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Welcome to the Monster Plaza

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Jihoon doesn’t want to admit it, but he is starting to get second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, after all. Two weeks ago, holed up securely behind his own four walls and with the braveness that comes from one too many glasses of wine, he had been quite confident in himself.

He had bragged to his friends about how he was getting tired of them, that there was not enough action in his life, because he was not that easy to scare, that he was bored out of his mind because he didn’t have to face a real challenge in a long time.


So his friends – fed up with his arrogant, self-satisfied behaviour – came up with a little bet. They dared him to book a room for one night in the Monster Plaza Hotel. That hotel is well-known for its extraordinary theme, it’s a ‘haunted hotel’ frankly said, for adrenalin junkies, curious adventurers or other crazy people that are looking for the thrill of their life or for something to make their vacation memorable. It’s a hotel which promises to trigger their guests’ fears and while Jihoon finds it a rather weird way to enjoy one’s holiday – he likes to relax in his free time, not to get scared out of his fucking mind, thank you very much – it’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

Because Jihoon is actually a goddamn dumbass who loses every sense of rational thought when drunk and accepts his friends’ suggestions without even batting an eyelash.


That’s how he finds himself in the current situation of walking down a corridor of Monster Plaza Hotel, accompanied by a bellhop who takes care of his suitcase and the receptionist who practically insisted on showing Jihoon his room personally.

Well, Jihoon thinks faintly, eyes darting insecurely from his dim, barely lit surroundings to the receptionist’s shockingly light mop of hair, it’s probably part of the plan to make him scared.

He hates to admit it, but it’s working quite well. From the moment he stepped foot into this strange hotel, everything played seamlessly together to get him freaked out from the very beginning. He has to give them credit for that, the hotel really holds what it promises. From the very first second, Jihoon was greeted with the rather strong wish to turn tail and flee.

Everything just fell into place, from the old, Victorian furniture, to the flickering, pale lights, to the intimidating silence lying over everything - only interrupted by the rather obtrusive ticking of a big grandfather clock and silent, constant clicking sounds as the only person awaiting him in the round, wide lobby was the rather young receptionist tipping away on the keyboard of a computer, eyes never once leaving the screen in front of him until Jihoon has stepped in front of his desk, humming awkwardly to get the other’s attention.


Even now, half an hour later, after they exchanged some words regarding Jihoon’s stay, he still hasn’t gotten used to the staff’s strange appearance.

Even the doorman that had welcomed him at the entrance had rubbed him the wrong way, movements way too mechanic and features uncomfortably lifeless, to a point where one couldn’t be sure if they talked to a breathing body or a dead corpse.


Same with the bellhop. The boy looks young, barely nineteen years old and his hair is so black, it doesn’t even reflect the light. Jihoon throws a glance over his shoulder at the boy, locking gazes with him. Nothing. No fire. No light.

He might as well look at two black buttons. Spooky.


Jihoon tears his eyes away from the boy - who returned his gaze without showing any reaction at all – when the receptionist stops in front of a dark coloured wooden door, turning around to smile at Jihoon.

He seems to be younger than him, but he’s still a head taller than Jihoon and he is quite intimidating, to say the least.


It starts with the realisation that Jihoon just can’t make out which exact colour the other’s tousled locks are – they seem to be a greyish silver, but then they sparkle almost white, or are they platinum blond? Icy blue? He just can’t tell – and ends with the fact that his eyes are quite shocking, black pupils blown wide, irises glowing in a deep, bloody red.

Once again Jihoon finds himself staring right into the other’s eyes, unable to look away, a shudder of fear running down his spine.


The receptionist – Kim Namjoon, as his nametag suggests – holds his gaze for a moment, before his lips curl up to a toothy smirk.


“Contact lenses,” he rumbles, voice deep and gravy and shaking Jihoon to the core.

“All the workers here are actors as well to make the guests’ stay as authentic as possible. We might as well put some consideration in the little details.”


