he turns to face you, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness for you. 

“That’s nice, Y/N,” he responds with a warm smile. But it doesn’t end there; he takes it a step further, showing his unwavering support and care for you. 

“I can drive you tomorrow and wait for you so you don’t have to go alone,” he offers, reaching out to envelop you in a comforting hug. His embrace feels like a safe haven, grounding you amidst uncertainties that lie ahead. He is warm and soft, making your heart flutter. 

It’s a gesture that speaks volumes about his dedication as a friend, and you feel grateful for having him by your side during this journey of healing.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you murmur, your voice tinged with sincerity. 

“Having you there with me means the world,” you hug him back, relishing in his embrace longer than friends probably should, but you can't help yourself.

He pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he gazes into your eyes, his own filled with compassion. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N,” he replies softly. 

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what”. In that moment, you know that his words are not just empty promises; they hold true weight and meaning. He’s proven time and again that he’ll go above and beyond to support and protect you, and his presence has become an anchor in your life.

As Jimin’s arms envelop you in another warm and comforting hug, your heart races with a mixture of emotions. The familiar touch of his hands against your back sends tingles down your spine, and you can’t help but yearn for more. 

But as much as you cherish his affection, you know the depths of your feelings go beyond mere friendship. Throughout the years, you’ve hidden your unrequited love for Jimin, fearing that revealing it would jeopardize the precious bond you share. 

You’ve watched from the sidelines as he laughed, smiled, and even dated others, all the while silently nursing your love for him. Now, being back in his embrace, your feelings resurface with a vengeance, and it’s becoming harder to suppress them.

Jimin’s genuine kindness and the way he selflessly cares for you only deepen the chasm in your heart. You find yourself yearning for more than just his friendship, craving a connection that goes beyond what you’ve ever shared. 

But the fear of rejection and the potential loss of his friendship weigh heavily on you.

As his scent fills your senses, you can’t help but wonder if he could ever feel the same way about you. 

The thought of confessing your feelings terrifies you, and you push it to the back of your mind, trying to focus on the present moment instead. 

Yet, the trauma you’ve endured has left a mark on your soul, casting a shadow over your emotions. The assault and abuse have stirred up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, making it harder to decipher what is real and what is merely a product of your pain.

As you bury your face in his hair, you cling to the familiar comfort he provides, but you can’t help but feel the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. 

The tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, and you take deep breaths to regain control.

As the movie’s scenes play out on the screen, you find it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything but the warmth of Jimin’s body pressed against your own. 

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and each breath feels shallow as his proximity sends a surge of electricity through you. It takes all your willpower to remain composed and not let your feelings betray you.

Jimin’s closeness is both a blessing and a curse. 

On one hand, you relish the feeling of his body so close to yours, a sensation you’ve secretly yearned for. 

On the other hand, it intensifies the turmoil of emotions within you, making it difficult to keep your composure. 

As the movie’s plot unfolds, you find yourself stealing glances at Jimin’s profile, mesmerized by his features and the way the flickering light of the TV dances across his face. 

You wish you could be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection and the potential loss of his friendship paralyze you. Every fiber of your being longs to lean into him, to feel his arms wrap around you in a warm embrace. 

Yet, you fight the urge, knowing that doing so would only deepen your emotional entanglement and make it even harder to keep your feelings hidden.

Despite the inner chaos, you manage to keep a facade of calm, smiling when appropriate and nodding along to the movie’s plot. 

But inside, you’re a jumbled mess of emotions, and you can’t help but wonder if Jimin can sense your turmoil. As the movie comes to an end, you take a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing heart. 

You’re grateful for the movie's conclusion, hoping that it will give you a moment to regain your composure. But even as the credits roll, Jimin doesn’t move away, and you find yourself torn between the desire to stay in his embrace and the need to escape the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

In the end, you opt to remain where you are, cherishing the closeness you share with Jimin and savoring the fleeting moments of intimacy. Though unspoke, the unrequited love you hold for him lingers in the air, creating an invisible bond between you two that goes beyond mere friendship.

The hours pass by in a blur, filled with laughter, heartfelt conversations, and a marathon of movies that bring moments of joy and escapism. You find solace in Jimin’s presence, his genuine care, and the comfort of being so close to someone you’ve admired secretly for years. 

Yet, as the day draws to a close, a looming sense of emotional exhaustion settles over you like a heavy fog.

The impending therapy session hangs over your head like a dark cloud, filling you with both anxiety and hope. You know it’s necessary, that facing your trauma is a crucial step toward healing, but the thought of reliving those painful memories is daunting.

As the night deepens, you find yourself sitting on Jimin’s bed, lost in thoughts. The room is bathed in a soft glow, emanating from a small lamp on the nightstand. Jimin, ever observant, sits next to you, his warm presence a source of comfort.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, remember?” he says gently, his voice tender and caring.

You look into his eyes, seeing the genuine concern in them, and you feel your heart clench. 

How much you long to pour your heart out to him, to share the burden of your emotions, and to finally reveal the depth of your feelings. 

But fear holds you back, and you keep your emotions tightly guarded. 

“I appreciate that, Jimin,” you reply, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your voice. “It’s just… I’m afraid of what might come up during the therapy session.”

Jimin reaches out, placing a comforting hand on yours, “I understand. Facing the past can be overwhelming, but remember, you are not alone in this. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

The tenderness in his touch and the reassurance in his words almost break the dam you’ve built around your emotions. 

You want to lean into him, to finally confess your hidden affection and to seek true comfort in his embrace. Yet, the fear of jeopardizing your friendship keeps your heart in check.

As you lie in your own bed that night, sleep eludes you again. 

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and the weight of unspoken words feels almost unbearable. 

You wonder if Jimin can sense the depth of your feelings, if he has any inkling of the unrequited love that resides within you. 

The therapy session looms ahead, and you can’t help but feel both apprehensive and hopeful about the healing it may bring. You know it won’t be an easy journey, but having Jimin by your side, even as a friend, gives you the strength to face the painful memories that haunt you. 

As you drift into a restless slumber, the turmoil within you persists, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto your feelings and the fear of what might happen if you reveal them.

The morning air is crisp, and the first rays of sunlight gently kiss the edges of the sky as you step out of the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. Jimin’s consideration never fails to amaze you, and as you get dressed, you can’t help but think of all the little ways he has shown his kindness and care.

With the appointment with the psychologist looming ahead, you’re both nervous and eager to finally start the healing process. As you make your way to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast fills the air, and your stomach growls in anticipation. His culinary skills are impressive, and you can’t help but appreciate his efforts to make your morning special.

He hands you a green smoothie, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly. 

“I know you need all the energy you can get today,” he says, his voice gently and encouraging. You take a sip, savoring the fresh and invigorating taste of veggies and fruits, while feeling a rush of gratitude for having someone like Jimin in your life. 

Together, you sit at the dining table, and with every bite, you feel the warmth of his presence seep into your soul. 

The connection between you and Jimin grows stronger with each shared meal and conversation, yet there’s still an unspoken understanding that hangs in the air. 

As you finish breakfast, you exchange glances, and it’s as if the unspoken words are dancing on the edges of your lips. You want to tell him how much he means to you, how his kindness and friendship have been a lifeline in the darkest of times, but the fear of jeopardizing what you have holds you back. 

You find yourself lost in his gaze, unable to look away, and it’s in that moment that you feel a flicker of hope. 

Maybe, just maybe, the unspoken love between you is not one-sided. 

Maybe Jimin’s tender gestures and caring ways are more than just friendly acts?

But before you can delve deeper into your thoughts, Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. 

“Are you ready for today?” he asks softly, his eyes full of concern and support.

With a small nod, you find your voice, “I am, and I’m grateful you'll be there with me.”

His smile widens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand in his, the contact sending a warm shiver down your spine. 

“I’ll always be there for you, no matter what,” he says, his words carrying a deeper meaning that you can’t ignore.

As you sit in the car, the silence between you and Jimin speaks volumes. It’s not the awkward silence you had anticipated; rather, it’s a comforting one. You find solace in the familiarity of Jimin’s presence, and his unspoken support eases some of the anxiety building up inside you. 

As Jimin pulls up to the tall building, its glass facade reflecting the city’s hustle and bustle, you feel a mix of nerves and determination. Jimin follows you outside and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping inside. 

As you grip the handle to the tall building, your heart races in your chest like a wild stallion. 

The weight of unfamiliarity and the daunting prospect of sharing your innermost thoughts with a stranger collide, setting off an explosion of anxiety and nervousness within you. 

