#bts supernatural au

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…” 

I want to apologize. 

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise. 

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up. 

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you? 

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left. 

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic. 

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees. 

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables. 

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too. 

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled. 

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors. 

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park. 

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died. 

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert. 

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism. 

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it. 

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him. 

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them. 

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know. 

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in. 

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday. 

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel. 

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand. 

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward. 

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue. 

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom. 

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick. 

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room. 

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty. 

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly. 

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter. 

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets. 

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see. 

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face. 

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading. 

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent. 

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.” 

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar. 

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you. 

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform. 

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you. 

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for. 

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting. 

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him. 

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?” 

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers. 

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause. 

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space. 

At least, you think you are. 

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable. 

Oh no. 

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again. 

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger. 

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest. 

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…” 

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing. 

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand. 

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response. 

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy. 

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him.  “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible. 

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone. 

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh. 

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings. 

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful. 

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him. 

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch. 

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden. 

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring. 

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you. 

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms. 

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin || KTH || Masterpost

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: Of Ruin

Status: complete - all chapters now posted

WC: 85k total, 16 chapters

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

Pairing: KTH x reader || platonic Namjoon x reader friendship!

Genre: supernatural!au royalty!au magic!au || s2l || angst fluff smut trifecta 

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

Warnings: language, casual drinking, lots of vampire warnings such as scary situations, vampires hunting/biting/feeding/killing, magic and magical fighting, magical world politics, eventual smut but not a lot dont expect too much, EXTREMELY slow burn even for me DONT SAY I DIDNT WARN YOU, chapters will have individual warnings

Author’s Note: Although the worlds, rules, characterizations, and plot are very extremely different, I have to say that I was inspired to write this after reading @/kth1fics Black Ravens series. Thank you to Maggie for being so gracious when I asked if she’d be okay with me trying a vamp!tae fic of my own.

Big thank you to @sailoryooons for the quick, thorough, and masterful beta job, and for letting me ask questions, shout and scream, and send endless screenshots as I worked on this for the last six months! Thank you also to @eoieopda, @jeonqkooks, and @yoongiphoria for accepting an ungodly number of screenshots as well. There would be no fic without y'all, I mean it!

Series Teaser:

He’s on you in an instant, so quickly you don’t see him move. Your back hits the wall behind you and you let out an audible grunt.

He sniffs at you, fangs displayed and ready. Your heart pounds desperately, and beneath his inhumanly strong hold, your muscles shake. Your body knows you are about to die, even if your mind still wants to lie to you about it.

He laves at a spot near the base of your neck, giving a happy hum as your pulse thunders against his tongue. You close your eyes, feeling your whole body shudder in terror.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, eyelids fluttering.

Chapter 1 || wc: 5.7k

Chapter 2 || wc: 5.9k

Chapter 3 || wc: 5.1k

Chapter 4 || wc: 5.5k

Chapter 5 || wc: 4.6

Chapter 6 || wc: 6k

Chapter 7 || wc: 5k

Chapter 8 || wc: 4.8k

Chapter 9 || wc: 4.3k

Chapter 10 || wc: 5.2k

Chapter 11 || wc: 4.7k

Chapter 12 || wc: 4.8k

Chapter 13 || wc: 6k

Chapter 14 || wc: 6.3k

Chapter 15 || wc: 5k

Chapter 16 || wc: 5.1k

[kookslastbutton]

Cryptic Veil ༓ jjk (m) | Series Masterlist

✑ Summary: Unable to bear the young girl forced to be the new vampire king's bride, you take her place at the unveiling ceremony—the night of.

Pairing: vampire king!jungkook x villager fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, dark, supernatural, royalty, arranged marriage, e2l, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: tbd

Warnings: ancient customs, blood, supernatural themes, manipulation all around, + more will be specified later

Release date: October 27

Now Playing: Blood in The Wine, Funeral, Castles...

A/N: literally not even close to Halloween but I always wanted to try my hand at supernatural. This will be my first attempt (and maybe last depending haha). Anyway, lmk if you wanna be tagged 💞

༓ ch. I — "I was given a heart before I was given a mind"

༓ ch. II — "A thirst for pleasure and war"

༓ ch. III — "A hunger we keep inside"

༓ ch. IV — "We fell from the sky with grace"

༓ ch. V — "There's beauty in your beast"

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 3: Figure it Out

prev | masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: You become Jungkook’s problem.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 3k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, tension, an argument, accidentally triggering someone else

a/n: this week, they actually get to talk!! hooray! except, well... they might not be so keen to celebrate this development... enjoy the drama👀

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jungkook’s stare was level, voice monotone. You gulped, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

Exhaling, you cast your gaze across the rest of the training space, though you knew it to be empty. You were tucked down the end, where Jungkook had been practising before, and now stood opposite you.

“I- I don’t-” you stammered, “what do you mean?”

Jungkook poorly concealed the roll of his eyes.

“Namjoon taught you how to do this yesterday-“

“-I wouldn’t say taught, exactly-“

“-so let’s see it.”

Was Jungkook not supposed to be helping you? Namjoon had said his powers were closest to yours. Clearly his eagerness for you to learn from Jungkook had blinded him to the very clear hatred Jungkook harboured for you.

But if this was how he wanted to play it, you would go along. Prove to him that you didn’t need his help to improve.

Gritting your teeth, you lifted your palms as Namjoon had shown you earlier. What else had he told you? To summon the right feeling.

This time, instead of being afraid of the pain your powers had brought at first, you searched for the sensation in your chest. Briefly, your eyes flickered to the side. Jungkook was watching you impatiently, eyebrows raised.

He didn’t think you could do it.

Swallowing, you pulled your eyes away from him and towards the metal target he had fixed on the wall, the one you had seen him training with earlier.

Like opening a trapdoor in your chest, a blaze of heat suddenly escaped. You panted as it flowed from your palms, watching with pride as your bright blue current zapped across the surface of the metal, just as his gold had done earlier.

After a moment, you felt your energy waning and fumbled to close off the power again. Though it took you a great deal of concentration, it came easier than it had done the first time. Glowing with your achievement, you turned, head high, to face Jungkook. Maybe you had been too hard on yourself earlier, as Jimin had said. You would soon get better.

But instead of any indication he was impressed, Jungkook simply folded his arms, expression unchanging.

“You need to be quicker,” he said.

Not entirely concealing the disappointment that lanced through you at his dismissal, you waited for him to elaborate.

But he merely stared.

It became clear he had no intention of continuing. Hands tightening to fists at your sides, you scoffed in irritation.

“And are you going to tell me how to do that?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” he said darkly. He turned and stalked away to the bench by the wall, leaving you no chance to argue.

Before he turned around, you wrenched your eyes away, and back to the target. Fine. He didn’t want to teach you. He was only here because Namjoon had made him, but he was taking it as a chance to try and see you fail.

But you were determined he wasn’t going to be the only star student around here.

Your arms lifted, and this time it was much easier for you to summon the electricity. Perhaps, like physical exercise, this was a matter of getting warmed up.

A sharp blast of blue rattled the metal against the wall. A smirk slid across your face.

You shut it off and tried again.

At the side of the room, Jungkook watched without reaction as blue repeatedly fired across the space, the same vivid lightning reflected as a glow in your eyes. You smiled as you watched that deathly light, and he knew he was right about you. He saw that same cold joy at using powers that could take a life – the exact same as the man who had given them to you.

By the end of your training time, your confidence had been restocked. Jungkook hadn’t offered you any more assessments of your weaknesses, but you were certain you had become quicker at both activating and stopping your powers than you could have imagined after your first try the previous morning.

Another clash sounded through the room as you hit the target again. As it faded, leaving just the sound of your panting breaths to fill the space, a voice spoke.

“Very impressive.”

Lowering your arm and whirling around, you found Namjoon leaning against the opposite wall. He strode towards you, though you noticed his eyes travelling to Jungkook who was still skulking by the wall.

“Loads better already,” Namjoon offered you a smile on his way past, “nice work, both of you.”

As his leader approached him, Jungkook got to his feet, enduring the congratulations of Namjoon who threw an arm around him.

“Yep,” Jungkook ground out, eyes fixed on you, “she’s certainly determined.”

His blood boiled even further seeing your mouth quirk up at that.

“Get some rest. You’re done for the day,” Namjoon told you. Nodding, you headed away, not waiting for Jungkook. It was just as well, because Namjoon held him back.

“I’m proud of you,” he told the younger sincerely, “I knew you would be able to welcome her in eventually. And it looks like you helped her a lot. It may not be easy for you, but you set aside your differences and that’s great.”

Namjoon’s encouraging smile was the first thing to strike guilt into him about how he had been treating you. His leader was so pleased, but it was all a lie. He hadn’t really done anything to make him proud.

Nodding with an attempt at a smile, he excused himself for the gym. Whenever he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts, they could usually be straightened out by a workout, so he headed straight there and began with some pull-ups.

He trusted Namjoon. Namjoon wanted to welcome you. But still, he couldn’t seem to support the decision.

Again, his mind replayed the mental images of you, standing with your shoulders set and arms raised, repeatedly firing deadly electricity through the air. The flashes of blue were enough to dissipate his guilt almost instantly.

His biceps and shoulders began to protest, but he pushed through. If he could just make a few more…

The problem was, he could see that fatal determination in you. His comments hadn’t prevented you from pushing your powers harder. Did you even understand how dangerous they were? Anyone could end up with powers like that, and not all were equipped to deal with them. Not everyone would use them for the best.

It was clear to him that you wanted nothing more than to master them as quickly as possible. And then, who knew what you could do? To him. To his team.

He dropped back to the ground, panting heavily.

Rubbing his burning palms together, he watched as gold static crackled around them. He clenched them into fists, turning away.

You stared hazily at the four blank walls of the room. It was entirely dark, your eyes only picking out slight details. Not that there were many to behold; you remained in the bare room from your first night, clearly not fully trusted with your powers yet.

Though you felt you had proved yourself a little when you trained with Jungkook earlier, you had to agree it was for the best. You didn’t want to admit quite how drained you felt after the adrenaline from your training had faded.

At first, you had crashed on the sofa, chatting with Hope and Jimin again. They were encouraging as always, understanding of the tiredness that seeped into your bones.

“Don’t push yourself,” Jimin had warned again. “You only just got your powers after all. You’re still adjusting.”

But fairly soon, talk of powers and training had been dropped. They put the tv on, and besides the news article which flashed up at first (‘Bolt describes his defeat of Monster Necrus X’), it was the first time the craziness of this new world you had crash landed into was gone from your mind. You didn’t care what they put on, paying minimal attention to the show and instead basking in the downtime with your new friends.

But when Hope looked up warily, you didn’t even need to guess who was standing behind you.

Jungkook’s venomous glare only met you for a second as he walked past, instead settling on ignoring you completely as he headed to the kitchen. The same loose t shirt hung from his frame, but since you came upstairs it had been drenched with sweat, clinging to his back as he headed to the kitchen.

Looked like he did train as hard as the others had told you.

Heaving yourself to a sitting position with some difficulty, you groaned. You hadn’t been working out, in the traditional sense at least, but your muscles had seized up.

You kept your gaze on Jungkook, who was filling a bottle and tilting his head back to gulp down some water. When he met your eyes again, his darkened, jaw popping in irritation.

With a sigh, you turned back to the others who were eyeing you apprehensively.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you sighed.

“You don’t have to-” Jimin tried, but you shook your head.

“It’s okay. I’m about to pass out anyway. Have a good night.”

You weren’t sure what time it was then, but it must have been early because on waking you found yourself wide awake while it was still dark, the house quiet. Despite the subtle ache in your body from the strenuous first day, and the heaviness of your head, you were firmly awake.

Pushing the covers off, you sat with a huff.

At least this feeling, this inability to sleep, wasn’t something isolated from the regular world you used to know. Even people who had never seen lightning shooting from their own hands had trouble sleeping sometimes. A normal problem, that you could deal with.

And so it was almost relieving when you padded into the deserted kitchen. For the moment, you didn’t have to cling to anyone, least of all someone who seemed to despise you, to guide you through.

In the kitchen, you flicked on the lights beneath the cupboards, the minimum level to light the space without assaulting your weary eyes.

Through your tiredness you breathed in the still air as you sat back, having set the kettle to boil. You watched the water inside growing restless as it heated up, tracking the bubbles as something to do.

It was only when the light flicked off, signalling that the steaming water was ready, that you took your eyes off it. And then you nearly fell out of your chair.

As you had turned to stand and retrieve the kettle, you found the seat beside you filled.

Biting back a curse, you simply panted, hand over your chest as you recovered from your shock. Big eyes blinked back at you.

While you steadied yourself against the counter, you took in the person’s face. You hadn’t been introduced yet, but remembered seeing him the first night you had arrived, holding onto Jimin’s hand.

He hadn’t said anything yet, so you shifted slightly and decided to break the silence.

“Sorry… I didn’t notice you come in. Do you have powers like Yoongi’s?”

The only move he made was to close his lips.

Okay, that hadn’t worked. Glancing over at the kettle, steam still emitting from the spout, you tried again.

“I’m making tea. Do you want any?”

Slowly, a smile turned his lips up at the corners. What could be considered a nod moved his head, and a knot of relief unwound in you as you scampered around the counter to fetch mugs. Eventually, the calming scent of tea wafted in steam from each cup as you slid one tentatively in front of your companion.

Clasping your hands around the warming ceramic, you spoke softly as you waited for it to cool enough to drink.

“I’m Y/N. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

His eyes raised from his tea and you mustered a small smile. You hadn’t expected him to reply at all, so when his smile returned and he spoke, you were astonished.

“V,” was all he said, a deep voice that didn’t disturb the quiet.

Your own smile grew. Sliding back into a seat, you took that as a win and kept talking.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you chuckled, “I figured no one would be up, not that it matters. I almost feel like I’m back at home. Midnight tea breaks are still a thing when you become a superhero, it seems.”

Laughing at yourself, you took a sip of your tea at last. But lowering you mug, you noticed a frown creasing V’s brow.

“Hero…” he muttered.

“I was just joking,” you laughed nervously, “I barely know how to use my powers yet.”

He said nothing else, but you noticed his fingers tightening around his cup. Had you done something wrong?

“Is something wrong?” you asked gently, reaching a hand subtly closer to him.

But in that moment, a hot, itchy feeling shot down your arm. With a gasp, you tensed, recognising the feeling and scrabbling to restrain it as you had learned to.

Though you held back the threatening torrent, a small flicker of blue escaped, leaping from your hand.

Closing your eyes and gritting your teeth, you withdrew, but a sudden smashing sound assaulted your ears, making it difficult to focus inwardly. The moment you flinched away, eyes snapping open to see a chair strewn on the floor among a growing tea stain and shards of shattered ceramic, control slipped away from you again.

Eyes widening, you backed away from V, now several paces away from you. Blue crackled around your hands.

It prompted you to take your eyes off the shadowy figure of V, breathing deeply as you locked your powers away, a slight simmering in your chest the only reminder as they retreated.

You had successfully shut down your powers, as you had been taught. But it didn’t seem to have been enough, not for the tense figure that stood on the other side of the trashed kitchen.

Your eyes opened as you staggered back and into the wall, panting with the exertion your powers always inflicted. You opened and closed your hands experimentally. No more electricity threatened. Next, your eyes fell on V, who took another step backwards.

You didn’t know what to say, but before you had the chance, another figure was approaching from the dark corridor. They were practically running towards you.

Even in the unlit space, you soon saw that it was Jungkook. His nostrils flared as he noticed you, but first he turned to V. Not far behind on his heels was Jimin, who didn’t spare you a glance as he ran to V as well, instantly throwing his arms around him from behind.

You could only stand, frozen as Jimin led V away. Jungkook remained.

Biting down on your tongue, you pushed yourself to stand unsupported again. Jungkook stepped disdainfully over the remnants of V’s tea on the floor, stalking towards you. He didn’t stop until he was close enough that it forced you to look up at him.

“What are you thinking?” he hissed.

“I-I don’t know what happened,” you stammered.

You might as well not have bothered, cut off nearly instantly by Jungkook. He was practically snarling, throwing a hand out as he ranted.

“You’re damn lucky you weren’t fried to a crisp!”

“I got my powers under control-“ you protested.

Teeth gritted, Jungkook pressed even closer to you, crowding your space as he glared into your eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about you!”

Clenching your jaw, you breathed through your nose, refusing to budge even though his face was mere inches away. Silence stretched out, nothing but your breathing filling the space as you tried to fathom his words.

“V…” you murmured. A curious frown creased your brows, but Jungkook didn’t feel like indulging you. His lips curled into a scowl.

“You must be stupid. I’m not sure if you noticed, but our powers aren’t anything to fool around with. All of us.”

“He… he wasn’t going to hurt me,” you spoke. At first in disbelief, but you grew more certain. V had had more than enough chance to attack you if he had wanted to.

“You don’t know that. Just stay away from him,” Jungkook spat, stepping back.

You jumped in before he could turn his back.

“And how am I supposed to do that? I live here too, Jungkook!”

“That’s the problem!” he rounded on you, “you don’t know anything about us!”

“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” you spoke coldly, “V is fine. And so am I, if you cared to know. I did exactly what I’m training to do.”

It was your turn to walk away, passing Jungkook on your way towards the exit. Unfinished tea be damned, you couldn’t keep arguing with him.

“Like scare him half to death?”

You paused in your path. Why did he think you were training to instil fear? You were training because you had no other option, with powers as unpredictable as yours. But it seemed fear was what you had caused anyway.

Dropping your head, you gazed at your hands, wishing anew that you didn’t have this complicated curse that drove people away. That made you into a danger.

But you didn’t have the words or the will to explain this to the obstinate Jungkook.

“See you at training,” you spoke flatly, and stepped away.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you're enjoying so far!!💜💜

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[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: supernatural!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→ word count: 4.8k

→ summary: you learn what you are, and your reaction is far from what they expected. as they try to help you feel safe, the boys learn about your triggers, and they try their hardest to help in any way they can.

→ trigger/content warnings: PTSD (self-loathing, mistrust, flashbacks/nightmares) effects of brainwashing, lil’ bit of lore, overt and internalized racism/species-ism (?), vomiting, anxiety, mentions of starvation/food poisoning, mentions of physical abuse, dissociation, mentions of torture, aversion to touch, mc pushes jimin but he’s okay, jimin is an angel, facial/body scars, body dysmorphia/repulsion

→ a/n: thank y’all for your patience :) here’s some more hurt before the comfort lol

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

The man is pointing at a detailed image drawn in faded ink. The rest of the page is filled with scripted text and anatomical diagrams.

You can’t look at first, scared of what you’ll find.

When you finally do, you don’t know what to think. There’s the thought that he’s kidding, he’s lying. He can’t be serious.

The drawing is of a creature with tawny-feathered wings extending magnificently in the air. It has the body of a powerful big cat, muscular yet elegant. Its four legs end in sharp-taloned feet. Its neck is framed by a golden mane, looking like a big frilly collar. The mane’s trail travels down the creature’s chest and back, ending in a flowing tail. It has the face of a lion, with white whiskers and deep yellow eyes, yet the regal posture of an eagle.

A diagram off to the left shows the inside of its mouth, lined with row upon row of sharp teeth and protruding fangs.

Looking back up, you search the faces of the men around you. None of them appear to be joking.

You can’t speak.

You’re one of them, one of the creatures they all despised. The creatures that roam the wild lands for easy prey, spreading carnage wherever they go.

No wonder they hated you so much. You’re not even human.

A few silent, involuntary tears fall from your eyes, which are locked back on the page. You wipe them away hastily.

The boys don’t know how to react, all looking at each other with concern.

“What...” you squeak out, voice choked. “What is it?”

“A gryffin,” Yoongi replies. “You’re a shifter.”

Something gurgles in your stomach. You clench your teeth, nails digging deep into the meat of your thighs.

You believe him. You don’t want to, but you believe him. You’ve always felt less than human, like something wasn’t right about you. Like something was just beneath the surface, clawing its way up.

Now you know why.

Jungkook, who’s sitting closest to you, slowly, cautiously puts his hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you.

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

You don’t catch the look of hurt that flits across his face. He knows you can’t help it, but it still stings to think that his touch physically repels you.

“What did they tell you about atypicals?” Namjoon presses, trying to shift your attention so you won’t look so disheartened by the reality of what you are.

From the way you look at him, he knows that you’ve never heard that word before. Or at least you don’t remember it.

“Atypicals are anything that falls out of the humanic species,” he explains patiently.

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

You don’t understand why he’s talking like that. You’ve never heard these terms before. In the place you came from, the “facility,” anything that wasn’t human was an abomination, a mistake in the eyes of nature.

Simple as that.

But here, things seem to be a bit more complicated.

Nausea is starting to bubble in your gut. You breathe carefully through your nose as you consider Namjoon’s question.

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

They’re all on the edge of their seats, desperately wondering what those bastards brainwashed you to believe about their kind, your own kind.

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

“That...that they deserved to be hunted down like dogs.”

They can hear the pain in your own voice, either from witnessing their cruel behavior, or from realizing that you’ve been the target of it this whole time.

Your stomach churns.

“They said I wasn’t even worthy to lick the ground they walked on.”

They can all hear you choking on your tears, despite your attempts to hide it.

Jimin and Jungkook feel like their chests are going to burst from holding it in, both the sorrow they feel for you and the urge to rush forward and drown you in affection.

Jin and Namjoon have storms raging inside their heads. Namjoon is calculating, trying to decode what exactly their motive was and how to use it to track down the ones in charge of it all. Jin’s mind is reeling with ways to undo the damage they’ve done, mentally and physically.

Yoongi is swimming waist-deep in despair. He can’t help but think of what’s to come. You’ll have to relearn everything. How to shift, how to fight, how to cast. That is, if you even want to.

You feel the newly strung tension in the air, looking like you just realized you said all of those things out loud.

One look around the room, and your newly found voice retreats deep into your throat.

The man called Namjoon, his eyes have darkened, jaw clenched and ticking like he’s grinding his teeth.

The one who tended to your wounds is sitting stiffly in his chair, staring ahead with a new sharpness in his face.

The small dark-haired man has his hands clenched, prominent veins crawling up his arms.

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

“You have to know,” Yoongi begins, voice calm as ever despite the rage just below the surface. “That’s not how most people think. Especially not here.”

Here in the North Regions, atypicals make up the majority of the population. Law enforcement, government, and public works are largely run by them, and prejudice is rarely an issue.

But how could you know that now?

They can all see the change. It’s almost instantaneous, the way your face shifts and loses all semblance of emotion. Just like that, the mask is back up.

Then there’s something else. A slight twitch from your nose, a well-hidden shudder. They can see your throat bobbing.

For a few seconds, it looks like you’re about to say something. Your tongue is moving inside your mouth, and you’re blinking rapidly.

Namjoon is about to utter some gentle encouragement, but a jolt racks through your body, making you hunch over.

All of a sudden you’re vomiting up everything you just ate.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin can’t help but jump to their feet, panicked noises filling the air.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. All his limbs go rigid, paralyzing him in his seat. He feels sick himself.

Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi all look at each other.

Yoongi thrusts into action, heading to the kitchen with Jungkook in tow since he isn’t good around pungent-smelling things.

Namjoon starts giving instructions. Jimin, paper towels. Hobi, get the mop. Said men jolt into action, scrambling to do whatever they can to help.

Jin’s eyes have been fixed on you for some time now, catching your every move, including all the suppressed flinches and tremors.

He’s at your side in an instant, on his knees to try to catch your eyes. But it’s no use, you’re squeezing your eyes shut like you’re expecting to be hit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he mutters in his gentlest voice. “It’s no big deal. No one is upset with you.”

As much as he wants to, he refrains from touching you right away.

Eyes still tightly shut, you flinch away from the sound of his voice, twitching with anxiety.

Jin can see you start to spiral, so he does the only thing he knows will work.

“Hey,” he begins, voice firmer than it was before. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

“That’s my girl,” Jin says before he can help it. “You’re going to calm down for me, yeah?”

Your eyes desperately search his face, looking for any sign of anger or deception. You find none, not even a hint of disgust, and your breathing starts to slow.

All that’s there is the man who tended to your wounds, watching you with those patient eyes. His handsome face is calm, attentively anticipating whatever you need right now.

Sweat gathers on your skin. That same sensation crawls up your throat, saliva pooling in your mouth.

Jin notices the signs immediately.

“Come with me,” he orders softly, putting a light hand on your back and leading you to the nearest bathroom.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You remember vomiting a few times at the facility. Once from eating a rotten vegetable, the mold making it impossible to identify. And once when a handful of keepers had held you down, repeatedly punching you in the stomach, until you gave in and called yourself a mutt.

Both times you were severely punished for making a mess. You learned to hold it in your mouth and swallow it down after that.

Jin guides you to kneel over the toilet. He keeps talking to you, but you only process half of what he’s saying.

“Go ahead, let it out,”

You can feel it creeping up, burning and sour. But something deeper, something almost instinctual, tells you to keep it down.

“Stop holding it in, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not good for you. It’s okay to let go.”

Before you can think to suppress it, another wave of nausea surges through your body. The crescendo of it makes you wretch, emptying the last of your stomach’s contents.

“Good, good, just get it all out,” he encourages instead of beating you until you can’t breathe.

The bile is bitter in your mouth, but not more bitter than the dread clinging to your entire being.

He’s not going to punish me, you finally realize. It’s almost an impossible thought.

For a moment, you stay hunched over, frozen. Not sure what to do next.

“Here, come wash your mouth out,” Jin says, helping you stand up on shaky legs.

The sound of running water rings in your ears. You feel the coolness against your tongue, but barely register that you’re the one cupping it to your lips. Numb. You feel like you’re controlling your body from the outside rather than the inside.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You look up at him for the first time in a while. His face is as kind as it was before, with the same full-lipped smile and warm brown eyes.

The man starts to lead you out of the room, that same gentle hand resting on your back.

It isn’t until then that you realize you’re still in the grimy clothes they found you in. And now the entire front of your shirt is stained with even more filth.

You glance into the living room as you pass through the hallway.

The other men are diligently cleaning the area you just soiled. The small dark-haired man and the muscular man are missing, though you can hear rustling from the kitchen.

The one with the jet black hair and bright face catches your eye, flashing a reassuring smile. It makes you rip your eyes away.

Jin guides you into the living room, and everyone immediately looks your way.

Shrinking, you’re shrinking into yourself as much as your body will allow.

“Someone run a bath,” Jin announces. “I think it’s time our little guest got some sleep in clean clothes.”

The fair-haired one steps forward and exchanges a subtle look with Jin, who’s standing slightly behind you.

“Would you follow me?” the shorter man says, holding out his hand.

It’s the one with the silver-gray hair and warm eyes. You think his name is Jimin. His face is soft and friendly. It asks a silent question: will you trust me?

You don’t take his hand, but you do take a step up the stairs in the direction he’s leading you.

You don’t catch it, but Jimin and Jin exchange a heartfelt glance, nearly ecstatic at the fact that you’re beginning to trust them.

Jimin leads you up the stairs as the rest of them settle things downstairs.

When you reach the top, he guides you down a spacious hallway that’s filled with potted plants and window light.

Every single door, down to the very end of the hall, is open. Whether it’s open wide or just a crack, not one of them is closed or locked. You’re not used to it.

The man, Jimin, stops at a door halfway down the hall and looks back to check if you’re still following him.

You stop a few feet away from him, still keeping your distance, but your expression is open and neutral, waiting on his next move.

He gives you a calm smile, and continues into the room with you behind him.

This room is just as bright and inviting as the rest of the house. White walls and clean tile floors, but this time with a large porcelain tub and a sink with marble countertops.

The man turns to look at you with a question in his eyes.

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

It’s a harmless question, a considerate question. But your mind is yanked back to that place.

Shower. A torrent of fire raining down on you, vision blinded by steam. It comes from every angle, unrelenting no matter how much you scream.

They would strip you down and lock you in a metal stall the size of a coffin. Then the dotted ceiling would unleash a downpour of near-boiling water.

You would bang on the walls, but the water made the metal surface just as hot, the floor burning the bottom of your feet. Minutes or hours they kept you in there, not letting you out until your body was covered in burn marks.

Bath. The most intense cold you’ve ever felt. It’s everywhere, submerging you up to the neck, seeping down to your very bones.

They would chain you down in a tub full of ice, nothing but your head poking out of the frigid water. The cold chains cut into your skin the more you struggled. Your lungs would heave from the shock of it, your whole body shivering violently.

Then they would hold your head underwater until you were bucking like a stuck pig. This went on until you were utterly exhausted, falling limp against the freezing porcelain with nothing but the tight chains holding you up.

You’re snapped back to reality when the man takes a step closer. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your face.

Finally remembering that he asked you a question, you shrug your shoulders and shake your head.

You don’t want either. You don’t want to be anywhere near that tub. You want him to leave you alone.

Jimin guesses that the gesture means you don’t care which one. He figures you’re most likely still weak from malnourishment, and he doesn’t want you fainting and hitting your head.

So he opts for a bath, turning on the faucet. He sits on the edge of the tub, hand under the spout to monitor the temperature.

The sound of running water makes every muscle in your body tense up. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. The fire, the ice, it’s going to burn and sting and cut into your flesh. You won’t be able to escape it.

Jimin doesn’t notice it at first, too focused on adjusting the knobs to get the water not too hot and not too cold, but your breathing has picked up again.

You can already feel it filling your ears, your mouth, rushing down your throat as your head is held down. Your skin prickles from the heat, it quivers from the cold.

The water in the tub continues to rise, and you can’t move. Your body is frozen, feet rooted to the floor as the sound of sloshing roars louder and louder in your ears.

Halfway full, now. It’s coming any second. He’s going to turn on you, throw you down and hold you under.

Burning, freezing. It’ll hurt and hurt and hurt.

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pursed like you’re trying to bite back a scream. Fists clenched at your sides, shoulders trembling, as your chest heaves up and down.

Immediately, he jumps to his feet and rushes over to you.

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?” 

Then he makes a big mistake. He puts his hands on you.

His touch is gentle, nonthreatening, nothing but two hands on your shoulders. But you don’t want it, you’re repulsed by it. Because touch always comes before the pain.

On instinct, your body jerks away, arms moving to push the unwelcome touch away, just get it away. Your hands collide against something, hard.

When you open your eyes, the man is on the floor. Sprawled on his back, looking up at you with wide, slightly watery eyes.

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

Jimin’s soft heart hurts a little, he can’t help it. In all the years he’s known you, loved you, you’ve never ever been repelled by him. But that hurt is soon drowned by guilt.

He scared you, he made you feel unsafe. You felt the need to protect yourself and it’s his fault.

You’re staring at your hands in horror, completely floored by what you’ve done. You’re in for it now. He tried to help you and you hurt him. Now they’re going to hurt you even more.