Actors! Why, of course. And they are pretty good at their job, otherwise Jihoon would be chickening out without real reason and that would be quite embarrassing to say the least. Namjoon holds his gaze a little longer and there is actually something animalistic there, a certain type of hunger that makes Jihoon break out in a cold sweat.

He instinctively takes a few hesitant steps backwards when Namjoon turns his attention finally away from his guest and to Jihoon’s room, fishing his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. He manages two whole steps, then he collides with a firm chest and when Jihoon turns around, he comes face to face with Jungkook – as he can now read on the nametag on the bellhop’s uniform – and he might be paranoid or something, but he gets the sudden nagging feeling that the younger got in his way on purpose.


“Nervous, Jihoon-ssi?” Namjoon asks and the addressed swallows and shrugs, laughing shakily. The corners of Jungkook’s mouth lift automatically at that, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. They stay lifeless, dead, and Jihoon is suddenly reminded of those horror-films with mannequins and dolls coming to life and seeking death.

It’s probably better if he turns away from Jungkook and flees to his room for the rest of the night. Namjoon holds the door open for him, his red pulsing eyes piercing through him, an almost demonic smile gracing his features and Jihoon slips past him quickly, storming into his room in quite a rush.


It is probably a little naïve of him, but he kind of expected to be safe, at least in his room. He thought he would be alone, no creepy staff or other special-effects there to haunt him. He definitely did not expect to be greeted by the sight of a young man, standing right in the middle of his room. Jihoon is so caught off guard, he stops right in his tracks, body freezing with how startled he is.

The boy is standing side-ways to Jihoon, left side facing him, attention focussed on something that lies out of Jihoon’s sight, because he is still standing in the short entrance corridor and the room expands to its left after a few metres. Jihoon is unable to see the majority of his room from this position, unlike to the stranger, who now opens his mouth to mumble quietly, words not addressed at Jihoon – it seems like he hasn’t even registered the other’s presence yet – but at someone else hidden from Jihoon’s field of vision.

The guy is not alone? How many people are there? What the fuck is going on!?


“So blind, those little humans, so easy to catch,” the man cackles and Jihoon feels his heart drop. His appearance is as disturbing as that of the others, side-profile way too defined and unnaturally beautiful to be human, locks a glooming shade of mint, eyes glowing in a bright honey-yellow. Contact Lenses. Sure.


“What do you think? He’s going to do, right? His little soul is enough?”


What the hell is this guy talking about! Jihoon would have turned around and fled the room, but Namjoon and Jungkook are still there, the latter moving discreetly into the room as well, to place Jihoon’s luggage besides the door. He leaves after that.

The mint-haired boy cocks his head to the side a little, eyebrows furrowing a little as if he is listening carefully. His features light up all of a sudden, and he nods enthusiastically.


“Yes, yes! That’s good news. Good news, indeed. I missed you, Jiminnie. I can’t wait to see you again!”


This whole thing is taking a dark turn. Jihoon doesn’t know why, but he is scared all of a sudden, scared and freaked out of his mind. The whole atmosphere, the foreign guy in his room, the weird monologue he’s holding… He’s getting no response, yet his reactions tell otherwise.

Is he talking to himself? To voices he hears only in his head?


Of- of course Jihoon knows already that all the staff in the Monster Plaza Hotel are actors. Everything else wouldn’t make sense, right? It’s the only logic solution. That guy is an actor and he gets paid to scare Jihoon to death. He’s doing a pretty good job, actually.


(Still… Jihoon can’t get rid of the feeling that something is horribly wrong, that this is not truly a hotel and people working here are no actors but something else, something dark and dangerous and demonic. Jihoon will never see tomorrow’s sunrise. He was dead the moment he stepped foot in this cursed house.)


