#bts murder au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spookyserenades · 2 months ago

Text

Sanctity - Chapter One

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Vampire!AU, yandere!AU, horror, themes of the supernatural and mythology, historical topics, vampiric powers, religious themes, violence, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, toxic behavior including stalking, torture, and manipulation, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Word Count; 22.8k

Sanctity Masterlist

Sanctity Playlist

TO JOIN THE TAGLIST PLEASE CLICK HERE!

Ko-fi 💜

Hello my loves! For those who do not know me from Trouvaille, this is Dana! I am very pleased and excited to share this brand-new series with you. It has been a longtime desire of mine to write a story with vampires. Sanctity was born from a love of history and a past with yandere stories. I sincerely hope you enjoy this first chapter and the love that was poured into it!

WARNING! There are instances of gore, including cutting. Suicidal language is used, so please be warned if this is triggering to you.

Next Chapter

The bell struck six in the crumbling belltower, two young men in white robes pulling on the rope to swing the massive metal fixture to and fro. The haunting sound sent a murder of crows scattering across the steadily darkening sky when they were startled from their perches on the Sanctuary’s roof. Y/N peered out of the arched window curiously, halting her task of wiping down the glass with an old, weathered rag, distant yearning filling her as she watched the black birds fly away to the greater unknown.

“Y/N, it’s time to wash up for dinner,” Meredith, a fellow ‘acolyte’ and friend, reminded her, setting aside the wooden broom she was using to sweep the hallway they were working in.

Suppressing an agitated grunt, Y/N simply nodded, rising from her knees and adjusting the cream linen skirt she was wearing, the hem of it dirtied from skimming the old stone floors all day. Following the blonde girl, the wispy curls on her nape appeared silver in the darkened, wintery hallways, Y/N wondered when the Sanctuary would allow them to light the sconces in the frigid building so the acolytes wouldn’t be numb and stiff by the end of the unforgiving November evenings. Not that the wardens actually cared one way or another if the acolytes were cold, as long as they were alive, blood still running through their veins, resources wouldn’t be wasted on a few paltry fires.

“You know, electricity exists. Doesn’t it bother you that we’re forced to live like fucking peasants during the Black Plague?” Y/N seethed, Meredith’s posture growing stiff as she nervously looked around. Not a soul was in the hallway with them, so Y/N rolled her eyes at the blonde’s haughty reaction. “Relax, Mere. No one’s around.”

“You shouldn’t swear, Y/N. They’ll punish you,” Meredith whispered, her angelic blue eyes wide with concern. Y/N scoffed, her aching fingers curling into fists as they continued their way to the dining hall.

“Working all day for nothing is punishment enough. What’s the prize? Becoming a walking transfusion one day?” Y/N, despite her agitation, lowered her voice when Meredith began to look truly frightened. “I’m sorry, Mere. There aren’t any vampires here, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do. They never come on Sanctuary grounds. I wish to continue being your friend, Y/N, but I do not wish to invite punishment onto myself,” Meredith swallowed, looking a touch guilty. “I’ll meet you at the table.”

Y/N sighed, watching the girl spirit away, a flurry of white skirts and matching billowy blouses. After so many years spent in the Sanctuary, Y/N realized she shouldn’t be as bitter as she was, but the winter months brought out the aching in her.

“Talks like a fuckin’ walking pamphlet,” Y/N muttered, heading straight to the large basins lining the outskirts of the dining hall, cringing at the icy water that came from the taps as she scrubbed at her dirty fingernails.

At the very least, the dining hall was one of the warmest sections of the Sanctuary, thanks to the heat from the kitchens and the singular fire roaring in a brazier placed in the center of the room. The Sanctuary, free of 21st century comforts, was always crusted in ice in the winters and stiflingly hot in the summers. Sniffing the air, Y/N tried not to frown– food from the Sanctuary’s kitchens were never very tasty, even if she was often starving enough to eat a leather boot at the end of a day’s work.

“What’s tonight’s mystery meat?” Y/N got in line, retrieving a tray for herself, and leaning up to whisper her joke into her other friend Joseph’s ear. Unlike Meredith, the dark haired man snorted, mirth flashing in his eyes.

“Oh, the usuals. Beef organs or tuna. Paired with lentil slop, shitty kale salad, maybe a sweet potato if we’re lucky. Don’t forget the out-of-season orange and singular square of dark chocolate for dessert, too!”

This time, Y/N did not hold back her light groan, startling a timid acolyte in front of her and Joseph, the girl dropping her hardened, ‘fortified’ bread roll onto the counter. Both her and Joseph bowing in apology slightly while they contained their snickering, Y/N shuddering when a slimy piece of beef liver was slapped onto her plate by a kitchen acolyte.

“I can’t take these organs anymore. Why can’t we have a steak? Steak is rich in iron,” Y/N sat beside Joseph at one of the long tables, her ass smarting against the stone bench. Meredith, across from her, eyed her carefully, using her spoon to push mushy lentils around on her plate.

“You’ve been eating organs for ten years now, squirt, aren’t you fond of them by now?” Joseph teased, prodding at the gory looking organs on his own plate with a fork.

“For once, I just want a bowl of pasta. I mean, come on, vampires eat the best food in the world, and they don’t even need it to survive. Just pure hedonism,” Y/N continued, peeling the orange that came with her dinner considering everything else on the tray looked absolutely revolting.

Every meal served to the acolytes in the Sanctuary was required to be chock-full of ingredients with an abundance of iron and Vitamin C, allegedly making their blood more nutritious and appetizing to vampires. So, in order for vampires to eat like kings, mere human acolytes ate like cavemen.

“You’re especially salty this evening,” Joseph remarked, a flicker of surprise flashing over his face. Meredith had ironically grown quite pale, considering the supposed iron-rich meal she was eating should have had a glow rising to her cheeks. “Make sure none of the wardens walk by while you’re still on your soapbox.”

“You can hear their boots from a mile away, I’ll shut up well before they’re in earshot,” Y/N pinched her nose as she stuffed some lentils down her throat so she wouldn’t have to taste the foul mush. “I’ll stop now, don’t wanna upset you, Mere.”

“Thank you,” Meredith murmured quietly, her eyes softening. Y/N knew that Meredith understood where she was coming from, but complaining about their situations did nothing to get them out of it, in the end. “When we’re back in our dorm… it’ll be okay.”

Nodding, Y/N’s lower eyelid twitched at the thought of her bed– hard as a rock and no better than a bale of hay to sleep on, but kept her promise and changed the subject promptly.

“What was your task today, Joey?”

“Ugh. Joey,” Joseph shivered, nudging Y/N with his elbow. “The usual. Raking dead leaves and preparing the garden for the snow.”

“It’s going to be a cold winter,” Meredith remarked, her gaze turning to the stained-glass windows overlooking a frosty courtyard.

“Maybe if we’re lucky, one of us will get out of here. Be able to stay in a warm building, with wool blankets, fires lit in every room…” Joseph twirled one of his dark curls around an index finger contemplatively, Y/N frowning at the unsaid. The only way that would happen would be if one of them got picked to become a human blood bank at the end of the week. Joseph read her mind. “Tomorrow is the Drawing.”

Drawing day happened monthly. Each acolyte in the Sanctuary was required to report to the infirmary wing and offer up a pint of their blood to be sent out around the area for vampires to “sample”, like some kind of wine tasting that could be delivered to one’s doorstep. Days after the Drawing, there would be a chance that word would be sent from a coven that they were interested in a sample, and the matching acolyte, in consequence, would be delivered to the coven to be a live-in blood donor.

The Drawing happened for a reason. While vampires held the most power across the globe, it was agreed decades ago, after many conferences held by vampires and human world leaders, that solitary vampires must go through a Sanctuary in order to receive a human to feed on. It was during that time when solitary vampires began to form covens to decrease demand for a human donor, and Sanctuaries were born. It was also that time where vampires roamed rampant, claiming any human on the street to drain dry. The death toll was climbing at an alarming rate, so a compromise was reached: vampires could not “hunt”, only go through a Sanctuary to select a donor, one they’d keep indefinitely.

Y/N often weighed the pros and cons of being selected for The Drawing: at the Sanctuary, she could keep her blood but spend her days freezing, eating nasty food, and scrubbing the filthy building. If she was taken in by a coven, sure, she’d have luxuries– good food, riches, warm clothes. But she’d be at the mercy of vampires, notoriously vicious and unforgiving creatures. That, and she’d be fed on constantly by the sadistic beings, likely for the rest of her life.

“That’s why we got extra organs today. Figures,” Y/N shrugged, once again pinching her nose to choke down a sliver of meat. “I’m beat. Gonna head back before the final bell. You can finish my portion, Joey.”

Joseph grimaced at the nickname, but eagerly reached for her tray anyways, Meredith watching Y/N slip from the hall. Delicately dabbing her mouth with a frayed cloth napkin, Meredith sighed.

“She’s always like this the night before the Drawing,” Meredith’s voice was sympathetic, resigned. “She never got used to it, even after all these years.”

“Can you blame her? She was living under the radar, forging her blood type results most of her life before she was caught. I’d be jaded too,” Joseph pointed out around a mouthful of soggy kale. “You’ve been here your whole life, Mere. Y/N and I knew what it was like before living here. Having freedom.”

“I know that, Joseph,” Meredith, to her credit, had the decency to look chastised. “I never said I do not understand. I suppose since the Sanctuary is all I know, I do not yearn for freedom in quite the same way.”

Joseph collected his and Y/N’s trays, smiling at Meredith wistfully. He often thought that life would be simpler if he began to think like her, but it was difficult to let go of freedoms after they’d been tasted before. He remembered the days where he could wander in untamed forests, on the outskirts of town, where he could pick wild fruit and bask in the summer sun. Joseph recalled Y/N telling him about her life of drifting, hiding– the excitement, the footloose feeling of it all. Smiling at his other friend still, he stood from the stone bench.

“The freest we’ll be is if we’re chosen after a Drawing. And even then, we’re birds in cages.”

Even though she had pulled two pairs of wool socks on her feet before passing out in bed, Y/N’s toes were icicles when the obnoxious morning bell clanged through the hollow halls. Starting to regret not eating much dinner, Y/N’s stomach was turning uncomfortably as she sat up in bed. The roiling in her gut was not just because she was hungry, but the familiar unease that festered there each morning of a Drawing day. As she watched Meredith, who happened to be her roommate, pull the threadbare curtains back on their barred window dutifully, Y/N sluggishly removed her nightgown and dressed herself in the dreaded white linens she was forced to wear on a daily basis.

“Hopefully I won’t pass out today,” Y/N joked, knowing that Meredith was usually much more relaxed about complaining when they were in the privacy of their shoebox-sized room.

“They’ll give you juice if you do. Just keep your eyes closed and focus on your breath,” Meredith gestured to the stool at the foot of her bed, encouraging Y/N to sit.

Humming, she did so, staring at the ceiling as her friend began to braid her hair. Meredith’s careful fingertips raking through her tresses calmed her down enough to stop the acid in her stomach from rising into her mouth. Meredith was singing quietly, a hymn, from the sound of it, and Y/N was thankful for the peaceful start of the day, no matter how cold and nauseous she was.

“You won’t have to go to the infirmary until after lunch, right?” Y/N attempted to distract herself from the fact that she’d be the very first to get her blood drawn.

“Mm-hmm. B+ is scheduled for after the midday meal,” Meredith stopped singing, using a scrap of old cream fabric to tie off the braid hanging down Y/N’s back. “So I’ll see you in the dining hall, then I’ll meet you back in the west hallway to finish cleaning anything we didn't yesterday.”

“Thanks, Mere,” Y/N reached back, passing her hand over the braid her friend weaved, wishing that there was at least a mirror somewhere. Y/N hadn’t seen her reflection in years, except for blurry images in the surface of the Sanctuary’s garden fountain; the wardens rejected vanity amongst acolytes. “I’m gonna get it over with, head straight for the infirmary.”

“Are you positive that’s wise without breakfast? You hardly touched dinner, too,” Meredith’s pale eyebrows shot into her hairline, worry etched between them.

“I’m worried if I eat, the spinach smoothie will make another appearance as soon as they get the needle in my arm,” Y/N pictured the tasteless breakfast she normally had coming up for a round two and shuddered. “It’ll be okay. Just like every time, right? I’ve been here for years. The local vampires don’t seem to like my blood very much, or at least the ones that this Sanctuary sends it to.”

“Good luck, Y/N. See you at lunch,” Meredith didn’t comment on Y/N’s attempt to brighten up– she knew the stakes were as high as Y/N did.

God must have felt particularly cruel the day he decided to bestow Y/N with one of the world’s rarest blood types: the coveted AB-, a sought-after type for many vampires. Apparently, all of the blood types had different tastes, but Y/N hardly believed that. Blood was blood; tinny, salty, and a nauseating reminder of fragile mortality. There was a reason she had hidden from the world for many years, drifting from place to place. Those with AB- blood were hardly at Sanctuaries for long before a coven would promptly request them as their live-in donor. Y/N was basically living on borrowed time– she often wondered if her bitterness leached into her bloodstream and spoiled the ‘product’.

Dragging her palm along the stone walls of the Sanctuary’s hallway, Y/N barely registered the crowd of acolytes passing by on their ways to the dining hall in the opposite direction from where she was going. Y/N was the only acolyte in that particular Sanctuary to have AB- blood, so naturally, she was by herself every Drawing day first thing in the morning, and the top priority of the wardens. Swallowing thickly, the scent of rubbing alcohol had her gagging as it filled her nostrils when she neared closer to the infirmary.

Of course, the infirmary wing was cold as ice both temperature wise and atmospherically. In contrast to the Gothic interior of the rest of the Sanctuary, the infirmary was somewhat modern (or was once, in the 80’s), sterile, and covered in pastel vinyl flooring. Her Mary Janes squeaked against the tiles, nervously wringing her hands together as she stared at the plastic dentist’s chair in the corner of the room, the clump of wardens setting up the apparatus to collect blood. Clearing her throat, Y/N pressed her lips together in a line as one of the wardens turned to her– Mrs. Sloane, a severe 60-year-old woman who ran the Sanctuary like the military. Y/N had an acute dislike for the woman, who saw her and the acolytes as nothing more but cattle to raise.

“AB-, come here. Everything is ready,” her voice was dry, sharp, like a whip cracking down. It had her flinching, but she obediently trudged towards the crinkled old chair, mostly out of fear of having to kneel in the chapel for several hours in punishment if she didn’t follow orders exactly.

Knees wobbling, she lowered herself onto the chair while Mrs. Sloane eyed her like she was a slab of wagyu beef she was preparing to sell to the highest bidder. Biting her lip, she swiftly shut her eyes, heeding Meredith’s earlier advice. Perhaps she could prolong her anxiety attack if she kept her eyes shut the entire time, flinching in the seat when someone was not-so-gently rolling up the sleeve on her left arm past her elbow and swiping an alcohol wipe over her sensitive skin.

“We’ll be taking more than usual today,” Mrs. Sloane announced, and Y/N’s plans of staying blind were foiled when her eyes snapped open in shock.

“W-what? But taking more than a pint is dangerous, is it not?” Y/N’s voice came out panicked and thin, Mrs. Sloane scowling at her nastily.

“Silence. It is not your place to question,” Mrs. Sloane scolded, Y/N’s breathing becoming fast and shallow. “A new coven has arrived in the area. They have requested a large sample of AB-.”

Dread flooded through every cell of her body, horrified that she was about to be drained dry, two pint bags on the steel table beside her. Barely having time at all to process that there was a coven of vampires that were new to the area, and that there was a great chance that they’d select her as a donor, Y/N yelped when one of the wardens pinned her wrist down and another slid the hollow needle in her arm. Seeing stars dance in her field of vision, Y/N whimpered at the sting of the needle, feeling sick when she felt the warmth of her blood flowing into the tube connected to the pint bag resting on her arm. She absolutely loathed the feeling of her blood leaving her body, like her very life force was being sucked out, and before she could actively close her eyes, they shut involuntarily when they began to water.