Several sets of pounding footsteps draw near. The others must have heard the thud from downstairs and rushed up to see what was wrong.

What they don’t expect to find is Jimin crumpled on the floor and you standing over him in a braced position, but that’s exactly what they see when they peer through the doorway.

They’re all a little astonished, Jin and Namjoon are thinking deeply, and something in Taehyung’s eyes shifts.

He isn’t proud of it, but a surge of protectiveness washes over him, for his Jimin. He knows it’s unreasonable, unfair even. But it’s still there. And he can’t snuff it out.

A new fear consumes you. You were insubordinate, you resisted. You know what comes next.

A sob gets trapped in your throat as you sink down to the floor, burying your head in-between your knees and using your arms to shield yourself.

Immediately, the same way Jimin did, they all rush forward to comfort you.

“No!” Jimin blurts out, making you flinch and shake violently. “Don’t touch, give her some space.”

They all obey, keeping their distance with concern flooding their features.

Jimin shifts onto his knees, scooting a little closer but still keeping enough away.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispers, like he’s talking to a wild, cornered animal. “It was my fault entirely. I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m truly sorry.”

Jimin’s voice has always been soothing, even in the darkest times, and your breathing slows a little.

Jimin realizes that the faucet is still running, and he reaches over to switch it off. Then it comes to him.

He turns back to your trembling form, still waiting for the pain to come.

“You’re scared of the water, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

He doesn’t expect you to reply, he just wants to let you know that he’s trying to understand you, to help you.

You nod slightly.

It shocks them all again. You’re becoming more responsive.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Jimin says with all the sincerity he can muster. “It’s not your fault. I promise I won’t do that again.”

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

Jimin looks at his mates and gestures for them to give you some more space so you can calm down.

They all do as he says, except Tae. He lingers in the doorway, his piercing eyes flickering between you and Jimin, thinking.

The two men exchange a meaningful glance. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile and nods his head as if to say “There’s nothing to worry about. I got this.”

Tae gives a slight nod back and turns to leave, throwing one last look at you.

Jimin sees the hint of distrust hidden in that look. He files it away for later.

Turning his attention back to you, Jimin looks at the tub and thinks of a solution.

“You don’t have to get in the tub, okay? We can just...” Jimin opens the cupboard under the sink and takes out a handful of washcloths.

“Like this, see?” He dips one of the cloths in the water, using it to wipe down his face.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You scan his face. Those big brown eyes are full to the brim with kindness, as if you didn’t just hurt him moments ago.

You nod.

Jimin smiles so big it almost hurts his cheeks, heart swelling as you hesitantly hold your hand open. He puts another cloth in your waiting palm.

“Okay, here’s the soap, shampoo, conditioner. You can wash your face with this. Use whatever you want, okay?”

You look at him, trying to convey with your eyes what your mouth can’t say. He stays there for a moment, sitting with you on the tile, answering your every question with just his expression.

It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You can trust me. I understand you.

Breaking from his reverie, Jimin gets up and moves to leave.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, swinging the door closed.

You shoot forward and grab the knob just before it shuts.

Jimin jumps a little, whipping back around. There’s confusion on his face, then understanding.

“Okay, we’ll leave it open just like this. I’ll be just outside if you need anything, okay?”

You feel the tension release from your chest, and nod back.

Another warm smile, and then he disappears into the next room.

He’s not going to lock you in. Another impossible realization.

Turning around, you stare at the full tub. Your heartbeat skitters a little, but you take a step towards it anyways.

When you dip your fingertips in the clear water, you expect it to be scalding, or cold enough to numb, but it’s neither. The water is warm and calm, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t sting.

Another breath releases from your lungs.

You use the cloth and soap to wipe down your whole body, shedding your dirty clothes and tossing them aside. Soon the tub is cloudy from the dirt on the washcloth. You even dip your hair into the water and use a little shampoo to get some of the grime out.

You sit there and wash yourself until the water turns cold. Using the counter to steady yourself, you slowly come to a stand, even though your legs are aching.

The sight in front of you is enough to shock you into silence again.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection. You wish you weren’t seeing it now.

The person in the mirror is ugly and pathetic. Her short hair is a mangled mess. Haphazardly cut with a pair of dull scissors, it sticks out in all different angles. Her eyes are blank and lifeless, red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles. There’s a large, hideous scar across her left cheek, deep and forked like a flash of lightning.

Her body is weak and repulsive. Slouching forward, she’s barely able to hold herself up. She’s covered in scars and marks, all over her legs, her arms, her torso.

You know there are worse scars behind you.

Horrifically entranced, you slowly reach up to touch the scar across her face, your face. Your fingertips meet the textured tissue, and then there’s the pain.

It’s not a physical pain, it doesn’t originate from the scar itself. It’s a pain deep in your chest, spreading and infecting the rest of your body. It maims you, twists your insides, disfigures your soul.

You muffle the silent scream with a hand over your mouth. Knees buckling, you barely have any strength left to keep yourself upright.

You’re barely you. You don’t remember who you were before, but you know it wasn’t this.

A gentle knock on the door. 

You immediately stifle any signs of discomfort, snapping the mask back on with frightening accuracy.

Jimin’s arms poke through the gap in the door. He sets a bundle of clothes on the counter.

“Here you go," his pleasant voice says. “Please let me know if they’re comfortable enough.”

You wait a good twenty seconds before you reach for them. A warm green sweater and soft cotton pants.

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

Leaning closer to the door, you try to hear beyond the wood. Hushed voices, muted footsteps.

“Ready, love?” a smooth voice sounds from just behind the door.

You flinch away, trying your best to make your hair look less unkempt.

It’s Jin who cautiously swings the door open, greeting you with an affectionate smile.

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

You manage a curt nod, following him with your head down to another room. 

It’s the room from earlier, the one with the massive bed. The rest of them are here waiting, muttering quiet words until you arrive. Then they go silent and set their eyes on you, asking a question you can’t understand.

Why are they all looking at you? You don’t like it, not at all. People who look like them shouldn’t look at someone like you. You’re wrong, inside and out.

They all notice the change. Now your eyes are trained on the ground, head bent and shoulders folding in on yourself like you wish you would disappear.

Jin ushers you towards the humongous bed, encouraging you to settle in under the covers. He tucks the comforter around your body, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

“There, nice and cozy,” he says, sounding satisfied for the time being. “Rest up, okay love? You’ve been through a lot.”

Why are they talking to you like that? You’re disgusting. They should be throwing you out on the streets to fend for yourself like a common rat.

The small dark-haired man kneels down next to you. He hands you a mug of steaming amber liquid, using the bed sheets to shield your hands from the hot surface.

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

While Jimin was getting you cleaned up, Yoongi and Jungkook were hard at work cooking up a tincture for your nausea. Essence of lavender to help you sleep, peppermint to refresh your throat, a little ginger to ease your stomach, and some of Yoongi’s highest-quality potions to replenish your nutrients. And, of course, Jin stirred in a copious amount of honey to sweeten it up.

You hold the cup in your hands like it’s a ticking time bomb.

Yoongi looks at his mates in confusion and concern, not sure what to do. Jimin catches his gaze, and gestures wildly with his hands. He exaggeratedly mimics holding the cup and taking a sip, and then Yoongi understands.

He gently takes the mug from your hands and holds it up to his nose.

“Let me check if it’s too hot for you,” he says, blowing off some of the steam and taking a long sip. He makes sure to swallow with audible emphasis.

“Okay, it should be good,” he says, handing it back to you.

This time you hold it close to your chest like it’s a precious gem, slowly sipping away at the frothy liquid. 

They all look at each other with a relieved, triumphant expression.

Namjoon steps forward and leans down to level his face with yours.

“There’s water for you over there,” he gestures to a table in the corner, complete with a pitcher and cup. “And the bathroom is the next door over.”

You nod to show your appreciation, still avoiding eye contact.

Jin enters your field of vision again.

“Do you think you can hold down some meds?” he asks. It’s sincere, no seeming deception behind it.

But you still shake your head vehemently. You don’t want anymore pills. In fact, you don’t want to see another pill ever in your life.

“Okay, love,” he says, smiling again. “Just rest up for me. For us.”

You have no idea what he means by that, but you sink into the pillows anyway.

One by one they filter out of the room, casting a last look at you before they leave.

You wish they wouldn’t. Their eyes seem to leave even more marks on your skin.

The door starts to swing shut. Then someone mutters something, and it stops just before it closes completely. 

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

You manage a few more sips from the steaming mug, eventually setting it aside. The bed is soft and comfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to lie down. 

You sit there, watching shadows dart across the wall, for hours.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed it please leave a comment on what you thought of the story/any questions it would mean the world to me!! and if you’re feeling extra generous, please reblog with tags it helps to spread the story around, thank you!! 💖

[chimcess]

Afterglow || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other tags: Vampire!Hoseok, Vampire!Reader Genre: Supernatural!AU, Vampire!AU, Twilight Universe, established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp Word Count: 4.5k+ Synopsis: "A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting." Warnings: Character death (brief), mental illness (not reader and very brief), penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, lots of licking, kisses, slow and deep, Hoseok is a vocal boy, they are so in love, edging, over stimulation, hair pulling, man handling, growling, body worship, breast worship, unprotected sex (stay safe), vampire/animal sounds, implied outdoor sex, they are honestly so freaking cute, let me know if I missed anything A/N: So, I recently rewatched the entire Twilight Saga and couldn't stop myself. I promise they have nothing to do with the Cullens. I'm simply borrowing S.Meyer's universe for a second. Thanks for reading.

Staring out of the second story window, I frowned. There was a thunderstorm on its way and the wind was harsh. Still, I stayed put. I would not move until I knew he was coming back.

The first few droplets that landed against my cheeks were freezing and as the rain started coming down, I got soaked. There had been a window here once but after a rather unfortunate night, one where mama had shouted and threw a candlestick holder at my head, the glass was all but gone. Only one singular piece along the very bottom of the trim remained.

She was dead now, well, as dead as I believed her to be. Daddy, too. Only I remained. The house had been suffocating at first, my body unable to handle the loneliness. My memories of the attack were weak and dimly lit, but I could never forget the moment the burn began. I will never forget what led up to it.

At the ripe age of nineteen, my father was planning to marry me off to a local boy called Percival Hobbs. Mr.Hobbs was a fine gentleman, his sensibilities and wit uncharacteristically gentle and kind for a man of the era. We were both middle classes, his family only slightly richer than my own, and well matched. I was happy to be marrying him, especially when he told me his plans of expanding his father’s business out of Virginia. I hated this place back then; I could recall that fairly well despite the thick film which covered my old life.

My mother was an unusual woman of which I had gotten my own set of quirks. When I was young, I could remember her singing as she cooked, weaving flowers through her greasy hair as she doted on my father as if he were a king. We never went without, and her joy was contagious. My mother, for all intents and purposes, was a happy person. Perhaps a bit odd, she was more outspoken and considered rather rude to the other women in Richmond, but no one could truly say anything bad about her.

It was only after a particularly nasty accident that her behavior changed. We were on our way to visit her sister in Norfolk when our horses were startled by something out in the woods. Our carriage took a fall and my mother hit her head on a rock. We were all lucky to have survived the ordeal, something my father praised God for, but mama was never the same. She never smiled, hardly spoke, and could never find the melodies of the songs she had loved so dearly. It was as though a switch had been flipped and the light within her was turned off.

Daddy was nervous, as was I, but childish worries and adult sorrow were different. I believed she was sad, but my father knew she would never return back to normal. His work became more demanding after that. As a lawyer, my father was held in high regard at the time and worked long days and nights in order to provide for the three of us. They never bore another child. I believe it was because my mother could no longer stand to be touched and my father could never hurt her, even if it broke his heart.

Years passed that way until a sudden change began to occur. No longer was she silent, but the songs she sang were very different. Her eyes were more alive than they had been in a long, long time, and her voice had come back. The joy of this was short lived, however, as her delusions started soon after. Men who were not really men, monsters who could love, and things that would reflect like diamonds in the sunlight. All of it rubbish, all of it insane, but all of it real in her fragmented mind.

Daddy was planning on getting her committed after she said there were people living in the walls of our home. He might have killed her for declaring her love for a man who shined in the sun if he had not believed her to be completely psychotic. All the while I watched as the woman I held dearly began to hate and resent the both of us. That was when the shouting started, the violence, and then father had no choice but to call the doctor.

He had no way of knowing the chain of events that could cause, nor the dire consequences it would have on me. The doctor came to the house a little after midnight to take my mother away. She screamed and thrashed violently as she went, calling out to her monster to come and save her.

His name had been Louis and I only remember it because of what happened next. She had only said his name once, a broken and terrified cry for help, when the figure appeared. He was a beautiful man; his skin so pale it shined in the carriage’s lantern light. I do not remember if his hair had been brown or black, it was too dark to make out, but I did know his eyes were red. Bloody, dripping with hatred, and trained on the hands of the doctor holding my mother.

The doctor was dead in the next breath he took, my mother curling into the beast’s chest in complete hysterics. Louis then looked at my father, his intentions clear, before finding me. I was crying, my nightgown thin and exposing, and my own horror was reflected back at me. Whatever he saw that day made all the difference. Killing my father was easy for him to do. If he was my mother’s lover, then he would have hated the man who bore her children. I don't remember screaming but I could recall my mother telling me not to be afraid. Louis would make it quick. My death, she said, would be painless.

It was not. When Louis’s teeth sank into my neck, I only felt the slightly pinprick of pressure before I grew tired and weak. I knew I would die, and I did not fight it. I was either too weak or shell-shocked to put much behind it. Then, he was off of me, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

“You will be magnificent,” He whispered, kissing my cheek. His voice was soft, presumably to keep my mother from hearing us. I would never know why. “I will take care of her. You take care of yourself, little one.”

Then they were gone, Louis and my mother both. I had barely managed to crawl back inside, my hand clutching the wound on my neck, when the burning started. It lasted for three days and when it was over, I woke up afraid and starved. My father and the doctor were still outside, but I did not care who they were. I drained what was left of them before realizing what I had done. Ashamed and mortified, I put them both in the carriage and set it on fire. No one could know what had happened, of that I was certain.

The next few years of my life were spent in the forests of Virginia staying out of sight and hunting. I lived off of animals mostly, their deaths did not weigh down on my conscience as much as a human's did. My family home was vacant, untouched, and our names were forgotten to time. In 1875, I finally emerged from my isolation in the forests and moved back in. By 1900, I was able to venture into town on a rare occasion when the sun was well hidden beneath a thick layer of clouds. The house had gone through very few changes and the room I stood in now had been my father’s study. I hated the thought of touching anything in it, but I knew I would need to fix this issue. I could feel how weak the wood around it was becoming.

A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting.

I met Hoseok through coincidence. My friend Seokjin, a Korean immigrant who traveled across the world as a nomad, had stumbled across the boy when he was dying from tuberculosis on the streets of New York. Jin, feeling sorry for the young man, changed him as he had done so five other times. All of his children were nomads, two of them finding their mates, and I got along with them rather well. Hoseok was no exception.

Jin had come to me after Hoseok had taken a swipe at his sire’s own newly transformed mate, Evelyn. The boy needed someone to help him with his temper and dealing with two newborns was rather difficult. I remembered my own early years with distaste. We acted more like animals than people.

Hoseok arrived on my doorstep in 1953, angry, hungry, and completely irrational. He was just over a year old and while the worst of it was over, he had a gift that took its toll on him. Not all of our kind had an extra sense. Jin, for example, was completely normal. His beauty was unparalleled, but even in his human life he was the most handsome man one could have met. Hoseok, however, was not as lucky.

The boy was incredibly powerful, his ability to hypnotize anyone with the sound of his voice was something the Volturi, the leaders and rulers of our kind, would love to get their hands on. For Hoseok, it made his thirst grow quicker and he lacked control of it. He could easily manipulate those around him without meaning to, which was why his brothers did not want to deal with the task. I was Jin’s last resort and the only reason he had come to me was my own gift.

I lived in my world in a sort of bubble. Gifts, no matter the kind, were ineffective against it. The bubble was invisible, elastic, and malleable, but impenetrable. I could choose to remove it from myself and take the brunt of whatever ability was being thrown at me, but I had only done it twice. Both times had been when Jungkook had come to see me and wanted to know if his gift, to make fake clones of himself, could throw me off. He won the first round, but I came out on top the second time. Being the sore loser he is, Jungkook never asked for a rematch.

Hoseok and I took some time to warm up to one another. The pull toward him was instantaneous but he was too young and wild for either one of us to explore what that could mean. The first five months was spent chasing him down before he could attack the unsuspecting townsfolk in Richmond. Then it was showing him the way I hunted. When his eyes changed from red to amber to gold, his mood stabilized. Our friendship was finally able to take root and before long our love bloomed.

After our first kiss under the stars in the trees that surrounded my home, we were connected so deeply that removing one would surely bring death upon the other. When I was a child, I had been disappointed to grow up in the East. We were in the more rural part of Richmond and all of the girls at school made fun of me for being a ‘country bumpkin.’ As a vampire, however, my little ranch was a paradise. Hoseok and I could make love for hours and no one would hear a thing.

Right now, during this thunderstorm, would be prime time for us to lose ourselves within one another. It was a shame he had decided to go hunting alone today. Hoseok liked having space far more than I did, but I understood his wants and needs and gave him what he asked for. I could only hope his delay was from him getting distracted and not an unfortunate slip up. He had them more than I did, and they ruined his mood for weeks.

Finally, I saw him. His black hair was slick and stuck to his forehead from the rain, the linen pajamas he had worn out transparent and heavy. Elated to finally have him home, I jumped out of the window and crashed into him. The sound was thunderous.

Hoseok laughed, “Hey there, Sunshine.”

On top of him, I sighed, holding him close to me. The rain was cold, but it would not bother me. I could not get sick. Capturing his lips, I finally felt at ease. I did not like it when he was gone. The house was too quiet.

“I love you,” I sighed, feeling my body hum to life with need. “I missed you. Touch me.”

This aspect of our love life had been difficult for me at first. I was from an era when a woman did not speak this way, but after gentle coaxing from my lover, I had gotten over the prudishness of the 1850s. We were, after all, more connected than any human couple could hope to be. Gripping my hips, Hoseok licked my bottom lip.

“Can we go inside?” He asked, nipping at my chin as my hands shredded his shirt. “The rain is distracting.”

I nodded and he scooped me up, carrying me back inside at our natural speed. We were fan, faster than any living thing on the planet, and able to see the world clearly as we passed it by. Hoseok ripped the front door of its hinges, making me laugh. He was always so impatient when it came to sex.

We ran up the steps, passing the study on the way to our bedroom. The door was still open, the rain pouring into it. I wondered briefly what my father would have thought of Hoseok. Then his lips were attached to my ear and all thoughts of my father were gone.

He was less aggressive with the door to our bedroom. A creak inaudible to the human ear sent a chill up my spine as I clung to his wet body. His skin felt hot under my hands despite how cold we both were. Hoseok was panting like a dog, more from his excitement than any real need for air.

He laid me down on our bed gently before tearing off my dress. The chemise pulled apart as easily as a piece of paper. Hoseok’s mouth found my chest as soon as it was exposed to him, mouth finding a nipple as a hand fiddled with the other. Whining, I buried my hands in his hair and held him close to me.

“I missed you so much,” I cried out.

Hoseok bit down on the little nub before letting it go with a loud smack. Fingers still twisting and brushing my right nipple, he smiled down at me. Topaz eyes were pitch black with desire and a low purr reverberated through his chest. I felt it in my groin.

“I missed you more,” He replied huskily.

I smiled shyly, reaching out for him. Hoseok leaned into my touch, purring increasing as I caressed his face. Pouting my lips, I begged him to come closer with my eyes. He smiled; his eyes soft.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.”

He sucked on my chest for what felt like hours, grinding his hips down to meet my own, and purring like a cat the entire time. He had always embraced the more animalistic aspects of our life. My breathy sighs spurred him on, my hands increasing their wandering across his torso, as I silently pleaded with him for more. Hoseok only made me wait a few moments more before sloppy kisses descended down my stomach.

A thin pair of cotton underwear separated us, but he simply licked over the fabric. I cried out, the pleasure sending shockwaves through my body. Long, hard swipes of his tongue had my writhing, his breath so hot and warm against me it felt like I was taking a scolding bath. With every lick and suck I felt myself grow hotter. Hoseok lost himself to his own pleasure, rubbing himself against the mattress as he held my legs apart.

Sex was not always so brazen. Our first few times were more primal, the need to be close after months of dancing around the issue making the release all the more powerful. After that, I had grown slightly shy. Hoseok had taken to leaving my top on during those days, letting me grow more comfortable in his presence, and taking me so gently I cried. The next 70 years have taught us a great deal about one another, and now sex was just a part of who we were. Not a day went by that we were not lost to it, each time bringing out a different part of us, before going back to our respective hobbies. In a storm like this, however, I imagined we would not leave this bed.

“Please,” I whined. “More.”

Finally, the thin piece of cotton was removed, and his tongue was on me. Long and broad at first, he liked to play with me for a few moments before diving in. Unlike myself, my love had enough patience to watch and wait. Savoring it, he said. I think he just enjoyed being the only person who could see my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

I felt the ghost of his fingers trailing down my leg at the same time his mouth found my clitoris. I hissed, back arching off the bed as he swirled his tongue around the bud. His finger pressed against my opening. I gushed around it, grinding my hips down and forcing the tip inside of me. Hoseok groaned, tongue becoming more aggressive. I cried out, pushing down again and swallowing more of his finger. Finally, with a deep growl, he pushed it the rest of the way and added another immediately after.

I had never felt more alive than when we were in this bed. With Hoseok on top of me, eyes hungry and watching my every move like I was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The monster within me was finally asleep as I became all consumed with his touch. Finding the soft bundle of nerves within me, Hoseok purred. I sobbed, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Look at you,” Hoseok rasped, moving from my sex to watch me. His fingers stretched me out as my hips raised to meet his thrusts. “So pretty and warm.”

He kissed my neck, “Your body is so beautiful.”

Languid kisses down across my throat, teeth gently grazing the skin, before trailing back down to my breasts. They had always been his favorite part of my body. He licked down the swell before kissing my nipple. His fingers sped up their menstruations making me mewl.

“God,” He croaked, voice deeper than normal. “You love this, don’t you?”

I nodded, body twitching and convulsing. “Yes.”

“Tell me how much,” He sucked on my left nipple.

I struggled to find words. My body was on fire now, my stomach tightening and expanding, and I knew I was close. My thighs were shaking so violently I would be embarrassed if it was anybody else, but this was Hoseok, and I knew he was happy to see my body singing for him. Somehow, I managed to speak.

“So much,” I breathed. “I love it so much.”

Sitting back on his ankles, he smirked. His shirt was gone and his toned body was on full display. I would never get bored of looking at him. Hoseok was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

“You’re so messy,” His voice was like velvet. “So wet for me.”

His thumb found my clit and I was cumming before I could really savor the feeling. With a loud shout, I fell apart with Hoseok’s eyes on me. I was wired up and so desperate for more I began to beg. My pleas came out without a single thought behind them. I was drunk on pleasure and yearning for more.

“Just relax,” He finally said, hovering over me once more. His fingers were gone now and I began to tear at his pants. They were still wet and his skin had cooled the rain even further. “I’m going to take care of you.”

My hands were all over him. With his pants disposed of and his cock out, I held it tightly as I began to work my hands in a rhythm I knew he loved. Hoseok let out a guttural sound, a mix between a bear and a mountain lion, as he began to fondle my breasts again. Flicking my nipples, he fucked himself into my hand as he panted.

“Stop,” He grunted, grabbing hold of my wrist. “Grab your legs.”

I did as I was told. It had been difficult to let go of my control in the beginning. I was such a tightly wound person, my need for schedules and sameness a byproduct of my upbringing. I was raised to be prim, proper, and well put together. Even if I did not feel well, I was to be washed, dressed, and smiling all day long. Father would not accept anything less.

When my sexual relationship with Hoseok started, that was still a large part of who I was. When we changed we were frozen in time. It took a lot to cause great change within our kind. For myself, I had only had two since the burning stopped. The first was my decision to stop hunting the humans in my area. Animal blood helped calm the raging anger and depression I carried over from the last night I was alive. The second had been Hoseok’s arrival. Our mates changed us in the most profound way, and his existence made the looming sadness I carried with me fade. It was not gone, it would never fully heal for that was impossible, but he made the gaping hole in my heart three times smaller.

The other thing that changed was my horrible habit of controlling the people around me. Jin and the others all commented on my inability to relax or let go. Jimin, the first person Jin had ever changed, had joked that I was the only vampire in existence with wrinkles. I laughed at the time, but after Hoseok came to me I realized he had been right. I was always stressed, always striving for perfection, and always disappointed when it never came to fruition.

Laying underneath him, I was in awe at how easily I pushed my legs up against my chest. My arm pinned them down. There was not a worry about how improper I looked or if my hair was splayed out nicely. I did not care if this was perfect because I knew we were. Hoseok pressed himself to my entrance and I smiled. I did not need perfection so long as I had him.

Pushing himself into me, he cried out in pleasure while I chanted ‘yes’ over and over and over again. Buried to the hilt, Hoseok took a moment to hook my legs around his hips and kissed the tip of my nose. With a soft declaration of his love, he began to move.

I held onto his arms with everything I had. Hoseok was stronger than I was so I did not need to worry about my own strength bothering him. Outside the storm raged on while we rejoiced in our pleasure. Hoseok’s thrusts were hard, steady, and hit my deepest spot with precision. After so long we had one another memorized.

“S’good,” Hoseok slurred, his hips pistoning into me roughly. “You feel so good.”

I whimpered, “Baby, please.”

He grabbed my hair, roughly shoving my face into the mattress as he lifted his leg onto the bed. I wailed, his cock pounding into my g-spot making me see stars. His own sounds grew louder, growls and snarls filling the space as the sounds of us coming together grew louder and louder.

Fire was pooling in my lower abdomen, so hot it rivaled my change. I could feel Hoseok pulsing inside of me, his grip on my hair still hard and strong. Then he tugged, my head lifting off the bed as he manhandled me. He forced our mouths together, a clashing of teeth and tongue as he chased his own high. Time began to slow before fading, the fire all consuming, and I could no longer respond to Hoseok’s kisses. He let go of me then and I fell back onto the bed.

Everything faded into white, hot, searing sparks shooting up my entire body and licking my bones on their way out. I could vaguely hear the sound of something being torn as my body convulsed with the weight of my orgasm. Above me, Hoseok stuttered.

“I love you,” He said, his own pleasure closing in.

I hardly paid him any attention. Our kind would never tire, never sleep, or sweat, but I was positive I was at least two of them at this moment. I felt like I was in a trance as I watched him fall apart, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth agape. His grunts and groans were more like cries now, higher and pitch and breathless. Then, with one final thrust he was spilling into me.

We stayed that way for a while, Hoseok inside of me as we looked into one another's eyes. Neither one of us was particularly tired but I knew we would take a break before our next round. The both of us enjoyed the human charade of cuddling and pretending to sleep for a time. Eyes closed and breathing evenly before finally one of us would break. Outside a particularly loud rumble made him grin.

“How would dancing in the rain sound?” He asked.

I laughed, heart full now that he was here.

“What kind of dancing?” I teased, already knowing my answer.

“Well, it will not require clothing.”

I pushed him away, sending his body back toward the other side of the room. With a wicked grin, Hoseok jumped to catch me, but I was already gone. If Hoseok was the strongest, I was the fastest. I ran down the hall, into my father's study, and out of the window with Hoseok fast on my trail.

My change had always seemed so meaningless before Hoseok came. Years spent wondering Louis’s reasoning and subsequent abandonment. I had never seen nor heard from either Louis or my mother since that night, and that left so much time for me to grow angry and bitter about this life. I hated what I was and who I was forced to be.

Now, running in with Hoseok in the afterglow of our love I realized something that would cause a third change within me. Everything that had led me up to this moment was worth it. All of the pain, loneliness, and heartache I had gone through was not a curse. It was a precursor. Every memory leading to the very reason for my existence closer still. A smile stretched across my face, one of my rarest, largest of smiles, and I let Hoseok catch me.

As long as he was here, nothing else mattered.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[purpleyoonn]

enchanted 2

C H A P T E R   T W O 

“I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

summary: The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au,

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: starts in the middle of war, violence, angst, death, supernatural creatures, smut, dragon customs, dragon instincts, more to come

chapter warnings: mc wakes up, inner questioning, inner worth issues, yoongi is a simp, love at first sight(duh), mc struggles at first, slight agoraphobia, major fluff at end, 

beta'd/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias​​

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masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 3

—————————————–

Previously on Enchanted: 

The healer worked slowly under the watchful eye of Yoongi, wrapping up the cuts and bruising on your legs and the bruising on your arm before letting Yoongi know that you would need your legs rebandaged in the morning so he can make sure there was no infections but that you could go.

Yoongi relented, not liking the fact that this male was this close to his mate while she was unmarked. His dragon didn’t recognize the healer as safe, so he was on edge and practically flew you back to his room.

Once you were safe in his room, laying in his bed surrounded by his scent, only then could he begin to relax.

Warmth was an incredible motivator when used correctly. It could and would be frequently be used against you when you were punished. The servant’s quarters in Lord Ahn’s manor weren’t warm, in any way what-so-ever, but they were warmer than sleeping on the hay outside of the building.

Cheorin was located on the southern border of the Min Kingdom and was a major trading and fishing port for the kingdom. The Ahn Estate was on the outside of the city and was a well known boarding house for the Lords and sometimes their families when traveling. It held all of the luxuries that the Lords were used to and far enough away from the bustling city that the “activities” the Lords participated in while visiting were hidden from their wives when traveling alone.

We, the servants, were sworn to secrecy, threatened with things far worse than no food for a week or being assigned to the Lord Daesung for the night. Freezing to death by the cold winds seeping into the servant’s quarters was a far worse death than starvation.

That’s how you knew you were not dreaming: the warmth that surrounded you as your eyelids began to flutter with your slow awakening. It was not unwelcomed, despite the shock to your bones. You almost wanted to curl back into the soft bedding beneath you, pulling the even softer blankets over your head and hiding from the memories that seemed trapped behind your eyes.

You try to recall what had happened to land you in this comfortable warmth that encased you. You remember the pain in your legs, the desperation to get the beam off of you, the way the ghoul climbed its way slowly to you. You remember your savior, his red eyes and the way he clung to you as he picked you up, as if you were precious to him. It didn’t make sense, until you remembered the word he growled out when he realized who you were.

“Mate.”

The words were not foreign to you, despite being a human who grew up thinking only the creatures from your father’s stories could have mates fated to them. You couldn’t believe what the King had said, even now as you guessed where you were. You thought you were in one of the lower rooms of the palace, the servant quarters, maybe.