“He is here,” the mint-haired guy suddenly cheers, a horribly crooked smile growing on his features, yellow orbs shooting over to Jihoon and locking gazes with him immediately, something mocking and dark and gut-wrenchingly evil burning in them that has Jihoon’s whole form tremble in sudden internal panic.


“He is here, for quite a while now, and he didn’t want to tell us. Thought he could eavesdrop, that dirty, little human…”

He snickers maliciously, eyes flicking back to whatever spikes his interest, before he turns fully towards Jihoon, finally giving him his full attention.


Jihoon shrinks in on himself under those pale eyes staring him down, and a predatory smile ghosts over the strange male’s face when he starts to approach Jihoon suddenly, movements quick and way too smooth and cat-like to be human.


Jihoon wants to scream, wants to turn around and run, wants to at least lift his arms in a defensive gesture, but he is like a deer caught in head-lights, frozen on the spot in sheer panic, eyes wide and body shaking in fear. He can’t do anything. He can just watch as the mint-haired… creature… comes closer and closer, stops right in front of him to lean in, their noses almost touching, to sneer right into his face – before turning past him with an amused chuckle, to leave the room.


Jihoon stands there, his heart racing in his chest, knees suddenly weak and almost giving out on him when the adrenalin wears off and he can calm down a little. What the actual fuck.


“Ah well, sorry about that,” Namjoon drawls behind him, still standing in the door, the only one left. “That was Yoongi, he belongs to the cleaning staff. He really gets into scaring the guests and he sometimes goes over-board a little. We’ll leave you alone now, if you need something, just ask at the reception or use the phone on the bedside-table. I hope you enjoy your time here, Jihoon-ssi, as long as it lasts.”


With these rather strange words, the white-haired receptionist closes the door behind himself and leaves Jihoon finally alone.

Holy lord, what did he get himself into! What even is this place! Of course he knew it would get scary – that’s kind of the point after all – but still… he did not expect this. He needs a drink, right now. Hopefully the mini-bar in the room has some whiskey or something.


Regaining some of his composure, Jihoon finally shakes himself out of his torpor, moving finally from the small corridor further into the room, mind set on the task of finding some liquor.

He stumbles to a sudden halt once again however, when he reaches the exact spot where Yoongi had stood just moments ago. Whatever spiked the strange mint-haired boy’s interest, Jihoon just has to turn to his left to find it out. He is afraid of what he might find though… It’s ridiculous, there is going to be nothing, he knows it and yet…


He takes a deep breath and throws a quick glance to his left. Nothing. Of course!

Just the bed, a cupboard, a bedside-table and some plants – the typical furniture of a hotel room. The only thing weird to him might be a rather big, colourful painting hanging on the wall above the bedside-table. Jihoon only got a glimpse of it with how fast he turned his head away again, but he is pretty sure he detected the image of a young boy with glooming orange hair and black, burning eyes, plumb lips stretched to an amused grin, wearing a bright, sky-blue leather jacket.

It’s quite an odd theme for decorating a hotel room, like who is this boy? And why is there a painting of him, hanging in Jihoon’s room for the night?


Jihoon is still pretty much scared, but he is getting curious as well now.

He turns to his left again, to study the painting more closely.


Sure as hell, it’s the portrait of a young, quite good-looking boy. But… something… seems off…

The boy looks way too alive to be just lines on canvas, he looks way too realistic, way too vivid and his eyes seem to watch Jihoon, they have that eerie sparkle to them that the mint-haired boy’s had as well, something despicable and mocking, something down-right evil.

And the background… It looks just like… his room? There is the cupboard and the door that leads to a small bathroom and the corner behind which the short corridor and the entrance door lie.


Jihoon needs a moment, but when realisation hits, an actual scream of pure horror leaves him. His vision blurs out with his blood roaring in his ears, his pulse quickening in deep-running, unaltered fear. He has to grip the wall behind him for support, otherwise his feet might give out on him.

The painting! The fucking painting that’s actually not a painting, but a goddamn mirror instead and Jihoon has no explanation for what’s going on.