“Calm down, AB-,” Mrs. Sloane sounded like she was spitting through her teeth, Y/N unable to feel her limbs. “You should be grateful. You’ll have the rest of the day off to recuperate.”

Y/N hardly heard the woman. Ears ringing, she was drifting away, a cold, sticky sweat coating her forehead. While she was struggling to form a coherent thought, one of the wardens must have switched out the full bag for the empty one, and by then, Y/N lost consciousness.

Several moments later, Y/N not knowing exactly how much time had passed, someone was snapping in her face, jamming a straw in her mouth. Nearly choking on the orange juice that was being squeezed down her parched throat, her eyes opened blearily and all she could see was blinding white light from the fluorescence above her.

“You may sit here for no more than five additional minutes. Then return to your dorm until the dinner bell,” Mrs. Sloane’s arms were crossed, annoyed that Y/N was holding up the line of acolytes outside waiting their turns.

Though she was pretty much completely drained of energy, Y/N’s mind was moving a thousand miles per hour. With a new coven in the area, there was a very real possibility they’d be interested in her blood, considering the rarity of the blood type. She gleaned no additional information from Mrs. Sloane– typical– but how many vampires would be in that coven, if God forbid they chose her? Three, four? Four was typically the largest a coven would get, and the thought of four of them latching onto her at once had her leaning over in the chair and emptying the contents of her stomach into the bucket on the floor.

It didn’t matter that she’d be free of the Sanctuary. Though she’d live lavishly, she’d have constant open wounds and would be psychologically tortured by the creatures. Suddenly, meals made purely of beef liver and beds constructed out of pallets seemed much better than cake and down feather mattresses.

“Your time is up. Go back to your dorm. The midday meal will be delivered to you,” Mrs. Sloane barked, hauling Y/N up by her wrist. Feet faltering, Y/N swayed and scrabbled for the drywall, blindly feeling her way to the main hallway again.

Dazed, her arm throbbed where the needle had been inserted, and the only positive that came from that morning’s events was the fact that she’d get to lay in bed all day instead of scrubbing floors. Y/N wasn’t sure how she managed to find her way back to her dorm room, but before she knew it, she was wrapping two blankets around herself and curling up in bed.

She was woken up by Meredith hours later, the blonde bringing her a tuna sandwich on a undoubtedly stale roll. Choking it down like a wolf, she tried not to cry when Meredith gingerly wrapped a cloth around her arm, which was cruelly left to clot on its own by the wardens.

“It’s going to be me this time,” Y/N announced dully, eyes on the overcast sky outside her barred windows. “I can feel it.”

“There is no way to know–”

“A new coven has moved to this town,” Y/N cut her friend off, Meredith’s hands stilling. Withdrawing her touch from Y/N’s arm, Meredith appeared tentatively unsure.

“To Newport?” Meredith’s light eyebrows pulled together, disbelieving. Newport wasn’t exactly a magnet for vampires, most of the ones that resided in the area weren’t in covens at all, just solitary vampires. A new coven spelled danger for Y/N. “I heard that a vampire built one of the famous mansions by the ocean. Do you think one of the vampires could be him?”

“Well, if he is, then I guess I’d get to live like a princess. You know, the one that got locked in a tower with a dragon and shit.”

Y/N had a bad feeling. Not that she was one to have premonitions, but trusting that feeling in her gut is what helped her to survive years before she was brought to the Sanctuary. Meredith stroked the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, but Y/N knew she was just as nervous as she was. Because the coven requested so much of her blood specifically, and was the only person in the immediate area with AB- blood, if the vampires liked her blood her fate was officially sealed. Swallowing bile, she shook her head, not wanting to put the cart before the horse yet.

“I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I’ve been around for a while, none of the local vampires have been interested. Maybe my blood tastes like dirt, and I’ll be here until I’m elderly.”

“It’s okay to worry, Y/N. However,” Meredith sat on the side of Y/N’s bed, the old wood frame creaking with her weight. “There are many others here with rare blood types. Perhaps they will prefer AB positive.”

“Perhaps,” Y/N agreed, beginning to sit up. “Shall we go to the hall and finish the windows?”

“I have to go to the infirmary wing, it’s my turn. You should rest, Y/N,” Meredith helped her stand, Y/N furiously shaking her head.

“If I stay here until dinner, my thoughts will continue to spiral,” Y/N shoved her feet into her well-worn shoes, slinging her braided hair over her shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me lunch. I’ll get started on the windows and wait for you.”

Y/N headed out first, leaving Meredith to prepare herself for her drawing. The blonde often liked to pray before the process, Y/N not knowing whether she was praying to be chosen, or praying to be skipped over. She didn’t have the stomach to ask.

By herself in the west hallway, she picked up the rag she abandoned the previous evening with a rough sigh. The sky opened up and ice-cold rain began to pelt the windows, crows eerily taking shelter in the eaves of the bell tower. Y/N felt like their beady eyes were on her, able to see through the glass and spot her wiping the window. Shuddering, she couldn’t tear her sight from the birds, the superstitious side of her insisting that they were some kind of omen.

Two days later, Y/N was trudging through the hollow halls after dinner, which she again excused herself from early. There had been no news about the results of the Drawing, but it didn’t stop her stomach from turning over in anxiety all day long. Hands coming up to rub her biceps, she glanced at the full moon outside of the large arched windows, slightly obscured by thin, dark clouds.

Kicking a stray stone as she turned the corner to the wing with the dorms, she paused a few feet from her and Meredith’s door with a frown. Light spilled out from the open dorm, more light than would have been possible coming from the small candles she and Meredith were allowed for nighttime reading. Besides, Meredith was still in the dining hall, so the door shouldn’t have been open. Fear sunk into her bones, making a sticky heat flash over her skin with dread. Mustering her remaining courage, she crept towards her room like a mouse.

Torches were lit up in the usually empty sconces, three wardens, including Mrs. Sloane, rifling through Y/N’s small dresser and nightstand. There was a large, old-fashioned suitcase box on her bed. Horrified and confused, Y/N accidentally bumped into the creaky door and snagged Mrs. Sloane’s attention.

“Congratulations, AB-,” Mrs. Sloane was sickly sweet, and it didn’t suit her whatsoever. “The coven has chosen you. Help pack your belongings, you leave tonight.”

“What?” Y/N’s world was spinning, vision getting spotty. “Leave? T-tonight?”

“Yes, girl. Are you hard of hearing? Pack your belongings, we are to bring you to the coven in less than an hour,” Mrs. Sloane went back to her snarky self, Y/N holding onto the door in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

Mrs. Sloane reached for the pocket of her apron, where she kept a metal ruler so she could strike those who disobeyed her, Y/N stumbled into the room and shakily tossed her white skirts into the suitcase to avoid being struck. Hardly able to form a single coherent thought, Y/N moved woodenly, so shocked that tears didn’t even roll down her cheeks.

“You are lucky. The coven that requested you consists of some of the wealthiest vampires in the world. You will want for nothing,” Mrs. Sloane tossed the final garment Y/N owned into the suitcase, another warden closing it up and bringing it out to the hall. Y/N had to hold her tongue, considering she was about to shout but I’m going to live with monsters. “All seven of them have wealth, in fact. They are rumored to have great powers, as well.”

“S-seven? Did y-you just say seven?” Y/N gasped, flinching when Alfred, the burliest warden in the Sanctuary, grabbed her arm and began to pull her out of the room. She had never heard of a coven so large, and it made every cell in her body light up with sharp panic.

“Yes, seven. Make haste,” Mrs. Sloane and Alfred hauled her through the Sanctuary, confused acolytes coming from the dining hall making space for them to pass. Y/N recognized the look on some of their faces, relief that they hadn’t been chosen.

“But, my friends! Please, let me say goodbye,” Y/N begged, tears finally starting to form when she spotted Joseph in the crowd, his eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Somewhere, Meredith was probably thinking about the book they were going to read together that night.

“There’s no time. You’ll get to write letters,” Mrs. Sloane refused, a whimper coming from Y/N’s throat as tears began to pour down her cheeks, getting one last look at Joseph who was mouthing something to her. Miserably, she couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, Alfred yanking her to the tall front doors, frigid air blasting her in the face as they opened.

In the courtyard, a place Y/N had only been once or twice when she was first brought to the Sanctuary, there was a horse-drawn carriage. Y/N, had she not been in the greatest shock of her life, would have laughed– wouldn’t it have been easier for her to be taken in a car? Hardly having the time to look back at the Sanctuary she called home the past ten years, her knees knocked together when she was pushed into the carriage with her luggage. Unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed privacy to cry when in the carriage, Alfred clambering in after her with a grunt.

Y/N didn’t talk to Alfred, mostly because he rarely spoke. At least he let her silently weep for a few moments, Y/N beginning to process the gravity of the situation. With watery eyes, she looked outside the carriage window, the gothic Sanctuary becoming distant as the horses trotted on. Her dread was temporarily numbed by the opportunity to see beyond the Sanctuary, land she had not seen in years. The trees lining the paved streets were barren, gray, and the hard-packed dirt had not a blade of grass. Even then, Y/N hadn’t seen such beauty in so long– a small taste of freedom before she was locked away for life again.

Her tears continued to flow even when she greedily took in the sights of the town of Newport, the homes of the wealthy humans who did not have to give up their freedom for vampires, shops that had closed for the day, parked cars on the sides of the streets. It was odd to see the vehicles, considering she had been living in an analog manner for so long, Y/N wondered if she’d ever know what the inside of one looked like.

“H-how long will it take?” Y/N asked timidly, not confident Alfred would respond, but she tried anyway. The middle-aged man looked up from his Bible, giving Y/N an unfeeling look.

“We are no more than ten minutes away, now. Wipe your sorry face,” Alfred responded coldly, Y/N’s heart racing when she dabbed at her cheeks obediently. “You will not shame our Sanctuary by showing the coven how miserable you are.”

Y/N had never heard Alfred speak so many words. She was starting to think that was for the best, his words like a slap across her face. Part of her pondered if she’d ever hear a kind word again. Lapsing back into silence, Y/N sniffled up the remainder of her tears, the shock beginning to wear off and her survival skills kicking in. If she wanted to remain sane, and not give the vampires an inch before they took a mile, she had to appear unafraid and unaffected. Strong, confident, and indifferent, but pure, so if not to anger them. Vampires and their purity– ironic.

The houses– if one could even call the structures that– became grander and grander the further they traveled. The massive buildings made the ginormous cathedral the Sanctuary called home look like a garden shack. Y/N had a hunch, as they turned down a road that had imposing iron gates lining yards that looked like parks, that the coven she was to belong to resided in one of the famous Newport mansions. Passing by a white marble monstrosity, Y/N shuddered. The homes looked empty, cold, and imposing. Grand, yes, but the kind of display of wealth that had someone like Y/N, who lived her entire life struggling, clenching her fist in fury.

“Won’t be long now. Straighten yourself out. The staff is to greet you,” Alfred slapped his Bible shut, grasping for the handle of Y/N’s suitcase.

Breathing shallowly, Y/N’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when the carriage brought them to the largest iron gate on the street, initials TK welded between filigree at the top of the barrier. As if by magic, the gates began to creak open, Y/N stunned by her first glimpse of actual electricity illuminating the gatehouse. Of course, she had seen it prior to her life at the Sanctuary, but it was odd to see the night lit up after living by candlelight. Gnawing at her nails, thinking that she could be shocked no further, an audible gasp tore from her when the carriage pulled through the driveway of great trees, an imposing mansion coming into view.

Y/N had never imagined such a building could ever be constructed. It would take a person hours to walk the entire floor plan, the grounds aside. Y/N was struck by a memory from earlier that week, when Meredith brought up the mansions by the ocean. One of the members of the coven must have been the man that built it, and the only other thing Y/N knew was that the mansion was settled on a steep cliff jutting into the sea. One she could potentially careen herself off of, if need be.

Her elbow was tightly grabbed again when the carriage stopped before the covered front entrance, bright lights nearly blinding her as Alfred shoved her out of the carriage, Y/N freezing instantly when she felt a foreign touch on her forearm to steady her. Eyes adjusting, she frantically looked up, not ready to deal with a vampire right off the bat. To her great relief, a blue-eyed– not red-eyed man, one dressed in a fine suit, righted her with a tight smile. A human, presumably a member of the mansion’s staff.

“I–I– I’m sorry,” Y/N managed, cursing Alfred colorfully in her mind. So much for confidence.

“Quite alright, acolyte…” the man prompted in a British accent, the first whisper of kindness Y/N had in over an hour.

“Oh. Forgive me. Acolyte Y/N,” she replied quickly, accessing the back of her brain where cobwebs and her etiquette surrounding that event resided.

“Sir, you may leave. Acolyte Y/N will begin her duties under our watch now,” the man in the suit removed his touch from Y/N’s forearm, not a single strand of silver hair on the man’s head out of place.

“Contact us if there are issues,” Alfred hardly got out of the carriage, his scarred face twisting into a smirk. Y/N wanted to spit on him.

“Of course,” the man replied, tight smile still on his lips, standing importantly beside Y/N until the carriage was well on its way back to the gate. “He’s a cup of tea, isn’t he?”

Y/N blinked, not knowing whether or not to agree, if it was her place. Turning to the man, whose posture had loosened up and a more genuinely friendly expression taking over his features, Y/N nodded slowly.

“Forgive me. I’m Edmund, head butler here at The Breakers. Pleased to meet you, Miss Y/N,” Edmund extended a gloved hand to Y/N, who hesitantly shook it. Was he trying to get her guard down by feigning gentlemanly behavior? “I take care of important matters inside of the estate. If you have any needs, you can seek me out. Of course, you’ll have personal maids, as well. Come, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Reeling, Y/N watched Edmund effortlessly scoop up her luggage, timidly following him to the door that was opened by an older man, also dressed in a sharp suit. With a house that size, Y/N realized that the staff must have been numerous to keep everything functioning smoothly. It was somewhat of a comfort that the staff she encountered so far seemed to be humans, likely ones with low status and common blood types.

Not even the imposing exterior of the building could have prepared Y/N for what the mansion looked like inside. In just the entrance alone, exquisite stone work, massive tiled floors, and tall ornate lamps illuminated by real light bulbs had stars circling around her head. Now that she was inside, she started to feel nervous again, waiting for a vampire to pop out from behind a thick stone column. In awe and in fear of her surroundings, she jolted when a young woman appeared from the left, carrying a tray.

“This is Nadia, she’ll be your head maid. I’ll take your luggage to your room, and Nadia will show you around the first floor before you retire. She’ll answer any questions you have.”

Edmund bowed to Y/N, which had her blanching in embarrassment. The butler disappearing further into the estate, Y/N turned to Nadia when the young woman cleared her throat lightly.

“Miss, I’ve brought you some cocoa. Hopefully it will warm you,” Nadia presented her with a large porcelain mug on the silver tray, a thick, sweet smell hitting her nostrils and making her nearly tear up. The only chocolate she could have at the Sanctuary was a square of bitter 100% cacao on Wednesdays and Sundays, not something decadent and rich like the cocoa she was being offered.

“I can have this?” Y/N squeaked, not daring to take the mug lest it was some kind of trick. Nadia cocked her head, confused by the question.

“Of course, Miss. Unless you don’t like chocolate, I can prepare you some tea instead,” Nadia began to lower the tray, Y/N waving her hands urgently to stop her.