A servant belonged on the floor, below everyone else.

After a couple more minutes cuddled into the warmth you are not accustomed to, you slowly lift your head, sitting up in a large bed. Looking around, you notice the dark handcrafted furniture, carved with ornate details across from you. It had a large mirror rested on it with a couple other things you couldn’t make out scattered on the top. You noticed the sunlight peaking it which had you doing a double take. The servant’s quarters usually didn’t have windows.

Your eyes immediately catch on the large window and through it, a balcony covered in plants looking out over the grounds. You wanted to open the doors, bask in the sunlight and fade away by the smell of the beautiful plants. But you knew that would not be your future.

The rest of the room was covered in soft purple and gold silks, sleek furniture, and something even more daunting; the King himself.

You gasp as you pull the blankets from your legs and practically throwing yourself off the bed. A cry tore through your lips at the sudden pain in your legs, your body almost crumbling to the floor if someone hadn’t caught you.

The King moving faster than you could see, caught you in his embrace before you hit the ground. You tried to push him away, not wanting the King to have to touch something as low as you. Your fight was lost as soon as he growled lowly, your body becoming tense as you freeze in fear.

“Please, I’m sorry.” You don’t know what you were apologizing for, but you couldn’t help it when the words tumbled from your mouth. Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You had no clue how long you had been out.

Yoongi wanted to cry from the blatant fear you had of him. He could smell it on you, like a black swirl of smoke impeding all of his senses. It made the back of his throat itch and his eyes burn. He could feel his dragon wanting to take over again but that was the last thing you or he needed.

He picked you up in his arms, softly placing you back onto the bed as if you were made of glass. His touch was so very warm, a tingle spread through your body. It was such a wonderful feeling that you had to fight yourself to keep from whimpering at the loss of his touch as he moved away from you, now standing a few feet away. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. You were wanting to cry at the loss of the King’s touch?! How much more insolent could you be?! He was a King!

You were too preoccupied with your own thoughts to notice when Yoongi returned and sat by your side on the bed, the cream his healer had given him in his hands. He put the cream onto his palm, rubbing the cream between his hands until it had warmed up, and began to massage it into your calves, making sure to be gentle around some of the deeper, scabbed over wounds.

Startled, you jolt at the feeling of his hands on your legs, biting back a groan of contentment you wish to let out. His hands felt like they belonged on you, warm and gentle despite the callouses on his palms. You hadn’t expected, well, any of this to happen when you opened your eyes, let alone watching in surprise as the King rubbed some kind of cream onto your legs.

“Your Majesty…” You try to protest but your words are cut off when he looks up at you, his eyes challenging you to try and stop him.

When he sees the fight die down, Yoongi feels a content grumble begin in his chest, loud enough for you to hear as his features soften. You watch his eyes brighten with happiness as he smiles softly at you.

By the fates above, you knew you would do anything to keep that smile on his lips. Like that was your one reason for being; you needed nothing else in your life. Well, maybe besides the air that you forgot to breathe in when he smiled at you.

When he was done, you believe he had to have used some kind of magical cream, as the pain you felt upon standing was no longer there, a certain numbness to your legs but you could tell that you weren’t really numb. You could still feel your legs and could feel the movement within them as you shifted on the bed (coincidentally closer to the King who smiled at you, momentarily distracting you).

You were about to ask why the King himself was by your side, helping you, when a knock sounded on the door causing your courage to dry up and your question to wither away in your mind.

Yoongi saw this and grinned a little at your shyness before getting off the bed and turning to the door to see who was there. He specifically ordered everyone to leave his wing as he wanted to have alone time with you when you woke up. He didn’t want his Queen to be bombarded by excited dragons eager to meet their King’s mate.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t expecting to be greeted by his oldest friend, the dragoness who took care of him when his parents were busy with their duties. He tried to hide his blush of embarrassment, knowing he was about to get his neck rung.

“Min Yoongi! I thought I taught you better than this? Hiding your soulmate from the world is not the way to go about things. I should have been the first to meet her, and now I hear that one of the healers got to see her before me?” The woman scolded the King, reminding you of how your mother used to talk to you when you got in trouble. Yoongi only moved out of the way, letting his dragoness enter his space.

You watch the smaller plump woman practically grab the King by his ears and drag him back into the room, eyes wide at the display of power against the King. You were shocked that he just let her maneuver him, wondering just who this woman was to be able to get away with acting like this.

“Shinhye, I promise I was going to let you meet her. I just wanted alone time with my mate before we were swarmed.” Yoongi tried to explain his actions, but only got a raised eyebrow in response.

Hearing the King call you his mate again had you in a blushing mess. It felt different to hear it now, the circumstances being drastically different from the first time you heard it; you weren’t distracted by pain and panic, you could feel the affection and pride in his voice.

When the woman, Shinhye, turned to the bed, she was pleased to see you blushing at her boy’s words.

Good, she thought, maybe our King won’t be so alone anymore.

The warmth from your smile and cheeks was enough to warm even the Dragon King’s seemingly cold exterior.

“Well, alone time will have to be done later. It is breakfast time and I can tell that your little mate needs some food in her belly.” Shinhye declared once she noticed your bones peeking through the clothes you had been changed into. You were nearing dangerously thin and she (nor Yoongi) wasn’t happy about it. She could tell that your background was not a good one from that alone. She wanted to do what she could to help you, that meant getting something nutritious in you quickly.

“You will bring her down for breakfast. Everyone is well aware of your wishes and only two staff will be serving the meal. She needs to see more than just your room, your Majesty.” You vaguely hear her mention the King’s brother and other people who will be eating with you both. You would have protested to her concern, truly not wishing to be around so many new people at once but just then the last part of her sentence struck you..

You were in the King’s room. You were laying in the King’s bed!

I really am the King’s mate, you realized! You knew that it was against the dragon code to bring anyone to your bed who wasn’t your mate.  If you were in the King’s room, his den, and in his bed with a dress covering your shape, you had to be his mate! There was no way for your mind to twist this or misunderstand it anymore.

You were the Dragon King’s soulmate.

You, a measly human servant girl!

“I think my room is just fine.” Yoongi mumbled under his breath but still promised that he would be bringing you down to the dining hall for breakfast.

He turned to you and noticed you were frozen, just staring at him with your big doe eyes. He melted under your gaze, working hard to push against your spell as he moved to his wardrobe to find something suitable for you. He had already commissioned a wardrobe to be made for you with the finest silks and colors but they wouldn’t be coming for another few days.

So, he guessed that his own clothes would have to do. He didn’t even feel his own lips turn up into a proud and possessive grin at his thoughts. The thought of you in his clothing fed into his own protective nature, coupled with his dragon’s desire to keep you close, this was the perfect solution to the problem at hand. You would smell like him and be shown to the world in his clothes, the ultimate display of courtship and mating within dragon culture, well, besides you wearing his mating mark.

He grabbed a simple button shirt and some pants with a belt for you, hoping it would fit somewhat until your wardrobe showed up. Turning around, he couldn’t help but to deflate a little with the way you looked at him, wide eyed and almost curious, like you couldn’t believe your situation. In hindsight, he knew you were probably questioning everything, but he hoped he could prove himself to you sooner rather than later. To help guide you and adjust to your life in the palace and with him. He knew there was some darkness and mistreatment in your past, and he wanted you to feel safe with him.

“Here, you can wear these.” He hands the clothing to you before leaving the room, giving you space to change in private. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable with him. The distance between the two of you was already making his dragon antsy, but he needed you to accept him before he could allow his dragon to do anything.

You watched the King leave his den before staring down at the clothes he handed you. The fabric felt so soft in your hands; very delicate as you turned them over and examined them. It had been years since you last wore trousers, the staple of your childhood in the forest outside of your home. It felt weird wearing them as an adult.

They were a little big, and long, you were grateful the King had thought to give you a belt so they wouldn’t fall down. The shirt was like a dress to you, long enough that the fabric fell to your knees and you struggled to tuck the bottom into the pants. By the time you were done getting dressed, you were afraid that breakfast was already over and a little anxious believing that you had kept the King from eating.

“I apologize, your Majesty. I did not mean to take so long.” You bow your head, not exactly knowing how to address your soulmate as you stepped out of the den, closing the door behind you. You did not know if he would treat you like your father treated your mother, or if you would be reminded of the distant relationship between the Lord and Lady Ahn.

When he didn’t immediately say anything, you hazarded a peek at him while keeping your head bowed. You saw him bring his hand up, agonizingly slow, towards your face. You quickly screwed your eyes closed, flinching, waiting for the blow you knew was coming. You definitely offended him, taking so long to get dressed! How could you mess up so quickly? But the slap you expected never came, instead his touch was soft; sweet even as he gently cupped your chin, slowly bringing your head up.

You opened your eyes again, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed the small smile gracing his lips.

“You never need to bow your head to me, my Queen.” Your confusion transformed into awe as he rubbed his thumb across your jaw before dropping his hand to grab onto your, lacing his fingers with your own.

Never before had you felt so safe or comfortable with a man. Not even with your own father, who had had taught you to be patient by helping you gather flowers and water for paint. He showed you what it meant to be kind, always helping our neighbors and talking courteously to everyone he passed by. You wanted to trust your heart, your mind even dreaming of bonding with your future partner; wanting to fulfill the dreams of your childhood.

Dreams of walking with your own partner in the forests behind your childhood home. Collecting berries for paint and forging new paths with each other. You loved the story your father told you of early life with your mother, of how they first met and recognized their lives were better together. You wanted to experience that love with your partner. You wanted to lay amongst the flowers with them, looking up at the clouds and making shapes out of them.

You decided if this was a dream, you might as well go along with it.

You nod your head at the King’s words, letting him bring you down the long corridors and hallways, his words captivating as he tells you about the castle itself. He tells you stories of his childhood, how his father had rescued a boy who would later become one of his best friends.

You were entranced by him, by the way he walked and talked. You loved the smile he wore when he seemed happiest, his gums shining brightly as if sharing his own happiness with the world around him.

So entranced, in fact, you didn’t realize you had arrived at the room where breakfast was served, startled by the herald, announcing the King’s presence and consequently your own.

“Their Royal Majesties, King Min and his Queen.” The Herald, Seokmin, yelled to the large room once the doors opened, causing you to jump in place and the King to grin. You were shocked to say the least when everyone in the room bowed at your arrival.

The room itself was grand, something you could imagine large parties being held in. There were paintings depicting the Dragon history along the walls, the colors bringing a certain enchantment to the room. The large table in the middle held what seemed like twenty chairs with two larger chairs sitting at one end. The biggest of the two right at the head of the table, and the second one to the right of the table.

You looked at the King but he just smiled and walked forward, hand still holding yours the entire way to the head of the table where the two ornate, high back chairs sat. The King only released your hand in order to pull out the smaller of the two chairs, on the right, before gesturing for you to sit. You tried to shake your head no, moving quickly forward to tell him that he should never pull out a chair for someone lower than him, but you fall flat, seeing the warning look he gave you.

Instead, you slowly sit down on the small throne, noticing the floral engravings and etchings in the dark wood. You ran your fingers along the leaves on the arms as the large chair next to you was pulled out and the King sat down, pulling his own chair in despite one of the runner boys rushing to push it in for him.

Once he was seated, the server standing at the walls came forward and started filling the table with the food on the trays they had stacked on a pushcart. You saw foods that you didn’t recognize being placed in front of you, colors like the paints you used to make sitting on the plates of food.

When he moved back to the wall, the King on your left began reaching for the plates in front of you both, grabbing the colorful food and even sweeter looking pastries and placing them on his plate. Once his plate was filled, he placed it in front of you, taking your plate and then filling that up for himself.

“These are all my favorites. Better to grab them before the others.” He whispered to you, a slight smirk on his face as he gestures his head to one of the men a couple of chairs down, his cheeks filled with food, reminding you of a chipmunk. You giggle a little making Yoongi’s eyes light up with adoration.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” You bow your head again, before remembering that he asked you not to bow your head to him again.

“Please, call me Yoongi. As my mate, you should feel free to address me by my name.” The last sentence he said with decisiveness, as if demonstrating that he was serious about it. That you were his mate and he was determined that you understand what that meant.

You awkwardly nodded your head, repeating his name over and over again in your mind. The many years you spent serving Lord Ahn had drilled etiquette, proper forms of addressing your betters and displaying proper subservient manners into your barin. You couldn’t be sure how quickly you could unlearn this type of behavior or even if you could adapt to your new role. It would take you some time but you hoped you could. You would hate for the King, Yoongi, to have to keep reminding you, saving his breath for more important things.

“Or, you could call him Yoongles.” The person he gestured earlier speaks up, an amused lilt to his voice as he speaks to you. “Or kitty. He looks like a cat if you look at him long enough.”

“He also likes to be called ho—” The man was cut off by a pastry hitting his face, right in the cheek.

You covered your mouth at the scene, your mouth open wide as the man turns and glares at the Ki—Yoongi. Yoongi was looking right back at the man, a smirk on his lips.

“Why must you through a pastry at my face? I was only telling her the truth.”

“Why must you tell my mate these ridiculous stories, Jin?” Yoongi countered. The man, who you now know is named Jin, only gasped.

“Ridiculous stories?! I’ll have you know—” Yoongi ignored him, leaning towards you.

“This is my advisor—”

“And bestest friend in the entire world!”

“And one of my close friends, Kim Seokjin, but I call him Jin.” You turn to Jin, giving him a shy smile as you introduce yourself.

“Of course. I think the entire castle has heard about you by now. The whispers are not as quiet as they wish to be.” Jin told you, making you freeze. You did not know how long you had been out cold, but you didn’t think the entire castle would have known about your presence. It made you nervous to be on everyone’s radar. This usually meant you had done something wrong at Lord Ahn’s manor, which was never a good thing.

Maybe you underestimated the workers within the castle. You knew that secrets were never secrets with the servants. You were a servant yourself.

“But do not worry about them. Everyone wishes to get to know the little human who was able to finally gain our little King’s affection. He has been waiting for you for a long time.” Jin waved his hand at you, trying to dispel your worries. He could feel your emotions radiating off you, could see how truly nervous you were despite Yoongi doing his best to push his pheromones out to comfort you.

Your aura was a dark green and swirling blue. Jin could see your deep connection to the earth and the sadness swelling within. He could see how hard and traumatic your life has been, the blue almost matching the King’s.

Jin had a gift that gave him an advantage over the other dragons from his hoard. He could see the auras of the soul. His father had shared the same gift, making him a special advisor to the late King Geumjae. A job that now resided with him. He was the left hand to the king, especially important when trying to decipher friend from foe.

“A long time indeed.” The other man spoke up from besides you. His features were soft, but you could tell they would cut you in an instant. He had been watching you, observing you the entire time. He felt oddly familiar with you, as if he had seen you somewhere before.

Jimin didn’t feel anything bad from you, his sixth sense had never been wrong before. He could tell you were as innocent as you seemed, but he knew he should keep an eye on you. If his suspicions were correct, you would need it.

“My name is Jimin, and I am Yoongi’s younger, adopted brother.” Jimin smiled at you, holding his hand out to shake your hand. You did so, gaining a large smile from Jimin, his eyes creasing closed as he did so, and from Yoongi, watching the interaction of the two most important people to him.

Jimin had grown up in the Witches realm, but during one of the initial attacks on the Min Kingdom, he had been found under the rubble of one of the towers, blown to pieces and stacked on top of the little boy. Min Geumjae, the Dragon King and Yoongi’s father, had found him after hearing the cries of the dying boy. He saved him and adopted him to be raised as Yoongi’s younger brother.

“It is very nice to meet you Jimin.” You smile back at him, loving the energy you feel coming from the man. He seemed very polite and nice, something you weren’t expecting.

“Has our lovely King taken you to the gardens yet?” Jimin asked you after a couple seconds, giving you time to eat some of the fruit Yoongi had put on your plate. His tone was sarcastic but his eyes held sincerity. They all could see how much you needed the nutrients and to have the sun on you, the vitamin much needed given the pallor to your skin.

When Yoongi had first changed your clothes, not allowing anyone else to come near you in your state, he had become enraged, thrashing the east wing office in his fit. You were practically skin and bones, and he had found more bruises on you than just the ones visible ones on your arm and legs.

It had taken both Jin and Jimin, along with Namjoon and one of the personal guards, Jungkook, to hold the King down so that Jimin and Hoseok, the chef, could calm him down. Taehyung, the royal florist, being called in from Jungkook. The six men had to sit with him and talk him down. They were his closest friends and were the only people Yoongi would allow near him in such a state.

“No, he has not. I had just woken up only moments before being brought down here.” You replied back, leaving out the fact that Yoongi’s mother figure had practically demanded your presence at breakfast.

“Well, I think a stroll in the gardens is in order after breakfast. You should really see all the wonderful colors Taehyung has brought into the courtyard.” Jimin looked at Yoongi, nodding his head the slightest bit, making sure he would take his mate outside.

They wanted you to know you were not a prisoner. This was your home now. Plus, Jimin had the feeling that his mate would be able to help you open up, even the tiniest bit. Taehyung seemed to have a way with people that even he would never be able to understand.

Plus, they all noticed the way your eyes light up at the mention of the gardens, Jimin knew that his brother would now be spending most of his time within the outer walls, picking flowers for his lovely mate.

“That would be wonderful, if it is okay with you?” You turn your head to Yoongi at the end, hoping and praying to the gods that your soulmate would let you out into the gardens. It had been a long time since you were surrounded by flowers, and you had sorely missed blending in with all the colors.

“Of course, my Queen.” The tilt of his head had your heart fluttering.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi’s own heart fluttered at the way your doe eyes shined with hope at his words. He would give you the world as long as you continued to look at him like this.

He would do anything for his Queen.

-*-*-

Yoongi knew he was in love with you at first sight.

The way you tried with all your might to free yourself from underneath the column on top of you, the raw emotions flowing from your skin as you cried in anguish, not thinking of quitting in the slightest. You were incredibly strong, a warrior in your own right.

Yoongi fell for you again as he watched the amazement and wonder cross your features once the doors to the garden were opened. He watched as your mouth subconsciously turned into a smile; eyes alit as you reached for one of the wildflowers that was encroaching on one of the fences at the start of one of the paths through the garden.

It was as if you had never seen such beauty before. Yoongi wasn’t sure what sort of expression he was making, watching every emotion you were feeling flutter across your face, rather like an open book. He imagined the goofy grin Jin would tease him about was out in full force, wide across his face.

You continued to surprise him at every turn. He had thought you would be terrified of him, by what he was. He almost expected you to be trying to get away from him, looking for an escape while calling him all sorts of nasty names any time he came near. His experience with humans had given him such expectations. Even his high status as the ruler of this kingdom did not exempt him from the fear and contempt the other dragons faced from humans. He was blown away by the way you seemed to move closer to him instead of using this opportunity to scale the garden wall. For all the good it would do you.

It seemed like you gravitated towards each other. When he moved, you moved. When you reached out for a flower with particular thorns, he moved, as if to try and shield you from the pain he knew would come. But it never did. You were familiar with the flowers, another thing he was happy to learn.

Yoongi wanted to know everything he could about you. He wanted even the tiniest of details of who you were at your core.

He wanted to know your favorite color, what time of day was your favorite to gaze up at the sky. He wished to know what made you smile, what would make you laugh uproariously, holding your belly as you tried to contain the joy that would spill forth.

He watched how you practically floated down the path that led to the large fountain, reaching out and caressing the petals of each flower you saw. He listened as you listed off every detail you could remember about each flower, even flowers that weren’t in the garden.

He learned that the chef, Hoseok, could be using the Tulip bulbs as a substitute for onions within the castle’s recipes. The lotus flower, a symbol of life and resurrection, can stay dormant for years and then rise again with the return of water. Sunflowers can be used to find direction, as the flowers themselves seemed to respond to the movement of the sun, from east to west.

He also learned that you had a love for lavender and sunflowers. You always seemed to return back to the two plants, happiness and nostalgia turning your scent into a sweet honey, making his mouth water and his lips turn up into a smile. He wasn’t entirely sure that he knew what a sunflower was, but it sounded like something he should speak to Taehyung about.

However, your wonder dialed up once you caught sight of the large fountain his father had erected for his mother before he was born. It was one of his courting gifts, one that had his mother accepting the courting and led to their mating.

You didn’t know that, though. You were caught up in the image created within the marble. A large dragon in a protective stance over a small female, tail curled in front of her as if warning away all who would dare harm her. A wild grass filled with flowers sat upon the floor, a path created by the marbled flowers that the water from the fountain sprouted from. The other waterfall came from the dragon’s open mouth, a more powerful run as the water fell.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Yoongi seemed to catch you off guard; you had completely forgotten that the dragon was with you.

“It is.” You responded back in awe. “I wish I could stay here forever.” You turn around in a slow circle, looking at your surroundings and moving slower until you stood back in front of Yoongi.

“I would never keep you locked in my chambers.” Yoongi could hear the wishful tone in your words. He could also smell the nerves tampering with your sweet honey.

Yoongi moved closer until he was only inches away from you, his hands moving to hold yours, bringing them up to his lips so he could plant soft kisses on your knuckles.

“I have been waiting years for you. I have had dreams of you for as long as I could remember, your laughter caught in my head, keeping me alive even when I might have wished otherwise. You will never be hidden from the world. You are my treasure, and I will treat you as such.” You looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears as your soulmate seemed to read every thought and fear you had of your union.

Of the minimal things you had heard of dragon mates, none of them were very kind. You feared that you would be kept in his hoard, never allowed to leave. It seemed that your previous teachings were wrong, and it had you wondering what being a dragon’s mate entailed, the courting rituals, and what the future would look like if you accepted.

“You are the Queen of my realm, and you will have full access to everything your heart desires. As long as you are happy, my heart and dragon will be satisfied.” His words have you turning your hands to grip his own.

“What if you are the cause of my happiness?” Your lips turn up, gazing into his eyes as he seems shocked. “Will you be satisfied with that?”

“Then I shall be the happiest dragon alive, my Queen. I wish nothing more than to be the cause of your smile for the rest of my days.” His words make you blush, now shy as you look down at the ground.

If this is what fate had in mind for you, dreams be damned, you would never question her intentions again.

[gimmethatagustd]

If you are still taking requests I found this and I thought it was funny so I wanted to see if you could please write something with demon Hoseok and this idea thank you😊

satan: I HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF H-

me: wow you're tall

satan: thanks?

me : how tall are you?

Satan : i dunno like 6'6 6'11 with the horns?

me [ twirling hair] omg with horns! You are so funny

NOT TODAY, SATAN | JHS

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

» pairing: demon!hoseok x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | humor | a lil bit of smut

» wc/date: 3.7k | october 2022

» warnings: christian religious themes | discussions about how people have died | some cock fondling | sexual tension | namjoon is the ultimate cockblock and also satan | reader likes one direction serial killer AUs lol

» notes: THIS REQUEST MADE ME CACKLE. i decided to post it for spooky szn~ so i hope that's ok 🥺 (i'm also dying cuz there's like lowkey unintentional parallels to this and my hobi idol au that's really killing me)

» masterlist 

» what was jai listening to? all the good girls go to hell - billie eilish

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Purgatory looked like the DMV. 

You should have expected it, honestly. Wasn’t it represented as some type of waiting room in Beetlejuice? Or maybe you were misremembering. Ever since you’d stepped through the front doors, your mind felt foggy. When you looked back through the windows, no parking lot met your gaze. Instead, a soft gray haze was pressed against the glass, causing a bit of condensation to gather. 

How had you gotten here? 

The answer to that seemed a bit foggy, too. 

“Are you going to take a fucking number or just stand there like an idiot?” 

The bristled voice shocked you into action. Stepping forward, you ripped a number tag from the stand directly in front of the door and moved to the side for the voice behind you. A few droplets of water splattered against your ankles when the person reached for their tag. 

You suppressed a gasp. 

She was completely soaked, so wet that she left a trail of water wherever she walked, like some kind of snail or slug. It was difficult to tell what her original complexion was because her skin was now a deep turquoise. Bits of twigs and what looked like seaweed twisted into her hair. 

You followed the stranger’s water trail through the folding chairs lining the large waiting room. The speckled brown carpet squished beneath your sneakers. A bit of water was leaking inside to wet your socks. 

“Number 746!” 

A robotic voice beeped out the number over the speakers just as you sank into an empty folding chair. A man with large, dirty bandages wrapped around his head and over one eye stood from his seat beside you. He clutched a folder of papers to his chest and limped to the counter at the front of the room. 

Three people in matching black professional uniforms sat behind the counter. You thought they resembled bank tellers from how they were spread out with glass barriers separating each person’s portion of the counter. The first two employees sat too far away to make out important details of their faces, but the third was only a few feet away from you. 

He was easily the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life. The sharp cut of his jawline and the thin length of his nose slicing through high cheekbones and deep-set eyes made it difficult for you to pull your gaze away from him. Luckily, he was none the wiser of your ogling, for his attention was spent on assisting the person standing in front of the counter. You were free to marvel at his angular features, eventually shifting your eyes from the bow of his lips to examine some of his gentler features. His hair was dark like his outfit and fell soft against his forehead. Poking out of the layered waves were two thick… horns. 

You pressed your thumbs into your eyes, but when you moved them away the horns remained. 

They twisted at the tips, spiraling in opposite directions. A swirling pattern was etched into each of them. It reminded you of fingerprints. 

“Number 749!” 

You glanced down at the crumbled tag in your hand. 749. 

With a sigh, you trudged up to the counter and stood in front of the beautiful man with twisted horns poking out of dark, luscious hair. 

“I need an official form of identification and your death certificate.” 

You stared at him blankly. 

“An official form of identification and your death certificate,” he repeated with more force. 

“I… don’t have a death certificate.” 

Were you dead? How had you died? How could you have possibly received a death certificate if you were dead? You assumed your mother would have it; that was how things went, right? 

The name badge clipped to his shirt read Hoseok, Assistant Manager. Assistant Manager of what? Purgatory?? What in the fuck was going on. 

Hoseok turned to the computer sitting off to the side of his desk. 

“What is your full name and date of birth?” 

You gave him the information he was looking for and leaned forward to watch him tap away at the keyboard. What appeared to be a profile of you flashed across the screen. There was a photo of you, the one from your driver’s license. A few stats about you like your height and where you were born. Toward the bottom of the screen in large red block letters read TIME OF DEATH. You were pretty sure the date was recent, but you didn’t know what day it was currently. Before you could read further, Hoseok closed out the page. 

“I need you to come with me,” Hoseok said abruptly. He gestured for you to step around the counter. 

You took a look over your shoulder. No one else needed to go behind the counter, as far as you could tell. Although, you hadn’t paid much attention to the other people waiting for… whatever it was everyone was doing here. You still didn’t know. 

With a nervous inhale that tickled your throat, you followed the… man? Whatever he was, through a door marked for employees only. 

(So they were called employees. Hence the Assistant Manager badge, and all. What the fuck kind of job was this?)

Scurrying behind him to catch up with his long gait, you noticed that this person was tall. Like, impossibly tall. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just his height that was staggering. Everything about his presence seemed larger than life, like the very walls of the hallway needed to shift and expand to accommodate the power radiating off of him as he walked. You kept your eyes trained on his lean shoulders, watching the way his shoulder blades and back muscles made his shirt ripple when he breathed or turned around the corner. 

“Ahem.” You cleared your throat. 

Silence. 

“Ahem.” 

You did a little skip to speed up your walking and finally fell in line with the man. You flashed him what you’d consider an award-winning grin. 

“Hoseok, right? You’re really fucking tall.” 

He glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. 

So, a man of few words. Unless he was snapping at you about IDs and death certificates. Apparently. 

“Where are we going?” 

Hoseok immediately halted, catching you by surprise and nearly causing you to trip. 

“Here.” With an outstretched arm, Hoseok opened the door to a simple office. He held it for you as you crossed the threshold. 

“Please, take a seat.” 

You eased into one of the chairs in front of the desk, which Hoseok sat behind once he snapped the door shut. The fabric scratched into the back of your legs. 

Up close, Hoseok was even more breathtaking. You found that the horns weren’t as much of a creepy turnoff as you may have initially thought. Somehow, paired with the shimmering red tint to his eyes and the slits he had instead of proper circular pupils, you were rather turned on by this… otherworldly look he had going for him. It was spooky, in an “emo kid who works at Hot Topic and thinks Happy Tree Friends is edgy” kind of way. So… not spooky at all. Just endearing to the part of your brain where you’d locked up all your teen angst. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

You watched a transparent film slide sideways across Hoseok’s eyes and you realized he blinked with a third eyelid. 

Weird, but kind of hot. Fuck conventional beauty standards! You could dig it.  

“Because a handsome stranger brought me here?” You took a shot in the dark, though Hoseok didn’t appear to have followed you. He stared at you with his third eyelid and his slitted pupils and his sharpened teeth. 

Wow, he had really pointy teeth. 

“You’re here because…” Hoseok drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk. His nails were black and chipped. “You were never reaped.” 

“Reaped? Like, the Grim Reaper?” 

A low hiss came from the back of Hoseok’s throat. The sound made your skin prickle. 

“The Grim Reaper is not real.” His voice slithered out of his mouth at the same time his tongue did. It was red and forked. “You were supposed to be reaped by one of us when you died,” he gestured to himself, “a demon.” 

Well, obviously he was a demon. Or else he had a great sense of fashion. 

You leaned forward to rest your arms on Hoseok’s desk. If he thought his freaky tongue and animalistic eyes were going to scare you, he was terribly wrong. You’d been on Vampirefreaks.com back when it was still a social media platform. 

“Listen, Hoseokie. Can I call you Hoseokie?” Silence. “I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know how I got here, but I promise you, I am not dead.” 

With a sigh, Hoseok flipped open the laptop on his desk. After a few moments of typing, he slid it toward you, adjusting the screen to make it easier for you to see. 

There was your profile again. Hoseok quickly scrolled down to the section you hadn’t gotten to read earlier, the part about when you’d died. 

“In my records, it states you are dead. As of,” he turned the screen toward himself for a moment, “As of 7 PM yesterday. Yet there is no record of how you died, where you died, nor which demon escorted you here. And no death certificate on file.” 

Clearly, the missing death certificate situation had rubbed the guy the wrong way. 

Maybe you should have felt more concerned that you had a snake-eyed self-proclaimed demon trying to convince you that you were dead and chilling out in Purgatory unchaperoned. But this was all fake, obviously. A dream. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hoseokie.” You gave the man - demon - a shrug. 

Hoseok’s eyebrows pulled toward each other, causing the skin on his forehead to crease. 

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh really?” 

Hoseok pursed his lips and gave you a curt nod. 