This is some supernatural shit and he is actually questioning his own sanity, because it’s a mirror, but instead of his own reflection, he is greeted with the image of that orange-haired boy.

Jihoon cocks his head to the side and the boy mimics his actions, he lifts a hand and waves hesitatingly and the boy follows his movements, waving back at him. What the actual fuck! Jihoon has enough, he just wants to go home now!


Please, just let him go home!


He is about to turn away from the mirror, to grab his luggage and run before it’s actually too late, when that… thing in the mirror suddenly moves again, on its own this time, leaning forward and sticking its tongue out at Jihoon with the most menacing cackle Jihoon has ever heard.


“And where do you think you are going?” the boy in the mirror asks in a high-pitched, taunting sing-song and although his lips are definitely forming words, it’s like Jihoon doesn’t hear it through his ears, it’s like it’s directly in his head and it’s freaking him the fuck out.


“Little humans… So weak and fragile, so blissfully unaware!”

The boy throws his head back and laughs out loud, uncontained, openly mocking.


Yoongi’s words come back to Jihoon’s mind and there are actual tears of panic burning at the corners of his eyes at this point.

“So blind, those little humans, so easy to catch,”

“Thought he could eavesdrop, that dirty, little human…”

“He’s going to do, right? His little soul is enough?”

“I missed you, Jiminnie. I can’t wait to see you again!”


Jiminnie. That boy…

“Your little soul will be enough. I’m sure it tastes delightful…”


The orange-haired boy licks his lips demonstratively, rubbing his stomach at the same time.

“Ahh I’m starving… I’m sorry, little one. It’s nothing personal, I just want to see my YoonYoon again and I’m very hungry.”


What is even going on! This has to be a nightmare. Jihoon will wake up any moment now, because this is so surreal and this just can’t be real. He doesn’t want it to be real.


He is so scared… Scared out of his mind…


And with the sudden rush of panic comes the life back to his body. He doesn’t know what’s happening! It doesn’t make sense, it can’t be real! It just can’t! That creature in the mirror is evil, he can feel it. Jihoon doesn’t want to find out what it has planned for him.


He doesn’t want to die! He needs to- needs to get… away…


All thought vanishes from his mind, leaving nothing but the white-hot haze of utter hysteria, when he feels a sudden push and pull and there is something, something strong and eternal filling the room and forcing Jihoon to stay right where he is.

It’s cold and disgusting and it claws its way right into Jihoon’s body, flooding his nostrils, shoving into his mouth when he opens it to gasp for air or maybe scream in sheer horror again.


No sound is leaving him, however, just the quiet, disturbing noises of him choking and trying desperately to swallow around whatever forces its way past his throat, down his esophagus to engulf even the farthest, deepest corners of his stuttering, scared heart.


“Ahhh, delicious, just as I thought! Such a pretty, little soul! I can almost taste the terror on my tongue… Anxiety is seriously the best flavour. You humans taste the best when you tremble in fear!”


Jihoon was so mesmerized in his internal panic, he almost forgot about the boy. At his words, his eyes shoot up, locking with those of the monster in the mirror. He can’t look away. He seriously tries, but he is caught in that terrifying gaze, irises so black they seem to meld with the pupils they surround, two black pools that suck him in and make him feel like he drowns in them.


And drowning he is. Sucked up he gets.


He is just… fading. Consciousness is leaving him. His surroundings start to blur and darken out on him, until that boy is the only thing he sees clearly, and in his delirious state he seems to close in on him and grow and grow, until he is filling everything and Jihoon is nothing.


It was a mistake to come here. Jihoon and his goddamn pride.

The orange-haired creature sniggers at him, in gleeful delight, clapping in its hands like a little child over-whelmed with joy.


He is still scared. So fucking scared. It’s the only thing left on his mind.

The panic. The desperation.


He is scared! Scared, scared, scared, scared… scared… sca… red… sca… sca…






“You think his little soul will be enough?”