You take a deep breath, knowing that this is a pivotal moment in your journey to heal and move forward. 

This is uncharted territory for you, but you’re determined to brave this new experience.

The reception area is modern and welcoming, but your heart still races as you approach the front desk. The green plants add a touch of serenity, momentarily easing the tension coiled in your body. 

The receptionist smiles warmly, and you check in using your new social security card, a symbol of your newfound strength and resilience.

Taking a seat, you try to steady your breath and silence the thunderous pounding in your ears. 

Your palms feel sweaty, and you quickly wipe them on your things, hoping to dispel any signs of unease. 

You remind yourself that it’s normal to feel nervous, but you won’t let it deter you from seeking the help you need. 

Just as you’re about to give in to the overwhelming anxiety, you feel a gentle hand on your thigh. You turn to Jimin sitting beside you, his presence like a comforting anchor in the storm. He gives you a reassuring smile as he lightly squeezes your thigh, his eyes filled with support and understanding.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he says softly, and you feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

The fact that he’s willing to stay by your side, even in the face of your inner struggles, makes your heart swell with affection. As you sit together in the waiting area, you find solace in Jimin’s presence. 

The unspoken bond between you grows stronger with each passing moment, and you feel a sense of reassurance that you’re not alone in this journey of healing.

Your heart skips a beat as you’re abruptly brought back to reality by a woman’s voice calling your name. 

You quickly stand up, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through your veins. In your haste, you extend your hand to greet her, feeling a little self-conscious about the volume of your response, as you say ‘yes’. 

Her warm and reassuring smile puts you at ease, and you can’t help but notice the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“I’m Chin-Sun, your psychologist,” she introduces herself, her soothing tone like a gentle wave lapping at the shore. 

You exchange a fleeting glance with Jimin, silently acknowledging the strength he’s given you. With a deep breath, you follow the therapist into her office, leaving Jimin behind in the waiting area. 

You feel a flutter of apprehension in your chest, but knowing that Jimin is just outside waiting for you, gives you a sense of security.

As you enter the therapist’s office, you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. But with Jimin’s reassurance still lingering, you know you can take that first step towards healing and finally find the courage to confront your past.

Outside, Jimin waits patiently, knowing that you’ll come out stronger, and that he’ll be there every step of the way.

As you enter her office, you’re immediately drawn to the inviting atmosphere that surrounds you. Chin-Sun gestures gracefully towards the plush couch adorned with an array of soft pillows. 

It beckons you to sink into its comforting embrace, and you oblige, feeling a sense of calm wash over you already. 

The small table in front of the couch catches your eye, adorned with candles, tissues, glasses and a jug of water, a thoughtful touch to create a soothing ambiance. 

Seated on a chair in front of the table, Chin-Sun's serene presence envelops the room. Her warm smile and kind eyes put you at ease, and you find yourself feeling more relaxed in her company. 

The office is a perfect balance of tranquility and professionalism. One wall, painted a soothing navy blue, adds a touch of depth and serenity to the space, while the rest of the room remains in calming white tones. 

As you take a moment to glance around, you notice her neatly organized desk, equipped with a computer and other therapeutic resources. 

Chin-Sun picks up her pen and paper, explaining her preference for taking notes. It gives you a sense of comfort to know that your thoughts and feelings will be heard and respected. 

“It’s natural to feel nervous,” she assures, her gentle voice like a lifeline amidst the storm of your thoughts. “This is a place of healing, and there’s no judgment here. You have the power to set the pace, and if it ever becomes overwhelming, don’t hesitate to let me know.” 

As you grapple with the knot of nerves in your stomach, you can’t help but apologize for your nervousness. She leans in, her empathy palpable, and reminds you that there’s no need to apologize. This is your journey, and the feelings you’re experiencing are entirely valid.

“I understand how unfamiliar this may be,” she acknowledges, validating your emotions. 

“But remember, you’re here because you want to explore these emotions and experiences. It's okay to take your time and ease into it.” Her encouragement emboldens you, and you find the strength to meet her gaze. 

You realize that this therapeutic space is not about judgment or quick fixes; it’s about embracing vulnerability and allowing yourself to heal at your own pace.

As you sit in the cozy confines of Chin-Sun’s office, her gentle encouragement puts you at ease. You feel a mixture of relief and vulnerability knowing that she has your medical report from the hospital and will be guiding you through this process with sensitivity and understanding.

She leans forward with a calming presence, offering you both empathy and professional expertise. 

“When you are ready,” she begins, her words a gentle invitation, “can you start from the beginning?”

With each breath, you find the strength to speak your truth. 

As you begin recounting the events that led to your trauma, you focus on the broad strokes as Chin-Sun suggested. The weight of the memories may be heavy, but you remind yourself that sharing them here is an essential step towards healing. 

Chin-Sun listens with unwavering attention, her pen moving gently across the paper, capturing your words with care. She refrains from interrupting, giving you the space to voice your experiences without judgment. 

Her approach allows you to navigate the emotional terrain at your own pace, and you feel seen and heard. 

As you speak, you find solace in her empathetic eyes, and the vulnerability in sharing your story with a stranger gradually dissipates. 

You appreciate that she doesn't pry or push for more details, respecting your boundaries and giving you the freedom to share as much or as little as you feel comfortable with. 

The moments of silence that punctuate your narrative become opportunities for reflection. You appreciate that Chin-Sun doesn't rush to fill the void but rather allows you to gather your thoughts. 

As the session draws to a close, you can sense Chin-Sun's genuine sadness for what you've endured. 

Her compassion has created a safe space for you to share your experiences, and you appreciate her understanding demeanor. With just ten minutes left, Chin-Sun offers you the opportunity to ask any questions or discuss topics you'd like to explore in future sessions. 

You feel a flicker of curiosity and decide to seize the moment.

“Actually… I do have some stuff that’s been on my mind. Can I ask you those questions?” you say, sitting up straight, determined to confront the thoughts that have been swirling in your mind.

Chin-Sun's gentle nod and sip of water give you the encouragement you need to voice your concerns. You share your lingering worry about your captor and whether he might still be out there searching for you. 

The fear in your voice is evident as you whisper your words, as if speaking any louder might draw danger closer.

Understanding the weight of your concern, Chin-Sun responds with empathy, “I understand that. Do you have anybody that can help you feel safe while the police are looking for the perpetrator?”

You take comfort in her soothing smile as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. 

Gathering your thoughts, you find the courage to speak about the one person who has provided you with a sanctuary – Jimin, your best friend and the detective who has taken you into his home. 

Chin-Sun listens intently, acknowledging the significance of having someone like Jimin by your side during this trying time. 

She allows you to express yourself fully, creating a space where your emotions and thoughts are validated.

As the floodgates of your emotions open, you find yourself pouring your deepest fears and vulnerabilities to Chin-Sun. 

The weight of your trauma is overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill. Though she tries to offer calming words of reassurance, you feel unable to listen. 

The pain and trauma inflicted on you have shattered your trust in men, and you express the feeling that sex is now ruined for you. Images of your horrifying ordeal flash before your eyes, making it hard to escape the haunting memories.

In a desperate attempt to shut out the distressing visuals, you press your hands against your eyes, your body trembling as you curl your feet up onto the couch, seeking some form of comfort and safety. 

Recognizing your anguish, Chin-Sun gently hands you tissues and moves to your side, offering a comforting hug.

“It might be incredibly hard in the beginning. But it is possible to trust again. It’s also possible to have sex again, if that is something you want. Just take your time and progress slowly. Do what you are comfortable with and stop and voice your feelings if you ever feel like it or if it goes too far,” she says, her comforting presence providing you a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

As you struggle to regain your composure, you take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and shaking body. 

Gradually, the storm of emotions begins to subside, and you feel your body easing into a state of relaxation. The tears eventually stop flowing, leaving you emotionally drained but also somewhat relieved.

Before you leave her office, Chin-Sun offers valuable advice, emphasizing the importance of taking things slowly and not rushing yourself into anything. 

She encourages you to communicate your feelings and boundaries with utmost honesty and to seek out the support of people you trust.

As you step out of the session, the burden of your trauma is not fully lifted, but you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. 

Trusting again may be a daunting journey, but with Chin-Sun's guidance and support, you are determined to embark on the path to healing and rebuilding yourself.

Your resolve to take each step at your own pace, honoring your feelings and emotions as you move forward. 

The thought of having sex again is something that both frightens and intrigues you, but you know that with time and support, you might find the strength to explore intimacy once more. 

