HOBI POV:

"Joonie, you got a text." I say distractedly as I continue to spam his camera roll with Tae and my photos- the camera roll steadily filling up with our faces doing a range of expressions.

"Ooh hyung let's do a hot pose!" Tae says, bouncing in his seat next to me.

"And then save it as his background?" I say, already clued into his train of thought. He nods, grinning but then his smile slides off, eyes focusing on the notification that comes through again.

"It's (Y/N)!" he exclaims, finger tapping onto it without a second thought, his loud words drawing Joonie's attention from his book, surprise alighting his eyes behind his thin framed glasses.

"What's it say?" he asks, already rising from the armchair, elbow dangerously close to toppling the mug over.

"Thank you for the flowers Namjoon, you don't need to apologise. I love them!" Tae reads out, shooting a confused look to Joonie who's flushing with happiness, dimples appearing.

"There's another one." I say. He steps forward just as Tae speaks again.

Maybe we'll get to finish that conversation about why you should be head chef and not Seokjin. Don't tell him but you have my vote of faith! Smiley face." Tae finishes speaking before commenting.

"Hey! Why do I still not have her number, hyung just give it to me." he wheedles but makes no attempts to steal it from the phone in his hand, still respecting her privacy for all that he moans and grumbles about it.

And then..

"Hyung why'd you send flowers? And why do I always seem to miss her?" he grouses petulantly, the pout making it impossible to press a kiss to it, my fingers cupping his nape and drawing him close.

"To say sorry for yesterday, and you just saw her though." He comments looking endeared by the lack of argument in Tae's case.

"Ahh...but still! I think it's time I got to spend time with her now. I'll have to use your phone to text her." he says, shrugging and fingers busying themselves as he messages back.

"Wait! At least let me respond, it's rude not to!" Joon-ah says, plucking the phone to send his own message through first before dropping it back onto Tae's lap.

"Let me know if she responds." He says, slowly retreating back to the armchair but though he picks up his book, he continues to shoot occasional glances to the phone.

Tae sighs a moment later, relief in that sound.

"I texted her my number instead to make it easier. Here hyung." He calls, throwing the phone, I watch as it archs in the air- Joon's hand is outstretched to grasp it and yet it falls short and lands on his lap instead.

Tae grins, wriggling happily as he nestles beside me, pushing my legs down so he can lay his head on it, a bright grin on his face.

"Now let's see who her favourite texting buddy is." He mumbles to himself.

I can't help but be endeared by him, by the way he's enjoying himself so much just by texting her- their friendship is blooming and it makes me feel all warm and fond.

And just as Joonie sets his phone down I speak up.

"Hyung won't hand that title to you of all Joon-ah, do you not remember his precious frying pan?" I say teasingly.

Joon shoots me a sheepish look.

"It's about the principles hyung, not the skill we were talking about." He admits.

And I think that only (Y/N) would set such faith in Joon and the kitchen, someone who hasn't seen what fine disasters can arise from putting the two together.

And that she's nice and sweet to let him rant and encourage him. Not only dance fairy...an angel too.

----

"Do you reckon if I ask (Y/N) to show me how to bake we can make those cookies she sent last time?" Kookie asks, leaning against the counter as he tries to distract Jin hyung who'd been trying to wheedle the recipe out of (Y/N), not recalling some steps.

"I'm trying, she's just not giving it up. And no way am I accepting the role of sous-chef just to get the important tips!" he exclaims, protesting furiously.

"Hyung just give it up, you've met your match." Yoongi hyung says in a monotone, washing dishes at the sink.

"No way! She tried my cooking; how can she still say that?!" he demands.

"You know hyung...have you ever considered she might cook better too?" I say as I join hyung at the sink, nudging his hip with mine as I get the tea towel to dry the dishes.

Yoongi hyung shoots me a commiserating look.

"Your sacrifice is noted." He murmurs barely audible.

And when I turn it's because of a deep sharp intake of breath.

"Hyung be reasonable." Kookie says slightly fearful.

And it's because hyung is brandishing a spatula in one hand and fuming as he looks at me.

"Too?! I feed you all the time Hoseokie, what sort of betrayal is this?" he says, advancing with slow intimidating steps. I press back into the count, yelping when Yoongi hyung unrepentantly shoves me forward with a soapy gloved push.

"I mean...it meant nothing. Forgive me hyung." I say quickly.

He pauses, head cocked and waiting expectantly.

"Sorry the prince of my life, the master of our souls, the king of our hearts and the most beautiful being, I'm unworthy." I exclaim.

Hyung grins at me, plump lips curved wide and he places the spatula down to hold his arms out.

I hurry into them, feeling as if I've evaded the storm of his wrath.

