house of addams (2)
— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader
— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut
— 🗝️ word count: 3.3k
— 🍄 summary: you and yoongi tackle your first day of fieldwork, and this town and it's mysteries prove to be stranger than they first appeared.
— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader and botanist!yoongi being nerds, mentions of death/missing persons, scientific inaccuracies lol
— 🕸️ a/n: and the mystery continues!
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chpt. 2: but first, fieldwork
september 22, 2004
You've been having strange dreams. Normally, you don't remember most of your dreams, but these have been oddly vivid and long-lasting, like the lingering stench of a cigarette that sticks to your clothes.
In some, you're wandering through a forest, wading through a thick mist. No, not wandering, because it feels like you're searching for something, you just don't know what.
In others, you're submerged in murky green water. Tendrils of seagrass like twisting trees brush against your ankles. And there's a sound reverberating through the water, something like chittering and groaning at the same time.
When you wake up, the window above your bed is open, though you don't remember unlatching it last night. Just outside the glass is a canopy of green, bright and vigorous from the early dew.
You pull the window shut and dismiss the dreams completely from your mind, because you have things to do. Today is your first day of fieldwork with Yoongi, the botanist.
Yoongi is punctual, which you very much like. He arrives at the meeting spot three minutes early. Luckily, you were there ten minutes early.
"G'morning," he mumbles, his voice still raspy with sleep. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are slightly droopy. He's wearing dark jeans and a flannel, but appears comfortable in the frigid air.
"Morning, thanks for coming," you say, handing him the iced americano and glazed bun you just picked up from the coffee shop.
Cat's Den, it's called. The same barista from your previous visit was working, and he seemed just as cheerful.
"Thank you," Yoongi says with new life in his voice, gratefully sipping from his drink.
You inform him that your first stop will be the residence of Mrs. Bradley. You want him to see the strange fungus in person to get the most accurate identification.
The two of you pile into your Honda CRX. It's a beater car, with scratches on the exterior and ripped seats. You've had it ever since you were a teenager, but the engine has held up throughout the years.
When you ask Yoongi if he's heard of the death of Michael Bradley, he just scrunches his brows.
"I think it was in the paper once," he says. "Something about household cleaners and chemicals. The mayor kept it buttoned up, apparently."
Again, the mention of the mayor. She kept the case under wraps, but clearly she trusts Yoongi to know about it since she recommended him to you.
"Hmm, well Mrs. Bradley won't submit to questioning so far," you say, rattling with the car as it traverses over a ridge in the dirt road.
"So far?" Yoongi prompts, and you can hear the slight amusement in his tone.
The corner of your mouth tugs up in a barely concealed smirk. "I can be very persistent," you add.
You stop the car a block away from their house. Yoongi follows you dutifully when you exit wordlessly and make you way onto their lawn. The ring of mushrooms is still there. In fact, it appears to have gotten wider.
You drop to one knee and begin taking pictures.
"Won't Mrs. Bradley get upset?" Yoongi asks, looking into the dark windows of the house.
"She leaves for work at five a.m." you reply. "We'll be finished long before she gets back."
He doesn't reply, because the mushrooms have snagged almost every ounce of his attention.
"Very peculiar," he mutters to himself.
"Can you identify them?" you ask, trying not to divulge how much you're waiting on his reply.
Yoongi pulls a retractable magnifying glass from his pocket and flips it open, dropping to the damp earth beside you.
"Infundibuliform cap shape," he says, more to himself than to you. But from what you've gathered from the book, it means a "deeply depressed" cap shape. In this case, it makes the cap look like a set of tendrils. Reaching out.
Yoongi takes out a pair of tweezers and turns the mushroom this way and that, examining it.
Something catches your eye.
"Pores and gills?" you say. Typically mushrooms have one or the other, but this one has a membrane covered in small holes as well as an underside full of thin openings.
"False gills, ridges," Yoongi supplements, deep in concentration. "Gills can be detached, but ridges are built into the structure."
"Is that common among mushrooms?" you ask.
"Hmm, not entirely sure. Not a mycologist," he replies, snipping off one of the mushrooms and dropping it into a specimen bag.
A part of you lights up inside. It looks like he's going to help you with this whole thing, judging by his interest in the strange fungi.