As you contemplate the future, you recognize that healing is not a linear process. There will be ups and downs, and that's okay. With Chin-Sun's encouragement, you feel more hopeful that, one day, you will reclaim your sense of security and find solace in the arms of someone who truly cares for you. 

Maybe you have already found that one person, currently waiting for you in the waiting area.

As you enter the waiting area, Jimin's concern is evident on his face. 

He takes in your swollen and red eyes, the dried tear streaks marking your cheeks, and he knows that the therapy session must have been emotionally taxing. 

You sink into the seat, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion.

“Are you alright? How did it go?” Jimin’s voice is filled with genuine concern as he looks for your eyes seeking reassurance. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking.

“I’m okay, Jimin. The session was good, but I’m just so emotionally drained” you say, your voice heavy with weariness. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently, seeking comfort and connection.

“I’m here for you, always,” he responds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. His unwavering support brings a flicker of warmth to your heart, and you find solace in the knowledge that you have someone by your side who truly cares for you.

“I’d like to go home and rest now,” you add, feeling the need to retreat and process the emotions that have been stirred up during the session. Jimin seems to understand, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, let’s head home,” he says as you walk out of the building, turning on the engine and shifting into gear. The car ride is quiet, but it’s a comforting silence, one that allows you to collect your thoughts and emotions.

As you arrive home, Jimin accompanies you inside, his presence a soothing balm to your weary soul. He lets you rest and recuperate, offering his unwavering support from the sidelines. 

In the comfort of his home, you find a safe space to process your feelings and begin the healing journey.

It’s already Jimin’s last day off and he decides it’s a good idea to go grocery shopping so you don’t starve to death while he is working. 

You are not really the best cook, so it was a good idea. 

As you and Jimin stroll through the supermarket, filling the cart with groceries, the atmosphere is light-hearted and fun. Jimin seems to have a talent for turning even the most mundane tasks into enjoyable adventures, and you find yourself laughing and joking along the way.

“Hey, Jimin, remember that time we tried to cook together in college? It was a disaster!” you chuckle, recalling the disastrous attempt at making a simple pasta dish that ended up in a kitchen full of smoke.

Jimin grins, his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Oh, how could I forget? We set off the fire alarm!” he laughs at the disastrous memory.

You both burst into laughter, drawing a few curious glances from other shoppers, but you don't care. It feels good to let go of the burden of the past and embrace the present moment with your best friend.

As you reach the fresh produce section, Jimin playfully challenges you to a ‘vegetable picking’ contest. You both pretend to be food critics, carefully inspecting each vegetable, making exaggerated remarks about their texture and flavor profile. 

It’s all just silly fun, but it brings an undeniable joy to your heart.

With the cart now filled with a colorful array of vegetables, starch, meat, canned goods, and some treats, you make your way to the cashier to pay. 

With the grocery shopping done, you head back to Jimin's car, where he skillfully begins to load the bags into the trunk. 

“I promise not to let you starve,” Jimin says with a grin, pulling more bags in the trunk and giving you a playful wink. 

“We’ll make some delicious meals together. Who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden chef in you,” he sticks out his tongue playfully. You laugh, knowing very well that your cooking skills are far from impressive. 

“Well, with your help, I might just become a master chef,” you tease back, enjoying the playful banter like old times.

As you stand next to Jimin, watching him load the groceries into the trunk, a sinister presence seems to linger in the shadows, shrouding you with unease. 

You can't shake off the feeling that someone was there, watching, but when you glance back, the dark hooded figure has vanished without a trace. 

Your heart races, and you try to shake off the feeling, not wanting to worry Jimin.

“Hey, are you alright?” 

Jimin’s concerned voice interrupts your thoughts. 

He looks at you with a hint of worry in his eyes, sensing that something might be bothering you. You quickly put on a facade, mustering a bright smile and nodding, “Yeah, I’m good to go home.”

As you get into the car, your mind is preoccupied with the mysterious figure you saw by the carts. 

Who was it? What were they doing there? 

And most importantly, why did they vanish so suddenly? 

The questions swirl in your mind, but you keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to burden Jimin with your sudden discomfort.

The car ride back is filled with an awkward silence that wasn't there before. You steal glances at Jimin, trying to gauge if he senses anything amiss. 

He's focused on the road, but his brows are slightly furrowed, indicating that he's concerned about you.

You decide to break the silence, attempting to distract yourself and Jimin from the unsettling encounter. “Hey, what do you think we should cook for dinner tonight?” you ask, trying to sound casual. You hope that talking about something mundane will help ease the tension.

He glances at you, a small smile forming on his lips, grateful for the change of topic. 

“Hmm, how about that pasta dish we tried to make in college? I think we can ace it this time,” he suggests, trying to bring back the lightheartedness you both had earlier.

You chuckle, glad he’s playing along, even though your mind is still preoccupied with the mysterious figure. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. We’ll make sure to avoid having the firemen drop by for a visit” you reply, trying to match his playful tone.

Jimin can't shake the feeling that something is amiss with you ever since the grocery store. He tries to play it cool, giving you space to open up if you wish, but his concern gnaws at him like an itch he can't scratch. 

He wishes you would confide in him, knowing that you could share anything with him if you wanted to. But as much as he wants to stay by your side indefinitely, reality beckons, and he knows he has to return to work tomorrow. 

The thought of leaving you alone with your worries gnaws at him, but he trusts that you'll reach out to him when you're ready.

As Jimin prepares to leave for work, a mixture of concern and guilt gnaws at him. He hates the idea of leaving you alone, especially when he senses that something is still bothering you. But he knows that pushing you to talk won't help; you need the space to process your thoughts and emotions.

He stands by the door, hesitating for a moment before finally stepping outside. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he assures you, trying to put on a brave face despite his inner turmoil. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he gives you a small hug.

You nod, offering him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’ll be fine” you say, your voice soft and uncertain. He wishes he could read your mind, to understand the depth of what you’re going through, but he respects your boundaries.  

As the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

The silence that fills the house feels overwhelming, and you find yourself wandering aimlessly from room to room, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that linger in your mind.

You spend the day with Jimin's laptop on your thighs scouring YouTube for funny animal videos which gives you a few good laughs. 

It helps keep your mind off the haunting feeling you feel inside. Your laughter is suddenly interrupted when you hear a knock at the door. 

Startled, you place the laptop off to the side on the couch. It couldn’t be Jimin, because it was too early for him to be home yet. 

You feel panic run through your body, but you force your feet to carry you to the door, unlocking it and opening it. 

In front of you stands a man in a brown uniform sporting a yellow logo that reads ‘UPS’ on his left upper chest. You let out a relieved gasp as you place your right hand over your heart giving out a low chuckle at your reaction. 

The UPS delivery man gives you a friendly smile. “Good morning Miss! I have a package for Mr. Park, is he home?” he asks politely. 

“Oh, uh, no, he’s not home yet. But I can sign for it if you want?” you reply feeling a bit flustered by your initial panic.

“Sure thing! Just need your signature here” he says, handing you a small electronic device. You sign your name with a shaky hand, still trying to shake off the lingering nerves.

“Thank you. Have a great day!” he says cheerfully as he hands you the package. You see that your name is on it too.

“Thanks, you too,” you reply, managing a smile as you close and lock the door.

You lock the door and walk back to the couch, dropping down with a heavy thud. 

You turn and twist the package to get some kind of information about its contents. You decide that you might as well open it, as it is also addressed to you. 

You go to Jimin’s home office and find a pocket knife that you use to delicately cut along the tape to reveal its subject. It’s a phone. A brand new one at that! You take it out of the brown package and inspect the case that reads ‘Google Pixel 7A’. 

You unbox the snow coloured phone and find a SIM card and the charger. In a matter of seconds, you have placed the SIM card in the phone and put it in the charger to power it up.

You let the phone charge in peace as you go to the fridge to grab some of the leftover food Jimin had been sweet enough to make for you yesterday. 

Then you go back to leisurely browsing through YouTube on Jimin’s laptop while getting comfortable on the couch. You have already spent hours on the laptop, watching random videos of this and that. 

But it had definitely helped keep your mind off things, so you hadn’t even noticed the time. It is already around dinnertime and you expect Jimin to be home soon. 

You hear a key being inserted in the lock, twisting, and then Jimin enters with a tired smile dorning his face while he drags his body inside. 

You jump to your feet, a burst of energy rushing through you, banishing the remnants of sleep from your body. With giddy feet and a spring in your step, you dance your way to Jimin, your heart warming at the sight of him. 

“Did you have a good day?” you chirp, eager to bring a smile to his tired face.