He wraps me into a hug, leaning back to press a kiss to my lips, finger brushing against them afterwards.

"You're lucky you're a smooth talker." He murmurs, eyes soft.

And I thank all my lucky stars. That hyung is the one with the biggest heart, warm and welcoming and always soft.

"But you still didn't take your words back." He adds, a knowing glint in his eyes.

And I still only escape his wrath because of Kookie, because of the sacrifice he makes.

"Hyung she gave the tip!" he calls, phone in hand.

Jin hyung turns shocked and pleased.

"Really?" he asks. Kookie nods.

"I sent a text saying that you accepted being her eternal sous-chef. So she gave it real quick." He says lightly.

And his high giggles and squirming body when Jin hyung attacks him with kisses and hugs and tickles, I see the blatant softness, that we all have for our baby as he 'punishes him'. 

But I revel in the soft, familiar warmth and lightness. The familiar sounds of laughter and joy seeping through the kitchen.

Yoongi hyung joins me sans gloves and tucks his head onto my shoulder.

"Better him then you huh?" he murmurs.

I nod.

Because I'm a weak weak man to tickles. 

And to all of them.

(Y/N) POV:

Texting Tae is surprisingly easy, no feigned or forced enthusiasm- but rather find myself darting to reply, laughing freely at the jokes and little snippets of what's happening at home. Taehyung is a really genuine and friendly person but also incredibly passionate because when our conversations divert to photography, he asks if I can go with him again- a mixture of wheedling and heavy persuasion thrown in, but the final push comes when he sends a picture of Tannie looking hopefully at the camera- the caption saying that Tannie wants me to. I know that there's no actual way that could be the case but I soften immediately, agreeing to at some point when we reach a decided date. And our conversation ends on the promise of making a decision soon and also because I have to leave- Mi-sun unnie wanting to take me somewhere.

That somewhere ends up being outside an agency. Where Mi-sun unnie might be offered a contractual offer today.

"What's the type of stuff you'll model?" I ask curious, only daring to speak because there's no-one milling about the expensive and intimidatingly tall, professional building.

"Clothes." She replies vaguely.

I turn to give her a suspicious glare.

"It's not what you're thinking. I haven't signed a contract either." She reassures me.

But that pit of worry is opened up again, worried that she'll be reeled in and trapped in a sketchy contract again.

"Don't worry, I did extensive research. It's not like the other time. I promise." she says, hand squeezing mine.

But it's hard to push away the knowledge that rises to mind about how some men had tried to take advantage of the natural, enhanced allure we had as sirens, who'd tried to exploit and use her body for their gain. I still can't forget the haunted look on her face when she'd appeared home, clothes dishevelled and torn in places and tears streaming down her cheeks. Muttering in a broken voice over and over that she didn't mean to, didn't mean to kill them. That her voice in her agony had filled with the allure of a siren and had compelled them to drown themselves in the pool they had wanted her to pose in naked.

That she tried to stop them but her voice had already taken control over their senses.

It had meant we needed to leave immediately, that I took up jobs instead for the next few years because she was scared to be tricked again and that's why I eye the building with nervous apprehension.

But it's all needless worries. Because when we step inside, it's a welcoming and safe ambience, the staff are friendly and courteous and the people she meets, who if she accepts will be the team she works with have a perfect balance between professionalism and friendly manner. And the contract she's given isn't accompanied with a pressure to sign immediately but rather unnie is told to take her time, to get it checked and make her decision when she's comfortable- the deadline is a fortnight.

And the glamorous manager behind the glass desk turns appraising eyes to me, leaning forward.

"May I?" she asks gently, gesturing to me- hands hovering.

Asking for permission.

I nod shyly, allowing her to gently tilt my chin, to turn my face as she observes me.

She nods, silently processing something before leaning back to step around the glass table.

"Could you stand please?" she asks, her taller figure slightly intimidating but balanced with the natural softness to her features, she gives off a maternal air instead.

Unnie gives me a reassuring squeeze as I stand, stepping out from behind the desk to let her observe me, feeling slightly self-conscious as her gaze seems to rove over each detail.

Silence, silence and then.

"You have a wonderful charm my darling. And a very beautiful shapely figure. Have you considered modelling?" she asks.

I feel my eyes widen; cheeks burn.

I quickly shake my head.

"Any experience? Previous contracts or offers?" she asks.

Again another shake.

"I don't suppose I can take the liberty to ask you to consider working for us, there's this strong allure you give off naturally- it's very powerful." She says, voice soft and warm and pleased.

The idea of it makes me want to shrivel, of putting myself out there for people to see. There's a reason we don't enter roles or do jobs that puts us in public spotlight. Because in the future it makes it hard to erase traces, hard to explain why someone from decades ago appears looking the exact same.