You're greatly appreciative, because reading that book on mushrooms was not exactly the most effortless research endeavor. It was plenty interesting, but still chock full of scientific terminology that you aren't familiar with.
"I have a friend back at the university who can take a closer look at this," Yoongi says, rising to a stand.
A flutter in your stomach. This is coming along nicely. The more professional opinions you can get, the better.
"Take a look at this," you say, leading him to the rotted tree trunk.
You watch as his delicate features twist, perplexed. He really is very pretty, but you shouldn't be thinking such things.
"Is this common among trees?" you ask a little hesitantly. It's such a shame to break his concentration when he looks like that.
"Not that I know of," he mutters, taking a tentative step closer.
You did a bit of research on tree rot, but nothing you saw looked quite like this. Wood, even rotted wood, has a splintered appearance. This wood looks almost wet, maybe even flesh-like. It looks, and smells, like an infected wound.
You take plenty of pictures.
"Can I get a copy of those?" Yoongi asks, looking at you with wide, eager eyes. A cat that's caught sight of a treat.
"Yes, of course," you reply with only the slightest bit of difficulty.
"Thank you." He flashes you a gummy smile. Fuck.
"Okay," you blurt out suddenly, pretending to check your watch. "Let's get moving."
Your next location is the sight of Jarvis Laplan's death.
The forest, you've learned thanks to Yoongi's kind direction, has been unofficially divided into sections by the surrounding civilians. There's the "North Star" area, mostly made up of sparse trees and grasses. This is where most of the residential homes are backdropped against, including Bradley's.
Then "Gunman's," an area southwest of North Star. Aptly named, this is the designated hunting grounds, clearly labeled and fenced. A few residences outline Gunman's, including Laplan's. But Laplan wasn't found in Gunman's, he was found in Ulthar's Grove.
"Ulthar's Grove," south of Gunman's and absolutely NOT a hunting area. Apparently, local stray cats and other rodents flock to this area, roaming about freely and building nests in hollow tree stumps. Children and teenagers can sometimes be found playing in this area, because of the several residences tucked into its borders and the relative safety compared to other areas of the forest.
Then, at the center of it all, Lurking Lake. Aptly named, it is not well-inhabited and generally avoided by locals. A naturally formed lake, it is infested with algae, an invasive species of eel-like fish, and characterized by a distinctive musky smell.
You and Yoongi enter into Ulthar's Grove, weaving through gnarled trees and mossy stones.
As if he can't help it, Yoongi points out the names of the local flora as you pass them. The scientific names and the common names, seemingly for your benefit. It's quite amusing, watching his face light up when he recognizes a familiar species.
And you learn a lot, taking as many notes as you can on the local wildlife while navigating the path.
You don't notice, but Yoongi is sneaking glances at you while you scribble feverishly.
"Are my ramblings really that interesting?" he prods playfully.
Your attention is jerked from the page. You glance at him over your shoulder, feeling a burn in your cheeks.
"I try to remember everything I learn," you say, and your voice betrays none of the slight embarrassment you feel at being observed in your "natural habitat." Because you've always been very intent, maybe even obsessed, with collecting knowledge. You suppose that's one of the things that makes you good at your job.
As if he can sense your thoughts, Yoongi says, "So, you're a journalist?"
You never told him exactly what your occupation was, only that the mayor sent you. You hesitate for a moment. For some reason, you have no desire to lie to him.
"Private investigator," you reply.
He hums in acknowledgement. He doesn't ask who you were hired by, but the subtext is clear enough. The mayor recommended him to you for a reason, after all.
The two of you arrive at the site. No longer is it wrapped in police tape, but the same eerie air of caution still lingers.
Aged thirty-five, he was found in the woods. More specifically, in a little clearing among the closely-knit trees, in the center of a ring of dead grass.
Apparently, Laplan was dissatisfied with the control of local wildlife, and took it upon himself to do a bit of "population control." He was found in hunting gear with a .35 Remington, without a single shot fired.
Yoongi says that very little information was in the papers, similar to Bradley. Just a warning to civilians regarding a recent animal attack.
"He wasn't attacked, he was mauled," you can't help but say as you examine the site. The mayor gave you snippets of the police reports, but you still have yet to get your hands on the coroner's report.
"By what?" Yoongi asks, a strange hesitation in his voice.
You look at him.
"Not sure" you reply, turning your attention to the surroundings at hand.