“It already states here that you’ll be going to Hell, so I may as well just reap you myself since no one else has. I need to go downstairs anyway. We’ve been getting a high volume of damned souls recently and working overtime can be sustainable for only so long…” 

Whatever else Hoseok had to say about “demon burnout” during a time when debauchery was at its highest on Earth (“Aside from the 70s, wow, the 70s was a time.”), you didn’t hear the rest of it. There were more important things to worry about. 

You were going to Hell. 

“Wait, wait, wait, Hoseokie, wait a minute.” You curled your fingers around the edge of his laptop screen. “I’m going to Hell? For what?! I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.” 

This was the part where Hoseok was supposed to say, “I know this, and I love you.” 

Except he didn’t! The bastard just let his gorgeous mouth hang open and flicked his freaky forked tongue over those pearly fangs. 

“I beg to differ.” 

“How would you know?” 

A small smirk flitted across Hoseok’s face and you felt your stomach twist into knots. 

“Your memories, your experiences, your life - none of that belongs to you.” 

You couldn’t tell which was more unnerving, the words he said or the dark tone he said them in. With a shiver, you chose to ignore whatever riddle he was speaking to you in and tried to change your strategy. 

“Hoseokie, baby.” You ran your perfectly normal tongue along your lips and leaned even further into your companion’s personal space - as much as you could with a desk in between you. “Let’s not get carried away here.” 

“Proper protocol was not followed, so we must rectify that,” Hoseok huffed. His shoulders sagged slightly, causing him to lean inward. Maybe your cute nickname was finally breaking him. 

“Do we really?” 

“Yes.” 

“But, really? Hoseokie, babe, do I look like I belong in Hell?” 

The demon blinked with his third eyelid a few times. You watched the slit of his pupils flicker as he genuinely took the time to look you over. It was a hypothetical question and now you were scared of the actual answer. He was a demon, after all. He’d know what a damned soul looked like, right? 

“Well.” You watched Hoseok’s throat bob as he swallowed. “You did read a lot of serial killer fanfiction on AO3.” 

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Are you kink-shaming me right now?” 

Hoseok mirrored your scoff and busied himself with tidying up a stack of loose papers on his desk, but you saw the way his cheeks turned a healthy shade of pink. 

Interesting. 

“So, I’m going to Hell because I read One Direction serial killer AUs? Really? That’s why I’m going to Hell?” 

“No!” Hoseok huffed again, louder this time. He ran his fingers through his hair and gave you a pleading look. “I don’t know! I don’t decide who goes to Hell, I just take them there!” 

“Then don’t take me.” 

It seemed like the obvious solution, but Hoseok looked at you like you’d threatened to kill him. 

“I have to take you.” 

“Oh yeah? Or else what?” You were back to leaning against his desk, your head in your hands and your elbows on the surface. “Satan damns you to some horrible eternal punishment?” 

Hoseok turned his head and mumbled to the side, “Something like that.”

You wanted to ask him what it mattered if he was already a demon working for Satan, but you figured that would push him a bit too far. Instead, you were just going to beg. Considering the circumstances, you allowed yourself to do it without hurting your self-respect. Dire times, dire measures. 

“Hoseokie, please,” you whined with your bottom lip jutted out. You reached out to hook your finger around one of his, pulling his hand away from where it rested against his chin. “Please, don’t take me to Hell. Let me stay here, with you.” 

“With me?” Hoseok’s eyes widened, slitted pupils dilating into ovals. 

“Mhmm, wouldn’t that be nice?” you purred, lightly tracing the lines of his palm with your index finger. “You’re so pretty and you look so stressed. What did you say earlier, about burnout? They aren’t taking care of you here, are they, Hoseokie?” 

The demon bit his lip. His razor-sharp teeth pressed deep indents into what you knew were soft pink lips. 

“I could help you out, Hoseokie, baby.” 

Those dark eyes shimmered red and finally met your gaze, though his face was still flushed and his expression almost… timid. 

“Help me out?” he murmured, almost as though he were talking himself through the conversation rather than asking you a question. 

“Mhmm…” 

You pressed your hands flat against the desk and hoisted yourself on top of it. The stack of papers Hoseok had just fixed went flying. He weakly reached out to stop a few of them from slipping off and floating to the carpeted floor. 

“I don’t know.” Hoseok’s voice wavered, though you had to give him credit for his ability to maintain eye contact with you as you scooted across the desk. 

“I think you do know, Hoseokie.” 

Hoseok shook his head, third eyelids putting in work to blink away the shock when you eased yourself into his lap. 

You’d been so caught up on how tall and menacing he’d looked in the hallway that you hadn’t stopped to consider the rest of his details, like how firm and comfortable his thighs were. You wiggled your ass to get settled, eliciting a low groan from the demon whose red eyes still rounded under your gaze. 

“I’m going to get in trouble,” he pleaded with you when you dug your fingers into his hair and yanked his head backward. “I really don’t want to get in trouble.” 

“And I really don’t want to go to Hell.” You dug your teeth into the soft skin of his throat and Hoseok let out a whimpered hiss. “Do you see our problem here?”

Of course, he could see the problem, but Hoseok was driven mute by your free hand palming his cock through his pants. His hold on your waist was bruisingly tight, but you kept a firm grip on his hair and a hot hand on his crotch. There was no way he was getting an upper hand in this, not that you expected him to. He was whimpering and pliant underneath you already. 

Maybe you were absolutely insane, but if you had to suck some demon dick to get out of Hell, you were going to fucking do it. No matter how weird it probably looked. 

“Y/N, wait.” Hoseok shuddered as you popped open the button of his pants and dragged down the zipper. “Listen to me, it’s not, it’s not a good idea.” 

You let your fingertips dance along the waistband of his underwear. You weren’t sure why it was funny that he was wearing underwear; it just seemed like such a silly thing for a demon to need. Out here reaping souls and getting angry over death certificates, and going to the store to buy underwear after work. 

It was just funny. 

“Why not, Hoseokie? Don’t tell me they don’t let you have a little fun around here.” You batted your eyes at him and slide your hand beneath the fabric. 

“It’s not- fuck.” 

Hoseok tried to lean forward, to curl into himself, when you pressed your thumb against his leaking slit, but you kept his head pulled backward by his hair. 

“Now, I’m gonna tell you what we’re gonna do, okay Hoseokie baby?” 

The demon opened his mouth to speak and you shivered as his forked tongue wet his lips. 

“Okay.” 

“Good little demon, thank you,” you cooed praise that made his face flush an even deeper red. “I’m going to suck your dick and then you’re gonna delete whatever record you have of me and we’re going to forget I was ever even here, alright?” 

When Hoseok didn’t speak, you squeezed the head of his cock. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, alright,” he sputtered. 

“Good.” 

The bright side to all of this was that his dick didn’t look any different from any other dick you’d ever seen, although it did seem a bit long. Which was fine. You had hands, didn’t you? You knew how to do a little two-hand twist when needed. 

Just as you were about to slide off Hoseok’s lap and get on your knees, the door to his office flung open so hard it slammed against the wall. 

“Oh fuck,” Hoseok gulped. He quickly stuffed his cock back inside his pants and zipped his pants up with trembling fingers. 

“Oh fuck is right. What the fuck is going on here?” 

You turned to look over your shoulder at the person who owned such a smooth, sinister voice that dripped enough malice for you to drown in it. You felt your entire body grow cold when you were met with slitted eyes that glowed even more brightly than Hoseok’s. The eyes roamed your face, your body, your position still straddling Hoseok’s lap. And you did the same, your human eyes taking in the man’s black fitted suit, the swell of his thighs beneath the fabric, the pout of his lips, the craters his dimples made in his cheeks as he sucked on his teeth in seething anger. 

“I-I-I-I, Your Majesty,” Hoseok’s tongue fumbled over the words as he tried shoving you off of him. 

Oh shit, was this God? He was way too hot to be God. 

You stood when Hoseok did, the two of you blinking with your eyes wide and mouths hanging open like idiots in front of the sharply dressed man. Just past the doorway, you could see a few other men flanking the entrance, as though they were guarding it. 

“Don’t fucking call me Your Majesty while your cock is twitching in your pants, Hoseok. Have some decency,” the dimpled man chastised with a snort. 

Was God allowed to curse? You supposed he was, but multiple F-bombs and a casual “cock” thrown around seemed like a lot for a guy who was meant to be the holiest of the holy.

“And you.”

You poked your index finger against your chest when the man suddenly loomed over you. 

“Me?”

“You’re supposed to be with me.” 

You rose your eyebrows and shot Hoseok a look, but he had his eyes on the floor. 

“Oh… you’re not God…”

You felt fire lick and burn up your chest and across your throat when the man leaned his head back to bellow a laugh so deep you swore the walls moved just as they had for Hoseok when he walked. 

“Sweet of you to think so highly of the Devil, little human.” 

Aw, fuck. 

You were going to Hell.

“Now, listen, the One Direction serial killer AUs weren’t actually that bad. Like, if you’d just give it a chance, you’d understand,” you began. 

“Reasoning with me is futile, pet.” 

The sound of your teeth clamping shut echoed through the room. You probably should have been scared of how poisonous his tone sounded, but excitement thrummed in your stomach. 

No one had ever called you pet before. It was kind of cute. 

“Now, let’s go, shall we?” 

If Satan had a problem with the way you whimpered when he wrapped a smooth, tan hand around your bicep to haul you out of the room, he didn’t make any indication. If anything, you thought he squeezed you a bit tighter. 

“I didn’t think Satan would be so buff,” you murmured and you heard Hoseok choke. 

You’d all but forgotten about the guy. 

“Oh! Hoseokie!” You twisted your neck around to face him as Satan began leading you away. “Thanks for hanging out! I forgive you for being such a rule follower!” 

You turned up to look at Satan’s face which was a bit hard to do considering he was so tall and all legs and pecs that looked better than any boobs you’d ever seen. It was very distracting. 

“You’re not going to damn him to some horrible eternal punishment, are you?” 

“I think working here is punishment enough, don’t you?”  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work 

[justimajin]

House of the Haunted

Genre: Fluff & Comedy

↳ 3.5k / Supernatural AU (inspired from Hotel Transylvania)

[Includes: Vampire! Yoongi, Werewolf! Jungkook, Ghost! Namjoon, Demon! Jimin, Angel! Hoseok, Warlock! Taehyung, Faerie! Seokjin, Human! Reader]

Summary: It's Halloween and the Council of the Haunted have convened together for a very important and highly classified discussion - there's a *whispers* human on the premises.

A/N: I was originally going to post this for Halloween, but it unfortunately got a bit delayed. It's just meant to be a fun story for spooks and laughs. Happy (Belated) Halloween! 🎃

The front door creaks open. 

The mansion is nothing short of grand, lined with expansive black marble floors and dark wooden walls. There are ebony crystals hanging down from the dimly lit chandelier, connected right above the old spiral staircase that’s decorated with small oil lamps. The wind ever so whistles against the grey murky windows, echoing through the emptiness of the haunting infrastructure. 

Amongst the different doors next to the staircase, only one is brightly lit. 

A tall man dressed in lavish purple robes shuffles forward, his eyes darting around. There’s a sudden change in the air, akin to a low draft he feels against his back that his keen senses pick up on right away. 

“Taehyung.” A voice whispers into the night and he swivels, robes cascading around him as he does. “You came.” 

His lips pull up into a cheeky smile, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

The transparent man before him gyrates around, his feet floating an inch off the ground.

“Follow me.” 

Taehyung obliges, trailing after him. 

“You know, Seokjin will be very pleased to see you too.” 

Taehyung deeply chuckles, fingertips absent-mindly playing with the mist that radiates out of them. “I’m sure he will be.” 

He’s led into a large dining room, the very one that is brightly lit. In the middle of it sits a long outstretched table that’s entirely covered with a black tablecloth and with candlelight decor. There are seven wooden chairs lining the table and accompanying, seven golden chalices. 

It’s a room he’s become very familiar with over the course of the last couple of months. Namely, ever since one fateful day when he was granted a hand-crafted invitation with intricate writing and symbols. At the time, he truthfully wasn’t quite sure to expect, or rather, who to expect. 

His answer came without another thought and it took the form of an old, but peculiarly cheery Faerie man – the very one seated at the head of the table and examining a chalice before him. 

“Warlock Kim Taehyung has arrived.” The voice booms into the room, making Seokjin look up. 

The Faerie man rises to his feet, addressing the transparent man. 

“Thank you, Namjoon.” He nods in confirmation, before wafting back into the breeze and exiting the room. 

Seokjin spins around with a big grin, “Taehyung!” 

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Taehyung remarks, giving the man a swift hug. “Though, your way of sending invites has gotten really interesting.” 

He twirls his fingers and a piece of paper emerges, landing in his hands. He envelopes it, eyes focused on the written words. “A call for all supernatural beings to meet, for the Council of the Haunted to convene once more for urgent matters–”

Taehyung snickers, “You write like you’re a hundred years old already.”

“I was trying to be formal!” Seokjin protests, irises glimmering with specks of pink. 

Taehyung raises a playful brow, “A Faerie trying to be courteous? Now that’s funny.” 

Seokjin shakes his head with a sigh, “Sit down, will you? I’m going to have more guests to tend to.” 

Taehyung non-chantently hums, eyeing the wine in the centre of the table with intrigue. The former Faerie hears more footsteps, and he hurriedly leaves the room altogether. 

Making his way to the front door, Seokjin is met with the sight of Namjoon surrounded by others. 

“Well, well, who do we have here?” He piques, mischievousness brimming in his voice.

Two men appear before him – contrasting like day and night. 

One of them has swept violet hair and dark ebony wings sticking out from his back. A dark red beam within his orbs and there’s a soft smile lingering on his lips. The other has a mop of brown hair and a pair of white wings. He holds a deep scowl, arms crossed and his blue eyes stern. 

“Demon Park Jimin and Angel Jung Hoseok have arrived.” Namjoon announces from behind, appearing a bit frazzled from the duo’s sudden appearance. 

“The Council of the Haunted, huh?” Hoseok remarks, “You haven’t called us here in ages.” 

Jimin peers around, “The decor is really nice, did you remodel the place?” 

Seokjin merely laughs, immediately engulfing the two into a hug. “It’s been a while, you two!” 

Hoseok grumbles and Jimin giggles. “Come on in! Taehyung’s already here.” 

He steps to the side, gesturing the two men forward. They enter the grand dining room with Namjoon’s assistance, taking spots at opposite sides of the table. 

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon. “That makes three – who are we missing now?” 

“The vampire and werewolf.” Namjoon utters, grimacing a bit. “I was informed today was a full moon.” 

“Of course it is.” Seokjin sighs, glancing at his present guests. “We’ll have to wait a bit longer.” 

Taehyung raises his chalice of wine with a grin. “M’kay with me.” 

“Wait, I have to sit here longer?” Hoseok recoils, “With him?” 

Jimin sweetly smiles. “How interesting. I share the same sentiments.” 

The Faerie narrows his eyes, “Taehyung, that wine is supposed to be for everybody.” He turns to his ghostly friend, whispering underneath his breath. “Namjoon, can you make sure those two don’t cause a brawl on my dining table?” 

He immediately nods, effortlessly floating over to the table. Seokjin turns around with a huff, planting his hands against his waist. 

At this point, anyone who will arrive will be considered late. He should have considered this, knowing that some of his members simply had the tendency to be forgetful and– 

“Greetings.” 

His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at the low voice behind him, wide pink orbs coming into contact with a red-eyed man with midnight hair and long incisors sticking outside of his teeth. 

“Oh gosh–” Seokjin presses a hand against his heart, attempting to calm himself. “It’s just you, Yoongi.” He huffs, “For a moment, you had me scared there.” 

The vampire looks at him impassibly, “Sorry about that.” 

Seokjin shakes it off, “Don’t worry about it.” He stares at him intently, tilting his head to the side in amusement. “I didn’t think you would come. What changed your mind?” 

Yoongi seems to hesitate for a split-second, before mumbling the words. 

“You said there would be others here….I was curious.”

The corners of Seokjin’s mouth upturn and he watches as the vampire silently trails over to the dining table, carefully taking a seat amongst the table. He was really interesting – that was for sure. 

Suddenly, a howl breaks through and echoes into the walls of his home. He swivels around, just in time to catch the faintest blur of caramel brown fur. 

There’s an enormous wolf launching itself against him, practically pouncing onto the poor defenceless Faerie man before he has the chance to say anything. 

“Okay, okay, I get it!” He scolds, pushing him away. “Jungkook, get off of me!” 

The caramel brown wolf whines loudly, as if in utter protest. Seokjin deeply sighs, petting his head rather awkwardly. 

“There! You happy now?” 

The wolf seems to let out a pleased howl, before its paw hits against the marbled floor. Within a couple of seconds, its bones begin to crack and a young man with crinkled golden eyes and a huge bunny smile stares back at him. 

“Hi hyung!” He chuckles and Seokjin grins lop-sidley, “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“Thanks for coming, JK.” Seokjin turns to Namjoon, leading Jungkook in. “Everyone’s here!” 

Jungkook brightens up, “Namjoon! It’s so nice seeing you again.”

The ghost man stares back at him wide-eyed as Jungkook loudly cackles, throwing his head back. Seokjin ends up pushing at his shoulders to get him to sit down in one of the chairs. 

“Haha, veryy original.” He sarcastically retorts, moving to take his seat at the head of the table. Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook get seated on his right side, while Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi remain on the other. 

He ushers for everyone to raise their chalices. 

Seokjin clears his voice. “We have all gathered here today for a very important matter to discuss.”

Jungkook raises his hand, “Have you finally decided to remodel the meeting room to look less worse?” 

He scoffs, “No.” 

“Are you considering taking a step down and letting someone with purer intentions take over?” Hoseok remarks. 

Seokjin sighs, “No.” 

“Is this about the time I accidentally turned one of your workers into a goblin?” Taehyung ponders. 

“What? No.” 

“Is this when I forgot to turn your goblin back into your worker?” 

“Tae, no–” 

“Is this when the goblin wrecked havoc on–” 

“Okay, then!��� Seokjin loudly coughs underneath his breath, a bright smile plastering on his features. There’s a sudden build up of pressure into the room, as if a hazy wave had crossed over everyone’s mind. 

His irises tinge with pink and the room is taken aback with a command, all members in his group visibly relaxing more than before. 

“This is so cool.” Jimin whispers, specks of pink dwindling in his own eyes. 

“Stop trying to toy with us and get to the point.” Hoseok barks, shaking his head with a huff. 

Seokjin grins wickedly, “Now that I finally do have your attention, there is something urgent to discuss.” Taehyung raises his hand again, but Seokjin glares at him, causing him to lower it, “This matter is of utmost importance and I believe it will affect all of us sooner or later.” 

Six sets of rounded eyes stare back at him. 

He drops the ball, “I have discovered….a human in my home.” 

A sharp, collective gasp echoes through the room. 

Jimin and Hoseok glance at each other wide-eyed while Taehyung presses a hand against his chest. Jungkook stares back at Seokjin with doe eyes as Namjoon shrinks back and Yoongi takes a sip out of his chalice filled with wine. 

“You should have started with that!” Taehyung protests. 

“Well, maybe you all hadn’t been – Oh, I don’t know – interrupting me constantly, then I would have!” Seokjin exclaims. 

“How could you let a human in here?!” Hoseok hisses, aware only the supernatural kind were granted permission. 

“This is why I have gathered all of you here.” Seokjin speaks a bit softer, “I would like some opinions about the matter and to frankly, form my own.” 

Namjoon floats forward, “We had discovered her a while ago wandering outside around the mansion. She seemed lost, as if she had nowhere to go.” 

“And?” Hoseok raises a brow, “You thought letting her in here was a good idea?” 

“I don’t think it's too bad.” Jimin objects, “They were just trying to help.” 

“Help a human? Out of all people?!” 

Taehyung bites his bottom lip, “What if...the human tries to kill us?” 

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” Jimin reasons, “Humans aren’t too dangerous.” 

Jungkook leans back in his chair, gold eyes flickering as if recalling a fond memory. “My girlfriend used to be human and tried killing me once.” 

Hoseok deeply frowns, “That’s not something to be proud of, JK.” 

He huffs, “We lived happily ever after, thank you very much.” 

“Someone’s a hopeless romantic.” Taehyung chuckles underneath his breath and Jungkook sends him a glare. 

“Well, I for one, don’t trust it.” Hoseok states, crossing his arms. “Humans should be monitored because of how fickle they can be.” 

Jimin snorts as he sips his wine, “That’s a lot coming from you.” 

Hoseok venomously glowers at him. 

“You got something to say, demon?” 

Jimin smiles wistfully. “I don’t know, it just seems like a lot coming from an angel that’s been notoriously involved with a female demon.” 

Namjoon lets out an audible gasp. Jungkook’s doe eyes increase in size and Yoongi spins his head around. Taehyung leans forward with gleaming eyes and Seokjin leans back, taking a sip of his wine.

Hoseok blushes, flustered from all the sudden attention. “T-Then what about you, huh? Why don’t you tell everyone how fond you are of humans?!” 

Taehyung revolves his head around, staring at Jimin with amusement now. Seokjin sips more of his wine, intrigued by the direction of the conversation. 

“What can I say?” He cheekily smiles. “Humans are very kind and loving. I have no regrets.” 

“Why you–” 

“H-Hyung!” Jungkook looks at Yoongi in desperation. The poor werewolf is caught sitting next to the bickering angel and demon, their interactions almost making him feel like they very well arguing over his own two shoulders. “W-What do you think about all this?”

Yoongi leans forward, clearing his throat. “Humans can be very violent and destructive, if swayed in the wrong direction. However, they can be compassionate. It’s something can take decades, even years to be able to find the right one–” 

“Not all of us wait for our significant others to be reincarnated, hyung.” Taehyung comments with a smile.

“T-That’s beautiful, hyung.” Jungkook whispers while sniffling. 

Taehyung looks at Jimin with a grin, mouthing ‘hopeless romantic’. The demon loudly giggles, causing Jungkook to scoff. 

“Hey, it is! Do you know how long it takes to find the one you love?” He proclaims, “They could literally be your best friend and you wouldn’t even realize it!” 

“Okay, JK’s started to project. Anyone else?” Seokjin looks around the table, growing bored with the conversation. 

His dancing pink eyes land on Taehyung. “How about you?” 

“What about me?” Taehyung gulps the last of his wine. 

“You have a human partner, no?” 

Taehyung smiles amused. “Do I? Who knows?” 

“Oh, stop being so secretive and mysterious.” Hoseok rolls his eyes. 

“I’m a warlock, angel.” Taehyung snaps his fingers, mist sparkling around that Hoseok waves off with a disgusted look. “I don’t let out my secrets so easily.” 

“Okay, so Taehyung’s still as hard-headed as ever.” Seokjin glances over at Namjoon, an unamused hand planted against his face. “Any progress?” 

“Two members have vouched for the human and two are against,” He looks up with a frown, staring at Taehyung, “and I believe one is undecided…?” 

“So it’s a tie.” Seokjin heaves, pressing a hand against his temples, “How am I ever going to make a decision?” 

“What’s going on?” 

The entire room plunges into an uncomfortable silence. 

Everyone slowly turns to the entrance of the grand room, line of sight redirecting to the person attached to the quiet voice that echoes into the chamber. 

Your eyes are as wide as ever, taking in the grand table and the chalices of wine in front of the seven interesting individuals. There’s a mix of different coloured eyes staring back at you, paired with intricate features like wolf ears, fangs, mist, and wings. Among them, a human-like man with pink orbs is the only one you recognize. 

“Seokjin?” You wonder, “Are these your friends?” 

“Y/N.” Although he smiles, it doesn’t completely reach his eyes. You wonder if you interrupted something, especially with how they all stare at you like you were supernatural.

Seokjin glances around, continuing to smile, “Something like that.” 

“O-Oh, that’s nice. What were you guys talking about?” 

You stare at the pink-eyed man, not noticing how the angel uncomfortably shifts, or how the demon smiles in your direction. You don’t notice the werewolf staring at you naively, or the intrigue the vampire holds. You especially don’t notice the warlock pushing his wine closer to himself, or the floating man that looks at you in wonder. 

“Um…” Hoseok warily peers at Taehyung. 

“Don’t mind me.” He swipes away at Hoseok’s drink with mist, causing Jimin to laugh. 

“Hey!” 

“Shhh.” Jungkook chides, accidentally letting out a howl in the process.

“Take mine.” Yoongi offers. “I prefer blood.”

“Y/N!” Seokjin chimes in, stern pink orbs locking onto his table of supernaturals who immediately pipe down. His arm wraps around your shoulder, a charming smile on his lips. 

“How about you wait outside, hm? Things are a bit…unearthly here.” 

“Oh…okay!” You chirp, “I don’t mind, I hope you have fun with your friends.” 

Seokjin nods, smiling unmovingly. He quickly guides you outside, before looking over in Namjoon’s direction urgently, who floats over to your side. 

The two of you leave the room and Seokjin continues to smile until the door shuts. 

He spins around. 

“Would you all calm down?!” He hisses, taking the wine out of Taehyung’s hands and instantly separating the members, “Didn’t I already tell you she’s human?” 

“And?” Hoseok retaliates, “You’re the most human looking out of all of us!” 

“Yeah!” Taehyung preaches, “You’re biased towards her.” 

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “For your kind information, I’m actually half human which is why I don’t look completely like a Faerie!” 

He gestures to his ears, which should have sharper pointed ends but take on a human-like appearance instead. 

“Biased! I’m calling it!” Taehyung says again. 

“Wait hyung, then why do you need our help?” Jungkook questions, “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to figure it out by yourself?” 

“I needed opinions.” He states, crossing his arms. “Despite being half-human, it isn’t as easy making decisions regarding them.” 

“Well, I think she’s nice. Doesn’t seem too harmful.” Jimin pitches in. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t quaking in fear.” Hoseok retorts. 

“She’s not a werewolf slayer, I’ll tell you that.” Jungkook states with uttermost seriousness. 

 Yoongi shrugs, “Don’t think she’ll reincarnate anytime soon either.”

“Can I turn her into a goblin?” Taehyung lets his intrusive thoughts out, but Seokjin frowns. 

He regards all of them, “I appreciate the penny for your thoughts,” His voice deepens, sounding borderline threatening “–and Taehyung, no.”

He pouts and Seokjin sighs, standing at the front of the table once again. 

“I have made my decision and it will be final – Y/N be allowed to stay in this home until we can recover where she came from.” 

A low laugh escapes your lips. 

“Is something wrong?” Namjoon wonders and you shake your head. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just have a really interesting group of friends.” 

“Ah, well, we are all quite interesting, aren’t we?” Namjoon chuckles, before fumbling. “Uh, n-not in a suspicious way, of course. In a more human-like way, with human lifespans and human way of livin–” 

“You’re all supernaturals, right?” 

Namjoon freezes. 

“Y-You knew?”

“It was quite obvious from the start.” You laugh, “Also, I heard Seokjin mumbling something along the lines of getting the creatures of the night to gather together just like the good ol’ tales.” 

Your laughter grows as Namjoon places a sheepish hand against his temples. 

He sighs, “Well, you aren’t wrong about any of that.” 

“And what about you?” He turns, only to be met with your curious gaze and warm smile. 

He grows hyper aware, “W-What about me?” 

“I could hear them talking earlier.” You explain, gaze not leaving him. “Are you like the others? Do you have a human counterpart too?”

Namjoon is taken aback, not quite expecting you to ask. But then his smile diminishes, hints of anguish filling his orbs. 

“I used to, but she crossed over not too long ago.” He looks down at his hands, his transparency only becoming more evident by the minute. “I’m just a wandering ghost now.” 

Your heart sinks. “Wandering?” 

“Regrets.” Namjoon shuts his eyes, “I’m tethered to this world because of my last regret – which had to do with my dead wife.” 

“Oh…” Your eyes soften. “I….I hope she’s in a better place.” 

“She is.” Although remorseful, you notice the hope that fills his smile. It results in one lifting onto your own lips. 

The doors before suddenly come bustling open, startling the two of you. 

Seokjin emerges, brimming with confidence. 

“There you are!” He boasts, “A final decision has been made!”

Namjoon looks at him eagerly, “Is she staying?” 

“She is, but–” Seokjin waves a finger around. “As long as she follows the rules and… accepts our true identities.” 

“Oh, I already know you’re supernaturals.” You profess, much to Seokjin’s utter shock.

“She knows?!” Hoseok’s voice pitches out from the table. 

“Humans are smarter than you give them credit for.” Jimin snorts. 

“Well, that’s my cue to go.” Taehyung snaps his fingers, vanishing into purple smoke. 

“I-I guess that answered my concern.” Seokjin stutters, staring at you with a mix of surprise and horror. 

“Thank you for letting me stay.” You warmly smile, glancing in Namjoon’s direction. “It’ll be nice getting to know all of you." 

He smiles back and Seokjin nods, widening the door and allowing you to enter into the dining room. 

“Supernaturals are a bit peculiar around humans.” Seokjin states, placing another chair at the table, “But hopefully you’ll fit in with time.” 

You slip into it, taking the seat of the eighth member amongst the large table. 

Leaning back into the chair, there are specks of pink dancing within your irises. 

“Don’t worry.” You grin wickedly, “I think I’ll fit in just fine.”

[helenazbmrskai]

Club Vampire [Request]

Pairing – [Sub!Jeongguk x Reader]

Genre – [Vampire Au, Bar Au, Smut]

Warnings – [brat taming, bondage, cock riding, orgasm denial, blowjob, handjob, grinding, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, crying kink]

Word Count – [4,5k]

AN.– Thank you for waiting patiently I hope you will enjoy it however it got out of hand I hope you don’t mind I made him a brat. @bloodline1632​

The world is a dangerous place, honey. A general truth that is at the back of every human’s mind from an early age.

It is told that vampires with menacing smiles and pearly white fangs crawl out to the streets at night under the veil of stars and moon. Many stories are shared with body horror elements to deter; drained pretty necks with puncture wounds, their bodies left with a white sheet of sweaty skin and then dumped in alleyways for unsuspecting passersby to be the witnesses.

Only two types of people come out around midnight when it’s the darkest hour of the day: the ones with a biting fetish or dumb little girls seeking an adventure to spite their parents- maybe even the world. What does a chic and neat girl do around the west part of town? At this hour? Your red lips pray to tell.

Jeongguk doesn’t know – your eyes don’t tell – but he seemingly doesn’t care as his eyes flash a dangerous ruby red from your scent wafting through the smoky air. The first thing you do when you enter the dimly lit bar is that you walk to the bartender ignoring your surroundings and ask for a gin tonic. How classic.

It’s not your kind of scene but you’re not out of place. You’re confident and your smile is pretty almost menacing when you thank the guy for the drink he bought. Your first free drink of the night of many.

During the time you wait for your drink to be ready five different people- vampires try to get your attention.