“N-no, no, you don’t have to do that! Thank you, I’ll take it,” Y/N wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug, the warmth soothing her frozen fingers. “Um, you can call me Y/N if you want, please.”

Y/N was already weirded out, and people addressing her by formal titles was definitely a camel back-breaking straw. Nadia set her tray aside, watching Y/N take a shaky sip of the cocoa. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, and she couldn’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed when she drained the whole mug in five seconds flat. The drink was thick, rich, and warmed her from the inside out. She both wanted to cry and beg for a second mug.

“You must be freezing, shall we head into the hall? It’s much warmer there,” Nadia gestured forward, Y/N glancing at what appeared to be a giant ballroom in front of her. Gulping, she nodded, following the woman timidly. So far, not a single mention of the vampires that allegedly lived in the mansion. “If you’d like, I can draw you a hot bath when we get to your bedroom. I’ve filled your dresser with warm clothes for you to sleep in, too, I’ll put them on your bed… This is the Great Hall. I imagine the coven will hold parties here from time to time.”

Y/N didn’t know where to look. Between the sheer size of the space, the ornate artwork painted on the ceiling, and the endless colors swirling around the room, her vision finally landed on the enormous fireplace roaring at one end of the hall. It was then when she noticed it was the first time since mid-October she wasn’t chilly. Prior to that evening, Y/N had a lot of assumptions about vampires. One of the assumptions was that they would prefer to live in a cold and dark environment, but the mansion she was standing in was toasty and brightly lit.

“It’s… big,” Y/N managed weakly, Nadia leading her to a red-carpeted staircase. All she could do was follow, wanting to ask the maid a few questions about the coven, but she knew that vampires had superior hearing and she didn’t want to attract the attention of one of them.

“Yes, but you will become accustomed to it. I can help you navigate the interior and grounds until you know your own way around. Oh, right here. This is a portrait of Master Taehyung. He built this estate,” Nadia paused on the landing, where the staircase split into two directions.

Whipping her head upwards, she soaked in the lines of the old painted canvas, Nadia’s first mention of the vampires making her heart stop dead in her chest. The man depicted in the painting was beautiful, which was typical for the creatures, but Taehyung nearly took her breath away. Dressed in a Victorian-style suit, the vampire had a cold, stern expression. His dark wavy hair was parted down the middle neatly, and of course, the vampiric red irises staring back at her made her stomach turn in fear. Schooling her features, Y/N bit her lip at Nadia’s expectant expression.

“He’s, um. Handsome,” Y/N offered, hoping that her voice wasn’t wavering, Nadia nodded, resuming her ascent up the stairs.

“Master Taehyung made his fortune in steamships, railroads, and shipping in the mid-1800’s. He’s a legendary businessman,” Nadia informed her, Y/N cringing that she referred to the creature as a ‘man’. Nadia herself didn’t seem to have a problem with the vampire, and in fact, her voice almost implied that she admired Taehyung. “All seven of our masters are impressive men.”

“Wait, they’re all male?” Y/N stopped in her tracks, feeling the blood drain from her face. She was hoping for a coven of mostly female vampires, theorizing that perhaps they’d be less vicious.

“Yes, I’m sure you know that it’s atypical for a coven to be both so large and of all one gender. The masters are like-minded, which is why they chose to form the coven,” Nadia explained, stopping at a door at the end of the hall, beside a breezeway that likely looked out onto the ocean. “Here we are, this is where you’ll stay. The rest of the bedrooms on this floor are occupied by five of the masters, Masters Seokjin and Namjoon prefer the bedrooms on the third floor due to privacy of the quarters.”

Y/N swallowed, stepping into her new bedroom, which was bigger than four dorm rooms at the Sanctuary smashed together. The walls were covered in an intricate pink floral wallpaper, all of the upholstered furniture a matching shade of blushing rose, and the marble fireplace was lit already. The room was decidedly feminine, Y/N’s eyes catching on a painting above a nightstand depicting dancing women. Nadia, as she was bumbling around the room selecting clothes from a dresser, noticed Y/N staring at it. It was expertly painted, precise.

“That is one of Master Yoongi’s pieces, depicting the Nine Muses of Greek mythology,” Nadia placed flannel pajamas on Y/N’s new bed, which looked plush and was piled high with thick pillows. “Master Yoongi is a painter, an artist. Very famous.”

“Really?” Y/N knew nothing about art, let alone Greek mythology. She didn’t have the luxury of studying those things.

“The hour is growing late, Miss. I can tell you more about the masters in the morning. They will not be back from the affairs that called them away tonight until midday tomorrow,” Nadia pulled out a pocket watch from her apron, heading towards a door by the back of the bedroom. “I’ll run your bath, and leave you to rest. You’ll be woken in the morning for breakfast.”

Moments later, Y/N was left alone in her very own bathroom, not a communal one like she was used to at the Sanctuary with cold water taps. The bathtub had steaming water filling the room with humidity, the scent of lavender oil somewhat easing her frayed nerves. Chewing her lip, she decided she might as well indulge in the hot bath, considering her muscles were beyond stiff and there was no way she’d be able to fall asleep right away, if at all.

Part of her wondered what kind of ‘affairs’ that the vampires were involved with. If it were her, and she had accumulated all of that wealth and immortality, she’d spend her days lazing around. The other part of her was thanking the sky that none of them were in the building; she had more time to prepare herself to meet the creatures the following day. Stiffly, she began to untie her skirt, letting the fabric hit the floor. Y/N supposed never having to wear those skirts again was a bit of a silver lining. Kicking it to the side, Y/N’s vision caught on something silvery and polished– an actual mirror. Eagerly, she dashed to the sink it was fixed over to catch a glimpse of herself for the very first time in ages.

Unable to help the gasp that came from her mouth, Y/N didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. The image of herself she had in her mind was her fifteen year old self, not the twenty-five year-old reflected in the polished silver. In awe, she traced her sharpened jaw and cheekbone, lacking teenage fullness, and she realized that she had forgotten the color of her eyes. Tearing up a little, she turned from side to side, getting a look at her figure– even going as far as removing the rest of her clothing in curiosity. Poking at areas of her body she was unfamiliar with in the mirror, like the curve to her hips, Y/N felt rather odd. The whole evening had her entire world turning upside-down.

After several moments, she tore her attention from the mirror, only feeling slightly guilty of vanity, and tentatively dipped a toe into the bath. The water didn’t immediately dissolve her skin and bones, so she slowly sunk her body into the porcelain basin with a ragged groan. Maybe she had died and went somewhere beautiful, because being treated like royalty so far was not something she predicted. In the back of her mind, she reminded herself not to get too comfortable. She hadn’t even met the coven yet, and for all she knew, they could be horrible individuals. Nadia didn’t speak of them in that way– but maybe the maid wouldn’t dare.

Y/N sat in the bath until the water became lukewarm and her skin was pruny. Limbs loose, she wrapped herself in a plush towel that was waiting for her on a rack that actually heated the towel. While the ends of her hair dripped water on the tiled floor, she bent down, looking through a chest beside the sink with interest. Each drawer held essential and non-essential toiletries, some things Y/N had never even heard of. Picking up a bottle of ‘skin oil’ and ‘hair detangler’, she blinked in confusion. Was it Nadia who stocked the drawers for her? Or were the vampires considerate enough to provide her with a toothbrush and facial cleanser?

Head full of cotton, she decided to ignore all of the products she was unfamiliar with and simply brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Peeking out of the bathroom door to make sure that no one had entered the room while she was bathing, Y/N tip-toed across the richly carpeted floor towards the ridiculously large bed. The fire was still going, warming the room, and Y/N hesitantly slid into a pair of flannel pajama pants left out for her. The elasticated waistband hugged her hips perfectly, and as she buttoned up the top and pulled on fluffy socks, she speculated about how Nadia managed to figure out her measurements. The Sanctuary probably had some sort of file on all of her personal information, which had her skin crawling.

While she was still on edge, her body was so relaxed from the bath that with slight resignation, she maneuvered herself under the sheets and heavy blankets, clasping a hand over her mouth as she sunk comically into the mattress. The bed hugged her in all directions, like getting to sleep on a cloud, and as she stared at the ceiling in awe, Y/N squirmed around to get in a cozy position curled up tight on her side protectively.

The lights would remain on, that was for sure. Y/N was never afraid of the dark per se, but in a new environment, she wasn’t risking things watching her from the shadows of the old estate. While memorizing the shapes of the intricate carvings on the ceiling, Y/N tried to make a mental list of everything she knew about vampires in general, and the specifics of the ones she was about to serve.

Over the centuries, there were several old wives tales that were circulated by humans surrounding vampires; but Y/N hardly knew which ones were fact or fiction. There were the superstitions passed down through common blood-typed, lower class humans that would work as maids and butlers to the vampires, the awe-inspiring, intimidating tidbits wealthy and influential humans would spread after doing business with the creatures. Then, of course, was the probable propaganda Y/N and her fellow acolytes were spoon-fed in Sanctuaries.

Y/N started with what she knew was just plain phony: vampires did not have an aversion to the sun and could walk around in daylight as they pleased. They did not flee from crosses or garlic, and they could not be exterminated by a stake through the heart. Acolytes were told that vampires could not be killed, and had few, if any, weaknesses. That was enough to have Y/N shivering, even beneath all of her blankets and flannel pajamas.

The older the vampire, the less in-touch with humanity they became. There was a recalled memory, a boring lecture in the Sanctuary’s dusty chapel, which consisted of a hazy memory of Y/N copying down ‘Oldest known vampire is aged 1,291 years, but some may be even older’. Y/N couldn’t even fathom living to be in her forties, let alone how it must be to live for over a century. On the other hand, ‘younger’ vampires– under three hundred years old– tended to be bolder, and adapted to modern times with greater ease.

Vampires needed human blood to sustain their powers, immortality, and to keep their internal organs functioning properly. While considered to be undead, a vampire’s heart kept beating, lungs brought in oxygen, and they could even digest human food if the creatures had consistent access to blood. Squeezing her eyes shut tight at the image of a vampire tearing into a rare steak, Y/N started to count off the things she found out from Nadia about the particular coven that requested her from the Sanctuary.

First, there was only a brief visual she had of one out of the seven, ‘Master’ Taehyung. Y/N prayed she wouldn’t have to use a title on any of them, but it was likely out of her hands. Sure, the portrait depicted a handsome young man, with all the airs of importance and wealth– but Y/N couldn’t get his unearthly red irises out of her mind. Taehyung was the vampire that commissioned the construction of the mansion she was currently cowering in, apparently a business tycoon that dominated during the Gilded Age. The next piece of information she got was ‘Seokjin’ and ‘Namjoon’ living on a separate floor for additional privacy, which made her nervous for some reason. Which was more dangerous, vampires in the bedroom next door to her, or those hidden in spots she hadn’t even toured yet?

The last thing she learned about one of the vampires– Yoongi– from Nadia is that he was evidently a famous artist. Cracking one sore eye open, she stared at the elaborately framed artwork above her nightstand again, noticing the fading of the paint and how it aged the piece. How old was the painting, and how old was Yoongi? Shutting her eyes once more, she sunk deeper into the mattress and pulled her blankets over her head. Nadia promised she’d answer any additional questions Y/N had over breakfast, so Y/N miraculously fell asleep by coming up with a handful of queries.

“Miss, hello? The sun has risen,” Y/N sat up in her bed with a sharp gasp, her hair hanging in her face like a nest. Whipping her head around frantically, she couldn’t believe she actually managed to get some sleep in a brand-new setting so easily. Knocking on the door, as well as a mousy, unfamiliar voice had her stumbling to her feet frantically. “May I come in, Miss?”

“Um, uh, yes, come in,” Y/N panicked, smoothing her wrinkled flannel shirt into place and hastily raking hair from her face. The door creaked open, a young woman who wasn’t Nadia hurrying in– her uniform pristinely pressed.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N. I’m Juliana, I work under Nadia. I’ll be helping you with your morning routine, while Nadia handles more important matters– coordinating breakfast, of course,” Juliana gave Y/N a slight bow, Y/N’s mouth dropping open at the gesture.

Before she could respond, Juliana began to draw the great curtains around the room open, the blinding white light of the early winter morning flooding into the room and stinging her eyes. When her vision returned to her, she gasped again at the sight just beyond the windows. Unable to help herself, she tripped towards one of the windows, grappling for the sill so she could steady herself.

Her room overlooked the backyard– if one could even call it that– and beyond the manicured grass and gardens was the vast, unending ocean once the landscaping dropped off of the famous cliff. It was like her eyes couldn’t absorb enough of the scenery, and impatiently, she pressed her forehead to the glass plane to gawk at the icy, gray ocean.

“In this drawer, here, we’ve placed warm pants for you– leggings, jeans, corduroys. If you prefer skirts and wool tights, those are hanging in your closet, and your tops and sweaters are in this armoire, here. Underthings are located in the lingerie chest beside you,” Juliana opened up various drawers, light on her feet and peppy, her curly brown hair bouncing with her movements.

“Lin… lingerie?” Y/N tasted the unfamiliar word on her tongue, attention effectively stolen from the gorgeous view beyond her windows.

“Forgive me. It’s another word for your undergarments, such as brassiers?” Juliana clarified, raising her brows and crossing the room. Y/N had not a single clue what she was talking about, following her like a duckling.

“Oh! I’ve never…” Y/N suddenly felt immensely awkward, peering into the drawer that held garments she hadn’t worn while at the Sanctuary– the thick, burlap material of the Sanctuary tops were all she got, not delicate lacy scraps of fabric that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of cradling her chest. “Um, okay. I can… wear whatever I want?”

“Yes, yes, as long as you’re comfortable, Miss,” Juliana took Y/N’s confusion in stride, moving towards the fireplace. Taking up a fire poker, the maid prodded at the glowing embers in the hearth. “I hope you were warm enough while you slept. The fire tends to go out in the middle of the night.”

“Y-yes, I was fine. Plenty of blankets,” Y/N chuckled nervously, not used to being so diligently cared for. Would it always be like that? “Um… have they returned?”

“They? You mean the masters?” Juliana paused, replacing the fire poker back on the rack. “They’ll be back before noon.”

“Okay,” Y/N was proud of herself for keeping a tremble out of her voice, Juliana gesturing towards a vanity by one of the windows.

“I can comb your hair, Miss, then leave you to get changed,” Juliana herded Y/N to the cushy stool, Y/N once again blinking at her unfamiliar expression. Contrary to the circumstances, her expression told the story of someone who got plenty of rest the night before. “I’ll wait by the stairs to show you to the breakfast room.”

That time, Y/N didn’t reply. She was too distracted by the feeling of the young maid gliding a fine comb through her hair gently– and with a sharp twist in her chest, she was reminded of the last time someone did her hair– Meredith, on the day of the Drawing. Holding her breath, she waited patiently for Juliana to comb through every snag on her head, surprised when she finally pulled away without braiding Y/N’s hair. Usually, Sanctuaries insisted that acolytes keep their hair braided if female, and cropped short if male. Juliana, however, left Y/N with her hair flowing free.

“Alright, Miss, take your time getting dressed. I’ll wait for you by the staircase,” Juliana smiled sweetly at her through the mirror, setting the comb back onto the vanity before she took her leave.

Y/N had a newfound feeling of determination when she absorbed her reflection, suddenly. She was going to get as much detail about the characters of the vampires from members of the staff as she could before the seven of them returned to the mansion. Swiftly, she pawed through various drawers for clothes, stomping to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Tugging on fleece-lined leggings, she cursed at herself in the mirror when it took her several minutes to figure out how to hook a brassier around her bust. The top she selected was a large slouchy sweater, one that hid her figure and hung loosely around her thighs. It made her feel a bit more protected, not having so much skin exposed. There weren’t any shoes in her closet, so she awkwardly stuffed her feet into her Mary Janes from the Sanctuary.