Jimin lets out a tired sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He runs his hands through his tousled hair, ruffling it in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“Yes, but tiring” he admits, the weariness evident in his eyes.

You pout at him playfully, determined to lift his spirits. 

“Well, you’re home now, and that’s all that matters” you say with a soft smile, hoping to convey your genuine happiness to have him back.

His exhaustion seems to melt away as he gazes at you, and he nods, “And being home with you makes it even better.” 

You reach out and embrace him in a big warm hug, feeling the comforting strength of his arms around you. He leans into the hug, his tiredness fading as he draws comfort from your presence. His scent, a delightful blend of musky vanilla and woody notes, envelopes you, making you feel safe and at home.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

His warmth and closeness ease the tension in your body, too, as if you're sharing the burden of the day together. For a moment, you both stand there, just holding each other, finding solace in the simple act of being there for one another.

“I missed you” he whispers into your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. 

You can feel your cheeks flushing red, grateful that he can't see your reaction with your face buried in his chest. You nuzzle your head against his sturdy pectorals, seeking comfort in his embrace, and he chuckles softly at the movement.

“I missed you too,” you murmur, looking up into his eyes. His tired gaze meets yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. You think you catch a hint of longing in his eyes, but you're not entirely sure. There's a depth to his gaze, a hidden emotion that leaves you yearning to unravel the mystery of his thoughts. 

Still holding you close, he presses you gently against his body, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart. His embrace is both protective and tender, making you feel safe and cherished. 

The world outside fades away, and it's just the two of you, lost in the comfort of each other's arms.

You feel your body relax in his embrace, the tension of the day melting away. And then, in a playful gesture, you give him a gentle pinch on his side, right above his hips. 

He jumps slightly, letting out a surprised, yet endearing, small shriek.

“I got your package” you giggle, pointing towards the new phone charging on the couch table. It's your way of breaking the momentary intensity, adding a touch of light-heartedness to the air.

He adjusts his head, following your gaze to the living room, where the package lies.

“Ah, right,” he says, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I hope you like it, princess” he adds, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. 

But as he utters the last word, your body tenses, and a wave of discomfort washes over you. His hand on your back feels heavy, and you take a step back, trying to create some distance.

He notices the sudden change in your demeanor and takes a concerned step forward, studying your face for any sign of distress. His playful expression fades as he sees pain and agony etched on your features. 

You struggle to find your voice, your body still frozen in place, as if trapped in a moment of overwhelming vulnerability.

The room feels suffocating, and you try to take a deep breath, but your lungs refuse to cooperate. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat resonating with fear and unease. 

Your mind races, unable to escape the grip of rising panic. 

In that moment, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, unable to flee from the intensity of his gaze. 

His concern only amplifies your discomfort, making it harder to find the words to explain what's wrong.

You realize you've been holding your breath, and you force yourself to exhale, hoping to dispel the growing tension within you. 

But the freckles of a panic attack linger, threatening to engulf you in their overwhelming embrace.

Jimin takes another step closer, his hands reaching out gently, as if trying to touch the pain you're hiding inside. But you step back again, creating more distance between you. 

It's not that you don't appreciate his concern; it's just that you're not ready to confront the tumultuous emotions swirling within you.

As the tears flow freely down your cheeks, your voice trembles with each syllable, making it difficult to articulate your feelings. 

Jimin's grip on your shoulders loosens, his concern evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead. “I–, I'm sorry,” you manage to stammer out, your breath still uneven. 

“It's just... a horrible memory came over me.”

Jimin's eyes soften with understanding, and he pulls you gently into a comforting hug, allowing you to bury your face in his shoulder. His embrace feels warm and secure, offering solace and safety in the midst of your turmoil.

As you regain control of your breath, you find yourself locking eyes with Jimin, his gaze filled with concern and regret. 

The atmosphere is charged with emotions, and you can feel the electricity between you two. Your boldness surprises even yourself, but it's as if a newfound courage has taken hold of you in this vulnerable moment.

“That's what he called me,” you repeat, your voice steadier now. “It's a trigger, I guess...” you gulp the realization down your throat as you try to regain composure.

Jimin's eyes soften, and he nods understandingly, his hands gently holding yours, reassuring you that he's there for you.

“I didn't know,” Jimin repeats, his voice soft and remorseful. “I would never intentionally hurt you, Y/N.”

“I know you wouldn't, Jiminie” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “It's just that... that word brought back memories I've been trying to forget.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” he says, his voice filled with empathy. 

“You don't have to face this alone” with his presence, the haunting feeling starts to subside, and you find comfort in his unwavering support. You're grateful for the breathing technique you learned in therapy, but it's Jimin's presence that truly grounds you. 

Jimin's hand finds its way to your cheek, gently caressing it as he looks at you with unwavering support. 

“I'm here for you, Y/N. You can tell me anything, and I'll do my best to understand and help.”

His words resonate deep within your soul, making you realize how lucky you are to have him in your life. Despite the pain, there's a warmth in knowing that Jimin genuinely cares about you and wants to be there for you.

As you lock eyes with him, you feel a surge of affection and gratitude. 

“Thank you” you whisper, feeling the weight of your vulnerability lessen with each passing moment. Jimin's embrace tightens, pulling you into him as if he never wants to let you go. 

“You don't have to thank me,” he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. 

“I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

→ Author’s note: I don’t know what happened! I planned to write like 5K words to get back into writing and then boom 40K+ 😆I don’t really know how I feel about this story, but I wanted to post it because I finished something 🎉If it’s shit, I’m really sorry. Also, I just couldn’t decide which hair color to give Jimin, because I love all colors on him, so I settled with black 😊

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

[gothsuguru]

THANK YOU REM @hayakawalove FOR THE TAG ILY! <3

favorite colors: dark wine red/oxblood, onyx/obsidian, phthalo green/emerald/pistachio, turquoise/aquamarine/midnight blue, sunset orange, lilac/deep royal purple, & baby pink

favorite flavors: i love things that are salty & savory like chips & fries so potato methinks hehe <3 but for candy i like strawberry, green apple, cherry, & blue-raspberry

favorite genres: i love comedy! and horrors <3 also i like psychological thrillers & action too

favorite movies: 21 jump street, kung fu panda 2, john wick, & spider-man: into the spider-verse

favorite series: psych (best tv show ever), barry, fleabag, & derry girls

anime: please refer to my anime list on my about me page (but if i have to narrow it down… jjk, haikyuu!!, demon slayer, the apothecary diaries, the elusive samurai, & sakamoto days)

last song: “the beach” by the neighbourhood / currently listening to “UGH!” by bts <3

last movie: “look back” by tatsuki fujimoto, dir. kiyotaka oshiyama

currently reading: “apprentice to the villain” by hannah nicole maehrer

currently watching: the last few eps of fruits basket and then i’m gonna start watching chainsaw man!

currently working on: writing my cult leader!geto x heavenly restriction!reader fic! <3

tagging: @storiesoflilies @mossmotif @staryukis :3

[georgiapeach30513]

He’s def still got it. You should see how many comments on YouTube from randos asking why he’s not in more or Better movies. It’s both sad and encouraging that in any video with him there’s ppl asking for him to do more projects and GP showing disappointment that he’s not doing better stuff. It’s at least promising that people are noticing he is being underused and also ppl are still rooting for him to do better. I really wonder sometimes where it all went wrong. I rarely see a famous person of his level have so little faith or at least, showing faith in themselves. Makes me wonder what goes on BTS and if it’s all him doing it to himself or if others are contributing to the I’ll faith.

Honestly - if only someone would tell him that and also if he would himself listen to it. And also maybe don’t eat soba noodles anymore 😆 - omit it from your diet and you may find immediate improvements and also never go back to them.

I think it shows that people in the GP are interested in good quality projects with him in it. Pain Hustlers wasn’t great, but he was. If picking scripts is his problem…get a better script picker. I volunteer as tribute. Damn, can we get him a decent role?

He’s going to have to possibly take a pay cut though. It happens to all of us. He’s not in Marvel, and I don’t think his name alone deserves top dollar. But a good ensemble cast, a psychological thriller, something different! It’s what we want to see! These are free golden ideas!!

Soba noodles need to be cut out of his diet. They’re too high in sodium and bad for him. I just want him to realize his potential and seize it. And I haven’t changed my viewpoint on him 😌 I’ve remained the same 😉

[jungkookfanfictionhappy]

A Guide to Fanfiction Tropes and Genres:

🟪I made this cuz honestly, why not lol. For people who are beginners to the fanfiction universe. For anyone who wants to get a glimpse of what this world is like and the common themes used in this "off-the-wall piece of literature". Could be for research purposes or for curiosity, or maybe you want to start writing stuff but not sure what things you might use. No matter who is reading this, I hope this guide helps you.