Some are bold enough to initiate conversation despite your confidence that’s oozing from you and some remain to the means of cowardly watching you from afar, waiting for the moment you decide to leave so they could follow and steal a taste. You’re seemingly unaware of the effect you have on them and Jeongguk’s brow furrows. You’re taunting them like a mistress. If he didn’t be wrapped up by your human scent he might mistake you for a vampiress.  

Jeongguk tilts his head to the side with irritation when a man approaches you yet again – he thinks you’re either foolish to realise their intent or you dangerously ignore the looming darkness that asked you out on a deadly dance. Ready to drag you to the depth of hell if you’re not careful enough. You would be a waste – Jeongguk surprisingly thinks.

Rest assured dear spectators, you’re not ignorant nor foolish. You’re here for a reason and that reason just watches you from across the bar.

From the moment you stepped inside with your heels clinking on the wooden floor, he was nursing a glass of 0- blood in the darkest corner. Yes, you know of Jeon Jeongguk even if he doesn’t know of you yet. He has a bad reputation among your people.

It would be hard not to hear the horror stories about him even when the sun is up. Vampires with money and political power are taught to be the most dangerous of them all but Jeongguk even without all of that managed to make a name for himself. An otherworldy womanizer – how fitting. His speciality is to leave bleeding hearts behind his broad back after a satisfactory night. He prefers 0- blood and what a coincidence that you have that. Right?

You don’t care about anyone else even when you look them in the eye and entertain their fantasies for a short minute or two. You don’t look in the mouth of the free drinks you receive. The bartender is also curious about what a nice girl like you is doing here but what you would answer makes the man behind the counter scowl with confusion. Silence follows and your smile grows all the more.

”Hunting.” Your smile is cheeky.

You lift your glass to your lips and take a burning sip without making a face at the taste. The bartender shakes his head in disbelief when another vampire approaches and goes back to tending to his other customers. Although keeps the corner of his eyes reserved for you; curious to see your plan unfold. It’s a slow night with fewer vampires and humans to colour the palette but drinks are swallowed down eagerly by the patrons nonetheless. You prefer smaller crowds anyway.

”Hunting for what?” You school your features before you turn to the velvety voice that you heard to your right. Excitement fills your veins with bubbly rushes of oxygen. Your lovely scent is even stronger standing this close. His black coal eyes seemingly go through you. Fiery and piercing. Assured. You taunt him to try and figure you out before you do but be aware of your intelligent watching eyes as well – on him. Rushing against time. It’s him that seems a little impatient.

You watch him beckon the guy working on the drinks – severing eye contact for split seconds only – to order you and him another glass of what you had. You clearly have his full attention and you plan to bask in it. You lost count of the drinks you consumed but you’re not too worried, you’re still level-headed for what’s yet to come tonight. You wouldn’t jeopardise your chances by getting too drunk to make the calls. Alcohol works differently in a vampire bar as they don’t like the taste of it in humans so you’re not worried. The recipe is altered so it takes a lot to get wasted.

Your smile widens, there’s something in your confidence that baffles the vampire temporarily the curious frown he wears takes ages off his face- painting him angelic. But you know it’s just a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing to be more alluring for the prey.

You take your time looking him over. You’ve been dying to see him up close and now you can shamelessly watch the muscles in his arms move as he gets his drink, see his adam’s apple bob when he swallows it down. Dark curly hair with dark clothes and bright eyes lends him that mysterious aura every woman likes. Including you. „Hunting for what?” his question rings in your head. It’s time. You smile.

”You.” You drain the gin tonic in a single shot after you decided on your answer. Straight to the point. You know you made the right choice of words since Jeongguk looks even more determined to see through your intentions.

You could see the cogs working in his head. Displeased by the loss of his control that he usually gets handed over but too intrigued to leave.

”Oh? Is that so? If you were looking for me why wait till I approach?” His rings click against the glass when he picks it up and gulps it down and then licks the droplets from the corner of his mouth slowly – knowing that you’re looking at him intently – showing you his pink tongue and the tips of his fangs for a teasing appetizer. Similar to how your drink disappeared the bartender soon gave you another glass without having to ask and you both continue drinking.

The night is still young but you know how it will end.

”Because I knew you would. I’m Y/N.” Your smirk is confusing to him. You don’t try to shake his hand. He’s not used to his prey being so confident in their bodies. Usually, they feel ashamed of the fact that they want to take him to bed. Want him to feed on them while he fucks them into the mattress. It’s easy to figure out what they want. But not you. No. You’re different.

”I’m-”

”I know who you are.” You interrupt him with a growing smirk. He doesn’t like that you’ve cut him off but he cools his features before the mask of his feigned confidence and cockiness is back on.

You’re shameless and it stirs something sinister in him, a strong need to have you. You’re a brat. You won’t be easy but he will have you and enjoy it wholeheartedly when you finally give in to the temptation. He’s sure of it.

You could tell from his expression that he thinks he will have the upper hand like always that you’ll be begging him to fuck you. Oh. He’s so wrong. If anyone will beg tonight – it ain’t gonna be you.

”Confident are we?” Jeongguk leans closer waiting for that look of intimidation that usually follows with his closeness (at the last attempts of his tricks to get you wrapped around his sexy fingers) but you’re staring at him blank. It throws him off and that’s when you proceed.

”Confident that by the end of this night you’ll be begging me to let me fuck you.” You lean real close till your natural breath tickles the shell of his ear. The sensuality of the moment creates a bubble around you that you don’t hear the noise of the bar any longer or the loud music. It’s just you and him. You’re whispering next to his ears but everyone heard you loud and clear and they found it funny. Until. Until they see the baffled look on Jeongguk’s face when you walk away.

No one before left the vampire dry and hanging.

Phase one is completed –you muse inside your head. Here comes phase two.

His body moves like you’re pulling his limbs on strings. Follows you into the crowd and slips behind you when you start to dance. Jeongguk glares at everyone that tries to get close or touch you. You’re his for the night.

He doesn’t move to the beat of the music but he’s practically glued to your side as you do. Your warm skin brushes against him with your every move and roll of your hips. You enjoy the song with your eyes closed knowing that Jeongguk keeps an eye on you. He’s almost yours.

Jeongguk has a protective hand over your stomach but doesn’t restrain you or your movements. He doesn’t move either. If you were looking you would see the tightness of his jaw. With his desires, his bloodlust grows exponentially whilst his patience is wearing thinner by the minutes he’s not buried inside of you. He wouldn’t even care to fuck you right this moment surrounded by so many people dancing.

He hisses at every drunk couple that occasionally bumps into you and he pulls you even closer until you’re practically glued to his front. Away from everyone else that tries to distract him from his meal. His ego is bruised by the looks he gets but a part of him cannot make the choice to move away when your closeness means your hip rolls into the growing erection in his pants. He doesn’t want to move when your delicious scent wraps around his senses. Jeongguk sucks in a sudden sharp breath when you grind down on him. Your ass is perfectly rubbing against his clothed cock that grows harder in his jeans with every teasing dance move you do.

”You’re playing with fire Y/N.” His lips are placed against your ear as he whispers - grits the words only for you to hear with no real threat. The deep and dangerous tone makes a shiver run down your spine in excitement. Jeongguk squeezes your hips in warning when you continue but you’re just getting started. His empty promises mean nothing to you at this point.

”You’re the one who likes to play with their food. I’m different though. All you have to do is tell me the magic words- and I’ll make it happen.”

You snake a hand behind his neck scratching his scalp lightly before seamlessly pushing his nose into the juncture of your neck. Turn your head a little to the side to have the veins make an outline to make it more inviting. Your smell surrounds him and he nearly goes insane from the fragrance of you in the air. Your closeness is maddening. He doesn’t remember a time he was standing this close to someone and he wasn’t fucking her. The desire he has for your body is almost boiling over. You’re playing a dangerous game poking the bear but even if he tears you apart you’re sure he could put you back together in the end.

His hands on your hips tighten to a painful grip but you only push him deeper into you. Until nothing for him exists just you and your sweet smell of blood. It’s a dangerous and bold move that has your heart racing when Jeongguk inhales sharply. He could easily bite you here and suck you dry but he won’t. Even though his fangs are itching to sink into your main arteries and tear you apart like an animal. Instead, he growls into your skin and kisses down the producing veins. Listen to your ragged breaths and calm sighs.

Jeongguk never teases himself if he can help it. Everything he wants he gets it. Whatever and whenever he wants it but not with you. No. He’ll have to let you tease him. You’ve been doing it since you stepped through the door and you continue doing it with your bottom half pushing back on him, rubbing his cock with your plump ass until he reaches full hardness.

You know you won when he lets out a barely audible whimper it only takes a bit of pressure – it’s unlike any of the sounds he usually makes and if he could he would be blushing by now. He bites his lips until it draws his own blood to keep his voice steady no more whining and whimpering. A man doesn’t whimper even if it feels good. He doesn’t want you to stop either but you do.

You turn around in his hold and silence his protests with a kiss. His hands move to grab your ass and get back some of the friction between your bodies. Your kisses are too heated to be acceptable in public but it’s a bar frequented by vampires and everybody enjoys a little show of the cocky Jeon Jeongguk getting visibly submissive for a human girl who happens to know what buttons to push. He lets her do the push and pull but judging by the surrounding silence you think it’s time to take this to another place – move this into more private settings. The show is over.

He devours your mouth to the way of your apartment. So focused on you that he didn’t see the weird looks people cast on the two of you when you of all people dragged away the Jeon Jeongguk hand in hand.

Your dark home doesn’t pose a challenge to his excellent sight he could back you up against your bedroom door with ease and you let him be in a false sense that he’s controlling the situation. Using the element of surprise you’re able to change your position and have you hover over his body and mouth without touching turning the knob and letting yourselves in.

He’s leaning closer and closer to steal your kisses but you back away until his legs are bumping into the bedframe. You push his shoulders down until he sits. He’s stronger than you but he’s so occupied enjoying your kisses that he doesn’t even think about outpowering you. His head is foggy from the desire.

You take your place on his lap and enjoy the way he grabs your ass and moves your body to rub your cores together. You kiss up from his neck and leave your mark all over until you hear those high-pitched sounds that he’s so embarrassed to let out even when alone in the darkness of your room.

The vampire is dazed when you suddenly stand up. He’s panting like a dog. You walk over to your dresser to grab something and Jeongguk watches you retrieve a special rope that could restrain him. Hunting. Your words start to make sense in his head but in too deep now to quit.

”No.” Unfortunately, his head clears now that he’s not constantly under the influence of your touches. This might pose a challenge.

”You’re in my territory vampire. Do as I say or you could just leave.” It’s risky to make him choose but you need to be firm. Dominance is all about what you think you can do and if the other person doesn’t realise it’s him who gives up the power you gain – then – that’s when you become the most powerful.

��What are you planning to do with that?” You can tell he’s in turmoil with his own thoughts. He’s too invested to leave- but not used to handing over the reins. You would be nervous too.

Your smile is angelic but your actions are pure lust. You push the rope against his neck barely touching the skin when you lower it down, caressing his neck and then his producing collarbones with the rough material. Jeongguk watches you with dangerous eyes as you help him unbutton his shirt and drag the rope lower until you reach the line of his underwear. Puffs of his breath hit your face from the closeness but you’re not giving him the satisfaction of claiming your lips.

”A woman always has to be careful. What if you bite me when I’m unprepared?” You present your neck cheekily wrapping the rope around your neck like a scarf before you take a seat on the vampire’s lap.

Your hands caress the exposed skin of his chest teasingly rolling over his nipples that make him yelp in surprise. You let out a good-natured laugh at his cuteness. His hands hold your waist tighter when your touches tickle. He’s still not convinced that’s all you want with the rope.

”I promise I won’t.” Jeongguk nuzzles his face between your breasts. You’re so warm he can hear the blood rushing through your veins. It makes him feel alive too. Your scent is driving him mad each second that he spends not having you.

”You promised the other girls that you’ll call them when you sent them away. Why should I believe your lies?” You pull away with a frown. The way he lied shouldn’t sting, it shouldn’t matter because you know his nature so, why? Why is that his lie managed to hurt your feelings? You slip your tongue into his mouth as you kiss him with relentless anger. His gasp lets you access him easily. Surprised how fired up you got he couldn’t even say anything to calm you down as you right out devoured and took over his mouth. All he could do is kiss you back hotly letting your tongues fight for dominance until you had to come up for air.

You’re able to get him distracted with your urgent kisses that his brain completely short-circuited only to realise it too late that his hands are bound behind his back. Jeongguk growls when he tries to free himself but is unable to.

”Release me.” He bares his teeth threateningly but you’re not phased by the anger in his gaze and your smile only grows exponentially. Your hands run through the length of his thighs you feel how his muscles tense under your touches until you hook a finger into the waistband of his pants and jank it down his legs.

”How about no.” You grin like the devil incarnate whilst your fingers tease his hardness through the material of his briefs. His cock jumps at the touch but his face is still showing a mean frown stubbornly biting back the sounds your movements ignite.

”You can let go. I’m not going to hurt you Gukkie. It’s going to be our little secret so by all means, don’t hold back your sounds.” Jeongguk fights against the urge to close his eyes in bliss when you pull the last layer off his body. His cock is resting heavily against his stomach, the tip is flushed and glistening in the dim lights. Your fingertips are barely grazing the underside of his shaft his length jerks at the touch of your teasing fingers. You look up to see the desperation in his expression but too stubborn to beg.

”Don’t forget. All you have to do is ask.” Your lips press against the tip as you talk touching the sensitive skin with every word but not quite how he wants it. You lick them clean from the precum that got smeared on them and you moan at the taste of him.

Getting greedy you suck on it gently rolling your tongue over the flushed skin that has his hips jerk and buck into you forcing your mouth to wrap around more of his cock. You hum around it in surprise your eyes close for only a minute to enjoy the stretch of your jaw to accommodate half of his length before you swallow around him.

The first sounds come fumbling out of his mouth when you withdraw your sweet torture. Half of his cock is coated with your saliva, slick and the tip oozing more precum that you could lick up. It stains your fingers when you wrap them around him.

”-Ah, never. I’ll never do it.” You take him down your throat before he could finish his words and you hum in response adding to his torture and his head involuntarily tilts back in a loud moan. His fingers would be in your hair if he could move to force your head further down his shaft but he’s not the one in control and you pull back without a problem.

”Too bad, I guess you don’t want to cum enough.” You stroke his cock pulling back the foreskin before you kiss the tip teasingly. His hips move to fuck into your fist but you slow down, even more, he tries to pick up speed with his frantic movements. Unshed tears sting in his eyes the longer you prolong his high, not letting him tip over the edge.

You take him into your mouth carefully tonguing at the underside of his cock before you pay attention to his swollen tip coming up his length collecting his precum with a swivel of your tongue. You can feel him throb between your lips. Sweat rolls down his temple trying to chase your soft caresses but in vain as you pull away each time you could almost taste his release in your mouth. His resolve is already weakened. It won’t take long before he gives up.

”No, no, no! Don’t stop.” Jeongguk growls and trashes against his binds when you deny him yet another orgasm.

”Say please.” You lick the precum off your lips kissing down his tense stomach leaving your marks everywhere on his body. Smiling into his skin when he shivers from your nails raking down his thighs. Now, this is how you like it.

”No.” He shakes his head. Jeongguk’s eyes are a dangerous shade of red when you look up, those beautiful eyes with tears running down his cheeks he looks ethereal. You almost take pity. Almost.

”No? What a shame. I would have let you cum inside my pussy but I guess you’re not interested.” You take off your panties and jeans, watch his pupils dilate when your aroma fills the room the scent of your arousal is thick in the air as you part your slick folds with your fingers for show. He has a great view of your pussy and he sees two of your fingers disappear in your hole that forces an animalistic growl from his throat.

”Want you to sit on my dick.” No please huh?

”Fine.” Jeongguk looks at you with surprise in his round eyes. Barely have time to be suspicious of how easily you agreed. He didn’t think you would just do as he says and some of his cockyness is back as you rub yourself over his cock but your smile promise something else. There’s mischief in your eyes as you lower yourself on him. Slowly filling your pussy with his thick length until you’re completely seated.

Usually, he’s better than that but you’re hugging him so tight and your walls are so warm and pulsing around him that he could cum just from all the sensation finally granted after you edged him a couple of times with your mouth and fingers.

His eyes are focused on the producing veins on your neck. His body feels like it's on fire with you moving on top of him, so close but so out of reach. His hands are still tied behind his back while you ride him.

You slow down that seems to be the last drop before the glass overfilled. His eyes continued to shed beautiful tears so you kiss his cheek lovingly.

”Can I bite, please? Just one bite.” He looks desperate as his gaze is zeroed down on your neckline and his eyes are fogged up that you’re almost certain he doesn’t even realise he said please for the first time.

”Of course. You asked so nicely. Good job.” You run your fingers through his hair guiding his head to your neck so he could bite you.

He doesn’t waste time he already got a favourite spot on your skin to sink his fangs into and he does it without hesitance. His fangs pierce through your skin like paper and your blood spills into his mouth in an instant. Getting drunk on your taste as you sit with his cock deeply nestled inside of you.

You play with his hair while he drinks you could feel your pulse throb in the rhythm of his hungry gulps but you pull his head back before he could take too much from you. His lips, chin and collarbones are red from your blood but you’re not repulsed to kiss him and taste the iron on your tongue. You start moving again with the intent of cumming and he helps you with thrusting up meeting you in the middle.

Jeongguk buries his face into your neck moaning into your skin and cleaning your wound with sensual licks that add to the pleasure of riding his cock with reckless abandon. You’re so close you could taste the orgasm in your mouth. You only need a little push that you provide yourself by rubbing your clit.

You cum around his cock your walls are fluttering around him keeping him just right at the edge but never quite there.

His cock is still leaking, red and hard when you get up pushing at his chest until he’s laying on the bed. He’s panting and struggling against his binds. The loss of your heat makes him react like a feral beast. It doesn’t seem far-fetched as he still has your blood tainting his face and his eyes ruby red.

”Please, please, please.” Jeongguk tossed away his pride and begged as tears continued to stream down his face. You decide it's best not to deny him his orgasm anymore as you don’t know if he will go mad or not if you do.

”Shh, I got you baby.” You massage his shoulders and place pecks all around his face, his nose, lips, and cheeks as you slowly sink down, his length filling you up again. You purposefully tighten your walls around him to get him to finish as you start a punishing pace.

Milking every drop of cum that he has for you.

[moccahobi]

The Creamed Pie

Summary:  What a gross bakery name you thought as you entered, too hungry to turn down the promise of food. Allosexuals were getting more and more brazen by the day but succubi were worse, even if they were ace. And somehow you were helping that ace succubus now.

Pairings: Seokjin (BTS) x Reader 

Rating: SFW (although I ask that because of the number of sexual jokes and comments, please just 18+ people read)

Warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of death

Genre: fluff, humor, angst, succubus au, slow burn

Word count: 7.9k

 The Creamed Pie

The cafe sign looked down at you with welcoming arms, steam and water puffing out from the name. And if it weren’t for your hunger, you might’ve looked over the bakery because of that name… you might not know much… but that was sexual. You barely even paid mind to how as you were about to give in and look up food nearby on your phone, such a tasty looking place came into view. 

It was too good to be true. 

Just a short walk from your new apartment was a cafe that could fuel you before work and fulfill your cafe loving mind on mellow days? It was a miracle and you could imagine the times you’d spend in here.

The cafe name though .... Were allosexuals ok? 

You laughed and shook your head, your growling stomach you in. Despite the name, the inside wasn't playing off of such sexy themes. 

In fact it was full of pastel colors and vibes. The tables were full of soft rainbows, each table and chair set a mix and match of all the colors. An accent wall of luscious ivy seemed to wave you over to settle into the couch right below it, full of plushies. There were even more plushies sitting on chairs and resting on the counters. It was an eclectic and interesting place that you could see becoming popular for its aesthetics off of social media… especially if they had those aesthetic bathrooms that people would spend twenty minutes in getting the perfect selfie.

The handsomest man in the world with a blinding smile rushed from the backspace, his smile wide and excited as he started fretting behind the counter. Pink oven mitts were barely off before he was shouting welcomes, his pastel blue apron dusted with flour that was sprinkling onto the counter. 

"What can I get for you ?" 

"An Iced americano, please." 

For the briefest second, a frown took over his face before he rushed to make it. After he finished he grabbed a muffin and plated it.

"Here you go."

"Uh. How much is it?"

"Oh! Shoot. Forgot about that. You all normally have registers, right?"

"What?"

"Nothing. This is on the house," The man flashed a large smile. "For being my first ... customer." 

You nodded, grabbed your stuff and sat down. He probably hadn't had customers because of the cafe name… Looking back over though, he didn’t even have a register.

Or… wait… there was one? 

It seemed fuzzy, barely there in your mind but the longer you looked at it, the more you were sure that there was and always had been a register there. You shivered and looked down at your order. Maybe you should of gotten a hot americano. 

Despite the off putting name (who thought of that name and approved it?), taste of the food was out of this world. Everything was bursting on your tastebuds and between the chewy fruit and a crunchy topping, the muffin was the best muffin you’d ever eaten. The owner knew what he was doing by giving you this on the house. You were groaning and vibrating with excitement with each bite. 

Half way through your muffin though you froze, the hair on the back of your neck sticking up as you turned to look at the counter. The man was staring with a big smirk on his face, his plump lips spread thin and teeth on display as he watched you eat.

Creepy.

His smile dropped and he quickly went to the backroom to do something. You deflated once he was gone and finished up your coffee before rushing out. Maybe the cafe wasn’t a place you needed to go to again. That man was creepy and unless you were able to figure out a schedule for other workers, you don’t know if you’d want to stay long enough to eat there.

The cafe stayed with you like a ghost and before long, you were trying to seek it out matter how again. No matter how badly you searched though, you couldn't find it. Somehow the cafe wasn’t in the same spot as last time and you felt a shiver as you thought back to the man. Something wasn’t right with him. His smile haunted almost you as much as the muffin did. Yet he seemed friendly too… just… off. 

The longer you thought about the cafe and him, the more you wanted to return (maybe with another person) to find out more about him and his cafe… if it managed to survive past a week.

It wasn't until you were caught by the rain on your way home from work that  you found it again. Its name was still the same  but the surrounding logo of food outlines made it look much more appealing and feel much less sexual. Gone were the water droplets and now there was a few different baked goods on it. Maybe the owner was upgrading his business to get more customers.

You rushed inside and stopped at the doorway to shake off the water, shivering as the cold stuck to you and the water refused to leave. During your move your umbrella broke and although you could use it if you kept your hand up to push it open, you didn’t want to do that… especially after working a long day. It was mindless of you to not get a new umbrella. 

"Oh! Y/n-ssi! You're shaking. Here's a towel! Let me prepare some tea." The same man as last time said after popping out from the back room. You could hear him clamor around and before long you found yourself ushered to one of the cushioned chairs and wrapped up in a warm towel. 

It wasn't until he came back with a hot cup of tea that you processed what he said, another shiver running through you at the realization. 

"How did you know my name?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Your credit card shows it on the chit system."

"You gave me my stuff on the house."

He froze before collapsing in the seat. across from you with a dramatic sigh, "Acting human is hard. Other succubi don't have this challenge!"

"What?"

"Oh shit. Be not afraid." He said, waving his hands around as if to try to put a spell on you.

What the fuck? 

This can’t be real!

“It’s real, Y/n-ssi.” 

…

No one else was in the cafe… you should play along. There was no telling what he might do to you if he thinks you didn’t believe him. 

"So… You're a succubus? Well I hate to break it to you, you won't get any food from me."

"Oh on the contrary. Your first visit here was delectable."

"How! I'm ace! you feed on orgasms! Omo! The name makes sense now." You said, trying to think of anything to keep him talking. 

"I'm ace too. And succubi feeds off of desire. Not orgasms."

"You're an ace succubus?" You asked, laughter rising from you at the contradiction. This man was pulling shit out of nowhere at his point. 

"Hey! I hear your thoughts," The man said as he laughed, "Just because common media shows us as sex hungry demons doesn't always mean we are. And I am telling the truth. I don’t know how I can prove that to you but I am. I won’t hurt you if you don’t believe me. You don’t have to worry about that." 

You froze. Any self aware man who--

“Knew about the struggles people have with strangers would be able to realize you’re worried about your safety?” He said, giving you a flat look.

Your mouth was hanging open as you gaped for something to think of… Were you actually talking to a demon? How was that even possible? The whole thing felt surreal but the same cafe showed up in two different spots ... he knew your name. No one else was here. He was unrealistically handsome. His food was unimaginably tasty.

"If you're trying to live like a human, you're failing."

"Care to teach me?" He asked and despite the suggestiveness of his words, when he looked up at you, you saw desperation and concern, “I only have a few more months to give this a try before they bring me back to hell and try to get me to do the usual succubi business of sex dreams and,” He shivered, “I can’t do that. I can’t go back.”

His anxiety was something you felt so viscerally. All the moments of people not believing your sexuality, questioning your jokes and actions when they didn’t fit into the stereotype of what an ace person should look like, the times people thought they could change you… you knew his pain and his anxiety. Maybe not as extreme as him if he was a succubus but you knew it. 

“Yeah. I’ll help. But I will have you know, I do not like how you went to food. I get you want to do something different than sex but… food? It’s the oldest ace stereotype in the book! ” 

He blinked slowly. 

“What?” 

“Media always portrays ace people as replacing sexual urges with food.” 

The man started laughing, slapping his knee as rolled around in the chair, “It sounds to me like they try to understand their desires by putting others through a filter of their understanding. But food is one of the next biggest desires so I am not changing it. I’ve gotten enough desire from those who’ve visited already. Only a little though. Almost not enough. And so many other desires offer much less. But you’ll help me, Y/n-ssi?” 

You sighed, “Yeah. I will… What’s your name?” 

“Ah! I almost forgot you all can’t read thoughts. It’s Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Nice to meet you. I hope you’ll help me stay on earth with this job...” 

Seokjin groaned and threw a damp washcloth at you. Stupid demons have good aim it seemed because it hit your book, forcing it out of your hands, “I can’t believe you’re reading that.” 

You shrugged and grabbed your book, “I’ll read sex scenes if the rest of the book is good. Besides, I mostly read what they say and skim the rest.” 

“I can literally hear you reading each sentence.” He said and when you looked over at him, his ears were bright red and a frown was twisting his face. 

“Would you like me to stop reading it for now? I have some other books I can read while you can hear my thoughts.” 

He sighed and nodded, “I’d appreciate that. I can’t believe that you convinced me to buy an actual shop! Now I have to be in the shop more.” 

You laughed as Seokjin whined, “You won’t get tons if you only target people who are desperate for food! You can still give them stuff on the house but now you’ll get more people with small amounts of desire as well.” 

He groaned and threw his arms in the air like a petulant child and you were once again struck by the fact that he was a demon. A succubus. How the hell was this stuff real? How had you been roped into helping an ace succubus? It explained so much and yet so little about Seokjin. His looks, his flirty nature… but his humor? And his past? And his personality? Still so much was unknown to you and something deep in you was pushing you to learn more.

“I’m glad I’m able to still,” He twirled his hand, a beautifully decorated cake in an ornate cake display shimmering into view and telling you that it’d always been there, "I wouldn’t be able to own an actual shop if it weren’t for this.” 

That was still something you’d need to get used to. He’d materialized so much around you, made it real and with a past in your mind. The world of magic that you’d been thrown in was overwhelming. 

Whether or not Seokjin heard your inner monologue, he didn’t say, instead going about and cleaning tables. You watched from your corner seat, not yet gathering energy to open your phone and find a new book to read. 

The ding from the door pulled you to your phone as you let Seokjin tend to his client. Business in the evening was slow for him and that’s when you enjoyed coming in to rest and help him navigate the human world. The man refused to get an apartment or home despite claiming he wasn’t going to hell to sleep. Where he slept, you didn’t know and that worried you only a little more than his incessant winking when he greeted new customers. And those occasional smirks he gave you when he was feeding off of you… well you were fairly positive he was feeding off of you. 

You shivered and tried to bury yourself into your phone. 

The next time you came over, Seokjin was struggling with his taxes, screaming at a computer that has always been behind the counter and shaking his head.

“You’re scaring customers away.” You said flatly as you entered, setting your work bag down on your seat. 

“The shop is closed.” 

You didn’t even jump as the shop sign flipped over to closed and Seokjin went back to yelling about taxes and eating the rich. A laugh left you as you watched him, his veins popping as he worked up a sweat with each hit of the computer. 

“Do you want help?” 

“No. I am going to make the landlord vanish.” 

“Your contract literally had a clause that if the landlord died, his kids would get the place and they might force you out. Nothing will stop the onslaught of taxes, Seokjin.” 

He sighed, “Silly humans and their useless taxes. What even is the use of business taxes?”

“I am the last person who’d know. I don’t do taxes nor do I own a business but I am sure the internet could tell you.” 

Seokjin threw himself into the chair across from you and your heart leapt out of your throat as his chair wobbled dangerously before finally settling down. He wailed dramatically and grabbed your hands, warmth spreading from his touch as he complained about taxes more and more. 

You laughed and shook your head again, grabbing a book from your bag and settling into your seat, “Have you eaten enough desire today?” 

He sighed, “No… Especially with this frustration, I am so hungry.”

You should open your shop again then.

“Why would I when my favorite customer is here, though?” You looked up, heat rising to your cheeks as he sent you a wink.

What did this man have in store?

“Want to try the latest treat I’ve made! It’s a decadent lavender and lemon cupcake!” Seokjin was already up and about before you could say anything, his focus on making the cupcake look pretty on the plate. As he walked over, you noticed how he stuck his tongue out in focus. He was a cutie, you’ll give him that. 

Before you could even blink there was a steaming mug of tea next to the cupcake as well and he watched you expectantly as you set down your book and took a sip.

“Ohhh. A chocolate tea with this is really smart.” You said, trying to focus on the flavor and not at how excitedly he was looking at you. It made you shy and yet at this point in knowing Seokjin, you couldn’t help but be edenred at how excited he got for you to try his food. 

You tried to tell yourself that it was just for the desire he’d get from you but there was always a small voice in your mind telling you differently. Gingerly taking the cupcake, you unwrapped it and broke off the bottom half to put on top. 

Seokjin groaned, “Can you not butcher cupcakes like that again?!” 

“What! It’s a smart way to eat a cupcake and reduce mess!” 

“It’s blasphemy!”

“Shouldn’t you like it more then?” You asked, silencing Seokjin with a bite of his cupcake.

Damn it. 

Seokjin made good food. 

Begrudgingly, you gave into the wonder that was the cupcake. It wasn’t too sweet, the tart lemon cutting through the sugar and allowing the lavender to hang in the back of your mouth for longer. And the frosting? A soft and tart cream that melted on your tongue, allowing the spongy cake to be eaten smoothly and softly. 