I shake my head, giving an apologetic look.

And though she sighs, her face is still warm and understanding.

"It's perfectly fine my dear." She says and leaves it at that.

But it's fine, because modelling is more unnie's thing- given her powerful demanding presence and the way she exudes beauty and grace.

And also because she hasn't previously had a job that's put her in the spotlight slightly, so given that we're approaching the final stretch of service, everything should be fine.

And so we leave with unnie grinning as she clutches at me, and my heart brimming with enthusiasm for her. That this time she hasn't met the wrong people or been duped, that this time there's the chance for her to pursue what she wants.

And when I get home, turning on the move I'd missed the other time when I'd been with unnie- she leaves me be as she goes to cook; a celebratory event calls for rare occurrences she says, though she does it often enough. And I'm perfectly content to watch the rom-com, this time much more immersed and engaged in the plot of someone who's been a bridesmaid 27 times- she's human and has done that, I'm a siren and I've never done something that often as a role.

And Habaek oppa is ecstatic for her too, though he initially shares the same worries until I put them at rest- I've already handed the contract to him so he can have it checked. There's no way we'd let her get into something unprepared, centuries had taught us to learn from mistakes, and never make such horrible, threatening ones again.

And just as the film ends, I'd managed to tug oppa into being my pillow as I'd leaned against him- smiling at the row of 27 bridesmaids she has at the end when my phone chimes from the opposite end of the couch and I unwillingly leave my comfy pillow- watching as he darts for escape, moaning about having prolonged his shower for me.

But oppa's receding footsteps fade from mind when I see Seokjin has texted for the recipe of white chocolate and raspberry cookies and something in me just urges to tease, to prolong giving it until he admits he's my sous-chef. Naturally, he's indignant and whilst his cooking truly was on an extremely high scale- he also had an opponent who'd cooked for centuries, he needed to up his game. And he refuses to accept it but then a text comes through- a promise to be my sous-chef eternally.

Eternally. A word he uses with a whole different level of understanding than me. It felt like eternity since we'd been shackled into service, and being in someone's power for that long was no easy feat, nor something easily endured.

I shake myself out of thought, telling him eternity wasn't required and sent off the tip on how to keep them soft yet firm enough to retain structure.

Seokjin had this easy yet comforting demeanour that allowed communicating with him so easily and yet it was with all of them I found the urge to speak grow stronger and stronger- the overwhelming safety they somehow represented made keeping those barriers up so much harder. And the need to finally allow myself to grow close to other people even more of a growing longing.

I didn't know why; I didn't know how but somehow the seven of them made me want to trust them and risk it all. I wanted to talk, willingly, to them- to laugh alongside them, to challenge Jungkook outright, to brainstorm dance ideas, to try and make puns to respond to Seokjin with, to talk more music with Yoongi and have truly deep talks with Namjoon.

The composure I had had over my feelings were slipping away, the forced seclusion I kept myself in from humans was vanishing and the walls I'd decided were safe to always remain up- for the betterment of anyone involved with me, were slowly disintegrating.

And I didn't know whether I was losing my mind or I was finding a reason, an excuse to want to live more vividly. In particular, seven reasons.

And even accepting that in my mind was scary and daunting, I don't know if I had the courage to.

(THERE YOU GO! WE'RE ALL OVER THE PLACE A BIT HERE! SUPER SOFT BTS MOMENTS OF CUDDLES AND KISSES AND TEASING, THEN TO (Y/N) ENJOYING TEXTING, GOING WITH MI-SUN AND THEN COMING TO A CONFUSED CONCLUSION! SORRY IF IT'S SUPER HEAVY AND LOADED AND ALL OVER THE PLACE AND CONFUSING BUT HOPEFULLY IT MADE SENSE AND WAS ENJOYABLE FOR YOU! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND WHETHER YOU ENJOYED IT- AND ALSO THE BIG QUESTION!! SHOULD SHE GET THE COURAGE TO SPEAK OR NOT?!! I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE LIKE...NEARLY 30 CHAPTERS IN AND NOT A WORD HAS BEEN PHYSICALLY EXCHANGED BETWEEN THEM AND HER!! WOW...THE IDEA IS DAUNTING! BUT I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS AND WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HER FEAR! WHILST I GO CUDDLE HER AND TRY TO ENCOURAGE HER TO GET THAT COURAGE, READ AND STAY SAFE LOVELIES!)

QUESTION...A RESPONSIBILITY YOU DIDN'T MIND BEING GIVEN?

Mine is...when I was House Captain, me and my friends (who all were and some were prefects) were on car park duty for open evening made up a whole routine for doing the traffic duty and when we once did the refreshments table made our own Starbucks version of it- got great reviews that day! Wow...I miss those days!

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3