--I also made this for myself, as a lil handbook to look at while categorizing the fanfics i collect in my blog.

🟦There are genres/topes/themes which you won't be seeing much or any at all particularly in my blog; but I wanted to add them to the lists anyways because they are widely used in fanfiction. I tried to include the main, most common things used in fanfics. Because in reality, the possibilities in a fanfic are endless.

--Many of these are self explanatory so I didn't add extra info to most of them.

This may be used by other fandoms as well. Since this is a Jungkook based account, he is used for some of the examples. You can replace him with anyone you wish to write/read about.

🟥I added most things myself from the knowledge accumulated through my years of experience in fanfiction consumption. For the things I thought I might have missed, I used multiple websites and a reddit post as a referance, which I will credit their links at the very end.

🟫Shoutout to chatgpt for alphabetizing my lists in the end. It would take me ages to edit this

🟩 If you think there is anything I missed, feel free to contact me, I can always edit this post to add new things.

PS: I chose to omit much of the specificities of explicit content (such as specific kinks). I tried to keep things a bit chill. Most likely the authors will include the details of the explicit events in their explanation section. You will know what they are when you see them.

Genres:

Action

Adventure

Apocalypse/Post-Apocalypse

Comedy/Humor/Parody/Satire

Coming Of Age

Contemporary

Crime

Cyberpunk/Steampunk

Drama

Dystopian/Utopia

Fairy Tale

Family

Fantasy/High Fantasy/Low Fantasy/Urban Fantasy/Isekai

Friendship

Gothic

Historical Fiction/Alternate History/Period Piece

Horror/Slasher

Kid Fic =fanfic that features children in some way. This could vary from the characters having a kid together to someone’s younger sibling/cousin/niece etc.

Mystery/Murder Mystery

Missing Scene/Gap Filler : a fic that is written as a continuation or with additional events added to a canon scene in a show OR a video of the characters of a fandom (e.g. a specific RUN BTS episode where in the end they all go out and get coffee or some behind the scenes stuff the author creates) idk if i explained this well

Paranormal

Philosophical

Poetry

Romance

Sci-Fi/Science Fiction/Space Opera

Slice Of Life

Spiritual

Supernatural

Surreal

Suspense

Songfic: stories which include song lyrics, which may be interposed between sections of the story, or given to a character who sings them.

Thriller/Psychological Thriller

Tragedy

Travel

Urban

Western

Worldbuilding

Genre (Fandom): Based On Tone

Angst/Light Angst :  ”often used in fandom to characterize things which are intended to provoke the feeling of unrest and uncertainty in readers. It generally signifies that the story will be primarily dramatic in nature, rather than comedic or light-hearted, and that characters may suffer mental or physical anguish during the course of the story. ” -fanlore.org

Awkwardness

Case Fic =focus on solving a given mystery or case

Character Development

Crack Fic = “fanworks with a fundamentally ludicrous premise, or otherwise including a plethora of unbelievable, incredible, or just plain silly elements - that is, implying the author/artist must have been on drugs to produce something so bonkers” -fanlore.org

Crossover/Fusion = where multiple fandoms are combined in a way

Curtainfic (Domestic Tranquility, Such As The Characters In A Romantic Pairing "Shopping For Curtains" (Literally Or Figuratively) And Building A Home Together.)

Cute

Dark Fic

DILF/MILF

Domestic

Fix Fic/Fix-It/Deconstruction

Fluff/Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Hurt/Comfort = A character who has been hurt, physically or emotionally, is comforted by another character.

Light-Hearted

Mature

Melancholy

Porn, PWP, Porn Without Plot

Secret Identity

Shipping

Sickfic, Illness, Sick Character

Single Parents

Slow Burn/Slow Romance

Smut

Soft

Sweet

Tension

Character Types:

Aged Up:  a character in a fanwork who's been set to an age notably older than they are (or appear) in the original media.

Aged Down

Alien

Androids, Robots

Angel

Animal Transformation

Anti-Hero

Boss/Employee/Secretary

Canon: the author is trying to stick as close to the canon character as possible.

CEO

Cop

Criminals

Demon

Demigod

Doctor

Dragons

Fairy

Fan!Reader

Gamer

Greek Life/ Frat Boy/ Sorority girl

Gardener

God (Mythical)

Hybrid

Idol!Jk

Idol!Reader

Jock

LGBTQ/LGBTQ Character/LGBTQ Themes

Mafia

Merpeople

Morally Grey/Ambiguous Characters

Mythical Beings & Creatures

Nerd

Noona

Non-Idol

Nurse

Orphans/Orphanage

Out Of Character/OOC

Prince/Princess/King/Queen/Emperor/Empress

Rich Girl/Guy

Shapeshifting

Spies

Stalker

Stripper

Tsundere

Undercover

Unreliable Narrator

Vampire

Villain

Virgin

Werewolf

Witches, Witchcraft

Yandere

Zombies

AU/Alternate Universe:

Afterlife

Aliens AU

Band Of Misfits

Bounty Hunters

College AU

Crime AU

Coffee Shop AU

Destiny/Fate

Dreams/Dreamscape

Dystopian AU

Future AU

Ghosts

Harry Potter AU

Heroes AU

Highschool AU

Historical AU

Hitman AU

Immortality

Magic AU

Marvel/DC AU

Medieval

Medical, Hospital, Doctors AU

Military

Monsters

Mythology

Omegaverse : A setting where humans have a secondary sex (alpha, beta or omega).

Pirates

Pornstar AU

Royalty AU

School AU

Soulmate AU

Spiderman AU

Spy AU

Time Travel

War

Western AU

Witches AU

Zombies

Relationship To One Another:

Bodyguard

Childhood Friends

Childhood Sweethearts

Dating

Divorced

Dorks In Love

Established Relationship

Exes

Exes To Lovers

Enemies To Lovers

Enemies To Friends To Lovers

Fake Relationship/Fake Dating/Pretend Relationship/Pretend Couple

Forced Marriage

Friends To Lovers, Best Friends To Lovers

Friends With Benefits

Frenemies

Fuck Buddies

Hallmark AU

In Which They Are Exes Thrown Back Together By A Chance Visit To Their Hometown (Usually For A Holiday)

Highschool Sweethearts

Idiots to lovers

Long-Distance Relationship

Long-Term Relationship

Marriage

Mutual Pining

Oblivious Pining

Requited Unrequited

Neighbors

Pen Pals

Platonic Relationships/No Romance

Rivals

Roommates

Secret Relationship

Soulmates

Step-Siblings

Unrequited Love/One-Sided Attraction

Best friend’s sibling

Specific Situations:

Accidental Marriage

Adoption

Aftermath

Amnesia

Arranged Marriage

Babysitting

Betrayal

Blind Date

Bonding

Breakup

Cheating

Confession

Desert Island

Disability Fic

Elevatorfic

Eventual Romance

Falling In Love

Fempreg

First Kiss

First Love

First Time

Flashbacks

Forgiveness

Forbidden Love

Grief/Mourning

Hatesex

Healing

Heartbreak

Heartwarming

Holiday, Vacation

Hospital

Idiots In Love

Imprisonment

Injury

Jealousy

Kink

Love At First Sight

Love Confessions, Drunken Confessions

Love Potion/Love Spell

Love Triangle

Marriage Of Convenience

Marriage Proposal

Mates

Make-up sex

Misunderstandings

Mutual Pining

Next Gen/Next Generation

Nightmares

Parenthood

Pining

Plot Twists

Pregnancy

Protectiveness

Pst Lives

Rags To Riches

Rebels

Recovery

Regret

Reincarnation/Resurrection/Rebirth

Rejection

Religion

Rescue

Reunion

Revenge

Revolution

Roadtrip

Snowed In

There is only one bed, Forced Bed Sharing, Sharing A Bed

Teenagers

Teamwork

Time Travel

Training

Trapped

Weddingfic

Based On Text Style Or Elements

First Person POV, Second person POV

Script format

Y/N (your name)

Facetime, video call

Sexting

Social Media AU:

Twitter (X)

Instagram

Messaging App

Warnings,Possibly triggering things or Dark themes:

Abuse

Alcohol

BDSM

Blood

Bullying

Crime

Curses

Death, Character Death/Major Character Death/Minor Character Death

Depression

Drugs

Fights

Gore

Kidnapping

Mental Health Issues

Self-Harm

Stalkers

Substance Abuse

Suicide

Toxic Relationship

Trauma

Violence

Weapons

Yandere

Length:

Drabble: A very short fic, usually said to be around 100 words. But I’ve read plenty of drabbles with 1K-2K words so 100 is not always the case

One-Shot/Two-Shot/etc

Series/Duology/Trilogy/Saga/etc

Long

Short

Short Story

Pairing:

M/F - F/M - M/M - F/F - F/F/M etc.