Seokjin was smirking at you as you ate and damn it, he looked good. 

You set the cupcake down and drank more of the tea, thankful for the change in flavor. 

“It’s good.”

“I’m glad. I am feeling much better now myself.” 

You scoffed and looked away as you tried to calm down your heart. This man would be the death of you. 

Seokjin shook his head at a customer, a pout on his face as he handed over her food and drink. She didn’t seem phased though, waving bye with a smile and sitting down close to you. It wasn’t common to have people come in shortly after you arrived in the evening, the evening rush often starting closer to eight pm with students cramming for the next day. Yet here was someone who’d visited a few times before and was now fluttering her eyelashes at Seokjin as he cleaned up. 

You chuckled into your computer as you watched him shy away, glaring at the counter that he was cleaning as she watched him intently. Maybe he was embarrassed by her thoughts. That made you laugh. The man was so handsome and whenever his forehead made an appearance (instead of his common bowl cut) people seemed to flirt with him more than normal… which was to say about every customer was more friendly with him. 

Poor guy. 

Seokjin glared at you, his nostrils flaring as he dramatically went into the back room. 

The other customer deflated, turning to her food and phone as she settled in for the meal. You found yourself deflating as well, turning to focus more on your work. Normally you were good at enforcing a work-life balance but when the deadline for the project you’re heading is nearing and everyone else on your team is enforcing a healthy work-life balance, it was on you to pick up the slack. In the past, they were bad about working overtime without pay even when there wasn’t much to do so you were proud of your teammates. Truly… but the work wouldn’t complete itself. 

The next time you looked up, it was because Seokjin had placed a big sandwich, bursting with luscious vegetables and egg salad on your table. A cup of tea that had always been there also greeting you. Your heart fluttered as you thanked him and watched as he sat down with a big sigh. 

“I am so tired from standing all day, Y/n-ah! Why do people do this?” He said with a groan, rolling his feet under the table without a care for your shins he was beating. 

You shrugged, “Put a chair back there then.” 

“That’s really smart!” 

“Thank you.”

“What are you working on? I don’t normally see you with your computer out.” He asked, leaning over the table and shoving his face near your computer screen. As if he could possibly read the document upside down.

Could succubi?

“No. I am too tired to go around. Besides I don’t know what it would say upright anyways.” 

You nodded. It was always surreal when he read your thoughts but you were getting more used to it as you spent more time with him. 

“Please eat by the way.”

Is he really hungry still? It was Monday and every Monday evening he bragged about how stuffed he was because of the worker rush. 

“I know you’ve not eaten since this morning. Silly, silly, silly. Don’t overwork yourself.” He said, gently flicking your forehead. 

You didn’t know if you believed him. 

You looked over at the woman who was finishing her food… she was still here so you couldn’t change the subject to something succubus related… like how he always managed to have such a rush or how he still targeted people whose desires were strong and not in the area.

“Speak for yourself. You are open every day.” 

His brows furrowed, “Is that not normal?” 

“Are you a big corporation who goes through workers like wheat in a mill and refuses to close?” 

He pouted and you felt the urge to coo, “I’m not a big corporation who is mean to workers. Are those? I wonder who--” 

He stopped and looked at the lady eating. Were inhumane capitalist systems created in hell?

“From my understanding they’re human.” 

You sighed, “Either way. Working every day, with the hours you work isn’t common.” 

“Oh. I should close some days then. Would you want to do something with me those days?” His eyes lit up and you knew you couldn’t say no to him. 

“Sure. That’d be fun! And I can help you find some other people you can spend time with.” 

His brows furrowed once again, “But I like spending time with you. Why would I need others.” 

Damn it. 

Seokjin wasn’t good for your heart. 

“Y/n! Y/n! I found this awesome song! Cake!” Seokjin was shouting excitedly, waving around his phone as he bound towards you, blaring an overtly sexual song and blissfully unaware of the many angry people looking at him. 

“P-Please! Quiet the song!” You said, trying to take his phone as he pouted and kept it away.

CAKE! ON MY BODY! CAKE! PUT IT ON MY BODY!

“But it perfectly encapsulates my feelings about cake!” He said with a pout, wiggling around in a poor attempt to dance.

After way too long of him dancing and avoiding your grasp, you were finally able to get him to sit down and silence the song, your whole body bright with embarrassment. 

“Seokjin… you can’t play a song like that in public. Even if you feel like it fits your feelings about a food. It’s so sexual.” 

“What? How?” 

“Oh dear. How do you have your bakery named The Creamed Pie and not know what cake is?” You wanted to cry at having to explain this to a grown ass man… a succubus. 

“What about the Creamed Pie? Why are you bringing my love into this! It’s a beautiful name” 

“Oh dear.” You shook your head, “It’s a term for a… sex action.”

“O-Omo! What? I had no idea! It fits so well! And cake?” 

“Ass.” 

“What?! No wonder my friends laughed when I told them what my bakery was named and my favorite song! I know! I will change the bakery name! Double Stuffed is another name I was considering.”

You facepalmed.

“Do succubi naturally make innuendos?” 

“What?!” 

“Just keep the Creamed Pie. It’s stuck at this point.” You said with a sigh, shaking your head as you looked at Seokjin fondly. 

The man was getting so much better at blending into the human world. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was human. But you knew better so you could guard your heart better. He was an immortal demon and you were a human teaching him how to act human. 

You watched as he jumped up excitedly to greet a mutual friend of yours who worked at a pet shelter. Hoseok was being pulled excitedly by a new puppy who had to stay with the vet for the night. Laughter bubbled out of you as you watched the two interact, Seokjin throwing his whole body into snuggling the dog while the two interacted. Helping him get into different communities to make friends had been beneficial to you. Sure you had a few friends from work but that was about it, the move removed you from most of your previous friends after all. Seokjin got you into shelter work, a bookclub, a gardening club full of sweet old ladies. He’d made your world better by being in it. 

How long would you be able to have Seokjin in your life before he’d have to move to keep his image up? 

Would he last ten years before people started to notice he didn’t age? 

You sighed, not wanting to get up and interact yet. 

These thoughts of Seokjin’s transience had been bogging you down more and more. Sure he could live here for a long time… but would it be enough for you? He’s someone you want in your life for… as long as you live. Ignoring the flutters that have been occurring more frequently, he’s made your life so bright and you didn’t want it to end. 

You hoped that Seokjin didn’t sense this from you. Aside from the embarrassment of these thoughts that he might hear, you imagined that your want to keep him in your life could feed him almost as much as his food.

Seokjin was looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

You shivered. 

Maybe he already knew. 

With a heavy sigh, you got up. The walk to Hoseok and Seokjin was full of trying to wipe your mind of the thoughts and the gloom. Think about puppies.

“You’re tired, Y/n. Take a nap.” Seokjin said with a sigh, taking a now empty plate from your table. 

“Huh? I’ll be ok. I need to work on a bit more.” You said, waving him off as you continued to type away on your computer. A possible new job was opening in your work and you had to finish the application soon.

The laptop slowly closed on your hands, Seokjin’s frowning face greeting you. There was a blanket and a pillow on your table, the two plush and calling to you stronger than this application was. Was this succubus magic? 

Seokjin sighed, “You won’t get the job if you’re burnt out. Take a short nap. I’ll wake you up in thirty minutes,” He must’ve seen something in your eyes because all too soon he was crossing his arms and sitting across from you, “I will bar you from the bakery as well. The door takes people to where they most desire but I can make it so it’ll take you to where you’re dreading.”

“The door can do that?” You asked, looking at the door with a new suspicion. You guessed it made sense that the door had some magic too since he could bring people in from all over the area who were desiring food. 

“I am not changing the topic to educate you on one of the many things I’ve learned over my lifetime. Nap.” 

“I’m not even that sleepy.” You said, but as you looked back at the door, you knew that you didn’t want to risk no longer being able to see this place. With a glare and a few curses for Seokjin, you grabbed the pillow and blanket, spreading out on the couch and trying to get comfortable.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily though. Seokjin was working still and despite your mind feeling oddly quiet, you couldn’t get comfortable. It was all made worse when Seokjin came over and adjusted the blanket, his hand removing hair from your face gingerly. He sighed what felt like a thousand unspoken words before finally going back to work. 

But the ghost of his kindness didn’t leave you. Not the rest of that day. Not during your time at the pet shelter. Not at work. Not during book club. 

You shouldn’t be so flustered by a friend’s action. You’d probably do something similar if his hair was in his eyes. It was just a caring thing to do.

Plus, the two of you talk about being ace all the time… but not romance. He still turns down every flirty customer… he could be aeromantic. Or not interested in humans. If you were an all powerful and eternal demon, you don’t think humans would appeal to you. 

His touch haunted you as you watched as Jimin collapsed into Seokjin with laughter, Hoseok and Namjoon clinging to him at some joke that they’d told. It was barely even funny (if only you’d been listening). Physical touch has always been something you felt neutral about or blatantly shied away from and generally it didn’t affect you when others were able to so freely be physically affectionate. It was a ghost of a barrier keeping you minimally stimulated that you rarely ever overcame and no one else seemed to try to broach. There were some family members and childhood friends who you hugged or snuggled, but touch had never been something that you wanted or needed. Bodies were warm and quick to getting damp. You cringed at how Seokjin was attacked with affection and yet another part of you longed for that kind of affection from Seokjin. 

To hug. To be caught by him. To be able to lean on him. To hold hands. 

Jimin, Hoseok, and Namjoon never had a challenge with it. 

Seokjin accepted it willingly… but you struggled to broach that. 

Speak of the demon… Seokjin looked over at you, welcoming you closer on the picnic mat, his hands pointing to some cold fruits that had always been part of the picnic. 

You leaned over and grabbed something to munch on with a smile, Jimin launching on you with his next roll of laughter. A cringe rolled through you but you didn’t push him off, his heaving chest tickling you into laughing as well. 

The guys had been swapping strange customer stories for the past hour. It had urged them up the mountain they hiked and been the background noise of the picnic setup. Despite not working at a customer service facing job, you enjoyed the stories and how they reacted. Like Jimin had someone who wanted white black eyed susans in their bouquet… which didn’t exist. They meant daisies… but they refused to believe they weren’t black eyed susans. It didn’t take Jimin too long to convince them that white black eyed susans were super rare and upcharge the poor person on the common flower.  

“You’re so devious!” Seokjin said, quieting his laughter with some of the fruit and watching as others around started to eat. 

“Nuh uh! The dude was being really rude and I tried to explain it to him for over fifteen minutes. If he wants to think he got something special, let him. He came in wanting to spend more than he needed to anyways.” Jimin said with a hum.

Namjoon shrugged, “Here’s hoping he doesn’t find out ever. Hyung, this fruit is so good! Probably the best I’ve ever had.” 

“Thank you!” Seokjin said, smiling broadly and winking at you. 

Jimin giggled and gave you a look and you tried to shake it off. Seokjin winked often and this was about your little inside secret. They didn’t know he was a succubus or that he was feeding off of them as they are this fruit… or that he’ll live forever and eventually leave everyone here behind. 

Seokjin looked into the woods around everyone as Hoseok took control of the conversation. He was talking about a tragic vet case he worked recently… which was as sad as your thoughts were.

“Why do you keep thinking about me leaving?” Seokjin asked as everyone started hiking back to the parking lot. He’d fallen behind with you and was speaking quietly as if he was worried about others hearing. 

Probably because this got to his demonic ways… which they didn’t know. 

You shrugged, “You can’t stay here forever. You’re immortal. Sooner or later people will realize that you’ve not aged a day and to keep eating desire you'll need to move. I’ve seen movies and read books about this.”

“You’re acting nonchalant but I can tell how much it’s hurting you. You’ve grown so distant.” 

The trail was getting smaller and to continue talking and walking next to each other, your shoulders bumped together repeatedly. His warmth was welcome. 

“I like you in my life.”

“And I’m in your life right now.” 

“But for how long?” You asked, looking over at him with a glare. 

“I don’t know. It’s not like I can’t figure out how to stay with you forever.”

“Seokjin. I don’t live forever. You do.” 

“I don’t have to.” He said, untold words swimming in his eyes at that. 

Before you could continue though, the parking lot came into view and Jimin was urging Seokjin into his car. You were once again alone with too many thoughts bogging you down.

Damn it, Seokjin. 

You watched the back door swing open, two people sauntering into the bakery who you’d never seen before. Seokjin hadn’t talked about hiring people to work here and that was something the two of you talked about often. One of them made their way over to you, tattoos on full display as he dusted off his jacket and gave you a once over. 

“Come here often?” He asked in the worst pickup line ever. It took physical strength not to cringe and turn back to your book. 

“No.” 

“That’s good to know. Want to come over to my place after?” 

“Jungkook! What in the world are you doing?” Seokjin’s loud voice made the man, Jungkook, stand on edge. His eyes were wide and face pale. 

“That is no way to talk to…” He looked over at you before looking at Seokjin again, the two entering a staring contest that could rival battles. 

Was Jungkook a succubi? 

You looked over at the other man, tall and lanky but dressed to the nines. They practically walked out of romantic dramas. Why were demons so bad at blending into the human world? 

The other man started laughing wildly, Jungkook and Seokjin whipping around to looking at him, “S-Sorry. This human… they have such hilarious thoughts! I can’t tell if they’re insults or not.” 

“Yes. When I first moved in they had a lot of comments about my shop’s name. Still can’t quite tell if they were meant to be positive or negative.” Seokjin said, not even sparing you a glance as he sized up the other demon. 

“They were negative.” You said and immediately regretted it as Jungkook whirled on you once again sizing you up and giving you one of the worst smolders you’d ever seen in your life. What a disgrace to Flynn Rider.

“Hey! I will have you know that my shoulders are amazing! Wait-- Why aren’t you affected by it?” The poor man looked so confused and sad that you weren’t falling at his feet.

Seokjin coughed and Jungkook and the other demon’s attention was brought to you once again, “What are you two doing here?” 

“We wanted to visit you. Especially with the current whispers we’ve heard down below.” The other man said, sitting down in a chair by you and taking a sip of tea that had always been there, waiting for him. 

“I wanted to try your food! I’ve heard it’s really good!” Jungkook said, “And Taehyung said that we should have a serious chat with you about giving up immortality.” 

Taehyung slapped Jungkook’s arm and shot you a look. 

Your eyes shot up as thoughts started rapid firing in your mind. Why would Seokjin give up immortality? 

“Y/n, I think you should leave for now.” Seokjin said, not taking his eyes off of Taehyung and Jungkook.

“But they seem like fun! Don’t you want to have fun, Y/n?” Jungkook asked, sending you a wink.

A growl tore you from Jungkook’s gaze, quickly making you pack up your things, “Seokjin’s right. I should get going. Good luck with the conversation, buddy.” You said, not wanting to give space for anyone to speak as you raced out of the cafe. 

To your shock, exiting the cafe led right to your apartment door. How in the world did that happen? 

The next time you saw Seokjin, he looked sickly and tired and was moving around the shop with half the energy and excitement that he normally had. He still tried to put on a smile for customers who came in and any time you opened your mouth to say something he glared at you. He wasn’t wanting you to bring up what was happening to him but you worried nonetheless.

Do demons get sick? 

Is it possible for him to not be getting enough desire? 

If so… you wished you could give him all your desire. Anything to keep him healthy and here with you. 

Seokjin was so tired that he sat down at multiple points. It was during one time when he was resting his head against a table that you got up, determined to help him somehow. You moved behind the counter and started to make him a cup of tea. 

Except… this man didn’t have any mugs. 

You sighed and next thing you knew, a mug was greeting you. It had always been there. Looking up, you saw Seokjin looking at you from the table, his head turned to rest and watch what you did. He winked but didn’t do much else. Quickly you made the tea and grabbed one of the display sweets. It wasn’t much and Seokjin likely had something similar all the time but it was the most you could do without talking about whatever was going on. Before bringing the stuff to him, you went to the door and flipped the sign to closed. Seokjin wasn’t in a place to serve people right now. 

You sat across from him, cringing as he struggled to get up and slowly sipped his tea. The cafe was filled with the sounds of him slowly eating and drinking, the man a loud slurper and chewer. Probably his one flaw.

“Hey! I am flawless!” He shouted, crumbs flying across the table.

“I don’t know about that.” You said, “Noisy eaters can be a big deal for some people. Can trigger main receptors in some!” 

He scoffed, “Well not you.” 

You shrugged, “No. But I don’t like it much still.” 

He huffed but started to eat with less noise, “I will not change my slurping. It’s how you aerate the hot drink and cool it down. I don’t want to burn my tongue.” 

“Didn’t know demons could.” 

Seokjin stayed silent at that. 

What did Jungkook and Taehyung talk about? What was happening to Seokjin? 

He glared at you. 

Puppies. Think about puppies. 

“You think about puppies a lot. Do I remind you of them?” He asked, his cheeks filled with food and eyes playful. 

“Hmmm. I think you remind me more of chipmunks or hamsters. But I like puppies! They’re cute.” You said with a laugh, half wanting to grab your phone and show him some pictures or videos of puppies. 

“What about chipmunks and hamsters? No love for them? They live a short time, is that why?” 

“I like them.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded, “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to see them when I do. Their life span isn’t a worry either. They might only be around for a short period of my life, but their owners… and I when I see them, love them for their whole life. Their life is full of love. Should be.” 

Seokjin looked at his tea and nodded.

“You should make your way home early tonight,” Seokjin started, “I think it’s going to rain soon.” 

His eyes were watery when you finally left. 

Hoseok and Jimin could tell there was something up with Seokjin… they’d planned a small gathering and while Seokjin didn’t say anything, with only four people there, the tension was palpable. They were carrying the conversation and your worry for Seokjin only allowed for you to add in every once in a while. The chatter of the bar that you’d gathered at was practically screaming into your conversations. When he excused himself for the bathroom but left through the front, you followed.

“Seokjin. Are you ok?” 

He jumped, his hands rising up to his face as he whirled on you, eyes wide, “Why are you out here? You should be inside having fun.”

Shaking your head, you came closer, “I wasn’t having fun before. It’s no fun when I’m worried about you. What’s up? I’m here for you.”

“The lights are up.” He said, his back hitting the wall as he sank to his knees.” 

You grimaced. You’ll tell him about not touching the outdoor walls of buildings, especially bars, “I love your comedy but now isn’t the time. I want to help you. Do you need food? I can… I can give you desire.” 

“Bars are rife with desire… I don’t,” he sighed and shook his head, “I’m feeding fine. It’s… this change is taking so much out of me. I’m exhausted. Change is hard.” 

“This chan-” His immortality.

Seokjin didn’t look at you but you felt tears well up as he started talking more, “Jungkook and Taehyung told me the risks… and I still decided that…” 

You grabbed his hand, your heart in your throat, “What are the risks, Seokjin?”

He squeezed your hand, pulling you down to squat next to him and despite the fact that your shirt likely had piss on it now, you wanted to be closer. The warmth of his hand and heat from his shoulder wasn’t enough. You didn’t move and he didn’t speak. 

The hustle and bustle of the bar filled the tension like air to a black void and like a black void, nothing satiated the tension. 

“I don’t know how long I have left on earth.” 

“Do you have to return to hell?” 

He shook his head.

“Fuck. Seokjin, what will happen?”

“If I’m not strong enough to not live with immortality?” He sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder but you couldn’t find any comfort in his warmth, “I guess my life will be like a hamster. Short but full of your love.” 

Tears were fighting their way out of your tear ducts, “S-Seokjin. Wh… Don’t…” 

“Would you run The Creamed Pie when I’m gone.” 

You scoffed, tears getting into your mouth, “Aside from the fact that I have a job and hate the name--” 

“It’s grown on you.” 

“I’m not done, idiot.  You’re talking like you won’t make it. Don’t talk like that.” 

“Well… it’s--”

“There you two are!” Hoseok shouted, his eyes not yet adjusted to being out of the bar, “Get off of that piss stained wall and come back inside!” 

Seokjin’s cafe disappeared. 

It’s been weeks since you, Hoseok, or Jimin have seen him. 

You had to take days off when you realized what had likely happened. 

Damn it, Seokjin.

He didn’t even say goodbye. 

You’d been crying your eyes out for hours at the realization. He was gone. You’d never see him again. The light that he brought into your life was gone. You were alone in your isolation, your heart breaking loudly in the silence of your apartment. 

On day three of your crying, you got a knock at your door. Probably your neighbor wanting to complain about the noise again. Stealing up your energy, you hobbled over and prepared for her to berate you. 

You looked through the peephole. 

Seokjin. 

For a second you had the strong image of opening the door and closing it on his face. But you were frozen, unable to move as a thousand thoughts rushed through your mind all too fast and jumbled to even process.

He was alive. 

“I know you’re there. I can hear your thoughts. Please open up.” He shouted, knocking on the door once again. 

You couldn’t face him though. He… you’d been grieving him. The loss of a friend and someone you loved. How could you just… 

“Please? I missed you.” 

If you weren’t dehydrated, you’d be crying. 

“Don’t cry! Please let me in? I have so much to tell you.” 

“LET THE DAMN MAN IN! I AM TRYING TO NAP.” A neighbor shouted and you finally found yourself moving, opening the door with shaky hands. 

A warm embrace was wrapping around you before you knew it. Seokjin’s soft arms and firm hug holding you up as you lost your strength once again. He was cooing for you, rubbing your hair. For once, physical touch felt like a wash of warmth. Slightly too warm, yes, but it was filling a deep crave in your body that had never been there before Seokjin. 

He practically carried you to your living space and set you down on the couch before going off to the kitchen to get something. 

“No wonder you came to the cafe so much. This kitchen is really underdeveloped.” He said as he clattered around, opening cabinets and drawers. 

You watched, open mouthed as your brain tried to process the man who was in front of you. He was glowing more than you think he had before, more youthful and handsome than he was before if that was even possible. There was a slowness to his actions that you didn’t remember being there before but that could have also been your shock of seeing him again. 

“You’re here.” You finally manage to say when he sets a cup of water down in front of you. 

“I’m here. Mortal.” 

“Mortal.” 

“Yeah. I… I didn’t say this before,” He started, grabbing one of your hands and forcing the water into it before grabbing your other hand, “I… I couldn’t stay immortal. Not… I can’t see my life without you.” 

“So you risked me not having you in my life? Seokjin, I grieved for you like you were dead. I-” Your voice gave out and you saw tears bud in Seokjin’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“How could you!” You gripped his hand tight, shaking it as you heaved, no tears coming, “I grieved for you! Seokjin I- I loved you and I lost you.”

“I’m back! And I will never leave you. I love you too.” 

You shook your head, “I grieved for you, Seokjin. I need time. I can’t. I can’t disregard my upset because you’re back.” 

He nodded, “I understand. I’ll be at the cafe when you’re ready. Is… is there anything I can do to help you right now?” 

“Get out.” 

A week later, full of Hoseok and Jimin pestering you, you walked into The Creamed Pie. You didn’t need a phone to direct you where to go after visiting it for so long but you didn’t even need to take ten steps to get there. Its door right outside your apartment, where it had been for the whole week. The fresh smell of baked bread hit your nose before the warm hug of Seokjin.

“I missed you so much.”

He was ushering you inside with a bright smile, the closed sign flipping over as the two of you sat down. Seokjin refused to leave you, tea and a sandwich appearing on your table. They’d always been there and you savored each bite. Their wonder was miniscule in comparison to being next to Seokjin again.

“Thank you.” 

“For?”

“Returning to me.” 

You grabbed his hand, bringing it over your shoulder as you leaned into him, “The cafe was always with me.”

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg (teaser)

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: TBD (at least 10k. unclear if this is a one-shot or not) Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff, more to be added Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, more to be added

Notes: I don't really know when I might be posting this. I'm still in the process of writing it, but it feels about halfwayish done, and I'm excited about it, so I wanted to share!

teaser under the cut

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were toddlers and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the jewel cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

I am very curious to know your thoughts on this. I'm so fucking excited to post. stupid grad school is getting in the way of me being able to devote 100% of my time to it, but god I'm trying so hard to get it done.

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 1 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: vampire hunting and killing, blood and gore in vampire attacks, language

WC: 5.7k

Maggie’s mother always told her nothing good happens after midnight. Maggie disagreed. Lots of good things happened after midnight. Usually in bars with loud music, her friends’ laughter ringing in her ears and a little too much alcohol singing in her bloodstream. 

That was the case tonight - and the night had been wonderful. She and Farrah had still been going strong at midnight, throwing back shots in tandem. The DJ had been stellar and they’d danced until their feet hurt. And, the piece de resistance, they’d run into that guy from their Econ class - the one with the dark eyes and killer smile. He’d stayed with them the whole tail end of the night - even offered to walk them home, back to their apartment building. 

He’d stayed with them, but his eyes had been on Maggie. And when, on the walk home, Farrah skipped ahead of them, buzzed and happy, he’d tugged on her hand and kissed her sweetly, right there on the sidewalk.

Nothing good happens after midnight, who? 

And then, something weird happened. The stretch of sidewalk seemed suddenly darker, as if there was something between them and the flickering streetlight - like netting, or mist. It seemed, suddenly, that the lack of light was an entity - alive, all around them, shifting and changing and wanting. 

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

But there was nothing to see except darkness that felt darker.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes, it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer. 

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing. 

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, head snapping up, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered to its feet, stepping over Farrah’s body and staggering towards them. As it approached, Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood, black like ink in this light, running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin. Could have been, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawn mower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no pupils or irises visible at all. Could have been, if not for the inhumanly long incisors ending below his curled upper lip.

“Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly. 

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Its upper lip was curled in what looked like disgust, displaying its most fearsome weapons clearly. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs refusing to hold her up - let alone to run. 

Not that she could outrun an Infracti. 

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see the monster move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to shove the Infracti away from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms tightly, holding Econ Guy in place, its frightening face buried in the crook of his neck. 

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened its hands - fingers splayed purposefully as it emptied them - and its victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. Its all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing. 

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then it crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that it looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her. 

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a beast straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his fangs pierce the flesh.

Taehyung wakes to a shout; he becomes aware of the pain before anything else. His head throbs, his throat feels like there’s glass in it, his shoulders and back ache like he’s carried marble slabs all night. 

It’s a uniquely human curse to question, and Taehyung isn’t human, but he immediately tries to figure out why he hurts from head to toe. Especially since he hasn’t hurt in several centuries. 

He shoots a quick glance around to see what he can figure out without moving. Right away it’s clear that he is not in bed. He is on the floor, the stone cool beneath his palms. A servant is crouched near him, repeating his name but smart enough not to touch him.

He can tell, as his blurry vision clears bit by bit, that he’s definitely in the palace proper, though not in a wing he frequents. The floor beneath him is just stone - no marble, no thick carpeting - which indicates he’s not in a living-quarters wing. The walls, however, hang with vibrant tapestries and oil portraits, gilded sconces lighting the way every few feet. Most definitely still the palace.

“Why am I here?” he manages to croak.

The servant turns over his shoulder and shouts to someone, “Alert the King!”

This is the first moment that Taehyung feels alarm atop the pain. He struggles to sit up, takes stock of his surroundings. The same servant still hovers near, face pinched with something akin to fear. 

How did I end up on the floor? 

Not only that - he isn’t even entirely sure where in the sprawling palace he is.

When he hears approaching footsteps and recognizes the sharp, staccato clicks and clacks, he almost sags back to the floor in relief. Instead, he pushes himself to standing, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him and then ebbing just in time for him to incline his head and intone, “Mother.”

Despite the centuries that have passed since Taehyung was small, something affectionate and maternal remains in the Queen. She presses cool palms to Taehyung’s cheeks and looks him up and down. She winces at something she sees. “Darling,” she says, the word lilting in the strange accent she has, one that belongs to a language long-dead. “What were you thinking?”

It takes Taehyung a moment to articulate a response. He’s frightened - something quite new to him - and he isn’t sure the correct move to make in this situation. The fear toys with logic, makes the answer slippery, hard to grasp.

He settles on the truth. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I mean - I can’t remember. I don’t know how I got here.”

He doesn’t ask, did something happen. It’s obvious that something did. 

He hears his father, Sunjae of Rune, King of Infracticus, long before he enters the room, his authoritative voice barking questions and orders.

“How far has word spread?”

“There was only one witness. She’s in custody.”

“Handle her and send her back,” the King snaps. “As quickly as possible. Where is my son?”

This last question is roared as he finally enters the high-ceilinged corridor where his wife and son stand.

“I’m here,” Taehyung says, needlessly. 

The King sizes him up, eyes narrowed, chest puffed. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he spits finally. 

Taehyung clears his throat and then ventures, “For starters… I’d really like to know what happened.”

The King’s face slides from fury to something befuddled, his hands sinking to his sides like sails in the absence of wind.

–

Taehyung’s father leads them back to their private wing and closes them into a dimly lit room that houses floor to ceiling bookshelves full of tomes so old they’d crumble to dust if you dared to touch them. A fire roars in the hearth for aesthetics only - Taehyung’s kind can’t feel cold. 

He locks the door and turns to face them. Taehyung’s mother has sunk delicately onto a fainting couch, and she watches her son sharply. 

Taehyung feels itchy under her gaze. She’s the smartest of the three of them, and Taehyung knows it even if his father doesn’t.

“You’re telling me,” the King growls, low, “that you don’t remember any of it?”

“I was in my wing,” Taehyung promises. “Sometime near midnight. That’s the last thing I remember, until I woke up on the floor in a random hallway -”

The King and Queen exchange a look, an entire conversation in just a glance. Then, the King heaves a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

Then, the Queen ventures, “The Elders should see him.”

The King grumbles something under his breath.

She tries again. “He could be ill. He could be going mad. We need to know!”

“Will someone please tell me what’s happened?” Taehyung bursts out, finally unable to take it - the anxiety, the questions, the conversation about him but not involving him, all of it.

“You went rogue,” the King says dryly, his eyes on the dancing fire instead of his son.

Taehyung feels his stomach drop. “Meaning?”

“Exactly what he said,” the Queen says, something steely in her tone. “You went above, alone, and… hunted.”

Taehyung feels his legs turn to stone. His stomach twists and a wave of nausea rocks him. “I what?” he asks, but it comes out like a gasp. The sides of the room are starting to go black and he breathes slowly, one hand gripping the back of the couch.

Silence expands, filling the room. Taehyung’s stomach lurches, and he closes his eyes.

“Did… did I -?”

“You took two humans and left a third alive. We have teams cleaning up, up there, and we’ve got the spare here -”

Took two humans.

The spare.

Taehyung’s stomach twists again. The black creeping at the edge of his vision draws closer to the center. Taehyung loses sight of his father’s face in the encroaching darkness. 

“Darling, we’ve covered up incidents like this countless times. No one will know. We’ll make sure.” The Queen’s voice is soothing, bringing to Taehyung’s mind all the times when he was a child when she would hurry to calm him.