With a huff, she headed to the hallway, the mansion looking completely different during the day. Early winter sunlight flooded into the building, making the colors of the interior appear vibrant and excessive. Able to retrace her steps from the previous evening, Y/N didn’t have any trouble meeting Juliana at the top of the grand staircase.

“Right this way, Miss,” Juliana started down the stairs, Y/N glancing at the portrait of Taehyung on the wall. She hadn’t noticed before, but while he certainly seemed cold, there was a sort of melancholy look on his face.

“Juliana, did um… Master Yoongi paint that portrait?” Y/N launched into her interrogations, the maid cocking her head to look at the painting Y/N was referring to. Y/N had to fight the urge not to cringe when using the ‘master’ title.

“Hmm. I never thought about that! Master Yoongi is mostly known for his work from the Renaissance. Now that you bring it up, however, the attention to detail does look quite a lot like Master Yoongi’s handiwork,” Juliana continued down the stairs, Y/N grasping onto the banister for stability. If Yoongi’s famous artwork was from the Renaissance period, he’d have to be over 500 years old. “Do you like to read, Miss? The library is full of rare books. Master Hoseok has collected them from around the world for hundreds of years. Nadia can show you the way after your breakfast.”

“Oh–”

“Good morning, Miss Y/N, I hope you had a restful sleep,” Edmund was at the bottom of the staircase, interrupting Y/N’s response to Juliana. “Juliana, you’re needed in the laundry.”

“Yes, sir,” Juliana straightened up importantly, bowing at Y/N again. “Have a nice breakfast, Miss.”

Edmund stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching Juliana hurry away out of earshot. The polite smile sort of slipped from his face, attention turning back to Y/N shifting from foot to foot by the staircase.

“Y/N, after your meal, I’d like to speak with you in the pantry. Have Nadia show you the way,” Edmund said quietly, gesturing to the left. Tightness in her chest increased when he said that, following him through the hall.

There was what appeared to be a grotto under the staircase, water trickling from a fountain and a couple of seats facing the structure. Briefly, Y/N thought that that would be a wonderful spot to read. Led to a sage-green room, Y/N blushed furiously when Edmund pulled out a chair for her at the round table in the center of the room. There was only one fine porcelain plate set in front of her, along with silver cutlery and crystal glasses.

“I’ll tell them to send out the food. Please enjoy,” Edmund announced, filling one of Y/N’s glasses with water from a metal pitcher. The butler was gone before she could ask him any questions, but moments later, at least ten staff members were filing into the room.

Y/N’s eyes immediately bugged out of her head. A vat of creamy scrambled eggs, a platter of toast and pastries with jam and butter, plates of crispy bacon and breakfast potatoes, cinnamon-scented oatmeal, even a board with cheeses and bowls of every kind of fruit one could ever wish to try. Staff arranging everything meticulously, she could only blink as someone poured her a mug of coffee with cream and sugar left on the side, as well as a large glass of orange juice.

“W-wait, this is… this is all for me?” Y/N hadn’t seen food like that well, ever. Everything looked gourmet and prepped with love and care. She wouldn’t be able to eat everything, but she was going to try her hardest.

“Yes, Miss. The staff eats before the sun rises,” a young man answered her, setting down a plate stacked with waffles and a gravy boat of syrup. “Meals will be quite large like this until we figure out what your favorite foods are. I hope that’s alright.”

“O-of course,” Y/N felt herself flushing again, swallowing down a mouthful of saliva that was flooding her palate dangerously. “Thank y-you.”

“Enjoy. Call if you would like anything else.”

With that, the staff left her alone in the room, and Y/N didn’t know where to start. She compared the silence of the room to the loud chatter that she would listen to in the Sanctuary’s dining hall. Slowly, she sniffed the steaming coffee in front of her– she had never tasted it. Taking a small sip, she cringed at the bitterness, understanding at once why the bowl of sugar and fresh cream was left beside the mug. Not wanting to waste anything, she stirred cream and sugar into the mug until the drink tasted decent. With eager, shaky hands, Y/N stood with her plate and began to pile food onto it.

Y/N worked herself around the table. Ignoring the feeling of gluttony, she tried every single thing that was left out for her, her plate stacked so high she snorted at herself when she sat back down. To her embarrassment, she moaned in pleasure when she swallowed her spoonful of eggs– buttery and topped with chives. Urgently, she nibbled on a strip of bacon, the meat hanging out of her mouth as she tore a croissant into pieces. Everything she put into her mouth was the most delicious thing in the world, and she felt like a ravenous bear trying to bulk up for the winter.

She stopped eating only when her stomach felt it was going to burst, pushing a bowl of peaches and cream away with a grunt. Y/N did try everything, but it looked like she hadn’t even made a dent in the feast. Wiping her face with a fine cloth napkin, she clumsily got to her feet like a milk-drunk baby. Instantly, several staff members swept into the room when she stood to clear the table, Nadia’s familiar face appearing.

“How was your breakfast, Miss?”

“I’ve never had such delicious food,” Y/N admitted, absently trailing after her head maid through a door connected to the breakfast room, probably leading her to the pantry. “The chefs here must be very skilled.”

“Master Seokjin insists that we hire the finest chefs in the world. Though he is a vampire, he has culinary interests,” Nadia replied, Y/N finding it hard to walk with how stuffed she was. “Edmund told me you two were going to speak. He’s likely going to give you a formal tour and tell you a few things about the manor, day-to-day routines…”

Y/N turned that over in her mind. The look on Edmund’s face earlier had a sort of graveness to it, which she didn’t think matched up to explaining house rules. Y/N decided to keep her mouth shut, hoping at the very least she’d have her questions answered. Suddenly, they were in a room filled with dark wood shelves holding china and crystal stemware, and when Y/N looked up, there was a loft that held even more shelves and dishes. Edmund was by a table in the center of the room, taking notes.

“Thank you Nadia. I know you had some errands to run, so I’ll show Miss Y/N around until the masters return,” Edmund looked up from his notepad, Nadia nodding once before turning on her heel to leave the room.

“Alright, one moment, Miss Y/N…” Edmund said in a chipper tone, moving around the room to shut the doors quickly, which had Y/N suddenly growing nervous– was he trying to soundproof the room, keep the conversation quiet?

“Oh, dear. You do not have to be frightened of me,” Edmund put his hands up when Y/N began to cower in the corner of the room. “I want to offer you information before the vampires return.”

“R-really?” Y/N released the breath she was holding, timidly getting closer to the table Edmund had returned to. He had a grandfatherly look about him, kind and warm. It was not lost on Y/N that he didn’t refer to the vampires as masters.

“It was lucky that they were called away yesterday. I fear you wouldn’t have been prepared had they been here. Now, listen; this is very important. Most of the staff treats the coven like gods. I am the only one in this estate who you can talk about the coven negatively.”

Not a good start, Y/N thought, shivering.

“Negatively, sir?”

“Child. Looks can be deceiving. I know you that in the hours you’ve been here already you have been treated gently. The coven will not follow suit. They are cruel, heartless creatures. You must do everything in your power to not upset any of them,” Edmund enunciated clearly, Y/N’s heart dropping in her chest. “The powers they possess are extremely dangerous. They do not have emotions like you or I.”

“The way Nadia talked about them… painted a different picture,” Y/N uttered desperately, Edmund looking out the window wistfully.

“I’ve been with the coven for decades, while they lived in Europe. Nadia has only been around for five years, and she does not deal with the coven as I do. She has not seen what they’re capable of.”

“Are you telling me this because you feel bad for me?” Y/N suddenly became defensive despite her terror, hating when she was pitied in any circumstance.

“No, child. I want to help you. I want to warn you, before they come back and they size you up,” Edmund shook his head, looking down at the notes he was taking earlier. “You are dealing with four vampires that are very old and disconnected to humanity. The younger three are wild and reckless. It's important to remember this.”

“How old…”

“I’ll tell you a bit about each of them specifically in a moment. My largest piece of advice to you is never directly show the coven you’re afraid of them. Of course, they’ll be able to scent it on you, but do not give away your fear verbally, or you will be backed into a dark corner and toyed with.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathed, then dreading the coven’s return to the estate.

“You asked how old they are. I’ll start with the eldest, who is the most respected vampire in the coven– he has seniority, you see, due to his age and his status. Seokjin is 879 years old, and when he was human, he was a crown prince of a Korean monarch,” Edmund began, using a handkerchief to dab his dewy hairline. “He may appear very calm and unaffected, but he absolutely despises humans. He hardly tolerates the staff, and we know not to bother him unless necessary. Under no circumstance should you lie to him, ever. I’ve seen him kill many staff members and even associates over being deceived. One more thing about Seokjin… the ‘power’ he has. Vampires call it ‘Compulsion’. He has the ability to make telepathic suggestions to others in order to control their thoughts, even wipe memories. He can convince a man to jump to his own death, or forget his happiest memories.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. All of the questions that she had come up with before falling asleep completely fled from her mind, and all she could do was grip onto the wooden table with slick palms. Over 800 years old– Seokjin was ancient, otherworldly, and sounded like a monster.

“On the other hand, the youngest in the coven, Jeongguk– just 124 years old. He has the gift of Telepathy, so you must learn to control your thoughts around him. If somehow, Seokjin is unable to find out you lied to him, Jeongguk can tear through your thoughts and report it back to him,” Edmund continued, tapping his notepad with his pen. “Quite a few in the coven have much experience with violence. Jeongguk, when he was human, was a bodyguard to Al Capone. When he was turned, he was not only a bodyguard, but he read the minds of enemy gangs to relay back to Capone. He’s strong and lacks empathy, so he kills without mercy.”

“How… will I be able to control my thoughts? He’ll know I’m terrified, he’ll…”

“I can teach you, when they’re away on business. It is difficult, but can be done. Child, let me finish telling you what I know before they’re due back.”

Y/N clammed up, growing more petrified by the second by each word that came out of the butler’s mouth. By the time he had run through the basic personalities of each of the vampires, Y/N had a cloth soaked in cold water pressed to her forehead. For lack of a better word, she was fucked.

“I’m sorry to tell you all of this,” Edmund said quietly when he was finished, regret flashing over his face. “Just know, you have someone here who is on your side. I’ll do everything I can to protect you from their wrath, or at least train you to handle it. Fortunately, you’re needed by them– while they may be cruel to you, they need you alive in order to sustain themselves.”

“Spectacular,” Y/N wheezed, wishing she didn’t eat so much breakfast. She didn’t want it to make a second appearance. “To think I was going to press you for information. I don’t know if I was better off in the dark or not.”

“Certainly not. You know what to expect this afternoon, somewhat. Keep your guard up, and try to keep your fear in check, and the introduction can go smoothly,” Edmund insisted. “Perhaps… while you wait for their return, you can peruse the library, as Juliana suggested.”

Edmund began to open the doors again, and Y/N understood that meant their conversation was as good as over.

“Edmund?”

“Yes, child?’

“Won’t they know that you warned me about them? Will you be punished?”

“Don’t worry about me, child. The coven knows how I feel about them, it’s earned me a teaspoon of respect. Besides, no other butler in the world wishes to work for them. Rumors of their behavior, you see,” Edmund placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, smiling faintly. “Come. I’ll give you a brief tour and then escort you to the library.”

About fifteen minutes later, Y/N was left by herself in the dark, intricate library. Hardly giving the alleged ‘rare’ books collected by Hoseok a glance, she sank down into a chair by the fireplace, staring into the flames blindly. Curiosity killed the cat, and Y/N hardly knew what to do. Every single one of the vampires were murderous, unfeeling monsters with horrifying powers. Powers they’d likely be using on her any moment.

Y/N didn’t know who she was afraid of the most. Seokjin sounded menacing, Jeongguk dangerous and immoral. The others, she didn’t even know where to start sorting out what she learned. There was Hoseok, Y/N’s eyes shifting to the weathered books on the shelves, who was once a pirate over four hundred years ago, and had the ability to ‘Track�� people by scent. Edmund told her that Hoseok could find anybody without fail and even predict their future moves. He was greedy, fond of drinking, and impulsive.

She wondered if it was Namjoon she was most afraid of. His power was definitely the worst one: with eye contact and focus, he could inflict pain on others compared to being burned alive, a power called Pain Illusion. Apparently, he was once a Korean military general roughly four hundred years prior, and once turned, he became a sword-for-hire. Edmund told her that he enjoyed the kill, enjoyed watching others suffer, and was second to Seokjin as far as the hierarchy of the coven. Like the elder vampire, Namjoon had a disdain for humanity. Edmund told her to be especially careful around Namjoon, as he was a known sadist.

Head in her hands, she groaned. Yeah, Namjoon definitely was the scariest. The other three were no daisies, either, but the thought of having to experience what Namjoon’s Pain Illusion felt like was enough to have her heart racing.

Apparently Taehyung is the most deceiving of the bunch. He had all of the etiquette of a Gilded Age businessman, but Edmund relayed that he was absolutely ruthless when it came to his affairs and could Glamour his appearance. Jimin, a famed playwright of romantic tragedies the same years Jane Austen was active, was notoriously manipulative, hedonistic, and a feared Hypnotist. Finally, the artist, Yoongi– apparently studied under an artist named Leonardo da Vinci, and was secretly known for using his power of Paralysis on his models so he could paint them for hours without interruption.

That tacky sort of nervous sweat began to roll down the notches of Y/N’s spine. None of the vampires sounded friendly at all. Y/N knew that it would be wishful thinking to expect all of them to be somewhat tame, but she had hoped for at least one that wouldn’t be insane or murderous. Hugging her knees to her chest, Y/N counted her breaths to calm down. Heeding Edmund’s initial advice would be wise; trying to keep her thoughts bland, maintaining aloof confidence. Not bursting into tears, or trying to hide behind Nadia’s skirts.

Chin resting on her knees, Y/N closed her eyes. She wondered what Meredith and Joseph were up to. In the mornings after breakfast, typically they'd have study and silent prayer in the chapel. Y/N considered herself to be somewhat of an atheist, so usually she’d daydream while on her knees, eyes glazed over. Meredith would let Y/N lean her shoulder on hers, and Joseph would make sure she wouldn’t fall asleep and get punished. Sadness filled her at the thought of her memories. It was likely she’d never get to see Meredith or Joseph ever again. Too busy wallowing, Y/N jolted in her seat when Nadia appeared in front of her, repeating her name several times.

“Miss, the masters have returned. We must greet them outside,” Nadia offered Y/N a thick winter jacket, Y/N audibly gulping. She’d run out of time.

Heart thundering in her chest, Y/N shrugged into the maroon felt coat, shuffling after Nadia with resignation. It was like the a monarch was coming, countless members of staff hurriedly heading to the front entrance or flying up the stairs with various linens. Deciding to think of only her friends, Y/N replayed scenes of the two of her closest kin harvesting vegetables in the gardens during the summer months. Reading with Meredith by candlelight in dramatic voices. Horsing around with Joseph in the hallways when they were supposed to be dusting statues.

Outside, the grounds were clearer to her in the daylight. In the spring, the landscaping was probably breathtaking. Quietly, she stood between Edmund– the head butler, and Nadia– the former giving nothing away regarding their private discussion surrounding the coven. Holding her breath, Y/N watched the large iron gates swing open, the purr of car engines filling the quiet street.

Biting back a surprised noise, Y/N supposed she shouldn’t have been stunned to see a line of luxury cars pulling into the drive. The first in line was a sleek, vibrant-blue colored sports car, followed by a cushy looking black sedan, two black SUVs, and two more small sports cars– one in cherry red and the other canary yellow.