It’s Namjoon who asks this question right outside of Jihoon’s room where he, Yoongi and Jungkook linger around.


Yoongi grins and nods, yellow eyes glowing with excitement.

“Jiminnie said so. He isn’t mistaken when it comes down to things like that. Ahhh… I can’t wait to draw that brat into my arms again… It has been quite some time. I almost forgot how his lips taste, how his body feels when he’s writhing under me.”

He licks his lips and his smirk grows a tad bit wider, teeth flashing as Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry if we keep you all up tonight, but you know how wild reunion-sex can get!”


“Definitely too much information, gosh, Yoongi!”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at his smirking friend, blood-red pupils darkening in slight annoyance.


“I miss Jimin-hyung too,” Jungkook interrupts their bickering and his neutral expression would have betrayed his words if Yoongi and Namjoon didn’t know it better.

“We all do,” Namjoon confesses and Yoongi sighs.

“It’s almost over, though. At the end of the night, he’ll be amongst us, once again.”


Jungkook hums in agreement, a stiff smile growing on his face.

He rubs his right wrist absentmindedly, drawing his sleeve back a little to reveal neat scars and thin, black thread. The hand got sewn to Jungkook’s arm.


“Everything alright?” Namjoon asks casually and Jungkook shrugs.

“The hand is starting to die off and it’s getting numb. Makes it kind of hard to use.”

“Well, Jiminnie only needs that little human’s soul, you can have the body. I know you and Jin want all the blood for yourself, Namjoon – fuck you greedy vampires – but Hoseokie can have the limbs. He’ll take care of you and TaeTae, don’t worry, Jungkookie. You’re his two favourite puppets, after all,” Yoongi reassures and Jungkook stops to rub his wrist.

“Can I have the eyes, too? That human had really pretty ones and I’m getting tired of the brown…”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that’s possible, we just have to ask Hoseok-”


Namjoon gets interrupted by a sudden, ear-splitting scream of sheer terror, coming from the door behind them. Yoongi perks up, completely thrilled, a bright smile growing on his face. His pupils contract to cat-like slits.


“It has begun,” he whispers softly and the three fall silent after that, quietly basking in the now constant, swelling wails and cries of utter pain and desperation resonating in the vacant corridor.


Jiminnie seems to enjoy a quite thorough feast.




Once the horrible sounds fade to dull whimpers first and then to complete silence, Yoongi deems it save enough to risk a glance. He holds his open hand out towards Namjoon, who gives him his master key wordlessly and Yoongi opens the door quickly.

He is suddenly very eager to get into that room, because he can sense it even through the wood, the sudden change of mood, the chilly sparks of tension thickening the air.


The aura of an ancient, transcendental being. The arrival of demonic spite.

Jimin was successful.


Yoongi pushes the door open and steps into the room. The first thing catching his eye is the lifeless figure lying face-first on the floor, unmoving, not breathing, eyes glazed over and frozen. It’s the boy who booked the room for the night. Ji…hoon, or something. Or his corpse, to be precise.

Yoongi looks a little closer. His hands are delicate and well-formed. And Jungkookie was right, his eyes are really pretty. Green, or something? Oh, Hoseokie will have fun with this one, he can already tell.


He himself doesn’t profit from that boy, not anymore, so he quickly loses interest however. Yoongi looks up from the dead body and there is apparently someone else here with him, standing all the way back at the window, a boy with sizzling orange locks and mischievous glint in his black, sparkling eyes. He seems to have waited for Yoongi to notice him, silently giggling over his slow-wittedness and his whole face lights up once their gazes lock.


Yoongi feels a soaring pain inside his chest, a good kind of pain, because it has been so long and he is itching to hug and touch and kiss and love.

He is suddenly very impatient, jumping over the dead body on the floor and the orange-haired boy meets him halfway and Yoongi scoops him up in his arms, twirling him around in a sudden rush of euphoria, the boy’s gorgeous laugh tickling his ear.