Taehyung shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

“You didn’t know you were doing it,” the King muses - his next problem to solve, not a placation to reassure his guilt-stricken son. “We must uncover the cause.”

“The Elders,” the Queen says again, insistently. “At least let them give him a medical once-over.”

The King sighs in defeat. “I suppose we have no choice. Wait in your rooms, Taehyung. I’ll summon the Elders at once. The sooner we find out what came over you, the better.”

—

Taehyung is in his wing when Jimin comes – uncalled, unbidden, simply as if he sensed his best friend’s distress. And perhaps he had – the Infracti have shown stranger powers before.

“I heard you had a bit of an adventure,” he says carelessly, flopping sideways along Taehyung’s favorite leather couch, feet propped on the armrest, as he has millions of times over hundreds of years.

“News travels fast,” Taehyung says bitterly.

Jimin smiles indulgently, used to his moody friend. “Not so. But they called on Seokjin to help wipe the memory of the girl who survived before they sent her back.”

Taehyung blanches. “That’s illegal.”

Jimin gives him a dirty look and a scoff to accompany it. “Please,” he says dismissively. “You can’t be that naïve, not in your position.”

The Queen’s words run back through Taehyung’s mind. We’ve covered up incidents like this countless times.

He sulks. “They shouldn’t be breaking treaty laws over me,” he grumbles.

Jimin lets out a sigh. “If rules can be bent for anyone, shouldn’t they be for you? Besides…” He sits up, looks at Taehyung more seriously. “It’s not like one of us went up there willingly, like… on purpose. If someone decided to just fuck the protection laws and go hunting, I’d obviously object to a cover-up. But that isn’t the case here. Something happened to you. They’re not covering up a crime, they’re recovering from an accident.”

An accident. He’d killed two innocent people. Nearly killed a third.

Taehyung drops onto a chair near Jimin’s feet, covering his face with his hands. “Truly,” he says hollowly, the words muffled by his palms, “I have never in over six hundred years felt this deeply guilty about something. Jimin, I killed people. Me. I did that.”

It’s an understatement. There aren’t words – not in any language, dead or alive – to describe the deep, crawling self-hatred Taehyung feels. There’s no phrase for the twist and ache in his stomach when he pictures the scene above-ground – bodies limp on the ground, the echo of screams from the survivor floating away into the uncaring night, blood thick and metallic on his tongue, a wild flash in his eyes.

Jimin shakes his head, lips protruding in a pronounced pout. “It wasn’t you. We all know that.”

“Those people are dead and the fault is only my own,” Taehyung says firmly.

“You weren’t yourself,” Jimin insists. “What did the Elders say?”

The Elders are terrifying, is Taehyung’s take-away. His own father is thousands of years old, and looks like a child in comparison. Infracti are not immortal; rather, under the right circumstances - and often with the help of the magic they can control - they can live for tens of thousands of years. The oldest Infracti that Taehyung knows - not counting the Elders, as he doesn’t know them - is around thirty thousand years old, and weaker every day. The Elders, whose ages Taehyung doesn’t actually know, seem so fragile they might be made of dust, particles held together by magic and force of will. He’d showered three times after leaving them just to get the icky shudders to stop.

“That I’m not ill and I’m not mad,” Taehyung recites dryly, finally removing his hands from his face.

“Which leaves what possibilities?” Jimin asks with a frown.

Taehyung shrugs. “They’re meeting about it right now. I’ve been told to stay in my own wing.”

Jimin squawks. “For how long?”

“Until they’re sure it won’t happen again, I suppose,” Taehyung guesses with a small shrug. “Or until they’ve come up with an answer.”

“Lovely,” Jimin quips sarcastically, and moves to rise. “Well, I’ll check in on you later this evening. I’m sure you’ll be bored, cooped up in here.”

“I’d rather be bored than -”

“I know.” Something new creeps into Jimin’s voice – some kindness, some understanding. “It wasn’t your fault, Taehyung. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Taehyung gives him a nod and sees him out, his stomach twisting and roiling. Only one of those things, he knows, is true.

Sunlight and fresh air assault you as you make your way slowly down the city block, the messenger bag around your body laden with thick books and hastily scribbled notes. The ache in your shoulder from carrying it has been part of your existence for so long that you barely notice it anymore.

You pass a bank and glance at the screen displaying today’s date and temperature, followed by the time. It indicates that you’ve somehow ended up here between buses. You’ll have to wait a bit for the next one.

At least it’s nice out, you think, and settle onto a bench just across from your bus stop. It backs up to a park, and you watch as people bustle by, most of them glued to their phone screens or carrying on conversations into their earpods. In the park, a group of kids is playing loudly, shouts and shrieks rising towards the cloudless blue sky.

“Songie’s team, you’re the Runes!” someone shouts, and it grabs your attention. You smile, watching them gather and form groups.

“It’s not Runes,” someone corrects snottily. “It’s Ruins.”

Actually, you think, hiding a little smile, the proper pronunciation of the powerful Infraci family falls somewhere between the two words. 

The ancient language of Infracticus has phonics that most modern people struggle with. As a result, there tends to be two schools of thought regarding pronunciation. Commonly, the families are called the Runes, the Cleaves, and the Scores. At the university that you’d attended, at which you now work, they’d taught you Ruins, Leaves, and Scorns.

But it’s all the same, really.

You watch the game for some time. It’s a lot like freeze tag, and you remember playing it in the schoolyard as a kid. Teams – one Runes and one Scores – try to cross a field past each other without getting tagged and frozen. Teams had elected members called Cleaves, who were the only players who could unfreeze another.

It’s funny, you’ve always thought, how the actual history of the three Infracti families translated into the rules of the children’s game. To be historically accurate, it should have been three teams – Cleaves wouldn’t be members of Runes or Scores but their own faction altogether.

However, you do wonder if their ability to unfreeze players is derived from the Cleaves’ ability to heal, something the other two bloodlines have never possessed.

And is it coincidence that the game became the Runes versus the Scores, when those two families had a particularly ugly blood feud, millennia ago? 

All three families have vied for power at one point or another – most known history of the Infacti includes this never-ending power struggle. But the Runes have managed to hold court since the time the protection laws were passed, the ones that both protect humans from being hunted and bans those same humans from doing the hunting. The ones that decree quarterly blood donations from every adult human to ensure there’s never a shortage that could lead to hunting. The ones that declare the monarchy follows only the Runes’ royal bloodline.

Hunting - both of and by Infracti - still happens, of course. There’s no such thing as utopia. But at least now there are consequences when an Infracti attacks a human, and consequences when humans turn to violence to drive Infracti out of their communities.

Questions like this, constant curiosity about the Infracti culture and history, had carried you through dual degrees studying the history and sociology of the Infracti. Now, after nearly a decade of your adult years spent in academics, you tote multiple degrees, including extensive experience with both curses and counter-curses.

Your family hates it - never understood it. Your mother has called it an obsession time and time again. But neither she nor your father can argue with the career opportunities in academia that you’ve been afforded, now that you’re full-time staff at the university.

And they don’t even know about the other opportunities that keep falling at your feet: more and more curse-breaking cases as the years pass. The more your reputation and success rate grow, the more your name seems to be passed around. You think your mother would faint on the spot if she knew that only two months ago your team had flown into deep Brazilian jungle and helped them to cast the counter-curse that freed an entire village from unending rain. 

When the bus finally pulls in, bringing with it a warm breeze and the smell of gasoline, you rise, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder and searching for a seat. It’s about twenty minutes to campus unless you catch an Express – and you have no such luck today.

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly. 

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim - the department head at the university where you teach - is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon. He was one of your first professors when you showed up here as a bright-eyed undergrad, years ago.

“Twenty minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse. 

“I have a class at ten thirty,” you warn him. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It won’t take long,” he promises, and you agree to stop by before ending the call and turning your attention back to the bus window. 

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter. 

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk. 

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack. 

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology. He has dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, razor-sharp eyes, and - you notice when he smiles in greeting - a deep dimple on each side.

The expression on Dr. Kim’s face is a little strange - almost like he’s nervous to give you the news. You can’t imagine what might be giving him pause, considering your last meeting like this had landed you both in a literal rainforest. Could he have gotten a request for the team to go somewhere even more remote than that?

“We did,” he allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

He sighs, then nods towards his door. “Will you close that, please?”

You reach behind you and gently press the wooden door shut, feeling flutters of uncertainty for the first time in your career. The stranger shifts in his chair uneasily.

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk. 

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out. 

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know. 

“Well?” you prompt, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hasn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noise like he doesn’t quite agree with this. “Anyway,” he says to you, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it. 

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you. You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so they’d make sure we were safe?”

Dr. Kim seems to look far-away for a moment, contemplating his answer. You shift nervously, glancing sideways at Namjoon. You would have been reassured by a quick answer - the fact that he needs to formulate a response does nothing to quell your unease. 

“I trust we are being invited there for the reasons they say,” he allows. “And so, I do believe the royal family will want us to be safe, yes. But the fact still remains that we will be humans walking around Infracticus. I’m sure we will be given guards - the question becomes, can we trust those guards completely? I fear I cannot say for sure.”

“It’s like walking into the lions’ den,” Namjoon murmurs beside you.

“Quite,” Dr. Kim agrees, nodding. 

“Except there’s an injured lion and only we can fix it,” you point out. 

“We can’t rely on that to ensure our safety,” Dr. Kim says, frowning more deeply. “It’s a delicate situation. The royal family cannot let it get out that the prince’s well-being has been… compromised.”

Namjoon frowns in confusion. “Why not?”

You think you understand. You venture, “To admit weakness, to admit to having been successfully attacked, to admit that the crown prince is cursed - it would be an open invitation for rebellion.”

“Yes,” Dr. Kim confirms, inclining his head, his white tufts of hair moving breezily. “The Infracti respect the laws that are currently in place, but the crown prince is the last member of the Ruin bloodline. If he were to die, or to be unfit to lead…”

“There’s nothing in the laws about who would rule next,” you finish for him, eyes wide. “It would be…”

“A war for the throne, I imagine.”

You sit in silence for a moment under the weight of this. Then, Namjoon says carefully, “I’m sorry, but can we circle back? The prince’s curse has to be secret, I got that - but how does that affect the safety of our team?”

“We’ll be hosted in the palace as honored guests,” Dr. Kim tells you both. “But no one beyond the royal family will know why. They don’t know that if they slipped up and harmed us, it would harm the prince, too. We can’t assume our purpose will serve as protection. Any Infracti beyond the royal family should be considered a threat.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, turning to face Namjoon. He looks just as bamboozled as you feel, validating your reaction. 

“This is wild,” you utter, mostly to yourself. “This is absolutely bonkers.”

“This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. The curse itself must be complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves. If your reason for being there is uncovered due to a fault of our own, we’ll be facing the wrath of the royal family. And I… I’m afraid I won't be able to join you.”

“What? No - you have to,” you blurt, panicked. “I can’t do it without you - you’ve decades of experience over me - I’ve never led a case before!”

“They don’t want me,” he tries to explain. “They don’t want any possibility that someone will figure out who I am and put the pieces together. A simple inquiry of my name blows the whole thing - the first thing they’d find is curse-breaker. As I said - the secrecy of the prince’s condition is vital.”

You scoff. “So they want me because I’m nobody.”

He looks at you kindly, used to your moods. “They want you because you have a high success rate. Your ability to stay… lowkey, as the kids say -”

Namjoon makes a choked sound like he’s fighting a laugh.

“- you should see it as an asset.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” you say, because it’s true. Because it feels safer to have someone older, wiser, with more experience. Because it feels like less responsibility to not be the person in charge. Because it’s what you’re used to, and you cling to the familiar. 

He shakes his head sadly. “The royal family will not allow it. I’m sorry.”

You lapse into silence again. 

Namjoon speaks slowly, as if a new thought is dawning on him, and he doesn’t like it. “If they suspect the Scorns…” 

Your stomach sinks. 

Dr. Kim nods. “I imagine you may see the beginnings of some political unrest if an accusation is made.”

“Forget the accusation,” Namjoon says hollowly. “If we uncover that it was a Scorn attack… we’ll be walking into Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening. 

Namjoon shrugs. “The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter. 

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families.” (You snort at this. As if you ever would.) “Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets. 

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turn, and let him catch up to you. 

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you do the same, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something. 

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

Next ->

thank you for reading! i hope you liked this first installment! chapter 2 will go up next friday!!! <3

[7ndipity]

Fae Jimin AU Headcanons

Fae!Jimin x Reader

Summary: Catching you before you fall away, he decides that you could help him with his work as an overviewer of the Sidh, helping make sure that the balance between worlds stays even, falling for your humanity as he tries to show the wonder in your own world.

Warnings: Swearing, lil angst, supernatural elements, only partially proofread

A/N: This is an idea I’ve been obsessed with for a while(cause I’m a folklore nerd), but could never figure out an overarching plot to make it into a series, so I present for your consideration: Jimin, the emotional support Fae roommate lol.

(reminder that if there’s any points you want to be made into further HCs, blurbs, etc, send me an ask!)

Masterlist Non-Linear m.list

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

How you met:

He stopped you from falling into a fairy ring in the woods. You’d happened across it while on a walk to clear your head while upset about something and ending up standing there studying it for several minutes, contemplating how nice it must be to just be able to fall into a different world where no one knew you and you could start over. Shaking out of your revere, you had turned to leave, only for your damn ankle to twist and send you off balance.

“Careful!” A pair of gentle hands came out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and pulling you into him. You looked up and were met with his soft eyes on you.

“You should be careful.” He warned. “You know what they say if you step in those, you might end up in the fairy realm and not get to come back.” “What if that’s what I want?” You replied. He looked back at you, suddenly serious. “You don’t want that, trust me.”

After that, you keep running into him everywhere(partially due to his newfound fascination with you), eventually figuring out what he is.

He explains that he’s a type of Fae called the Sidh(pronounced shee) which are basically a type of overviewer of the Fae, their role being to keep balance and make sure that the others don’t cause too much trouble.

“There’s a lot of different doorways to and from this world, and not all of them are nice.” He explains to you, visibly tense. “Sometimes just going through the wrong door can kill you.”

Teaches you how to spot Fae.

Points out a couple walking along on the other side of the road. “See them?” He asked, leaning close as he whispers to you.

“One of them is a Sidh?”

He shakes his head, motioning to the child you hadn’t noticed trailing behind them, bouncing about, overly hyper.

“The kid?!” You exclaim, turning to him, suddenly realizing how close he was to you.

“Wait.” He leaned in, gently placing his hands over your eyes for a moment, a tingling sensation washing over your skin before pulling away. “Now look.”

You blinked, slightly dazed before you turned back, letting out a gasp as your eyes found the family again.

While the couple were the same, the child’s appearance had shifted drastically; limbs slightly too long and thin, large, glassy black eyes, their skin now a pale, almost grayish color, they almost looked like an alien.

“What the-?”

“A changeling.” He said lowly.

Teaches you about some of his magic, but warns that some of it can have ‘adverse’ effects on humans

“Wait! What about my eyes then?!” You asked suddenly.

He looked back at you slyly. “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary, this time. It should wear off in a few hours.”

He turned to walk away. “See you at home!”

Winds up just moving in with you in your little house on the edge of town that runs along the woods at the back.

“You’re a Witch!” He realized loudly as he surveyed your house, taking in the crystals and new-age items littered around(he’s not exactly right about this, but you’ll explain that to him later). You can’t tell if he’s excited or upset by this discovery at first.

(it’s both because, as he explains, his ‘charms’ don’t work as well on other magical beings, hence the constant bickering between the two of you. The fact that he can’t just ‘make’ you agree with him irritates him to no end)

Ends up revealing(probably during a fight) that he might be stuck in this world.

“I can’t go back!” “Can’t or won’t?!” “Both!” He yells. “I don’t know if I can, and if I could, I don’t want to! I like it here, with you.” His voice falters, shaking with emotions. “I want to stay with you.”

About him:

His eyes change color; sometimes they’re gray, sometimes blue, one time you could’ve sworn they were purple, but most of the time, they’re a varying shade of brown.

Fangs(you’d be surprised how often fae have them in old stories): His are small and rather feline looking, but he only shows them if he’s really angry or frightened.

Age: Not entirely sure. He says he’s been around awhile, but time moves differently for them. They still age similar to humans, just slower. They might live for longer too, but you can’t tell if he was joking or not about that one.

The biggest sweet tooth, holy shit. You once caught him in the middle of the night eating nothing but pure sugar with a spoon, he literally can’t get enough of the stuff.

The first time you gave him cotton candy, his eyes got so big, you’re pretty sure he ascended to another plane.

As well as a sweet tooth, he loves alcohol and has a very high tolerance. He can get drunk, but it takes A LOT.

Surprisingly good at lying for a Fae.

He? Perches? Everywhere?

Like, he can’t just sit on the couch? Nope, he’s on your desk, the kitchen table, the bathroom counter. It’s like living with a giant cat.

Which reminds me, he has ABSOLUTELY NO CONCEPT OF PERSONAL SPACE.

You’re trying to cook? He’s there. Going to bed? He’s there. Open the curtain to get out of the shower and yep, he’s there, just chilling.

Literally the “Hey, I was- why are you screaming? Anyway, are we out of oreos?” meme.

Walks super close to you, intentionally bumping your shoulders.(can’t tell if this is him being affectionate or annoying)

Very noseyinquisitive. Goes through all your shit, asking questions and throwing judgy looks at you, but for the oddest, most random things, like the color of your toothbrush.

Trying to explain ‘human things’ to him and how people normally act and behave. “But you’re not like that?” He commented curiously, watching you. “That’s because I’m… weird.” You said, without looking up. “I like weird.” He mumbles.

Some nights when it’s quiet, you find him out in the back garden, just sitting, sometimes with his eyes closed, almost as if he’s meditating, other times just staring off into the trees. You’ve wondered about what he’s thinking of when he’s out there, but he doesn’t tell you much.

The first time you got sick with him there, he was an absolute wreck, hardly leaving your side for more than a moment, even watching over you when you slept. Did everything he could think of to make you feel better, even considered magic, but you shut that one quick, so he just suffices with loads of tea and soup.

Likes to believe he can be somewhat intimidating or scary, but to you he's a literal ball of marshmallow fluff.

“You think I can’t be scary?” He asked in a low voice, looming over you with a dark glint in his eyes.

“Nope.” You boop him on the nose, making him pout.

“You didn’t even let me try!” He whined loudly.

“There’s no point, you don’t scare me!” You laughed.

“I should though! I am an ominous, fearsome creature from the otherworld!” He proclaimed dramatically, making you laugh harder. “I will drain your lifeforce for my own power!”

“That’s for vampires!” You giggled.

“Vampires are a type of Sidh.”

“Wait really?!” You perked up in interest, making him roll his eyes and walk away. “Are they really? Jimin?!”

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 6: Burn Out

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: When things get ahead of you, your powers aren’t the only things to spill over; some truth is ready to breach the surface.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, minor injuries, self-doubt, over-training, loss of control and... awkwardness

a/n: this could have been two chapters, and I did think about it, but fuck it, you guys deserve a nice hefty update! this just means there's a fair bit of development ahead...

“At least Namjoon didn’t blow out any of the lightbulbs. Those are a nightmare to replace.”

Jimin smiled weakly when you didn’t respond to his joke. His worried gaze travelled to V, who stood behind you. He shrugged.

With a sigh, Jimin sat back. You hadn’t looked him in the eye as he checked your wounds, too caught up thinking. About the ways Jungkook was stronger than you. The ways you messed up. If only you had more stamina, if only you could shoot quicker, use more power.

The fight replayed in your head, displaying all the moments you could have responded better.

Was Jungkook right? Were you anywhere near ready to go out there?

“All done.”

You blinked, finding Jimin staring back at you. How long had he been waiting?

“Oh. Thanks,” you tried your best to muster a smile.

Sending you a smile in return, he stood up, placing the first aid box into the cupboard.

“It’s alright. At least you got out relatively unscathed,” he said, “just some bruises, a couple of singes here and there.”

He winced again at the sight of the faint bruising on your neck. Though he wished he could say this wasn’t like the Jungkook he knew, he would be lying.

Jungkook hurt people all the time: all of them did. But here, at home, he was usually at ease with their little family. After everything he had been through, however, Jimin knew very well how short his youngest brother’s fuse could be.

A quiet click announced the newcomer as Hobi poked his head round the bathroom door.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

It fell a little awkwardly in the space. Nothing was alright after tensions had boiled over so violently just half an hour ago, and you all knew it. Still, you gave him a nod.

Slipping into the room, Hope leaned against the counter, dodging out of the way as Jimin threw a few band-aid wrappers in the bin.

“Sorry about Jungkook,” Hope began, “he… he’s a bit protective. But we thought it would get better. It should never have got this far.

“You can do whatever you want today, get food and watch movies. I should think Kook will be training for quite a while.”

The way he said that left no doubt as to what the younger was actually doing. Images from his rage workout the other day invaded your head. Good, as long as he was away from you.

Tugging your hoodie back on to cover the bruises you had acquired, you agreed and followed the others to the living room. Soon taking up residency on the couch, you didn’t intend on moving anywhere soon.

Thankfully, the others didn’t expect you to either. Nor did they push you for conversation when you were so evidently staying quiet, and instead they put a film on and chatted around you.

You didn’t see Jungkook that whole day.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t lingering in your mind, though. At the very least, the slight discomfort from the bruises he had given you served as a reminder of everything that had transpired. But your frustration fluctuated between him and yourself.

If Jungkook’s behaviour could be excused as protective, you were going to need a lot more explanation than that. What reason had you given him to hate you so much?

He hadn’t given you the chance to do anything but fail since you got there, so how could you be expected to trust him?

But while you wanted him to see that you could be trusted, you started to doubt that yourself. Maybe you were trying to help the boys by joining them, but as much as you wanted to deny it, Jungkook had proved that you were weak.

For now, you didn’t want to go near him, so you used that as your excuse for staying put all day, letting the household go about its day around you. But steadily, your mind filled with all the things you needed to work on. You had to patch up the gaps where your powers lacked, and you weren’t going to rely on Jungkook to do it anymore.

Maybe if you proved yourself, they would want you after all? Besides showing your lack of bond with Jungkook, today had surely showed Namjoon that you weren’t up to the task.

That was why he had stood you down.

Which was why you found yourself alone in a training room a few days later.

Since that day, you hadn’t trained. For one thing, your trainer had cemented his place as your mortal enemy, so you had no one to practise your powers with, since the others were all preparing for other things.

As for physical training, you thought they would at least let you do that. But they insisted you needed to rest for a couple more days.

You didn’t protest too much, but you knew this was how it would begin. This was their excuse to stop you training. They had given up on you, thinking you weren’t good enough to join them.

You were going to show them, Jungkook above all.

Now they were away on a mission, Jungkook nowhere to be found, leaving you the opportunity at last.

With the way the last outing had gone, they had switched plans. Now, instead of waiting around for Bolt to strike, they were beginning to relocate their allies, moving important weapons and things to more secure locations, while feeding Bolt’s informants the impression that the vacated premises were still operational. They hoped it would buy some time so they could formulate more of a plan to combat Bolt, without him gaining more power in the meantime.

Of course, Jungkook was still seething. He had made himself scarce the moment the others left, no doubt wanting to avoid spending any time with you.

You weren’t complaining.

Breathing deeply, you assessed the targets you had set up. A smile graced your face. The last time you had trained alone, you had accomplished a lot. Maybe you would try lifting objects again.

But first, you had to work on your speed. That was the main weaknesses Jungkook had highlighted. You weren’t able to keep up with him, and you had to change that.

Rolling out your stiff shoulders, wincing for a moment when it twinged the last remnants of your bruises, you raised an arm.

Your power felt a little rusty as it burst from your palm. Gritting your teeth against the slight tingle of pain, you cut it off and fired again. After a few tries, it felt pretty much normal. You weren’t going to wait any longer.

Lifting both arms now, you alternated your fire, turning in the space as you tried to hit each target. You hit them all, bolstering your confidence as you took a breather and went again. You may have hit them all, but you wanted to be faster.

This time, you didn’t even wait for one bolt to die away before you fired the next one. Focussing on short, sharp bursts, you let your powers pulse through the air.

The rattle and clash of metal filled the space as you shook each target in turn.

You made it around the room again, finding a rhythm, but this time you didn’t stop. Bolt wouldn’t stop if he was attacking you; Jungkook hadn’t. You had to push through.

So when you approached the familiar feeling of your powers slipping, you simply pushed through. You maintained your speed, barely able to keep up with the pace you had set. It was like running while the ground was slipping from under you, but you stayed standing and on your toes, enjoying the exhilaration of the electricity flowing through you.

You felt its power, hot and fierce in your chest, revelling in your ability to control it.

Then, one bolt sputtered and died. You picked it up again in a split second as you fired the next lightning into the space, but it scared you. Picturing the onslaught of gold from the other day, you knew that could cost you dearly in a fight.

So while your powers protested, you pressed on. Now, you had to force out each beam of light, but you weren’t about to stop. You had to improve. You had to succeed.

You didn’t notice when the heat of your powers became unpleasant. That burning sensation hadn’t invaded you for so long, but suddenly it was overwhelming, crashing down on you.

Gasping at the sharp pain, you staggered for a moment, not wanting to stop.

You raised your arm again. This would not defeat you. You had to push through.

Nothing came.

You searched for the familiar feeling to unleash your power, but instead you felt a tangle in your chest, a sparking ball of electricity that hissed at you like a wild animal.

Not now…

A stabbing pain lanced through your chest, blue suddenly erupting into the air. But this time it wasn’t you. Your power clawed its way down your arm, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

Biting down on a pained cry, you looked around in fear at the empty training room.

Though panicked, you knew you had to control it. You had pushed just a little too far, you only needed to reign it in again.

But as you closed your eyes, trying to find the centre of your power, shut it off like you were used to, more blasts leapt from that chasm in your chest. You battled to close it down, but it had power over you now.

Blue filled the space, colliding with the walls, clattering against targets.

Your knees buckled, sending you crashing to the floor. Now, you were unable to control it as you cried out, each release of your power coming with its own wave of pain. You thought you had left this unbearable heat behind, but now it seared through your body with a vengeance as your powers ran rampant.

Control it, control it-

But you couldn’t find space to breathe, let alone to calm your powers. Your arms shook, a tear breaking free from your eye as you gasped.

What had you done?

In your vision, blurry with pained tears and cut up by streaks of luminescent blue, something moved.

Though you lay panting on the floor, you squinted towards it. It was a person.

Were the others back? Your frazzled mind barely had time to wonder this, before the most pressing issue asserted itself again.

Wincing and curling in on yourself as another shot of electricity forced its way from you, you called out. Your voice was raw and shaking, but you had to protect them.

“Don’t come near! I’ll- I might hurt you!”

You knew your voice was thick with tears, but surely they could understand you? Why were they coming closer?

At the same time, both a yelp of pain and a lightning bolt escaped you. Your eyes widened; the figure was directly in its path.

A flash of gold.

The figure ran closer.

Despite your state, you had enough presence of mind to feel your cheeks burning as Jungkook came to a stop in front of you, looking down at you with wide, panicked eyes. For a few seconds, his mouth opened and closed uselessly.

Then, another bolt. And another.

As they cut through the room, leaving behind their signature of burning pain, the world tilted. Your eyes squeezed shut, Jungkook forgotten as the sizzling sting of your powers took up your thoughts.

You wanted it to stop.

“Control it.”

The instruction was muttered in your ear, closer than you expected. The next moment, a weight shifted against your back, pulling you to sit upright and against something. Someone.

Still heaving for air, you shook your head.

“I- I c-can’t!”

Another flash of blue, another flash of pain.

The arm that was looped around you squeezed tighter.

“You have to. Control it.”

And then a hand was placed against your back, steady and firm compared to your own body. It nestled between your shoulder blades.

The next thing you knew, a warm sensation bloomed there. But not uncomfortable, like your own rebelling powers. It bled through you, enveloping the mess that your powers had become. Your eyes slid closed, basking in the relief from the searing pain.

You could feel your powers, a blue weight sitting in your chest. You couldn’t see them, of course, but you had always felt them to be blue – not that you had realised. Not until now, at least, because the calming light that surrounded your power felt startlingly gold in comparison.

After a moment, you were collected enough to take control. With the aid of soothing gold containing your power, you were able to breathe deeply, closing off the electricity as you had done that first time in Namjoon’s office.

The gold faded.

Still, the hand on your back lingered, remaining steady.

“Okay?”

It was only now that the weight of this situation hit you. Jungkook had had to rescue you. From your own powers, no less.

You simply nodded, not trusting words to form.

At your confirmation, his hand finally left you. He had been sitting behind you, supporting you, but now he moved away. You would deny that you missed it.

But he only shifted around to your side, sliding an arm under your own.

“Are you crazy?” he asked, but there wasn’t much bite behind it.

Shaking his head, he muttered a curse as he helped lift you from the ground.

“What were you thinking?”

Again, the usual venom was missing from his voice. You kept your eyes down, not responding.

Huffing a little, he turned towards to the door. And paused.

“Can you get upstairs?”

Chewing on your lip, you kept your eyes fixed on your mug. You found the blanket you were wrapped in very interesting all of a sudden, fiddling and tugging at it with your free hand.

It was quiet.

It had been quiet for a while now, but neither of you were particularly inclined to change that.

Jungkook sat across from you, stiff and upright in his seat while you were huddled inside a blanket. He had sort of thrown it at you earlier. He hadn’t given you a second glance, instructing you rather coldly to sit, but it had to be the closest thing to affection he had ever shown you.

He was also holding a mug of tea. Perhaps it was just for show; he hadn’t lifted it once.

In a moment of weakness, your eyes darted up. You instantly regretted it, as you found his gaze already trained on you, and you both hurriedly averted your eyes again.

Just for something to do, you took a sip of tea, the slurp painfully audible in the silence. Your hand still shook a little when you lifted the mug.

Lowering it slowly, you chewed on your cheek.

“Thanks.”

You blurted it out without much consideration, the silence finally becoming too much for you.

Unfortunately, the quiet hung around a bit longer. Warily raising your eyes again, you watched Jungkook for a reaction.

His eyes were avoiding you, looking instead at a blank spot on the wall.

Then he sucked in a breath, leaning forwards to deposit his still-full mug on the coffee table.

“So do you want to tell me what you were doing?”

Finally his eyes turned to you, leaving you breathless. Your shame over what happened made words stick in your throat, but you knew you would have to explain.

Tearing your gaze from his to glare at your mug again, you felt your cheeks heating up. But you forced yourself to talk.

“You… you were right the other day. I’m not strong enough, or fast enough. I was trying to work on that – on my speed. I thought if I pushed myself, it might help. But I… I just lost control.”