[Character] x [Character],

Jungkook X Original Character/OC : usually OCs are characters with disclosed names and physical features withing the story. (e.g. Jessica, blond hair, brown eyes, etc.) However i have seen many fanfics where the author writes “Jungkook x OC” in the explanations but the character throughout the story is in fact written like a self-insert/YN/reader with little to no physical descriptions.

Jungkook X Reader (Y/N or “_____” )

AFAB- assigned female at birth

Jungkook X gender neutral reader/character

OTHERS:

POV -point of view

POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV First Person, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, POV Outsider

Completed / Ongoing — a fanfiction series is one of two things, it’s either completed or ongoing

Ending: Happy Ending, Sad Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Ambiguous Ending, etc.

Epilogue :  the final chapter at the end of a story that often serves to reveal the fates of the characters.

🟥Credit:

reddit - very well made, i used this a lot while making this list

fanlore.org

tvtropes.org

wikipedia

-The end

⚠️You may reblog or share the link of my post. But please dont repost this without crediting me.

[euphorianyx]

STORIES

📚 - Completed / 📝 - Ongoing / ⏳- On hiatus 

◇Step-Bro... Fuck Buddy or Love 📚

Jung Kook x Reader | AU / Smut / Romance / Fluff

◇Daddy Issues -Sunset- {Prequel}📚

Jung Kook x Reader / BTS x Reader | AU  / Smut / Angst / Fluff

◇Daddy Issues -Dawn- {Sequel}📝

Jung Kook x Reader / BTS x Reader | AU / Smut / Angst / Fluff

◇My Killer My Saver ⏳

Jung Kook x Reader x Ji ChangWook | Psychological / Thriller / Smut

◇Infamous ⏳

Jung Kook x Reader / BTS x Reader | Smut / Fluff / Romance

◇Lesson 1: Desire ⏳

Jung Kook x OC | AU / Smut / Romance / Fluff

◇Bet Beat Keep📝

Jung Kook x Mc | Smut / Romance / Thrilling

[vinetae]

Alice's Game - Part 2

This is a game.

And you must win.

⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕!𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛, 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚛!𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖! (𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎), 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎.

𝙰/𝚗: 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝙾𝙳; 𝙳𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝚓𝚊𝚒𝚕.

Part 1 - here

Part 2 - (You're on it)

Part 3 - TBW

Taglist: @heyitsmehaneul @jisoospillow @snowyydayys @honeybaby-94 @st3ft0n3s @broken-hearted-gxrl @angryperfectionpersona @itsssssuzana @han-elif @bangtans-bestie @balletbunsandsugarplums @mysticcookiewinnerpeanut @shansgottastudy @taytay-vsu2025 @itchelramirez @luvlydri @mikrokosmics @yhawnnzz @yehet-bitches @joonie-tunes @alexandramanthey @creolesoul2seoul

Comment if you'd like to be added/removed from my taglist.

Enjoy!

⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌

What is a disease?

Some describe it as a tiny bacterium infiltrating to control one’s mind and physical. Something that crawls up from the base of your spine, to the tip of your head, its virus-like legs trails behind its body, following in pursuit of its mission.  waiting for the right moment to find a weak spot in oneself.. 

A hole.

A mistake.

A way out.

Or in some cases, 

A way in. 

The light smell of cookies whiffs through the air. Tunes hum a sweet melody that resembles an old favored classic. A woman with blonde locks, curled inwards to shape the heart-silhouette or her features sits plump against the sofa’s edge. A light green vintage dress hung low beneath her knees. Soft, white laced patterns stitched to the hems of her fairy-tale like gown. Rosy cheeks adorn to soften her graceful features. She’d always been the most beautiful rose of the garden. Never having done wrong. 

But roses have thorns.

Pigtails swing with the sway of the little girl’s head. Bouncing back and forth with such an innocence only one could wish to perceive through again. Her bored small frame splays across the torn sofa’s padding, as she takes in a ragged breath. Eyes switching left and right to find some kind of distraction. 

Her gaze stops on a cracked door. The wood had been worn and dreary. Black encases the mysterious way, while a shed of light peaks its way through. Her face lights up at the sight. Stepping lightly onto the sunken floorboards, the old wood cracks with every footstep of her tiny soles. Creeping her way towards the area, her hand sets atop the golden knob that hovers a foot ascending her height. Her tiny hands wrap around the small twist knob. Just before the door can swing wide open, she’s falling flat into a dark, damp wasteland. Pitch black is all she can see. 

All you can see. 

An eerie voice creeps from the side, long fingernails trail around to grasp your face. A mirror sits in the middle of the room. A spot-light shines against its distorted reflection. Suddenly, you felt a push shoving you your way over to the gold trimmed antique. 

What had appeared to be thorns decorated the frame. Real, shining gold squared the whole glass. A sense of dread washes over you. The voices grow louder in your ears, as if they had been walking closer to you. Something had caught your attention. You squint harder, the figure materializing right in front of your eyes. The figure hunches over, eyes reddened with skin peeling from its severed body. Burns, ashes, and bruises make the figure unrecognizable. 

The demon-like creature copies your movements, waving as you had waved, smiling as you had smiled. Suddenly, all the noises stop. You look around, seeing everything that you had seen before, disappearing from your sights. Your breath heaves in your tightening chest. The stench of death you’d been too familiar with fills the air. A whistle sounds the alarms in your head. The tune grows louder until you’re suddenly being sunken down to your levels. 

A figure stands tall above your own. Black suit with a white undershirt had encased the stranger’s aura. A grinding smile creeps his expression. He lowers to your level, the upper facial features still distorted. 

“What’d I tell you, darling?” The voice is known. The one you’d grown to absolutely despise. He’d taken everything from you. 

"Yet I can give you everything.” You gasp at his words. His hand coming to trail the side of your neck, short and freakishly clean fingernails brush past your skin. 

“How did you.. “ It felt as if your words caught in the back of your throat. A dark, eerie chuckle erupts from his chest. 

“Because this, sweetheart. Is who you truly are.” He snaps his fingers, shapes, vibrant colors and sounds all start to materialize right in front of your eyes. Carnival themes play from memory. Little children coming to circle around a large podium. You’re suddenly freed, arms dropping to your sides as you push past the others to get a closer look. 

A poor woman had been put on display. Her hair similar in color to yours flails around trying to break free from her binds. Wrists cut from her attempts, blood trickling down her fingers to drip on the wooden floors. Her face smears in makeup, but she has no sign of fear or horror. Her head raises up, eyes blackened with something you’d never seen before. 

The red lipstick smears across her lips, meeting at the dangle of her left ear. A creepy expression pinches her face into place as she stares right towards your figure. Her hand reaches out, pointing her long, frail and skinny finger at you. Everyone turns as their bodies suddenly turn into the mutilated ones you’d seen in your father’s basement. The laughter raises in pitch almost sounding like a scream. The bodies fall flat onto the floor, as one had caught your attention.

“Grayson!” 

Your eyes flood with tears as you run towards his still figure. Your tears drip onto his lifeless, cold body.

“No no no no!” The salty, watery liquid falls to mix with the pool of blood that has surrounded you both. 

“I-I’m so sorry… I should’ve protected you..”

Your arms grip his still body tightly, as a hand comes to rest upon your right shoulder. A soft voice whispers as everything falls out of place. Grayson’s body slips through your fingers as it pulverizes to sand grains. 

“It’s time to wake up, Y/n.” 

The world around you fades to a white light. 

“y/n..”

A beeping tone rings your ears, fading the sound of his voice into thin air until there is none left.

“Y/n..”

“Y/n.”

⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌

“Supplement her again. We can’t have her slipping”

“Give it another try.”

“Once more.” The ringing grows louder, giving you a huge headache. Soon, you feel as if your body has multiplied in weight. Everything was too heavy to move.

“Pull her out!” A voice echoes through the brightly lit area. A machine whirls as a blurred figure comes to you. The monitor is sporadic, just as much as your heart rate.

A glass-shattering pitch rings in your ears. You sit up in a fit of sweat, eyes flickering to everything in the unfamiliar room. 

Where were you?

Soon your vision starts to clear. . 