They calm down a little and just stand in the middle of the room, Jiminnie’s head tucked securely under Yoongi’s chin and there might even be a few tears of joy escaping their eyes.


“Yoongi, I’ve missed you,” the boy says and Yoongi hears him, not in his head, hears his voice flying through the air, lingering in the room.


“Yeah, Jimin. I missed you, too,” he drawls, voice as raspy and gravy as always, maybe a tad bit rougher with all the emotions raging inside of him. Jimin smiles softly up at him and lifts his head and Yoongi leans down at the same time and they get lost in a heated, passionate kiss.

Goddamn, Yoongi really missed this!


“How long do you think we got this time?” he asks and Jimin turns his head to look at the mirror hanging on the near-by wall.

Yoongi follows his gaze and at first glance, nothing is out of the ordinary, just the couple’s reflection staring back at them. But Yoongi knows it better and he looks closer and sure enough, there is the image of an almost transparent face staring over Jiminnie’s shoulder, eyes hollow and expression exhausted, lifeless.

It’s the face of the boy that lies dead to their feet.


The soul Jimin consumed, locked in that mirror now.


Jimin giggles and rests his head with a content sigh on Yoongi’s shoulder, linking their fingers together.


“Until his soul perishes naturally, like always. He is a strong, young one. Sixty, seventy years for sure, this time,” Jimin explains and Yoongi feels his heart jump in relief.


“Damn that witch that locked you into that mirror, all those years ago!” he growls and Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s possessiveness. Black eyes lock with yellow and Jimin reaches up to pat the other’s mint locks.


“We found a way to sidestep the curse, right? On top of that, just a few more souls and I won’t even have to return to that goddamn mirror ever again. My powers are slowly coming back, I can feel it. I get stronger, every time. The curse will be broken, soon and I will be free. We’ll be able to go hunting together, once again.”


Those are actually exciting news and Yoongi feels his chest swell with adoration.


“I love you, you know that, right? Jiminnie?” he mumbles, moving his head to nose at Jimin’s throat, tongue darting out to taste his tender skin, teeth scraping as he risks a quick nib.


“I- I know, YoonYoon… I love you, too,” Jimin gasps, his head falling back to bare his throat to his lover and give him better access. Yoongi smirks against the side of Jimin’s neck, walking him backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

Jimin lets himself fall down on it and Yoongi follows him suit, hovering over him and catching his lips in another heated, sloppy kiss.


“God I’ve been waiting for this moment for centuries! I missed your touch, YoonYoon. Are you going to fuck me good, tonight? Make me remember how it feels when you’re buried deep inside of me?” Jimin mumbles against the crook of Yoongi’s mouth, voice seductively low and words down-right dirty and Yoongi chuckles, leaning down to bite again at Jimin’s collarbone, hands moving to shove that baby-blue leather jacket off of strong shoulders, hips grinding down into Jimin’s.

Both of them can’t supress a moan as their clothed erections glide against each other.


The dead body still lies at the foot of the bed, not two metres away from them, but they’re both not even faced by it, the boy whose soul keeps Jimin manifested in the world of the living has long since slipped from their mind. It’s not like it’s something unusual for them, to go for it with a corpse somewhere near. Little humans taste delicious and getting their bellies full makes them extremely horny, they have noticed that by now.


“Oh, I will take care of you tonight, don’t worry, Jiminnie. I warned the others already that we might get loud. They miss you too, by the way.”

“I- hah- I miss them… oh god… I miss them too!”


Jimin arches up when one of Yoongi’s hands sneaks in between their bodies, palming at Jimin’s stiff length, before working his button and zipper open and shoving that unnerving pants down over gorgeous, thick thighs.


They don’t really talk after that, too caught up in the heat of the moment, the momentary lust clouding their minds.

Too over-whelmed by the incredible joy of having each other, once again.