No one said a word. Y/N counted the vehicles again– there were only six. Again, she was thinking about the excess of wealth. Would it kill them to share cars? Bouncing on the balls of her feet, the blue sports car’s doors opened first– upward, like a spaceship. In succession, the rest of the roaring engines cut off and Y/N stared blankly at the carport’s carved stone ceiling to put off matching names to faces. She hadn’t even considered how old they looked physically, were they middle aged– Christ forbid, were they teenagers?

“Master Seokjin. I trust everything went well?” Edmund bowed deeply, Y/N urgently copying the movement when the butler glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“Who’s this little girl?” Seokjin ignored Edmund’s question, Y/N’s eyes on the highly polished loafers that were just in front of her.

Y/N finally straightened up to take a look at the vampire in front of her, and all of the oxygen was sucked out of her lungs when the most beautiful face she had ever seen was studying her right back. He appeared to physically be in his early thirties, but the faraway look in his eyes gave away his true ancient age.

Tall, broad, and dressed in an expensive looking suit, the dark-haired vampire had his full mouth twisted into disapproval. With his short, choppy bangs, they gave a perfect view to sculpted eyebrows, a pallor to his flawless skin, and of course, the red eyes narrowing while he waited for an answer. Y/N felt like she had to look away, so her eyes slid from Seokjin’s statuesque face to the second figure disembarking from the blue sports car, the passenger.

“This is Acolyte Y/N, from the local Sanctuary. The AB- donor. She arrived last night,” Edmund bowed again, this time at the second vampire storming up the steps to the front door.

“Take this upstairs, Nadia,” the second vampire, again, an exceedingly gorgeous man, barked. While his voice was rich and smooth like silk, he curled his nose up in a snarl when he spotted Y/N beside her head maid.

“Yes, Master Namjoon,” Nadia grunted when a briefcase was shoved into her chest, Namjoon scoffing once at Y/N before disappearing into the mansion. Three things Y/N noticed about him: the skinny Asian-style sword strapped to his massive back, the thick leather gloves on his hands, and the air of total hatred coming off of him in waves.

“Didn’t think she’d be such a… scrap of a thing,” Seokjin sounded bored, almost disappointed she wouldn’t put up a strong fight.

“The Sanctuary diets aren’t particularly nutritious. She’ll gain more muscle and mass after a few weeks with our great chefs,” Edmund reassured the eldest vampire, whom Y/N wished would stop staring at her and simply go inside.

“Make sure she’s present for dinner,” Seokjin drawled, lifting an eyebrow at Y/N. Was… she for dinner? “I have calls to make. Tell the chefs twelve courses tonight, rich food. The little girl needs more meat on her bones to be of actual use.”

With that, Seokjin brushed past the butler, Y/N’s head already spinning. Next thing she knew, there were three more vampires stalking towards her and Edmund, Y/N wondering which one was the one that could read her uneasy thoughts.

“Oh? A little dove!” A borderline childish voice is what caught her attention first, wicked delight coloring his tone.

If his eyes weren’t so frightening, the grin stretching across the vampire’s face could have been on the cover of a magazine. He flicked his overgrown black bangs out of his face, biting down on his plump lower lip with a sharpened fang. Contrary to the chilly weather, all he wore was a loosely buttoned, thin white shirt, revealing a large strip of his pale bare chest.

“Jimin, don’t get carried away like last time. You’re always breaking your toys,” One of the others, leaning against a stone column, picked his nails while tsking. That particular vampire wouldn’t even spare her a glance, his wavy dark hair curtaining his face. While his body was lean, hands were extremely weathered compared to the rest of his smooth, pushing-30-years-old complexion.

Knees wobbling from that remark, the third vampire, who was eyeing every inch of her thoughtfully, noticed the movement with a slight smirk and a narrowing of his feline-like eyes.

“Aw, that wasn’t my fault, Hoseok. Don’t listen to him, little dove! We’re going to have fun together,” Jimin, evidently, pouted, but the effect didn’t soothe her when she saw a psychotic glint reflected in his irises. “Ugh, I hate traveling. I hope there’s wine in my room…”

Jimin winked at her as he slunk inside. Rolling his eyes, Hoseok, the most casually dressed so far in a simple dark turtleneck, trailed after, Y/N noticing how sharply cut his jawline was and the geometrically perfect way his nose turned up into the air.

“Master Yoongi, is there anything I can get for you before you resume painting?” Edmund cleared his throat, the long-haired vampire finally stopped smirking at Y/N, shaking his head silently. As soon as Yoongi stopped looking at her, she felt like she could breathe again, her fingertips twitching. “We’ve purchased fresh oil paints, as per your request.”

Wordessly, Yoongi was in her presence at once, and the next, with a blur, he was gone.

“Vampiric speed,” Edmund murmured, Y/N swallowing thickly. She had forgotten that not only did they have individual powers, but they had strength and speed, as well. Only two more to go– Taehyung and the mind reader, Jeongguk. “You’re doing well.”

The driver of the second car that had pulled into the driveway, the black sedan, finally cut the engine. The second SUV, the first of which belonged to Hoseok, had long since been turned off but no one emerged from it.

“Master Taehyung typically likes to take a walk around the grounds after returning from business. Here, however, is Master Jeongguk,” Edmund schooled his features, him and Y/N robotically bowing at the final vampire she was to greet. The mind reader.

“Hello,” Y/N blurted impulsively, much to her chagrin. The youngest vampire appeared to be around her age, perhaps a year or two older, and besides his ghostly complexion and red eyes, Jeongguk looked remarkably like a human man– perhaps like Joseph, but far more muscular.

“Edmund, I’m assuming this human is the AB- acolyte?” Jeongguk completely ignored Y/N, which had humiliation pulsing through her body painfully. “Let’s see, you. Look at me.”

Y/N froze, Jeongguk stooping to make his face completely level with Y/N’s. Suddenly, the grip she thought she had on her thoughts melted away into nothing, and she got lost in the doelike quality of the youngest vampire’s eyes.

“Typical, Edmund. Warning her about us? All you did was terrify her,” Jeongguk murmured, his youthful voice but a coo. Y/N knew not to trust it, especially when his chilled index finger jabbed into her cheek. “Who’s Joseph, AB-? A lover from the Sanctuary?”

Y/N’s tongue turned to stone in her mouth. Like his covenmates, Jeongguk was extremely handsome, but taunted her coldly. Luckily, she had motor function, shaking her head in the slightest. Tongue probing into the meat of his cheek, Jeongguk stood to his full height, the dark brown trench coat he was wearing hiding just how truly large he was.

“You’re fortunate you’re the only butler available to us. Your head would be on a pike, if it were up to me,” Jeongguk, in a mild tone, addressed Edmund, who simply looked at the vampire placidly.

“Yes, sir,” Edmund took a leather bag from the vampire, Y/N unable to believe how easy it was for Jeongguk to enter her mind– her memories pulled from her mind to his in hazy flashes that had her skull throbbing.

“Y/N,” she flinched when Jeongguk addressed her by name, whipping her head around to watch him stalk up the stairs behind her, wearing a murderous smirk. “Wear something pretty to dinner, alright?”

Acid began to crawl up her throat, and when Jeongguk disappeared in almost a mist, Edmund placed a grandfatherly-like hand on her upper arm.

“Relax now, Y/N. You did well. Very well. You won’t see any of them until dinner. Returning to your bedroom for now would be wise, Nadia will help prepare you for the meal,” Edmund whispered, gripping Jeongguk’s bag in one of his hands. “Head in, child. You’ve been in the cold long enough. Soak up the warmth, while you can.”

It was a miracle that Y/N didn’t make deep dents in the carpet of her bedroom as she paced back and forth. Escorted to her room after meeting six out of the seven vampires, Y/N was left to her own devices that afternoon. Nadia had left her a stack of books to entertain herself before dinner, Y/N thinking that she’d rather swallow shattered glass than sit at a table with the monsters.

Halting, Y/N stood in front of one of the windows, hands coming up to brace herself on the windowsill. The ocean was choppy thanks to a biting wind blowing in from the North, the color of it almost black. Was it too late for her to jump off of the cliff? If she made a run for it, would anyone catch her before she could fall to her merciful death?

Eyes glazed over, her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms. Suddenly and inexplicably, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, like a cold draft of air swept through the room. Ears picking up movement, Y/N spun around, a startled yelp coming from her mouth at the sight of the figure at her door. One of the vampires actually sought her out, lazily trailing his crimson eyes up and down her form. Tripping backwards, Y/N’s back was pressed into the icy windowpane. The vampire boldly stepping into the light, Y/N realized who it was before he even opened his mouth.

“Be careful, little dove. It would be a shame if you fell through the glass and cracked that skull of yours open before we even had a chance to play,” Jimin teased, though the taunt was far from an innocent jest.

“W-wha–”

“I said, careful. Think about how to speak to me before you stutter out something disrespectful,” Jimin sneered, crossing the room in a split second. Flinching, his face was mere inches from hers, his skin so pale it was almost translucent. His eyes, while certainly red, were sort of a dulled tone, and there was nothing good-natured about his expression at all.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, voice cracking. Jimin seemed to accept the apology, tsking and backing up a degree. Y/N forced herself to remain calm, the vampire pushing up the sleeves to his blouse. His chest was even more exposed than it was before, his muscles seemingly carved from white marble.

“That’s better, dove,” Jimin hummed, falsely sweet. “You can’t wear those rags to dinner. Juliana!”

Jimin’s voice was sing-songy, the vampire putting his hands on his hips and tapping his foot impatiently. Swallowing with great unease, Y/N’s palms were slick as she held onto the windowsill. Then, the sound of hurried footsteps flooded into the room, Y/N’s fright easing a degree when Juliana and several other maids joined her and the vampire in the bedroom. At once, Y/N’s eyes went owlishly wide, each of the maids carrying brightly colored gowns, stacks of velvet boxes, and more pairs of shoes than she could count.

“The latest fashions… Chanel and Dior, Cartier jewelry. Fashion design has come a long way these last few centuries– not bad for a bunch of humans,” Jimin seemed like he was talking to himself, plucking a heavy looking necklace up from the open case Juliana was holding. Y/N still couldn’t get over the childlike lilt to his voice, paired with the unsettling confidence he carried, cautiously returning eye-contact when he sauntered towards her.

“Dressing your new doll, Jimin?” Hoseok appeared in the doorway, Jimin still entirely focused on getting Y/N pinned to the window. The older vampire had a bottle of liquor in his grasp, an amused smirk on his face. Y/N felt ill.

“Rubies suit her, don’t you think, Hoseok?” Jimin bit down on his lip with a fang, like he did earlier. Then, his voice took on a silky tone, an index finger curling in her direction. “Come here, dove.”

Y/N didn’t want to comply, but after nearly a heartbeat, everything in her body was telling her that it was okay, more than okay, to get close to Jimin. She wanted to, needed him, it felt like she could hardly breathe. In a darkened corner of her mind, Y/N’s rational self realized Jimin was using Hypnosis on her, and there was nothing she could do to resist his his call. Moving on autopilot, Y/N almost stumbled over her feet to close the distance between herself and the vampire.

With a satisfied, wicked grin, Jimin tilted his head, looking down at her through his dark lashes. Spellbound by his presence– how had Y/N gone her entire life without him? Unprompted, she gathered her hair up and held it over her shoulder, exposing her bare neck to the vampire. Excitement flashed through her when Jimin licked his lips, and when his chilly fingers traced along a fluttering vein by the base of her throat, Y/N squirmed in delight. So removed from herself, as if in a trance, she obediently stayed still as Jimin clasped the necklace around her throat. Past the haze, she could hear an amused snort coming from Hoseok watching by the doorframe.

“Isn’t that nice?” Jimin hummed, adjusting the jewelry so it sat perfectly on her clavicle. Boldly, he tugged at the neckline of her sweater, exposing more of her skin, the strength in his touch stretching out the flimsy wool with ease.

“Very obedient, pet. Juliana, get her ready for dinner,” Hoseok snarked, taking a swig from his liquor.

Slowly, like roots of a tree pulling up from the earth, the influence Jimin had over her mind and body untangled from her being with a deep ache. Different from the throbbing, disorienting pain that filled her brain when Jeongguk infiltrated her thoughts, Jimin’s affect gripped her entire being as if her bone marrow was bruising. With a whimper, Y/N staggered to the side, Juliana promptly righting her by one of her arms. Jimin had used his vampiric speed to join Hoseok at the door, winking at Y/N trying to catch her breath.

“Here, Katie. Make the human a pre-dinner cocktail. She looks like she’s going to suffer from a paranoid break. I abhor hysterics,” Hoseok loudly placed his glass bottle of booze on one of Y/N’s nightstands, addressing an older woman who was holding several silky dresses in her arms.

With that, the two vampires shut the door behind themselves, the sounds of their expensive shoes marching down the hallway, leaving Y/N to figure out what just happened. The necklace around her throat felt like a ten-pound weight, and if the room wasn’t full of maids who acted like nothing happened, she would have ripped it off and pelted it at the bedroom door. Noise buzzing around her, rustling of skirts, the only thing that kept her on her feet was Juliana’s arm slung around her lower back.

“Alright, Miss, let’s get started on your bath,” Juliana said airily, Y/N feeling a single tear slip down her cheek, which she hurriedly swept away with her sweater sleeve before anyone caught it. “I have the most lovely hairstyle in mind for you. Master Jimin seemed to like that necklace on you, so we’ll pick something red to go with it.”

Y/N was astonished. Juliana was in the room when that whole interaction happened, was she not? Did she not see how Jimin hypnotized her, and was she not disturbed by it? Perhaps it was something only Y/N and the two vampires could sense happening, but Y/N had never felt more vulnerable and alone. Hollowly, she let Juliana herd her into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat, she wasn’t fully listening to the maid, tracing her fingers over the polished stones around her neck.

“The chefs have been working so hard today on the meal, it’s going to be wonderful, Miss Y/N! I helped the executive chef select ingredients at the finest market in town,” Juliana tested the water coming from the bathtub’s tap, pouring various vials into the water. “I picked up some moisturizing rose oils, bubbles, and powdered milk for the bath. I even managed to find dried flowers, which is rare for this time of year. Come, I’ll wash your hair for you.”

“H-huh?” Y/N squeaked, not wanting to strip her clothes off in front of somebody else.

“It’s quite alright, Miss. We’re your personal maids, there is no reason to be bashful,” Juliana insisted, keeping her eyes low, but helping Y/N to her feet. Too afraid to protest, Y/N stood statue-still as the maid carefully removed the necklace Jimin put on her and handed it off to another nameless maid. “Have you ever heard of a spa day? Think of it as that!”

“Spa day?” Y/N repeated stupidly, blushing furiously when she was left in just her brassier and the scrap they called underwear. Juliana turned, allowing Y/N to remove her undergarments and get into the mass of perfumed bubbles piling up in the tub. “Never heard of that… is that a holiday?”

“No, Miss,” Juliana giggled, her cheeks pink with merriment. “You’ll just enjoy some beauty treatments. It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to do things like this, so you’ll have to forgive us if we go overboard with spoiling you.”

Dumbfounded was the only word for how Y/N felt. At that point, she was going to get whiplash from being treated like a princess by the staff at one moment, and like a toy by the vampires the next. Bitterly, Y/N came up with the hypothesis that the reasons she was getting ‘spoiled’ was either out of pity, or that the vampires wanted their toy shiny and flawless. Katie, the older maid from before, appeared with a crystal glass filled with some kind of bubbling liquid, a slice of a blood-red orange floating amongst real ice cubes.

“As per Master Hoseok’s request, Miss. It’s a blood orange rum sour, his favorite,” Katie slightly bowed, a wisp of gray hair falling from her low bun. Alarm bells went off in Y/N’s head.

“Blood?”