Laplan was found here, among this break in the trees. The ring of dead grass remains, and half of you expects to see a pool of blood in the center of it. But there is nothing but brittle vegetation.
"What kind of animal?" Yoongi asks as he circles around the perimeter.
"A mountain lion, presumably." But for some reason, a reason that you can't name, you doubt it.
A wave of uneasiness ripples through you.
"Let's fan out a bit, try to see if any of the trees around here have the same rot," you call out, eager for a distraction.
The two of you explore the area for a while, noting irregularities in the plant life. Evidently, thanks to Yoongi's commentary, you discover that the surrounding plants appear to be dehydrated, despite the abundant rain. Neither of you find any of the strange mushrooms in this part of the woods.
Yoongi checks his watch at noon on the dot.
"We should get moving. You said there's one more site you wanted to visit, right?"
He's right, the site of Sharon Mason, the final and most recently deceased. You remember now that Yoongi said he had to leave at two p.m., though he didn't mention why.
Lurking Lake, and the surrounding woods which apparently don't have a name, according to Yoongi. They are simply known as "the woods surrounding Lurking Lake."
And you must say, the name lives up to its potential. First of all, it's bigger than you thought it would be. It has a presence, the beating heart of the forest.
Under the gray sky, the water is dark green with a peculiar, abysmal deepness. The perimeter of the lake is outlined by wild grass and moss-robed stones, and the outer edges of the water have a film of algae.
Fog hangs over the landscape like a misty curtain, swirling along the ground.
"She was found by the lake, right?" Yoongi asks, examining some sort of cattail grass by the lakeshore.
"In the lake," you correct, bending over to look closer at the pebbled shore.
"Barely anything in the papers again," Yoongi says before you get the chance to ask. "Mainly because they don't know all that much."
"Hmm," you reply, staring at some sort of microscopic, squirming plankton in the shallow lake water.
Sharon Mason, aged seventeen. Found floating in the lake. Homicide ruled out, apparently.
The third death in under three months, and it certainly left a mark on the community, especially since she was only a teenager. You wonder if this was the catalyst that drove the mayor to hire a private investigator.
"Has the college noticed anything unusual about the lake? In the ecosystem, I mean," you ask.
"Not that I know of," Yoongi immediately responds. A little too quickly.
You straighten up and watch as he paces around the edge of the water, hands in his pockets.
"Nothing?" you ask again, a little more pointed this time. Because you hardly believe that nothing has surfaced at the university. Why else would the mayor include investigative services in "ecological disturbances" in her job description?
"No, ma'am," Yoongi replies, and the politeness in his voice is incriminating.
You'll have to look into it.
"Well, I won't know the finer details until I get the coroner's report," you say.
Yoongi looks up at you.
"The coroner?" he asks, curiosity and something else in his tone.
"Yes, I'll need to speak to him eventually. Do you happen to know where his office is? I've been having trouble getting him on the phone," you say.
You're watching closely for his reply, and you see his eyes flicker to something in the distance.
Following his gaze, you see it. The massive house on the hill, dark and towering over the valley. Through the mist, it looks like an abandoned Victorian mansion.
"The Addams House," Yoongi says from behind you.
"Addams? Is that who lives there?" you ask with your eyes still fixed on the house, like a beacon that you can't look away from.
"Used to, they're long gone now," Yoongi replies. "The new owner rents it out now,"
"And who would that be?" you press.
Yoongi just shrugs.
"The only people who know for sure are the tenants themselves. Apparently, he's a bit of a recluse."
Hmm, interesting.
"And...that's where the coroner's office is?" you ask, a little incredulous.
He nods a little hesitantly.
"Mm hmm, it's in the basement."
"Ah, of course it is," you can't help but reply, and it makes Yoongi smile a bit.
There's a pause as the two of you poke around.
"So, what exactly are you looking for?" Yoongi asks.
That makes you stop and think for a moment, because you're not entirely sure what it is you're looking for here. At Bradley's place, it was the mushrooms. Laplan's place of death, any indication of unusual wildlife or animal activity. Here at the lake, you don't even have a cause of death.
"I'm not entirely sure," you admit, again not finding it in you to lie to him. "I'll have a much better idea when I get the coroner's report."
Something you said seems to remind him, prompting him to check his watch.
"I have to go now," he says, quickly gathering his things.