A hand comes to lay on your shaking form. His soothing voice coos at your distraught figure. 

“You did good, Alice. Very good.” You rub your eyes to adjust to your vision. 

“‘Y..Y/n?” He nods, handing you a paper cup of water. You gulp it down, feeling your dehydration finally getting the better of you. 

You felt so tired. 

So weak. 

⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌

The clock ticks with a patterned sound. Your eyes gaze over the plaque nametag. Some people in white had brought you to sit down in this weird looking office. Some reason, it felt too familiar. He clicks his pen, glancing up to you through blackened eyelashes. A soft expression plasters his features.

“So tell me, Y/n. What’d you see?” You shake your head slightly, following your eyes as they scan the room. White brush walls stand firmly tall to square the office. An antique looking desk rests on the dark oak stained floors. The silver plated desk tag rests atop his desk. 

“Kim Namjoon.” Your lips unconsciously taste the familiar sound. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. His chocolate irises come to meet your own sporadic look. 

“Tell me, Alice. What do you remember?” Your head tilts forwards, baring into his calm demeanor. Finding some kind of hint that this is all a dream. A figment of your imagination. A sigh rolls past his lips. Your hand comes up to touch the heated skin of his cheek. 

It’s warm. 

Too warm.

This all felt too real.

You flinch, fumbling backwards into the backs of your leather seat. Your lip quivers from this situation. 

“It’s alright, Y/n. You’re safe.” He comes around to crouch down next to your chair. 

His facial features were perfect matches to your patient’s. 

His soft whispers felt so soothing against the shell of your ear, even if he had been a few farther inches from it. 

“Come on, sweetie. Just tell me what you saw.” His warm palm comes to pet the crown of your hair. Tears threaten to slip from your control. His free hand reaches over to place a notepad and pencil in your grip. 

“Draw it for me atleast. Please? For me?” You shake your head, letting the notepad fall to the ground, slipping past the gap between your thighs. Hot tears stream down your cheeks. 

“I..I don’t know who you are” You stumble over your words, looking for some way to get out of here. You didn’t want to stay here any longer. They were lying to you. Your name wasn’t Alice. Your name is Y/n Kim, and you lived on-

“56 Berkshire Street. Along with your roommate, Ji-yeon who works at the same psychiatric ward as you do.” Your mouth falls open at his words. He takes in a breath, giving you a comforting look before continuing. 

“You’ve lived on Berkshire ever since your parents; Kim Mi-Young and Dargan Murphy had gotten a divorce back in the year 2000.” He stands, making his way back over to sit in his office chair. He leans back, running a hand through his blackened locks. 

Namjoon didn’t have blonde hair. 

He was blonde. 

Hair as if it had been kissed by the sun. Skin like honeyed-milk. A beautiful creation that no man could compete with. Brown eyes as rich and deep as the willy wonka chocolate river stream. 

“Shall I continue?” He interrupts your trail of thought, flashing a now professional gaze. 

“You’re not Namjoon.” You spit. 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Y/n, my name is Doctor Kim. I’ve been your therapist for three years now. Jimin, is your psych ward buddy. He hangs out with you every Sunday, while you two play chess and hopscotch in the front yards. Ji-Yeon is your nurse. She gives you the medication I prescribe every Monday at 12 O’clock.” 

Your head flails around, not wanting to believe any of it. 

There’s no way you made all of it up. 

YOU had been the therapist. 

It should be the other way around!

He should be sitting in this God-forsaken chair, questioning his whole existence!’

Not you!!

NOT

YOU!

You scream at the top of your lungs, lunging forward to grab onto the collar of his button-up. The fabric rips, as two tiny buttons fly off. The men in white from earlier quickly rush in, prying your anaconda-like grasp from the doctor. They hold your sporadic body down to the floor, as Namjoon pulls something out that you barely catch from the corner of your eye. 

“We’ll try again later, sweetheart.” The lift your upper half to his reach, still having a firm grip on your now trembling figure. The shine from the needle’s point glistens from the natural lights set up in his office. His hand comes towards your face, gently brushing pieces of hair away to expose the side of your neck. Your body tries everything in the book. Kicking didn't work because another man had come in soon after the two from before, pinning your legs to the ground to stabilize your shaking body. 

“Shhh, shh. Listen to me, okay? Eyes on me.” His hand gently holds the sharp of your jaw, turning your head to the side to focus your attention from the position you were forced into.

"Good, very good. Deep breaths for me.” You had no choice but to comply. You take in a sharp breath, letting it ruggedly heave from your chest. 

“Very well, Y/n. Now,” Your eyes peek open, seeing that he had placed the needle to the side of you now. The grip on you from the three men had softened but never released. 

“Would you like to continue?” Your gaze wanders, trying to process the ton of information you’d just been slapped with. A voice creeps in the back of your mind. 

The syringe, Alice.

“T..the..” You mumble, meeting his softened eyes. The voice continues.

He’s not real, Alice. It won’t hurt him. He’s trying to hurt you.

Namjoon’s voice fades back in to catch a few of his words. 

“I don’t want to use this, Y/n. So please, do this for yourself. You were doing so well these past few weeks.”

Your bangs fall heavily into your vision of sight. You glance between the laid syringe and Namjoon’s soft gaze. 

Do it. 

The voice rings. You can hear the impatience growing in its tone.

DO IT!

You scream just as loud, as the men’s grip starts to tighten against you once more. Your head flails sporadically around, trying to shake whatever demon had possessed your mind. Namjoon winces from the high pitched screech, reaching over to grip the syringe. He holds onto your shoulder with one hand while the other threatens the needle right in front of your face. 

“I’m sorry..” 

Just then, a sharp pain rips through the side of your neck. You scream in agony, as one of the guards had accidentally let your tiny arm slip. Your hand comes to grasp the front of his shirt, before a dreary wave of calmness washes over your exhausted figure. 

Soon, your body goes limp. 

⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌

The sound of water dripping onto a hard surface pulls you from your daze. Your eyes peek open, head lifting from its fallen position as your eyes adjust to the bright lights. Once in focus, you see a familiar frame standing over your own.

Hands bound to the sides of the chair that you’d been sat in. The boarded windows and low ceiling remind you of a similar basement your parents had. Only, this one had a lack of mutilated bodies and flesh spread everywhere. 

A man’s deep chuckle disturbs the silence. 

“So, our pretty little Alice finally knows.”

⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌⚌

©sweethearthigh 2022. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works with given consent from me.

[kingsandbastardz]

Politics in my dramas?

If you have a competence kink. And if you're like me and like your politics messy, psychological and as detailed as a 90s era HK kungfu fight scene---- I've gathered a short list of the ones I've watched and enjoyed:

Cdramas

庆余年 Joy of Life - you wouldn't think it considering the genre but this is packed with dueling politics that is intelligently written

琅琊榜 Nirvana in Fire - if you want the same but in a serious revenge arc and side of a badass lady working her way to the emperor's bedroom

天下长河 天下長河 The Long River - HISTORY historical drama about the emperor that decides to take flood management of the yellow river as his special project

Kdramas

재벌집 막내아들 Reborn Rich - family and succession/inheritence

머니게임 Money Game (2020) - economics, monetary management, financial commission, banking politics and differing monetary philosophies

하얀 거탑 Behind the White Tower (2007) - medical/hospital succession politics remade from the Japanese drama starring Kimura Takuya

60일 – 지정생존자 Designated Survivor 60 Days - Korean version of US drama Designated Survivor. Starts slow but really picks up about 3-5 episodes in. Fantastic kingmaker shit from Son Seokoo

비밀의 숲 Secret Forest/Stranger (1 and 2) - arguably a low key cop thriller, but set against a backdrop of police office politics and philosophical differences

스토브리그 Stove League - same vibe as a japanese anime where a hyper competent guy shows up to do a thing where no one trusts him and he has to maneuver against many opposing forces

Western drama

The West Wing - a kind of modern fantasy where politicians from all sides of the political spectrum actually care about the ppl they're governing - I remember a bts where they talked about the moving camera they stuck on some sort of trolley or chair was a game changer for extended long hallway walk-and-talk scenes bc they could turn corners at the same speed and the camera wouldn't shake

[jooheonspinky]

BTS Masterlist

Welcome: Thank you for stopping by. 

*all works are complete unless otherwise stated*

OT7

Saudade [08.01.2020] {Psychological Thriller}:A group of friends try to cope with the traumatic aftermath of one tragic night. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 

Namjoon x Female Reader:

7-Year Itch [02.06.2017] {Angst, Smut}: The idol life is taking a toll on your relationship. Can it survive the 7-Year Itch? | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Nothing on Us [12.25.2017] {Christmas!au, one shot}: Christmas decorating mishaps. This takes place a little under two months after 7-Year Itch.