“It simply refers to the color and variety of the citrus, dear. Not actual blood,” Katie’s mouth twitched, like she was trying not to laugh. Y/N took a sniff of the drink, recoiling slightly at the burn in her nostrils. She knew it was alcohol– something she never tried before.

“Alcohol isn’t allowed at the Sanctuary. They tell us it’s bad for acolytes,” Y/N felt like a lamb going up for slaughter, unsure and anxious. Warm water was being poured down her back from a cup, where Juliana was slowly soaking the strands of her hair to wash, and it made her shiver.

“Well, dear, you’re here now. You may drink as much as you or the Masters deem suitable,” Katie bowed again, whisking away back into Y/N’s bedroom to select her dinner outfit.

If she knew anything about alcohol, it was that it had the ability to steel one’s nerves. Which was something she desperately needed- so bravely, her eyes fluttered shut and she took a hearty swig of the cocktail. The first thing that washed over her palate was bright, juicy citrus, but when she swallowed, the burn of alcohol made the contents of her stomach sting. Grimacing, she willed herself to drain the glass, wondering when she’d feel the effects. Gut boiling, she kept her eyes shut as Juliana worked shampoo into her hair.

“You have such pretty hair, Miss Y/N,” Juliana complimented, Y/N’s cheeks hot– not just from the compliment. A haze, a pleasant one, had her humming. Was it the way Juliana was massaging her temples, or was it the booze flooding through her system? “Anything else we can get you? Another drink?”

“Okay?” Y/N replied, just a tad bit more comfortable with asking for things. Juliana called out for Katie while she rinsed Y/N’s hair, the warm water making her sigh.

And when she had another drink in her hand, Juliana wrapping a hot towel around her conditioned hair and a third nameless maid using a sandy scrub to slough off flakiness from her years-neglected skin, Y/N started to feel giddy. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad– being pampered sure was nice, and Y/N had always been strong-willed. Edmund was right, earlier; the vampires needed her alive, so they wouldn’t dare kill her. To Y/N’s knowledge, there wasn’t another human in the nearest Sanctuaries with blood as rare as hers.

It was like she could feel her backbone growing, only peeling one of her eyes open when something odd was gliding up her legs. Cocking her eyebrow curiously, she watched the third maid– Mei– use a razor to shave downy hair from her legs. Strange.

When she was sufficiently scrubbed, shaved, and presented with oil and lotion to apply, Y/N was left in the bathroom to dry off and slide into a terry cloth robe. Wobbling a little when she got out of the tub, Y/N giggled as she slathered herself with a floral scented lotion, her legs foreignly baby-soft. The cocktails were certainly doing their job, Y/N pinching her cheeks in the mirror and fixing a determined look on her face.

She was always the brave one amongst herself, Meredith, and Joseph. Why should she dissolve into a puddle of helplessness and meek responses? Even though she was being made over into a perfect angel for a group of demons, she held significant power. She didn’t need the coven to survive, but they did.

With renewed courage, Y/N returned to her bedroom. That time, only Nadia and Juliana remained, both of them waiting for her by the old vanity that was littered with appliances, jewelry, and cosmetics. The sun was starting to set, making the sky a burnt orange over the silver ocean.

“How’re you feeling?” Nadia smiled at her through the mirror when Y/N sunk down onto the stool, Y/N returning the expression. She thought that might have been the first time she smiled in the previous 24 hours.

“Relaxed,” Y/N answered honestly, sitting still while Nadia worked a silky product through her hair. Juliana, however, began selecting various powders and tubes and comparing them to Y/N’s complexion with a concentrated pout.

“Fantastic! I’m pleased to hear,” Nadia seemed to glow, like it was her life’s duty to pamper and please Y/N.

Lapsing into silence, Y/N stared at her reflection while Juliana began to dust her face with powder, and Nadia fired up a device that seemed to dry her hair. Buzzed, she watched the two maids make her up into a princess that Y/N used to read about with Meredith, her unruly hair manipulated into a pretty style, shimmering ruby gloss being painted across her lips.

Once the ‘hair dryer’ was switched off, Y/N dared to ask a question that popped into her mind when she got to the bottom of her second cocktail in the bath. Rolling back her shoulders, she got Nadia’s attention while she was sliding a sparkly hair clip into Y/N’s hair. When the query left her lips, both of her maids' expressions went from merry to grim– which wasn’t encouraging.

“Nadia, what happened to the coven’s previous donor?”

“Where is the human sitting?” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, a dull ache all over his body. It had been too long since he had fed on human blood, and his immortal body was feeling the deprivation. “Might I suggest… not next to Jimin?”

“Why, do you want that little girl at your side instead?” Seokjin hardly looked up from the documents he was signing, already seated at the head of the dining room table. “You’re not the greedy type, Yoongi. Leave that to Hoseok.”

Yoongi curled up his lip into a snarl, but would not offer a retort to the elder vampire. Really, the only one who had the balls and Seokjin’s grace to allow challenging was Namjoon. With a sigh, Yoongi took his usual seat, his fangs aching. Since they returned to the estate, the scent of AB- blood intensified Yoongi’s longing to have a taste of that sample the coven received earlier in the week. Idly, he traced the veins on the back of his hand– usually pale blue, but with the lack of blood flowing through his system, they were nearly dark gray.

“Which documents are those?”

“From the UN. They want us to sit in on an Assembly in December,” Seokjin sounded terribly bored, mostly because he was to death. Another human war he’d have to offer expertise on, expertise that would probably be ignored. After all, Seokjin and his covenmates were really only invited out of fear.

“What a pain in the ass,” Hoseok arrived at the table, collapsing onto the seat beside Yoongi. Kicking his feet up on the polished table, narrowly missing the china that was set there, Seokjin’s pen-scratching stopped. “I hate New York City. Filthy place. Should have burned it down when I still had my ship.”

“Was New York even established when you still had a ship, Captain Morgan?” Seokjin snarked, staring once pointedly at the bottle of rum in Hoseok’s hand, and then at his boots on the table. “Put your feet down, now.”

Hoseok rolled his rust-colored eyes but obeyed, knowing not to anger Seokjin unless he wanted Namjoon to use his ‘gift’ on him. Taking a swig of the rum, Hoseok frowned– the longer he went without human blood, the duller his taste buds got. He only tasted a flat note of cinnamon, not even the sting of the liquor. Hopefully, he’d get a taste of the mousy acolyte that night.

Snapping his fingers sharply, a staff member appeared out of the shadows to take the signed documents from Seokjin. With mild annoyance, he checked his watch for the time; he told Nadia, the human’s maid, to have the girl at the dinner table at 8 PM sharp. Nadia still had ten minutes before her life was in danger. Seokjin couldn’t stand humans who couldn’t follow simple directions.

“Is twelve courses really necessary? We’ll be here for hours,” Hoseok complained, mostly because he’d have to hear the chefs drone on and on about the ingredients of each dish and the beverage pairing that went with it.

“You saw how pathetically frail that human was. If she is to serve us, she needs to gain weight,” Namjoon thundered into the room, his tread heavy and confident. He sat closest to Seokjin, on the left, his expression made of stone. Again, Hoseok rolled his eyes.

“I agree. With just a few gulps, I could drain the little dove dry,” a melodious voice joined the conversation, Jimin giggling when he sunk into his chair just across from Namjoon. Annoyed with the buttons on his shirt, Jimin tugged the last one free, letting both sides of the garment hang loose.

Namjoon set his jaw in warning, already bracing himself for how insufferable Jimin would become with the arrival of the girl. Namjoon thought it was beneath him to interact with humans unless necessary, while Jimin preferred to see just how far he could push them. Jimin simply grinned back at Namjoon, slow and seductive, a muscle pulsing in the elder vampire’s cheek.

“Control yourself, Jimin. You’re on thin ice,” Seokjin leaned back in his chair, his voice airy and high. His voice had even forced Namjoon somewhat stiff. “Taehyung, have you contacted Berwind?”

The owner of the estate the coven currently called home made his entrance, still in his tweed suit from earlier. Taehyung looked exactly like he did in the portrait of himself hanging above the grand staircase. It’s like time, for Taehyung, stopped in 1869.

“Wait, why?” Hoseok straightened up, with distaste on his face when Taehyung took the opposite head of the table– across from Seokjin. “That guy is a blowhard.”

“Well, the blowhard might be our newest partner for marine affairs. You want a new ship, do you not?” Taehyung pointed out blandly, rubbing the grayish veins over his temples. “We’re going to have to host a party soon. He won’t agree to anything unless we get a selection of acolytes and fine wine.”

“She has five more minutes…” Seokjin murmured to himself, secretly wishing Nadia would give him an excuse to blow off steam. “Where is Jeongguk?”

“Hyung,” Namjoon cleared his throat to get Seokjin’s attention, pointing to the door leading into the butler’s pantry.

Jeongguk emerged, his hands shoved into his pockets as a very sheepish looking set of sous chefs followed him with silver trays.

“I don’t know why they expected us to eat food when the lack of blood has stolen our sense of taste,” Jeongguk drawled, a chef shakily placing a cordial glass in front of Seokjin.

It contained the remainder of the AB- sample, the acolyte’s blood. The glass was hardly on the table before Yoongi snatched it up, draining it in one go. Anything to relieve the ache. Even after five hundred years, Yoongi could never get used to the feeling of being starved.

“So sorry, Masters,” one of the chefs bowed, Namjoon’s eyes narrowing. Normally, he would have broken a limb for the forgetfulness, but he didn’t have it in him that evening. “Hors d'oeuvres will be out momentarily.”

Jeongguk scoffed, glancing curiously when Seokjin started tutting as the youngest vampire began to take his usual spot beside Namjoon.

“What’s wrong?”

“Leave a space between you and Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin ordered firmly. “The human will sit between you two, lest she decide to flee the table, you two will be able to restrain her swiftly.”

Jimin pouted, his lips stained with the blood he sipped from his cordial glass. Seokjin was about to get up to deal with Nadia failing to follow his order when every vampire in the room paused, clumsy footsteps hurrying in the direction of the dining room. Covered poorly by expensive perfume was the scent of unease, alcohol, and mortal vitality.

“Cutting it close, Nadia,” Seokjin purred, the maid blushing as she ushered the young acolyte into the dining room.

The girl, dressed in a velvet ruby cocktail dress, fidgeted with the short hem of the garment while gawking at the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Her racing pulse was audible and visible; veins fluttering at the base of her throat.

“I apologize, Master Seokjin. I’m afraid Juliana and I got carried away with dressing Miss Y/N for dinner. It has been a while,” Nadia bowed, the human acolyte flinching when Jimin was abruptly at her side. “Please, enjoy dinner. I’ll take my leave, now.”

“Oh, our little dove! You’re in the Mugler dress, your maids chose so well…. Matches the rubies perfectly,” Jimin cooed while poking the choker around her neck, the rest of the vampires knowing that there was nothing sweet about Jimin’s approval. Jimin, despite the raised brow from Seokjin that was directed towards him, took up one of Y/N’s trembling hands, dragging her further into the room.

“Thank you,” Y/N breathed, intimidated and sounding like she was far from flattered. Jimin delighted in the way her body completely locked up with his touch, her palm slick with perspiration.

Stumbling in her heels, Y/N had no choice but to be escorted to the table by Jimin, her large eyes widening when she realized who she was to be seated between. Pulling out her chair like a perfect gentleman, Y/N snatched her hand back as soon as she tumbled onto the velvet cushion. Jimin didn’t seem to care, simply smirking, stalking back to his own place at the table. There was a pause, Y/N glancing around the room at both the fine decorations and the vampires, fingers still twitching at her dress hemline. It was likely she hadn’t worn something so revealing before.

Y/N blinked when her sight landed on one of the heads of the table, the vampire in the portrait on the staircase staring back at her blankly. He looked precisely like he had in the painting, down to the light-colored suit. Sure, his face was a bit more drawn and he was much paler, but it was almost like he stepped out of the canvas like a realm-walker.

Nervously, she peeked to the left, where Namjoon was, the vampire taking a sip of a red liquid from a small glass, his leather gloves still on his large hands. He caught her gaze from the corner of his sharpened eyes, Y/N knowing at once what he was drinking– far too viscous to be wine, too red, it had to be blood. Whose blood it was, exactly, Y/N hoped she’d never know.

“It’s yours, of course, remnants of the sample. Humans are so dim,” Jeongguk easily read her thoughts, not even having to put in effort to enter her mind. Even with the lack of effort, he could tell Y/N was uncomfortable with him probing around in her skull, the girl wincing and rubbing her forehead.

“Do not sap her of energy yet, Jeongguk. She must eat so she can be useful,” Seokjin sighed, still tasting her on his tongue. Though she was malnourished, her blood was still the finest he had tasted in centuries.

“What were they feeding you at that sanctimonious dump, pet?” Hoseok, still lazily slouching, drawled. Y/N hesitated, not knowing whether or not to reply, making Hoseok grow impatient. “Speak when spoken to. Articulate.”

“U-uh, um… organ meats, mostly. Lentils and kale,” Y/N squeaked, her complexion a touch green.

“Poor little dove. How repulsive,” Jimin pouted, the expression teasing.

Y/N opened her mouth, fidgeting in her seat, Taehyung watching her mortal movements with fascination– they could never quite sit still. Before she could speak again, squirming under the weight of seven ruby gazes, staff members dressed in suits and white gloves came from the butler’s pantry carrying dishes. One of the staff members was carrying a silver ice-bucket with a bottle of wine, Y/N eagerly waiting for more alcohol to take the edge off. Whatever she had earlier had long since worn off.

“Good evening, Masters, Miss Y/N,” a man in a chef’s uniform began, standing beside Seokjin at the head of the table. “Tonight’s hors d'oeuvres is oysters rockefeller with Sambuca and garlic-buttered sautéed spinach, paired with Clos des Bouquinardieres Muscadet. Please enjoy.”

Jeongguk laughed when he read Y/N’s mind trying to wrap around unfamiliar words. Rubbing her forehead again, she stared at the odd thing placed in front of her. As someone poured wine for her– to her disappointment, only about an inch of liquid splashing into the glass– she was immensely curious about the seashell placed delicately on a tiny plate, containing something breaded within.

“Never had seafood before?” Hoseok raised a dark eyebrow, ignoring the oyster and going straight for his wine.

“This is seafood?” Y/N blurted, Jimin finding her innocence quite entertaining. She was like a young girl he’d write as his heroine in one of his tragedies. Hoseok, however, glared at Y/N’s failure to answer his question. “I’ve just had t-tuna before… M-master Hoseok.”

“Master! Look at that, the pet is already learning her place,” Hoseok’s laugh was boisterous, bouncing off of the great walls, a thin whimper leaving from the back of Y/N’s throat. Namjoon had heard whimpers like that millions of times: pure, involuntary fear. It made him smile behind the rim of his wine glass.

“Enough. Eat,” Seokjin’s voice was a hiss, plucking up the small fork specifically for shellfish. “Yoongi. I want you to get in touch with some artists in Italy. We’ll invite them here when we host Berwind, you know how much he loves being in the company of talent.”

Yoongi chewed the oyster thoroughly, relieved that he could actually taste the flavor after just a small sip of the acolyte’s blood. All of the painters Yoongi once knew, the ones he actually wished could be present during a party, were long since dead and gone. He’d have to write to modern artists, who would be frothing at the mouth for an opportunity to meet Yoongi. What a bore.

“I’ve seen Gianluca Traina, his work isn’t half-bad. I can reach out to him and Agostino Iacurci,” Yoongi leaned back, letting a staff member take his plate. His hands itched to paint, loathing that he’d have to sit through eleven more courses. In particular, as he watched the young human girl cautiously raise a fork to her mouth, he wanted to capture how she looked when she tasted a flavor brand-new to her. “They’re no Boticelli or Michelangelo, though.”