"Alright, I'll give you a ride back," you offer. Not that you would ever admit it, but you're not quite ready to part from him yet.
"No, no, that's alright," he blurts out, already making his way towards the outline of trees. "It's a short walk," he insists.
"From here?" you question, but by the time you turn around, all you can see is his dark hair and slight frame darting expertly between the trees.
Your shoulders deflate as you let the rest of your sentence die with a puff of breath. A strange man, no doubt. But then again, that's how you like them.
Later that day, you venture to the coffee shop to do some more research, but the establishment is closed. The man mentioned something about only being closed on Wednesday afternoons.
The bookstore on the other side of the alley is closed too, none of the warm light from last time leaking from the front window.
You use your entire living room floor as your cork board and red thread, scattering open books and papers like a difficult-to-navigate parchment sea.
And you sail that sea until three a.m.
Five missing. The first is Alissa Ward, aged thirty-two, last seen at a grocery store at 5:32 p.m. She returned home at 5:47, according to her home security system, and then randomly left through the back door at 2:42 a.m. She lived alone, and it took a while for authorities to report her missing.
Then, Brynn Synder, aged twenty-nine, last seen at her boyfriend's place the night before her disappearance. Apparently, she had a habit of running through the woods in the early morning, and she was reported missing when she failed to show up at brunch with friends the next morning.
The police searched the woods. They found nothing.
You fall asleep on the couch as you're nearing the end of her file, dreaming of feet pounding on dirt.
september 23, 2004.
The coroner proves to be even more elusive than you thought. He appears to be averse to his faxing machine, and downright allergic to his telephone.
By midmorning, you're trudging up through the damp earth to the house on the hill. The closer you get, the more massive it appears. Ancient brickwork, towers and iron spires, neatly clipped hedges flush to the sides of house, and crowned by spindly trees overhead.
There's a tall iron gate encompassing the entire property, spiraling with twisting designs. You try it, but it appears to be sealed even though you don't see a lock of any kind.
You still rattle it a few times for good measure, causing the metal to creak and screech as if it were alive, and very displeased at the rough treatment.
A moment later, a figure emerges from the fog. A man, it looks like, wearing a large coat. As he approaches, you notice the floppy black hair hanging in front of his face.
"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you," you call out when he's close enough to hear you. Really, you're not sorry, since you've been trying to get a hold of the coroner for several days now, with not so much as a return message.
The man is young, with a strong jaw and handsome features. But his skin, it's somehow completely colorless. You can't quite explain it, but it looks like ice, translucent yet cloudy at the same time. And what's weirder is the way your eyes can't quite stay focused on it. It makes your head throb if you stare at the same place for too long.
"I need to speak to the coroner," you say, putting authority in your voice. If you want to get anywhere with this case, you'll need the causes of death.
"He...He isn't here right now," the man says, sounding a little nervous. Now that you're closer, you can see his bunny-like front teeth biting at his strangely colorless lips.
"When will he be back?" you reply.
The man's head is downturned, eyes flickering over the ground.
"I'm not sure. He's spread quite thin, you see," he says.
You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied.
"W-Well there aren't many forensic pathologists in this area, so he has to service the next three towns. And he always takes Wednesdays off for personal reasons, so he hasn't been in yet and-"
"Alright, kid," you interrupt his rambling, since he only appears to be getting more nervous by the second.
"Just have him call me as soon as possible, okay?" You hand him a card with your information scratched onto it, and he reaches through the gate's bars to take it between his extremely cold fingers.
"Yes ma'am," he says obediently, scurrying back up the hill and disappearing behind a hedge wall.
Strange young man, you think. But, as you're starting to realize, that is the norm in this town.
"She saw through my glamour," Jungkook announces to the room. And everyone freezes, stealing little glances at each other.
"I told you, she's perceptive," Yoongi says from his place on the chaise lounge.
"Curious too, she came into the bookshop looking for something on strange fungi," Namjoon supplies.
"And spent the entire night in the cafe reading," Jin adds.
"She won't stop calling my office. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell her," Taehyung admits.
"She's just doing her job," Jimin counters.
"In any case," a stern voice interrupts, the only voice that hasn’t spoken so far.
“Keep an eye on her.”
a/n: thank you muchly for reading!! if you tell me your thoughts i might explode with joy
NEXT PART: 05/15/24 @8:00 a.m. PST
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