Letting out a breath when you finished speaking, you looked up hesitantly. A light frown was on Jungkook’s face as he assessed you. He was thinking a little too hard for your liking.

He sat back.

“You remind me of Bolt.”

If you were still drinking, you would have choked. Your eyes widened, not knowing how to respond to that. In your search for words, all you could manage was an indignant but half-hearted excuse me?

A smirk quirked the corner of Jungkook’s mouth.

“You’re so pig-headed,” he began, “you treat your powers like some sort of game and pretend you’re good at everything…”

You simply stared, disbelieving. Was he seriously saying this to your face?

“And when you want something, you decide you’re getting it–” he eyed you before adding “–not to mention all the blue shit.”

He gestured in the general direction of all of you. You gaped.

But then he dropped his gaze, sighing.

“I… wanted to knock you down. You’re way too good at everything. You remind me of Bolt because he’s indestructible. Or it seems that way.”

Finally managing to scoff at his words, you shook your head incredulously.

“So now you think I’m good enough?”

“I didn’t want you going out there, okay?” he snapped, “I don’t trust you.”

“Just because my powers look like Bolt’s? Is that it? I never asked for this-”

“I know.”

Jungkook’s voice was softer now, startling your rant to a halt. His hands were clasped, elbows resting on his knees. And he wouldn’t quite look you in the eye.

“You’re not like Bolt. He’s the one that hurt you. I just couldn’t separate the image of you from him, what with you being so… obnoxious, and determined.”

He paused. Sighed.

“And I lied, okay?” his voice was quiet, “you’re fine. Your speed is good, you could pretty much keep up with me, and that’s saying something. I thought you’d know better.”

A frown creased your brows together. Now you were confused.

Looking up once again, he met your eyes.

“You shouldn’t push your powers, surely the others told you that? They can reach their limit, and I’m fairly sure yours did when we fought. Today was too soon, you shouldn’t have worn them out like that. You won’t be able to use them for a while. Not like that, anyway.”

“Like what?”

“Fast. You overwhelmed them, it might take a bit to build up your speed again.”

You swallowed, not wanting to believe his words.

“Or, you just want me out of training-” you bit back, but he cut you off.

“Oh, I couldn’t care less,” he sniggered, “go ahead and burn out your powers for all I care. I’m just telling you.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that. You simply tugged your blanket a little tighter around your shoulders.

“Turns out you’re human just like the rest of us.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Or an insult? You couldn’t really tell.

After a moment holding his gaze, you went back to your tea. The two of you seemed to agree on one thing at least, and that was avoiding each other’s eyes as the silence stretched on.

Even once your mug was emptied, you fidgeted with it, letting your fingers slide around the handle for something to do. Jungkook’s words turned over in your head. It was probably the closest he had ever come to giving you actual advice. Perhaps you should take it, give your powers a rest for a short while.

It surprised you that Jungkook hadn’t yet left. He looked remarkably awkward on the other couch, refusing to relax into the seat but sitting ramrod straight on the edge instead, insisting for some reason on staying there.

Never before had he voluntarily endured your presence for this long.

He seemed to notice you sizing him up. He turned his gaze to find you watching him with your head tilted. And somehow, he too looked hesitant, far from the confidence you usually saw in him.

You swallowed, but didn’t look away.

“Don’t tell the others?”

Your voice was quiet but clear in the space. Jungkook quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re really determined to join us, aren’t you?”

With a sigh, your expression softened. You finally looked away, picking absently at your blanket while you replied.

“I agree with what you guys are doing. Bolt tried to kill me, all because I was just… there, at the wrong time. I didn’t matter to him. That doesn’t seem like someone who cares about protecting people. So I don’t want him to get whatever he wants with those weapons he’s collecting.”

Expecting the usual argument about you being of no use, you kept your eyes stubbornly down. But Jungkook was quiet.

If you looked up, you would have seen him blinking at you. Curious, almost.

But you never did, not until his expression clouded over again and he made to speak.

“And if the others knew you did something this stupid, they’d keep you away from the action even longer.”

You rolled your eyes, but had to admit that Jungkook wasn’t wrong.

“Pretty much,” you conceded, “and I do want this. It finally feels like I have a purpose.”

You had never expected to be so blisteringly honest with Jungkook, but when you laid beseeching eyes on him, you knew you had got through somehow.

Seemingly displeased with his own decision, his mouth straightened into a line.

“Fine. I won’t tell them. But you better not do it again, you know I’ll get the blame as well.”

You weren’t sure if that was entirely true, but if Jungkook wanted to make that his reason for helping you out, then so be it.

At last, it seemed he had reached his limit with you. He stood abruptly, casting one more glance at you, and strode away. Watching his retreating form, you sunk further into the sofa. A subtle smile took up residence on your face.

You hadn’t even put the tv on. Silence filled the apartment and you stared up at the ceiling from your position on the sofa.

Since you and Jungkook talked a few days ago, he had, surprisingly, kept his word. Around the others he stoically ignored you as normal, but also diligently kept his mouth shut about your little accident.

You suspected he also didn’t want to admit to helping you. But whatever kept him quiet worked for you.

It was true that he glanced over at you more often despite his continued frosty attitude towards you. Or perhaps you were imagining that? He was just glaring at you like always – only, you began to read into it too much. Now you two shared a secret, in a sense, it meant that every time his eyes locked with yours they seemed to hold more significance.

However, you had to remind yourself nothing had changed. The two of you were still only here because you were stuck together on Namjoon’s orders. Which was the same reason Jungkook had been the one to help you before.

No, nothing had changed.

Turning your head, you let your cheek fall against the cushion as you hesitantly gazed at the tv. Maybe you should put it on, just to fill the silence?

The lack of noise in the house served as proof that Jungkook wanted as little to do with you as ever. The moment the boys were out, he made himself scarce.

At least you had been permitted to learn more about what exactly they were doing when they went out. They were leaving the house more and more frequently, and for longer stretches of time. Given Bolt’s movements, and his startling power at their last encounter (due to the weapons he had stolen from Kuyang), the boys were launching a counter-operation.

If they couldn’t defend their allies from a direct attack, they had to bide their time until they could build an attack strategy.

So for now, they were relocating important developers to throw Bolt off. Stop him before he could gain even more power; before he became too much of a match for them.

Jin seemed fairly confident that they had tracked Bolt’s sources well enough to feed him misinformation to keep him unaware of their movements. The only risk now lay in the transportation of what you could only assume were deadly weapons through the city.

Standing on the kitchen counter was a small black receiver. You could turn it on if you wanted, hear what was happening.

You were contemplating it when something pulled at your thoughts. Your focus frayed, distracted by that incomprehensible feeling that there was someone behind you.

Flipping over on the sofa, you found Jungkook leaning against the wall. His arms were folded, but there was no glare entrenched on his face. Startled, you eyed his damp hair, the oversized black shirt hanging from his shoulders.

Clearly he had just come from a shower, so why wasn’t he going to train?

The absence of a scowl was really throwing you off. He didn’t look totally comfortable, expression tight and slightly expectant, but what did he want with you?

You raised your eyebrows in question.

He blinked at you, then his eyes slid away from your face, looking somewhere over your head and through to the kitchen.

“Training,” he said.

You continued to stare, but he just as stubbornly avoided your eyes.

After another moment, you huffed and sat up.

“Training?” you echoed.

“We’re going to training.”

“…we?”

“You heard me.”

His response was dry. Already, he was pushing away from the wall and turning his back on you, leaving you little choice but to follow.

Leaving the couch and hurrying after him, you made it to his side on the stairs.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to use my powers? After…”

“Not for speed,” he corrected you, eyes fixed ahead.

A frown furrowed your brow as you reached the training space. Today, you remained in the main, largest room. There was no one around and clearly Jungkook didn’t have want of the targets you normally used, as he stopped right in the middle and turned to you.

His brows were pinched, clearly a little hesitant about this. You noticed the way his teeth pulled slightly at his lower lip.

“Power,” he said.

You stared. With a subtle roll of his eyes, he elaborated.

“Apart from speed, that’s what you need to work on. You need to connect with your powers, feel like the light is an extension of you. Since you can’t work on your agility, it’s time to think about force.”

Nodding, you felt your confidence raise a little. When you had trained by yourself before, you had hit upon that exact feeling he described, an almost physical connection that let you lift the target.

Plus, using a little force would be more than welcome, with the pent up tension you had felt since your last disastrous practice.

Jungkook took your confirmation and stepped forwards into line with you, holding your gaze. He held his arms slightly away from his body, palms facing you.

“Summon your powers and push against me,” he instructed.

It took you a moment to get your bearings and prepare to use your powers. It had been a while. You tried to hide your slight wince when you searched for the powers only to find a scorching, tangled mess where they usually flowed from, like someone had knotted barbed wire there.

Swallowing, you let your eyes slide shut for a moment. It was as if your power was hissing at you, an animal you had to coax from hiding.

But coax it you did, the first slight tug leading them to easily unravel until the electricity flowed through your veins again. Beside a slight tremor in the flow of blue light you released, it seemed fairly normal.

Surely Jungkook wouldn’t approve of the clumsiness with which you handled your powers, though? But when you looked up, he only appeared focussed.

With a small nod as your powers shot through the air, his eyes clouded with gold and his own luminous lightning welled in his hands.

He didn’t fire a strong bolt to match yours. It appeared that he held a small golden fountain in each hand, bubbling gently, just enough to dispel your blue electricity before it could strike his palms.

Your eyes connected.

It was curious, how Jungkook’s eyes looked so much less deadly when they were literally glowing with power. As you held his gaze, you felt no urge to look away. Instead, his focus, gentle and firm at the same time, affirmed you.

Taking a breath, you continued to let your powers flow freely.

“Concentrate on your powers,” he spoke in a low voice, “feel them moving through you. Then follow that feeling outwards, feel where they connect with me.”

Taking in his words with a determined nod, you searched within you for the feeling he spoke of.

This time, you didn’t close your eyes. You were already familiar with the taste of your power in your veins, and found it with little effort.

But you stared into those gold eyes as you searched for him, the sight of them making it easier to find the corresponding sensation. Colliding with your power, you were surprised to stumble across a warmth pulsing against them. You hadn’t even realised you had followed the flow of your powers outside your fingertips; the feeling hadn’t altered as far as you could tell.

Sure enough, however, there was Jungkook – it was undeniable. Inexplicably, the intensity of his eyes felt the exact same as the fiery power rushing to meet your own lightning.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook’s lips twitched into a smirk.

“You can feel it, right?”

Now you had found it, it was easy to hold onto the sensation of his powers as they met your own.

Elated, you exhaled with a smile. His grew too.

“I’m going to push back now,” he said, “keep the connection. It’ll be like arm wrestling, only with our powers.”

You knew you should have felt a little sceptical about that. If it was anything like arm wrestling, Jungkook would be able to topple you in a second. He had been training much longer than you, and was undeniably stronger.

In fact, all you felt was an ignition in your chest, competitiveness flaring up inside you.

Jungkook’s expression shifted into focus. His smirk slipped into a concentrated line.

Where the gold in his eyes had been rippling lazily, it now grew in ferocity, blazing harshly in contrast to the abysses of his dark pupils.

The instant his powers switched, you felt it. No longer a soft warmth, they sent a jolt through you as they connected in earnest, the threads of your electricity fusing together like wires and throwing out a ball of sparks.

The molten light warred in the air between you, your eyes no doubt as vivid as Jungkook’s as you allowed more power through your palms to match his force.

To your surprise, they complied instantly. It seemed your powers were enjoying being let out like this, having lashed out the last time when you had stubbornly forced them to stop and start. With the growing power flowing from you, their connection with Jungkook strengthened as well. You could sense a distinctly gold force clashing with your powers.

Even though you could see the point where your powers converged, the feeling allowed you to notice every minute crackle of electricity, every pulse of Jungkook’s lightning.

Just like before, when you had lifted the target, your powers felt much more than just a fleeting rush of sparks. They formed a bridge outwards from your body, reaching beyond.

You felt strong.

And if Jungkook wanted to wrestle, you weren’t going to go down easily.

Channelling yet more power outwards, you pushed hard against his gold powers where they met your own.

For a moment, you succeeded in subduing the opposing force. Sparks flew again, Jungkook staggering back a step as the gold light retreated from your advance, blue dominating the bolt of energy that connected you two.

Jungkook smiled.

The next moment, it became clear he had been waiting for you to get used to the feeling and make a move. But you had no time to be touched by his newfound patience as you found yourself battling against a renewed burst of pressure from his end.

Raising your arms to be level with your shoulders, aiming at him, you gritted your teeth and stubbornly weathered the temptation to step back as his powers shoved against yours.

Now both of you were using all your energy, the connection was more vivid than before. You could sense every vein of the electricity, his as well as yours. Finding strength from somewhere, you resisted his onslaught and managed to take a step forwards.

Your tussle continued, fire against fire, both of you matching the other’s power but advancing until you were practically toe to toe.

Outstretched, slightly above your head, your hands were level, vibrant light still connecting them although his palm was just inches from yours. A waterfall of blue and gold sparks fell between your faces while you stared at each other with blazing eyes. Your breathing was heavy, trying to keep up with his relentless power, but Jungkook was also panting, damp hair falling over his eyes.

You were out of breath, but the warm air brushing over your face from Jungkook’s lips assured you that you weren’t the only one.

A sharp, exhilarated smile lit up his mouth. A brow quirked, his words breathless as he spoke.

“Not bad. Hold it…”

Sucking in a breath, you prepared for one last effort. Avoiding Jungkook’s eyes had long left your priority list, and now you were drawn in by the burning gold within them. It was like you were staring at the sun, but you couldn’t look away, not even when their light grew, yet more of his power flowing through you.

His gaze burned just as intently back, eyes trained on your own which were surely lit up blue. A slight crease formed in his brow, perhaps from concentration…

Again, you matched his power even as he overloaded the connection, more and more energy sparking in the air-

His gaze flitted away, the connection cutting abruptly.

For a moment, the brightness of the sparks, and Jungkook’s eyes, left dazzling prints on your vision even as they sputtered from existence. Air rushed in and out of your lungs, the exertion not hitting you until now.

Without the channel to focus your energy, you staggered back from Jungkook, blinking in the relative dimness.

Sensing the strength that had drained from you, you let yourself take another step to sink against the wall behind you. Breathing still heavy, you looked up at Jungkook. Though his chest heaved too, cheeks slightly flushed under his dripping hair, he hadn’t moved an inch.

Only when you met his eyes, which had returned to their regular darkness, did he start, quickly marching away to grab water bottles from the corner of the room.

One flew in your direction. Just about managing to snatch it from the air, you took an eager sip. Now you had had time to catch your breath, a strange silence settled.

“How did it feel?”

Jungkook wasn’t even looking at you. He had made his way to the bottom of the staircase, and now leaned against them, apparently finding the floor very interesting.

Hesitantly, you made your way closer, following a step behind as he started climbing back to the main house.

“Yeah, my powers, they feel… it wasn’t painful,” you replied, “they’re like normal again.”

Jungkook nodded.

“You did good. Still, don’t push it.”

By then, you had reached the top of the stairs. After pausing for a moment, Jungkook awkwardly moved away to the kitchen, while you hung back to have a shower.

The odd tension that had clung to the space between you since training occupied your mind as the water flowed over you, reinvigorating your tired body. In a way, it was just like usual. You and Jungkook had never been comfortable around each other.

But then why did it feel odd now?

The training session had given you a taste of something different. For once, Jungkook hadn’t spent the time trying to antagonise you. Instead, you had a real chance to push yourself.

It was probably the fact that, after so long without using your powers, you simply missed feeling the rush of electricity. No matter if it was also because connecting with Jungkook's powers had felt so thrilling too.

That thought was gone as quickly as the water running over you. Outside the training room at least, you knew where you stood. And that was very, very far from Jungkook.

Which is why you were so perplexed when you reached the kitchen, and didn’t find it empty.

Pausing in the hallway, you honestly considered turning back around and leaving. Trust Jungkook to try and claim the kitchen since you were absent.

But you weren’t going to be deterred. You were hungry.

It was his fault anyway, for training you so hard, so you took a breath and pushed your damp hair behind your shoulder before striding into the space.

At first, you made your best attempt at keeping your chin up, confident while also acting as if you magically couldn’t see Jungkook at all. It was how you usually approached each other. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing that whatever he was making wasn’t going well.

Halfway through throwing your own ingredients onto the counter, you stopped to cast a sceptical eye over the mess he was making. He was making an equally good show of not noticing your presence, and continued throwing in random sauces, not before eyeing them all fairly hesitantly first.

Biting your lip, you shrugged it off and turned your eyes back to your own dinner.

But you could no longer ignore it when he took a taste from his spoon and quite literally recoiled.

Loudly putting your knife down, you sighed in frustration.

“Do you want some help?”

Quickly straightening out his face from the way it had been screwed up from the taste, he blinked around at you. He really did look surprised at your presence.

You rolled your eyes, marching over to him and peering into his pan.

“What are you making?”

Folding his arms across his chest, you could hear the pout in his voice as he replied.

“Tteokbokki.”

You stared. At the food, which certainly did not resemble tteokbokki, and then at Jungkook.

“No you’re not.”

“I am! Jin always makes it like this!”

“Maybe when he’s making something for his science experiments,” you scoffed.

Defiant, Jungkook reached for his packet of soft rice cakes, totally ignoring you. You had to lunge across the counter to save them from a grizzly fate in that pan of definitely not tteokbokki.

Deep down, he clearly agreed with you, because he didn’t protest all that much as you forcibly removed the pan from the stove, depositing the whole mess in the bin.

“This is how you’ve been eating?”

Jungkook looked a little startled, his eyes wide for a moment before he managed to resurrect his scowl.

“We ran out of ramen,” he muttered.

You stared at him in disbelief. Had no one taught him to cook?

“What would Jin say?” you huffed, returning to the stove and elbowing him out the way.

Before long, you had your own meal cooking, now with some extra added. After a few moments, Jungkook had skulked away, watching you silently from the table. Once again, you pretended not to pay him any mind.

Two steaming bowls of (actually edible) food eventually made it to the table.

Sitting down opposite him, neither of you began for a moment. Each of you was waiting for the other to do something.

When at last you reached for your chopsticks, the sound was deafening against the strained silence between you.

Perhaps Jungkook was encouraged to see you didn’t drop dead after taking a bite, because he finally started to eat as well. Not that you let yourself look at him beyond the odd brief glance. You kept your attention firmly on the meal, which was actually quite tasty if you did say so yourself.

“Thanks.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, eyes shooting up to stare at Jungkook. He stopped mid-bite, big eyes returning your bewildered gaze as if he had no idea who had spoken.

You blinked. Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze again, picking at your food.

“No problem.”

“It’s nearly as good as Jin’s,” he drawled next.

Disbelieving, you swallowed your next bite and raised your eyebrows.

“Are you seriously trying to come for me after I gave you food?”

“That’s a compliment!” he defended.

“Sure.”

“Fine,” he huffed, attacking his food a bit more aggressively.

Taking a breath, you chewed your lip. Jungkook took a bite with more force than strictly necessary, brows furrowed. Maybe he had really meant it in a nice way?

You had trouble believing that, somehow.

“It’s a hell of a lot better than yours would have been,” you grumbled, then paused. “but… I suppose Jin is a very good chef.”

For a moment, Jungkook didn’t reply. But he finished chewing and set his chopsticks down a bit more gently.

“Why would I have to practise cooking when he’s always here to do it?” he murmured.

Deciding for once to take the opportunity to ease the situation, you smiled.

“I don’t blame you.”

Both of you allowed a temporary ceasefire to settle as you cleared your plates. You didn’t miss Jungkook’s glance towards the little black receiver standing on the table.

With the frequency of operations at the moment, it was clear Namjoon classed the whole situation with Bolt as an emergency. Jungkook hadn’t been wrong – Jin was usually there, or one of the others, to cook. As much as it still surprised you that he was so clueless, you saw that prying was going to get you nowhere.

He wasn’t the only one that missed the others, though. Or hoped they were okay.

You leaned over and turned the receiver on.

Thank you for reading! I really mean it, it's wonderful now I'm finally sharing this story to hear what you guys think as we go through it!! I appreciate every last one of you who comments💜💜

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[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (1)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: fantasy!au, soulmate!au, angst with a happy ending, fluff, hurt + comfort + recovery, eventual smut

→ word count: 2.1k

→ summary: you’re a prisoner here, but you can’t remember why. you can’t remember much of anything. not where you came from, not who you are, not even what you are. what happens when a pack of terrifying monsters breaks into the facility where you’re being held. not to kill you, but to...protect you?

→ content warnings: captivity (including forced sensory deprivation, effects of dehumanization), soul bond, violence, low self-worth, memory loss, protective!jin & jungkook

→ a/n: a completely self-indulgent hurt + comfort story that I wrote (and will most likely continue to write) in a frenzy because I wanted to read it :) if you’re excited to read more of this series please reblog and share your thoughts!!

series masterlist → next part

part 1: the rescue

Something seizes inside your chest. That’s the only word your sluggish brain can muster to describe it: something, foreign yet familiar at the same time.

After so many days—days? hours? weeks?—of feeling nothing but drowned sensations, it feels like a sledgehammer to the gut.

The sheer force of it wrenches a choked gasp from your lips, and it’s the loudest sound you’ve heard in a long while. One hand reaches up to clutch at your heart, the other gripping your forehead where a violent throbbing pounds at your skull.

The intensity makes you scramble along the stone floor until your back hits the wall, the only other thing in the room that can be used to ground you.

This...thing, it grips you harder than the cold, tighter than the hunger in the pit of your stomach.

Stinging tears brim in your eyes. Even though you’re alone in the room, something else, a deep something, tells you to choke them back before someone sees. Before the pain that always follows when you let them fall past your lids.

The thing feels like hope, desperate and burning white-hot. It feels like warmth and a sigh of relief.

It feels like something he would punish you for. Because things like you aren’t meant to feel things this good.

What sounds like an explosion reverberates through the thick concrete walls. The floor trembles. You can hear people screaming, guards shouting orders over the pound of footsteps.

The sensation in your chest continues to build, unbearably so, until the tendons in your lungs feel close to tearing.

The sound of shouting and fast footfalls begins to fade, moments later replaced by ones much louder, heavier, faster.

Gunshots in the distance, one after the other. Then a deafening roar. A nonhuman roar.

It’s all so loud. The noise presses against you from all angles, closing in until you can almost feel its weight.

You cup your hands around your ears, squeeze your eyes shut, curl into a pathetic ball but it still thuds in your head. Sharp and bruising and loud loud loud.

Not that you realize it, but you’ve been without light and sound for six days.

Your brain is slow to process what’s happening, struggling to make sense of the impossible.

Because he always said that no one knew they were there, that the wards were impenetrable. Even if someone got through the wards, who would be stupid enough to attack them at their own home base?

No one is coming for you, his voice slices through your thoughts. Why would anyone ever come looking for you? You are nothing.

The heavy footsteps draw closer, along with the sound of doors banging open.

You curl further into yourself, trying to block it all out. One of those disgusting creatures from the outside must have gotten in. It’s in their nature to seek blood and destruction, after all.

Maybe you’ll be lucky enough for a quick death. But...you’re not sure you deserve it.

You are nothing.

With a horrible creak of bending metal, the door is ripped off its hinges.

The sudden flood of light makes you flinch back and shield your face. The feeling in your chest thuds against your rib cage, like your heart is trying to escape your body.

You don’t move, can’t move. Not until a deep growl puts the fear of god in your bones.

It makes you peek through your fingers just enough to see what has caused the sudden flood of light.

The shape in the doorway is anything but human. Massive and powerful, it’s too big to be fully visible through the doorway. All you can see is four muscle-corded legs that end in clawed feet, trailing red behind them. The thing’s fur is matted with something dark and wet.

The creature bends down to peer into the room, exposing a skeletal head and sharp, dripping antlers.

You meet it’s black eyes, and something akin to recognition glints in the glassy surface. Your heart thuds almost painfully.

The creature tips it’s head back and howls, flashing several rows of wolf-like teeth.

It’s much too big to fit through the door, but it rams it’s head into it anyway. Distressed whimpers fall from it’s mouth as it bucks and charges at the wall. It dents the metal, desperate in it’s attempt to get to you.

Frozen. All you can do is shrink further into the corner of the room, closing your eyes and awaiting the inevitable. Hoping it’s quick, hoping that whatever happens afterwards is better than staying here.

The metal groans, beginning to warp and buckle under the force of the creature’s antlers as it slams into it harder and harder.

A beat of silence.

You open your eyes to find the creature stepping back as much as the hallway allows. It stomps it’s feet, flexing it’s hind legs.

Huffing out a grunt, it lunges forward to charge with all it’s might.

The metal finally gives out, tearing in jagged shards so the doorway is now a giant hole.

Your stomach drops as the creature lunges straight for you, too terrified to even close your eyes for the end of it all.

But the creature doesn’t rip you to shreds with it’s teeth, or maim you with it’s claws, or impale you with it’s antlers.

It nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder, a soft whine leaving it’s panting mouth. You feel it’s wet nose nudging you all over, sniffing like it’s searching for something.

Wet against your cheek. You realize that the thing is licking your face like a dog that’s been reunited with it’s owner.

Frozen, still. You can’t make your limbs move an inch, icy fear still stiff in your veins.

The creature retreats from poking and prodding you, still panting and mewling like an excited puppy. It hops a little on it’s strong legs, nodding it’s head at you expectantly.

You...have no idea what’s going on.

You should be dead by now. The beasts from the outside are supposed to kill anything and everything that crosses their path. They’re not supposed to yip playfully and nestle their huge forehead against yours.

The creature perks it’s great head like it senses something.

You assume that it must’ve realized that you’re prey, an enemy. Pinching your eyes shut, again, you wait for the end. Hopefully it’s a merciful one.

A moment later, you feel cold hands cradling your face.

Your eyes pop open.

You can’t decide if the man leaning over you is a corpse or a god. At the same time, wondering how beauty and death can exist in the same face.

A god, from the way his brown hair is pushed back from his forehead, the way his eyes are slanted so prettily. A god because he’s tall and demands respect with his presence, those broad shoulders and sharp jawline.

A corpse, from the was his full mouth drips with blood, running down his chin and neck. Two sets of yellowed fangs peek over the plush flesh of his lips. Dark purple veins peek through his almost translucent skin, showing the shadow of his skeleton underneath.

You feel his thumbs stroking your cheeks. Tears pool in his red, bloodshot eyes.

“Oh baby,” he says sadly, looking down at your flimsy clothing, at the fresh wounds covering your body.

It makes something burn in your heart, something like pain and healing at the same time.

The corpse-like man draws you closer, hugging you to his chest as he whispers out soft hushes and sweet nothings that sound like cotton in your dull ears.

And the more he touches you, the more the feeling flares. It’s close to unbearable, stealing away your breath, vision swimming.

The other creature shifts to the ground, curling around you in a way that’s almost...protective?

A name you don’t recognize falls from the man’s mouth, and just like that, your consciousness winks out like a flickering candle flame.

They found you. Months of desperate searching, following any and every lead, no matter how small or fleeting. Days at a time without sleeping, without eating. 

Weeks of Yoongi locking himself in his room, tearing apart his grimoires, carving runes into his skin, trying every locator spell he knew to get even a whiff of your location.

After months of feeling empty, feeling like a piece of them was dead, they finally found you.

Once Yoongi broke through the wards, storming the facility wasn’t difficult. They may have technology, firearms and sheer numbers, but they don’t have primal fury.

Because their person, their final piece, was stolen from them.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, they felt it. A sudden pain in their chest, sharp and heart-wrenching.

She’s here, and she’s hurt.

They tore through the place in a feral rage, cutting down anyone that tried to obscure their path, because they did this. They’re the ones that kept you from them.

Jungkook plowed through the outer gates, the inner gates, the front doors. No one tried to hold him back as he sprinted through the storm of bullets.

Namjoon’s smoke shielded him, not that he needed it. The frenzy of finally being close to his mate after all this time would’ve made a few bullets feel like pinpricks.

He must’ve caught your scent, because the next moment he’s rearing his head back and roaring like he’s just been struck by an arrow.

Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung all hear it, shifted into their full forms throughout the facility.

The human part of them, the animal part of them, aches with the urge to seek you out themselves. But they have to take care of the ones who did this to you, because they’ll do it again if given the chance.

Jungkook will find you, he has the best nose out of all of them.

Bounding through the halls with renewed urgency, all that fills Jungkook’s head is she’s close she’s close where is she oh god where is she?

He can smell you, or he can smell your panic, and all he can think is don’t worry, I’m coming. Just hold on a little longer.

He comes to a hallway that reeks of pain and sorrow. It’s lined with bolted doors all the way down, each filled with prisoners that stink with lingering wounds.

Tearing the doors away one by one, peering into each room, he doesn’t stop until he reaches the end of the hall.

When he looks into this room, he sees a lone figure huddled in the darkness. A wave of fear floods his nose, then the stench of infection.

He howls. A bitter, provoked howl. The sound of a creature who’s mate is in danger.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins, fur bristling as he rears and charges at the doorway with all his might.

It takes several tries, but eventually he breaks through.

He doesn’t understand why wave after wave of fear is radiating off of you. He expected you to be relieved, to jump into his arms the second you saw him.

You’ve been their mate for years. Why are you shying away like you’re afraid of him? 

When he finally breaks through the walls, you shrink so far into yourself that it looks like you might disappear.

Jungkook crowds you, sniffing you all over, searching for injuries.

He finds too many. Before he can let out another pained howl, he catches a whiff of another one of his mates.

Jin crashes into the room, looking furious and determined.

The same pleasant pain surges in the taller man’s own chest, stronger than it’s burned in months. The bite mark on his left wrist burns with it.

Jin drops to his knees in front of you, breathing in your scent for the first time in months.

Filth is smeared all over your skin. Your hair is shorter, much shorter. It looks as if it’s been cut with a blunt knife.

He too smells the infection. And the blood, of course he smells the blood.

“Oh baby,” he breathes out. “I’m so sorry. We came as soon as Yoongi found you.”

You’re staring up at him with wide, terrified eyes. And it looks like there’s nothing behind them. No relief, no recognition. Just confusion and panic.

“Baby?” Jin whispers, giving your shoulders and gentle shake, but you look as if you didn’t even hear it.

What the fuck did they do to you?

He hugs you close, your body feeling cold and weak in his hold.

He mumbles out apology after apology. I’m so sorry it took so long. I’m so sorry for what they did to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop them. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

Something flutters in his lungs. When he looks down, he sees you take a sharp inhale.

He hangs onto that breath, waiting for you to say something, do something, anything other than sitting there shivering like you’re too scared to even flinch.

He calls your name, and you collapse in his arms.

next part →

a/n: thanks for reading!! thoughts??

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