“Too bad your mentor wasn’t turned,” Namjoon spoke up, though Yoongi knew Namjoon really didn’t care one way or the other.

“Da Vinci would have hated the modern age,” Yoongi muttered nonchalantly, Namjoon scoffing at the name-drop. Not that the human would have known who the artist was, Namjoon confirming that she had no idea who Leonardo da Vinci was when she peered at Yoongi vacantly, draining her wine glass with a shaky grip.

Y/N felt the wine burning in her stomach, stuck between relieved that she was being ignored for the moment and filled with anticipation for the next time the attention would be on her.

“Next we have the amuse-bouche. Pickled baby beets with herbed goat cheese, candied kumquats and basil chiffon. With it we have Sancerre.”

The chef reappeared, the next small plate and glass of wine placed before Y/N. The food, so far, were like works of art, and Y/N almost felt bad eating it. Especially when she thought about the bland, mushy pile of goo her fellow acolytes at the Sanctuary were picking at while she ate like a queen.

Mercifully, all the vampires talked about for quite some time was the event they were planning for the following week, and they left Y/N alone. Her guard was not coming down any time soon, so she stayed quiet as a mouse through each course.

Acorn squash soup garnished with pepitas, purple radish microgreens and sage oil with prosecco. Native lobster, roasted heritage carrots, carrot puree, buttermilk puree, spiced crumb and chardonnay. Kale and brussels sprout salad with maple-candied pecans, honeycrisp apples, pomegranate and lemon vinaigrette with sauvignon blanc. Ingredients, flavors, and textures Y/N never even dreamed of before. By the time she stuffed the last slice of apple from her salad into her mouth, Y/N was already feeling quite satiated, and the wine was dizzying up her head. Or perhaps it was Jeongguk still fishing though her mind.

“Seven more courses, human. Don’t think you can leave this table before then,” Jeongguk reminded her mildly, her suspicions confirmed. Thankfully, she caught herself before she could grumble at him.

“Tell me, little girl. Did you spend your entire life in that Sanctuary?” Seokjin asked, curious about how much she knew about vampires. That, and he was concerned about her purity; though judging by her innocence, he didn’t predict that to be too much of a problem.

“No, Master Seokjin,” Y/N replied, apprehensive towards a round of questioning.

“Elaborate.”

Swallowing, Y/N glanced down at the fish that was just delivered to her, stomach turning. She found it hard to look at any of the vampires for too long, but Seokjin’s face was so hauntingly beautiful, it hurt to look at.

“I was brought to the Sanctuary ten years ago, when I was fifteen. I grew up on the outskirts of town and was raised by my grandmother. When she passed away, I drifted until I was caught by wardens who were testing human’s blood types on the street.”

“I’ve noticed those vans around town. Wardens drive them around looking for new acolytes,” Jeongguk remarked helpfully, when Hoseok looked distantly confused.

“You have the rarest blood type in the world. How is it that you were not immediately sent to a Sanctuary upon your birth? It is the law,” Seokjin was frowning, extremely annoyed. Fifteen years of alluding a system set up so meticulously led him to believe she’d be wayward.

“I was born off of the grid, not in a hospital. My grandmother faked my blood results later on, when we were visited by Sanctuary wardens,” Y/N spoke softly, too afraid to raise her voice. She didn’t like the sharpened edge to Seokjin’s tone.

“I don’t understand how an elderly woman could have pulled that off,” Hoseok said, his mouth flattened into a line. “What happened to your parents, pet?”

Y/N flinched, reluctant to give up a vulnerability to the predators. She knew she wouldn’t be able to conceal her thoughts, however, with Jeongguk still prying into her head. With the fish cleared away, a roasted chicken was put in front of her– this time, with a glass of red wine. Before answering Hoseok, she sucked down the velvety liquid.

“My mother died in childbirth, I never knew her. Apparently my father was just a fling, I didn’t know him, either. It was just me and grandma,” Y/N pushed a strand of pasta around on her plate, doodling shapes with the tip of her fork in the creamy sauce.

“The little dove is an orphan. How tragic,” Jimin’s excitement was paramount. There was nothing he loved more than a heroine with an ill–fated past. Y/N was disturbed by the twinkle in his eyes, barely able to finish the rest of her chicken.

“Um, it’s alright. You can’t really miss what you never knew,” Y/N spoke impulsively, like she was talking to Joseph or Meredith rather than seven vampires who were effectively perfect, lethal strangers.

“Adorable,” Jimin gushed, licking his lips. Yoongi, beside Jimin, pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated with Jimin’s theatrics. It came naturally to Jimin, being a writer of dramas and screenplays, so Yoongi couldn’t actually fault him for it, but it was dreadful to withstand.

Blood rushed to Y/N’s face, the three youngest vampires in the dining room becoming coiled and ready to pounce. Seokjin simply held up his hand disinterestedly, a silent order for the fledglings to get control of themselves.

“Oh! What’s this?” Y/N had become incredibly loosened up thanks to the seven various wines she tasted over the course of the evening, cocking her head at the small silver dish placed in front of her.

“Miss, it’s a lime sorbet with mint to cleanse the palate before the second main course,” A staff member poured a bubbly wine into a skinny flute for her, presenting a miniature spoon for Y/N to use.

“Sor-bet…” Y/N repeated slowly, scooping up some of the treat, the iciness washing over her tongue bizarre and making her audibly exclaim. A frozen sweet wasn’t something she was able to have at the Sanctuary, and it brought a tear to her eye.

“They brought out the Dom Perignon, what do they think, we have the Pope here?” Hoseok lifted his champagne flute to his face, watching the bubbles dance in the glass.

“Is it expensive?” Y/N dared to ask, a distant part of her screaming to shut up. Hoseok’s expression darkened when she addressed him, so she instantly corrected herself. “Master Hoseok.”

“Taehyung will only drink expensive wines. That champagne you so hastily gulped down is the most expensive vintage wine that money can buy, pet,” Hoseok smirked, Y/N becoming embarrassed that she did, in fact, knock the drink back.

“You paint me as a snob,” Taehyung frowned, earning a dry chuckle from Jeongguk.

“Take a look around this place, for Christ’s sake. Of course you’re a snob,” Jeongguk remarked, gesturing around the lavish dining room they were seated in.

Y/N was positively stuffed. In fact, she clasped a hand over her mouth when a rack of lamb and rice replaced her empty sorbet dish, not wanting to eat another bite. She felt if she did, the velvet dress she was in would rip open.

“You will eat it all,” Seokjin barked when Y/N made no motion to pick up her fork, the sound making her flinch into Namjoon’s thick shoulder. The vampire stiffened, a disgusted look on his face, Y/N’s skin flashing with heat. “You will eat it, or I’ll allow Jimin to go over there and force-feed you.”

That threat terrified Y/N, Jimin’s grin widening when she caught his eye. Without another second spared, Y/N began cutting through the meat, much to Jimin’s disappointment. With a bereft sigh, Jimin leaned on his elbows, craving some trouble he could stir up.

Diligently, Y/N picked her way through the final courses, nearly gagging on the rich chocolate truffles that ended the meal. She was laughed at again– that time by Hoseok, when she asked if she could really eat the ‘gold leaf’ dusted on top of the dessert. The final drink that was offered was an espresso ‘martini’, which is what careened Y/N out of tipsiness and straight into dizzy intoxication. Giggling for no particular reason, Y/N started folding her napkin into different shapes, forgetting who her company was.

“She’s a pretty little dove, isn’t she?” Jimin held his face in his hands, ravenous even though he had plenty of human food in his stomach.

“Those words are familiar,” Jeongguk deadpanned, Yoongi spotting where things were going a mile away.

“I bet she’d look pretty all drained, too. Like the last girl,” Jimin’s voice was dreamy, and it was fortunate that Y/N was too distracted by her cocktail to pick up on what he was going on about.

“Watch it,” Jeongguk warned, not wanting to end the evening with Jimin’s dramatics.

“Oh, come now, Jeongguk… don’t you want to pin her down, fangs in her throat?” Venom flooded into Jimin’s mouth, watching Y/N’s pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. “We could always find another, too, after we drain her. You take a wrist, I’ll–”

“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin interrupted quietly, looking up towards the chandelier. The whole table went silent, Jimin’s mouth slamming shut, regret all over his sculpted face. With a grunt, Namjoon stood from his seat, slowly stalking around the table.

Y/N’s attention towards the vampires was recaptured when she noticed Namjoon, eyes dark and determined, approaching Jimin. The silence deafening, Y/N watched curiously when Namjoon bent low, face close to Jimin’s. Even Y/N could sense Jimin’s fear, and it made her instantly nauseous.

Namjoon gripped Jimin’s sculpted jaw, his gloved hands rough against Jimin’s skin, and for a moment, Y/N thought Namjoon was going to kiss the younger vampire. Narrowing his eyes, Namjoon squeezed Jimin’s jaw, Jimin going absolutely rigid when they made eye contact, the martini glass Jimin was holding shattering in his grasp. Horrified, Y/N watched Jimin shake, eyebrows scrunched up in agony, and she realized Namjoon was using his ‘gift’ on Jimin. For what, she wasn’t sure, but it was terrifying that he could inflict so much pain on even a vampire.

“Enough,” Seokjin called, Namjoon releasing Jimin’s jaw at once, and the younger vampire gasped for breath, his body sagging over the table. “I told you you were on thin ice, Jimin.”

“Sorry,” Jimin heaved, only apologetic because he had to suffer from Namjoon’s Pain Illusion. The sensation of being burned alive was unbearable, but he didn’t regret what he said. Besides, it was trouble that he was craving earlier.

“No you’re not,” Namjoon hissed, Y/N unable to process how scary Namjoon looked, standing beside Seokjin with his arms crossed. Y/N swore to herself, in that very moment, she would do everything in her power to avoid Namjoon using Pain Illusion on her.

“Can we wrap this evening up now?” Yoongi asked, peeved. He wanted to isolate, to paint.

“Not yet,” Seokjin twirled an empty wine glass contemplatively, his eyes then on Y/N. “Come here, little girl.”

“W-what? Why?” Y/N asked with dread, still nauseous. Seokjin clicked his tongue, agitated.

Come here, little girl.

That time, Seokjin’s voice was in her head rather than out loud. Forgetting that he could use Compulsion, she felt her skin crawling hearing his dulcet tones inside of her head. Staring at her expectantly, Y/N was frozen in her seat. Seokjin snapped his fingers, and Namjoon rounded the table again, hooking one of his gloved hands under Y/N’s bicep. Roughly hauling her to her feet, she was effectively dragged to the head of the table, Y/N starting to hyperventilate and panic. Namjoon’s grip was bruising, her skin smarting when he let her go.

Sit.

Seokjin’s voice in her mind was firm and authoritative, spreading his legs expectantly. Y/N’s eyes bugged out of her head– there was no way on God’s green planet she was sitting on that vampire’s lap. Still borderline hysterical, she did the only thing she could think of: beg and plead.

“P-please, please. Don’t hurt me,” Y/N had a tear running down her cheek, Seokjin’s expression hardening at the sight.

Sit down.

Suddenly, Y/N’s spine went rigid. Seokjin’s mental suggestion didn’t seem so bad, then. Even though she was still crying and breathing heavily, her body moved on its own, lowering herself onto one of Seokjin’s thighs. The power of his suggestion, his Compulsion, was impossible to override, so embarrassingly, she was perched on Seokjin’s lap. The vampire curled a hand around her waist, his hold ironclad, to keep her in place. Panic setting in further, Y/N continued to beg the eldest vampire pathetically.

“Please, I’m begging you,” Y/N whimpered, Seokjin setting his wine glass down and tracing his fingers over a steak knife beside it.

“Jeongguk, Taehyung,” Seokjin sighed, exhausted. The little girl was proving to be difficult, so he’d need some persuasion to keep her quiet. Confused, Y/N looked at Jeongguk, more tears slipping down her face when she felt him worming her way into her memories.

“I do not know if you’re aware how a coven operates…” Seokjin began, Y/N finding it hard to focus on his voice while Jeongguk was in her head. “But as the head of the coven, I must be the first to bite you. However, my covenmates… they’re starving.”

Chest heaving, Y/N hated the sturdy feeling of Seokjin’s chest pressed against her back. He was cold, plucking up the steak knife and totally indifferent to her hysteria.

“Y/N, it’s okay!” A familiar, cheery voice had her head snapping in an opposite direction, pure amazement washing over her at the sight of the person across the table.

It was Joseph, from the Sanctuary, dressed in his usual white linens and grinning at her. The sight of him had her tears drying up, even if she had no idea how her friend had gotten there. She didn’t even notice he had taken the spot that Taehyung once sat in.

What Y/N wasn’t aware of was how Joseph managed to arrive at The Breakers. It was simple: Jeongguk found memories of Joseph in the acolyte’s mind, Seokjin pried the image of Joseph from Jeongguk’s report, and sent it to Taehyung, who then Glamored himself as the acolyte’s friend. The visual of her former friend was enough to have Y/N calming down somewhat, Taehyung keeping up the act by using words that ‘Joseph’ would.

“I bet that meal was a lot better than the Sanctuary slop. We had canned tuna tonight.”

“Joey? How did you get here?” Y/N breathed, watching Joseph (Taehyung) push a hand through his dark curls, one of his common habits.

You are going to be calm while I do this.

Seokjin’s voice, a siren’s call in her brain, told her. She wasn’t entirely focused on the vampire whose lap she was sitting in, hardly aware that he was holding onto her wrist with a cold hand. All of her panic went away instantly, melting on Seokjin’s lap, limp for him.

“Just visiting. Actually, it’s really nice here, isn’t it?” Joseph replied, Taehyung wondering just how close the two of them were as he saw Y/N through Joseph’s eyes.

“I-I guess?” Y/N answered, still staring at her friend in disbelief. She froze when she felt something cold and sharp against her wrist, looking down to see that Seokjin had the steak knife against her skin. “Wait, what are you–”

“Y/N, I think you’ll be happy!” Her friend interrupted, distracting her. Taehyung inwardly smirked at how easy it was to fool her.

“H-how? Ah!” Y/N yelped, Seokjin dragging the knife’s blade across her flesh, cutting into the skin. A three inch long gash was created, blood immediately spilling down her palm, Y/N out-of-body when Seokjin placed her wrist over the empty wine glass.

“Look at me, Y/N. It’s alright. Hey, remember when we used to weed the garden together and see who could pull out the most dandelions?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N’s voice was far away, somehow relaxed in Seokjin’s arms and talking to her friend even though her wrist was just slit. Joseph was right, it was alright, everything was okay, and she’d be fine. “You’d always win.”

“That’s right, squirt. You could never beat me.”

His nickname for her had a stab of pain rocking through her. It really was Joseph!

“J-joey,” Y/N began, feeling lightheaded from the blood flowing from the gash on her wrist. “What were you trying to tell me when they took me away?”

Joseph seemed puzzled, Taehyung unfortunately not having an answer. Thinking on his feet, he composed himself, leaning forward, and came up with a response the girl would likely be satisfied with.

“Oh, I said that I’d write to you every week. That I’d never forget you.”

Y/N didn’t reply, her expression wiping blank. Taehyung didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Surprisingly, Jeongguk couldn’t even decipher what she was thinking when he probed into her skull. All he felt coming from the girl was deep remorse.

Then, Seokjin lifted her wrist again. Trembling, she turned to get a look at his perfect face, gasping sharply when the vampire brought her hand close to his face. Full lips parting, his tongue dragged along the cut he made on her wrist, and Y/N gawked in awe as she watched Seokjin’s eye color go from rusty to deep, dark red.