Trivia: Love [09.02.2024]{idol!au, angst, smut}: A few years ago, Y/N met Namjoon while at a movie theatre. Hitting it off, they come to an agreement wherein Y/N signs a contract that entails helping Namjoon “de-stress” whenever he is in the US, even having Y/N travel to several of BTS’ stops when they are on tour. But then the pandemic hit, and it has now been almost two years since they have seen each other in person. With BTS coming to LA for several concerts and interviews, will they be able to get back to how things were before, or have the two changed too much in that time apart? 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Seokjin x Female Reader:

A Special Night [06.14.2017] {Fluff, one shot}: You’re nervous about this possibly being your first time together.

New Year’s Wish [01.01.2018] {New Year’s!au, angst, one shot}: It’s New Year’s Eve and you miss Jin.

A Cage, a Wizard, and a Potion [12.13.2022]  {Fantasy}:  The Duchess kept a beautiful gilded cage in her private bed chambers. On a visit with your mother, you happen upon this novelty whilst lost in your aunt’s palace. What you discover in the cage not only shocks you but has you making a vow that you are not able to fulfill until many years later.

Yoongi x Female Reader:

Not Alone [12.10.2016] {Apocalypse, Smut}: Sure the zombies scared me, but they were the constant to the newly created world. Being alone though…that was something that scared me more. So what happens when I’m not alone anymore? And what happens if i start finding feelings for that person? Will we make it? Or will this new world infect me like the loneliness? 01 |02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08| Side Note | Epilogue|

Melting Frost [01.09.2018] {Winter Sprite!au, Angst, one shot}: Meeting Jack Frost solidifies your belief in the fae and soon you two become friends. As the years pass, what happens when your feelings change?

Save Me [05.31.2018] {Action, one shot}: This wasn’t your first time, having helped your friend with their plot multiple times before. The surreal surroundings were almost a second home, but when you recognize the abductee is part of the scheme, you feel things may have gone too far.

Hoseok x Female Reader:

Unexpected Attraction [04.12.2017]{Angst, Fluff, Smut}: When you start to have feelings for the one person who has helped you through a bad time in your life, will your fear of losing him keep you from exploring this unexpected attraction? |Teaser | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Cupid’s Interference [12.30.2017] {Christmas!au, Angst, one shot}: Overwhelmed by unfortunate events in her life, Y/N rents a cabin in hopes of finding a reason to live. Meanwhile, Hobi is responsible for caring for Santa’s reindeer. One mischievously brings Hobi and itself into Y/N’s path. When he explains what he’s doing out in the woods in the snow, Y/N thinks he’s crazy.

Better Together: [11.04.2020] {Angel, fantasy, angst, one shot}: He is a celestial being. A warrior for the heavenly Father. After centuries of observing humans, one in particular peaks his interest. What happens when he decides to act on his curiosity?

Jimin x Female Reader:

One Night at the Club: [06.07.2017] {one shot}A very good-looking stranger takes notice of you one night at the club.

Winner: [12.22.2017] {Christmas!AU, one shot}: Jimin loses against Jungkook and has to fulfill a dare Jungkook cooks up for him.

The Truth Untold: [03.15.2020] {angst, smut} Hiding behind a mask (literally and figuratively), a man keeps himself away in his home in the country. He spends his days tending a garden where in which blooms beautiful flowers that attract a new neighbor. Her presence forces him to face himself. Could he change for her and be the man she insists he is or will he continue to hide behind his mask? 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Catching Your Attention: [07.29.2021]  {one shot, smut} You see Jimin in a skirt for the first time and are surprised at your body’s reaction.

Taehyung x Female Reader: 

The Confession: [12.26.2016] {Fluff, one shot}:An evening at the state fair holds a little more excitement than you had expected.

Warmest Holidays [01.15.2018] {Christmas!au, fluff, one shot}: You'd given up on dating and decided to concentrate on making your first Christmas as a divorcee a happy one for you and your son. The holidays have other plans for you.

Stigma: [03.26.2018] {Angst, smut}: An important project at work throws together Y/N, a no-nonsense hard worker, with Taehyung, the office prankster. As they spend more time together Y/N begins to see him with a fresh pair of eyes and a friendship starts to grow between the two. When horrible details about Taehyung’s life come to light, will it prove to be too much for their blossoming relationship to survive?:1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

A Cage, a Wizard, and a Potion [12.13.2022] {Fantasy}:  The Duchess kept a beautiful gilded cage in her private bed chambers. On a visit with your mother, you happen upon this novelty whilst lost in your aunt’s palace. What you discover in the cage not only shocks you but has you making a vow that you are not able to fulfill until many years later.

Jungkook x Female Reader:

The Business Partner [07.24.2016] {Angst, Fluff, Smut}: Jungkook and you are sent to Hawaii on a business trip. You are still trying to cope with the recent death of your father and having Jungkook, international playboy, as the business partner sent by the sister company in S. Korea to help close the deal does not make it any easier for you. Will he ruin everything or have you got Jungkook all wrong?01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Summer Date [06.21.2017] {Fluff, one shot}: Your boyfriend is back from tour and takes you on a summer date.

Elf on a Shelf [12.20.2017] {Christmas!AU, slight angst, one shot}: What happens when a gift basket that includes something similar to an Elf on a Shelf anonymously shows up at your door?

From the Ashes [10.13.2023]{Fantasy!au, angst}: I am ready to confess my feelings to Jungkook, but his older brother, a wizard, has other plans. Plans with devastating consequences that I could never have prepared for. 01|02|03|

Jungkook x OC (Celeste Greene) ft Namjoon

From the Stars: [10.21.2020] { Fantasy, Alien and human, smut, one shot}: This was written using the following prompt: His body aches as he lay on the ground, bleeding. The asphalt was hard and cold at his back, and noise came through staticky and broken like a voice through a bad phone line. He could just vaguely hear footsteps thudding toward him accompanied by shouting. Still, his vision refused to focus, and the only thing he could identify was the grey expanse of the sky above as rain began to fall.

[theschizotypalsolilquy]

Thriller and suspense.

Strangers to lovers.

I'm not even going to attempt to try and explain the plot cuz it's like trying to describe a movie, LoL. You've got conspiracies, danger, death, a glove kink, BAMF Jungkook and BAMF Jimin.

You could almost call this a psychological thriller.

[longstoryoongi]

lost in paradise? ✧･ﾟ:*

welcome to romy’s bts fanfiction reading blog.

below you’ll find my chaotic library. feel free to browse through fics by member, pairing, reader type, genre, alternate universes and tropes. after you’ve read a fic, make sure to reblog it in order to support the writer. happy browsing, dear visitor!

SEARCH THE LIBRARY ✧･ﾟ:*

➳ by member.

kim namjoon kim seokjin min yoongi jung hoseok park jimin kim taehyung jeon jungkook

➳ by reader x pairing.

namjin • sope • taegi • jikook yoonmin • namseok • yoonkook • minimoni taekook • taejoon • 2seok • yoonjin vmin • taejin • vhope • jinkook • ot7 hyung line • maknae line vocal line • rap line

➳ by type.

drabble • one-shot • two-shot • series

➳ by reader-type.

gender-neutral reader • female reader

➳ by genre.

fluff • angst • smut • pwp • comedy • dark content slice of life • drama • mystery • horror supernatural • science fiction • fantasy dystopia • thriller • psychological

➳ by alternate universes.

idolverse!au • sugar daddy!au • racer!au • ceo!au college | university!au • soulmate!au • criminal!au vampire!au • werewolf!au • witch!au • demon!au angel!au • ghost!au • monster!au • fairy!au pirate!au • royal!au • apocalyptic!au zombie apocalypse!au • alien!au • space!au time travel!au • superhero!au • supervillain!au mythology!au • folklore!au • fairytale!au

➳ by tropes.

friends to lovers • rivals to lovers • enemies to lovers lovers to enemies • established relationship arranged marriage • fake dating • mutual pining

➳ romy’s fic reviews.

#lsy_ficmarked: to be read

#lsy_bookshelf: currently reading

#lsy_romy reviews.txt: my comments on other people’s writing

#lys_romy hearts this fic: personal favourites

#jamais queue: my queued tag

want me to read your fic? use the tag #useromy on your writing & i’ll be sure to check your creations out.

© longstoryoongi / romy, 2023. — last updated: april 3rd, 2023