“Vampire venom can cauterize wounds,” Taehyung’s low voice rang out, and when Y/N turned her head, Joseph was gone and Taehyung had returned to his seat. It was then that she realized she had been deceived, and her heart dropped. Joseph was never truly there, it was Taehyung Glamoring himself to make her docile.

“Pass it around,” Seokjin spoke from behind her, his grip likely leaving a deep bruise on the small of her waist while Namjoon reached for the wine glass– nearly full to the brim with her blood.

With horror, Y/N watched Namjoon take a deep gulp from the glass, color returning to his skin which took on a golden tone. His eyes, too, became richer in color, and in a daze, Y/N was still as the glass made its way around the table, each of the vampires seemingly coming back to life as soon as her blood touched their lips.

Stay still, little girl.

Seokjin, still ordering her around mentally, started to gather her hair in one of his fists, pushing it over her shoulder to expose the column of her neck. Helplessly, all Y/N could do was squeeze her eyes shut, knowing what was coming.

A pair of cold, but plush, lips parted against her throat, the eldest vampire collecting her in his arms firmly as razor-sharp fangs brushed her skin. Gripping the edge of the dining table, she shrieked when she felt Seokjin’s fangs sink into her neck.

There was a stinging sensation– probably the venom– but a head-to-toe pain flooded through her all at once. It was repulsive to feel Seokjin’s temperature immediately heat up, his chest becoming warm like a human’s, all because of her blood flowing into his mouth. Unable to move due to his supernatural strength keeping her caged, she felt hot tears pouring down her cheeks while Seokjin latched onto her. The recognizable sensation of blood leaving her body, the sensation she hated more than anything, was intensified now that it was literally being sucked out of her.

“Please,” Y/N wheezed, broken. Everything was spinning, and her vision was dimming.

Finally, Seokjin’s fangs retracted, the girl like a rag doll in his lap when he used his tongue to stop the bite from bleeding further. Though she was slight, simple, and weak, her blood was life-giving, and some of the best blood he had ever tasted. The emotion he was feeling, using the back of his hand to clean up the trail of blood dripping down his chin, was comparable to human amazement that he hadn’t felt for over eight hundred years.

Y/N was completely shaken. Over the course of several minutes, she was manhandled and maimed, deceived and manipulated, and bitten. It was more horrible than she ever could have imagined, her head fuzzy and the side of her throat throbbing painfully.

Get up.

Seokjin’s voice haunted her, and she never wanted to hear it again. She knew, however, it was just the beginning of him residing in her mind, and it made her want to use the bloodied steak knife he used on her to cut her own throat. His mental suggestion was so powerful that she actually ended up struggling to her feet, finally out of the eldest vampire’s proximity.

“What did I tell you all? She’s a good little pet,” Hoseok, the picture of vitality with her blood in his system, chuckled, Y/N’s knees buckling before she collapsed on the floor.

Taglist; @hanmyjisung @kiki-zb @hemmofluke @lovelyglares @honsoolfilter @kaeya91 @alessiamalfoyzabini @wisejudgepandafan @yoongtism @moonj-oon @melidramatic7 @the-theban-script @cryingnotcrying @m00njinnie @maeveontherun @tinybasementmaker-blog @jasmin-loves-k-pop @justlikecrazy @neverthefirstchoice @chibimanda @kayways @adoreyou976 @darkpuppysuit @mischieviouscassie @monkeytime3474 @asillyduck15 @a2zure @oopscoop @ellaints @artfrhe @trustfratedjin @lightwxodd @drenix004 @xicanacorpse @mar-lo @ancagab16 @imnotsleepyo__o @yxmer @levislifeline @susi-199 @bratalicious777 @lilacdreams-00 @tnafzi @miniminaa1412 @sassy-snassy @lilyalone @butterymin @dearbambideer @mar-lo-pap @chxmachxps @mxymii @wiredlifee @dachshunddame @1lykk1tts @opalturtle @nikkiordonez12 @justagirlinlovewithsevenboys @deemiin10 @yoonepilogue @7angelsinthiscruelworld

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

646 notes · View notes

captain-joongz · 2 months ago

Text

Penny for your ghosts; Masterlist

Pairing: OT7!BTS x f!reader

Genre: hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au (based on Lockwood&Co lore), found family, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut, i'm too tired to write slowburn this is fun from the beginning because i'm starved for affection

Summary: The world is haunted. There's ghosts, so many in fact that sometimes it feels like they're taking over the living. Incidents are on the rise, ghost related injuries and deaths are getting worse and more common, fear is taking place in hearts of those still here.

And the only ones who are born with the gift, with the ability to see, hear and fight this epidemic, are hybrids. Between the countless agencies and corporations ran by humans exploiting hybrids' gifts for profit, you desperately try to apply your gifts and end up at a small shunned hybrid ran agency fighting to help people and gain respect.

Warnings: ghosts and the supernatural, discussions of deaths, murder and violence, themes of deaths, murder and violence, a lot of sad backstories, dangerous situations and close brushes with death, eventual smut, each chapter will have individual warnings!

Current word count: 10k

A/N: hello darlings! so this has been stewing in my head for a long time - some of my favourite things are mafia related stories, fantasy with dragons and supernatural, ghosts and hybrids, and so i told myself why not put the last three together haha

the idea first came to me while reading Trouvaille by @spookyserenades because that was the first time i saw hybrids and ghost hunting tropes put together into one story, and i got really excited (by the way, i know i never shut up about this story, but it's so fucking good like please go read it right now it's a masterpiece and i'm so glad i found it), but also my favourite book series is the Lockwood&Co which i discovered when i was like 14 and read a thousand times since then. it's genuinely one of the best series i've read and it's to me what Harry Potter is to a lot of people (i was so damn disappointed when the Netflix series didn't get renewed, it had so much potential and the books are stellar). so i decided to start working on a story with hybrid ghost hunters according to the Lockwood&Co lore!

i hope you enjoy yourself and that you end up loving this story as much as i do!

↭ 1 ↭ | ↭ 2 ↭ | ↭ 3 ↭ | ↭ 4 ↭ | ↭ 5 ↭ |

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @borahaetelevision @socksfirst1 @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @iwishiwasrichasfuck @authorpj

@bangatanily @sassy-snassy @booksintheheart00-blog @bangbangcon @kiki-zb

@luvian-art @ldysmfrst @jinsleftairpod @futuristicenemychaos @mar-lo-pap

@canarystwin @sleepyrene @cerulean1riz @mysteriousgeminizone

@sweetplaidfestivalstudent @afangirl91 @mama-riyon @uniquecutie-puffs @livi101ful

@singukieee @jenartejk @i-like-puppy-mg @anne4sweet

#bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts poly au #bts hybrid au #pfyg series

387 notes · View notes

mariegolddoesthings · 9 months ago

Text

Next up is my favorite: The Nerd as Suga! He's still smart, but he's way more laid-back. I gave him a hoodie. He looks so emo lmao/j

alt:

#the nerd tmp #tmp the nerd #min yoongi #yoongi #bts #tmp #tmp2 #trivia murder party #trivia murder party 2 #jackbox #jackbox games #jackbox au #i am very normal about jackbox #i made this at 12am help me i need sleep

8 notes · View notes

certainenemydreamer · 1 year ago

Text

Echoes of the Lost Mountain

Plot:

Rating: This chapter contains mature themes and is suitable for readers aged 18 and above.

Chapter 1: Unexpected Beginnings

Y/N, a bright and inquisitive student, transfers to a prestigious school in the mountains. There, you meet the enigmatic and charming Taehyung, and a spark of curiosity ignites between you. Little do you know, your lives are about to intertwine in ways neither of you could have imagined.

#taehyung x reader #school au #taehyung x y/n #taehyung fanfic #mysterious #murder mystery #kpop #bts x reader

2 notes · View notes

melancholy-of-nadia · 4 months ago

Text

infatuation (m) | myg

title: infatuation pairing: yoongi x f. reader rating/genre: m ; smut ; agust d universe (AgustDverse based in Haegeum) ; gang leader / mafia AU summary: Living with fragmented and blurry memories has lead you to live under the roof of Bangkok's biggest secret crime boss, Agust D, as his bodyguard. Though, being confined to the mansion most of the time has made you feel isolated, craving freedom and answers. When he decides to take you out to dinner for the first time, the atmosphere is charged with tension and suspicion. You're not the only one who's patience is wearing thin, however, instead, it's discovering this man's infatuation with you that will lead you to change your mind. warnings: weapon mention (katana), reader has minor amnesia, back and forth arguing, murder mention, deep fish imagery/analogy, haegeum!suga mention, dominant haegeum! agust d, making out, penthouse s*x, f*ngering, cl*t stimulation, orgasm denial, choking, power imbalance, bl*w job, bre*st play, spiting, deep throating, pet names, agust d praises you by calling you "good girl", unprotected s*x, lowkey breeding k*nk, choking, possessiveness, multiple orgasms, uh i think that's it!... yandere? haegeum!agust d maybe note: it's been a year since i uploaded my first fic in this universe i call the AgustDverse. Also the first fic that got me into writing bts fics! I've been requested to continue this universe by my dear friend @daegudrama. I don't know if it'll ever become an actual cohesive series, but if you guys like it, let me know! also this is veerrrryyyyy much unedited im sorry i will edit later word count: 6.0k drop date: August 6th, 2024 7:30pm PST mood playlist | ao3 link – –

You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—nestled within the mansion walls of a mafia boss masquerading as a police detective.

Known as Agust D.

How did you get here? It's a question that continuously echoes through your mind like a constant drumbeat.

It’s not an easy question to answer. It’s actually pretty complicated. Time travel? A quantum jump? You don’t know whatever scientific phenomenon this is.

But for your own sanity, you decided not to dwell too much on it, especially when the present demands your full attention.

Agust has let you live here under the guise of acting as his bodyguard, which is perhaps the strangest thing you've ever done. You had no prior guarding experience, but the katana sword that hangs by your side now tells otherwise. This item is a constant reminder of your supposed purpose here: to protect the mansion, to protect Agust D. But deep down, you know there's more to this arrangement than meets the eye.

Tonight, however, is different. Agust D, the enigmatic master of this mansion, has extended an invitation—an invitation to dine at an upscale Chinese restaurant. It's a rare opportunity to step beyond the confines of these walls, to breathe in the outside world, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you stand before the full-length mirror in your room, you can't help but feel a surge of apprehension. The maids have stated that Agust D insisted you wear a black satin dress he selected for the occasion—a garment that feels foreign against your skin, yet somehow fitting for the night. You’re too used to wearing a collared white button-up and a plaid skirt for most of the time while you’re at the mansion. You don’t know how long you’d been wearing that, but definitely longer than a young girl who’s in prep school.

Adjusting the delicate fabric, you take in your reflection, the unfamiliarity of the attire almost unnerving.

A knock at the door interrupts your contemplation, and without waiting for a response, Agust D enters, his presence commanding the room. Dressed in a tailored black suit that exudes power and authority, he regards you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You look stunning," he remarks, a hint of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you ready to go?"

With a half nod, you follow him down the stairs and out of the mansion, the cool night air wrapping around you like a shroud of secrecy. Then you hop into the black sports car, which Yoongi decides to drive this time instead of his chauffeur.

The journey to the restaurant is silent, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of the piano music playing, which came from connecting Agust D’s phone to the car’s aux.

He really does love Ryuichi Sakamoto’s music, you comment internally to yourself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, you're met with the grandeur of an upscale Chinese eatery perched on the top floor of a hotel building. The space is a harmonious blend of modern elegance and traditional opulence. As you step inside, the ambient chatter of elite people and the soft clinking of cutlery fill the air, creating a lively yet refined atmosphere that contrasts sharply with the muted silence of the mansion.

The restaurant’s interior is a feast for the senses. Rich, dark wood paneling lines the walls, accented by gold and red details that evoke a sense of luxury. Elegant lanterns hang from the ceiling, their warm, golden light casting a gentle glow across the room. The tables are adorned with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and delicate porcelain dishes, each piece carefully chosen to complement the sophisticated ambiance.

The scent of Chinese cuisine mingles with the faint aroma of incense, creating an inviting and tantalizing atmosphere. The restaurant's design features intricate latticework and traditional Chinese artwork, adding a touch of cultural authenticity to the modern setting. Plush, comfortable chairs surround each table, offering a sense of intimacy and relaxation.

As the restaurant host takes note of Agust D standing beside you, there’s a brief moment of panic in his eyes. He quickly ushers you both to a secluded corner of the establishment, a private nook separated from the rest of the dining area by elegant silk drapes. This area, though separated, still enjoys a view of the city skyline through large, floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking panorama of the illuminated city below.

You are seated across from Agust, but there’s still a subtle awkward atmosphere surrounding the both of you when he orders and after the food arrives.

For a moment, the clinking of silverware against porcelain fills the silence before Agust D finally speaks.

"Do you still not remember anything?"

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in the depths of your eyes about how to respond to him. "Bits and pieces," you admit, your gaze lingering on the dimly lit surroundings. "But nothing concrete. It's like trying to grasp at shadows."

His expression remains impassive, but you catch a fleeting glimpse of something else—something akin to regret, perhaps, or even longing. "It will come back to you," he says, his tone softer than before. "With time."

You only nod, going back to eating one of the xiaolongbao at the center of the table.

The air between you and Agust D grows heavier once again with unspoken words. You don’t like the silence. As someone who is very self-aware of their self, you feel compelled to break the silence to not be stuck in your head.

"Agust D," you begin tentatively, the name feeling foreign on your tongue yet strangely familiar. You don’t refer to him by name often, as you opt for ‘sir’ or the occasional ‘Hyungnim’. "Why did you bring me here tonight? You never do this sort of thing…"

He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, you've been cooped up in that mansion for so long," he replies cryptically, his gaze piercing through the facade you've carefully constructed. “Thought it would be good to treat you for your work.”

"But why now?" you press, unable to suppress the curiosity gnawing at your insides. "And wearing this?" You refer to the short piece of black fabric covering you.

Agust D's lips quirk up in a wry smile, though there's no warmth in it. "Maybe I wanted to see how you'd be like out… not on duty," he muses, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or perhaps I simply wanted company for the evening."

Company, huh? From the outside, it looks like you’re on a date. You wouldn’t doubt the restaurant staff is already gossiping from behind the curtains partitioning you from the rest of the world.

You can't help but feel a sense of unease at his words, a nagging suspicion that there's more to his motives than meets the eye. "Is that really all?" you press, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

For a moment, Agust D's mask slips, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the facade of indifference. "There's always more to say," he murmurs, his gaze turning distant as if lost in memories you can't access. "But some things are better left unsaid."

What does he even mean by that? You feel like every time you speak even a bit casually to this man, you only end up more confused and maybe even a bit more scared.

"Agust D," you venture cautiously, "...are you still looking for Suga?"

At the mention of the name, a shadow passes over Agust D's features, his expression hardening into a mask of resolve. "Suga," he repeats, the name dripping with bitterness and contempt. "Of course I’m looking for him. That man is nothing but trouble. I need to get rid of him."

You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man whose name hangs between you like a specter, a reminder of the past you can't quite grasp. "But why? Why do you hate him so much?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agust D's eyes darken with a mix of anger and regret, a storm raging beneath the surface. "He’s got my face and that in itself is a danger to all of us," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "He could also be the answer to everything I've lost, but it’s better if that answer is never revealed."

The words hang heavy in the air from a confession laden with pain. And as you gaze into the depths of Agust D's eyes, you realize that beneath the cold exterior lies a man haunted by his past—a man who, like you, is searching for answers, but afraid to confront them. You want to pry into what he means, but you’re scared that he may act aggressively. So instead you change the topic.

"Don’t you know his whereabouts though?" you inquire softly, your voice laced with concern.

Agust D's gaze meets yours. "I do," he confirms, his voice low and measured. "He’s in Chinatown. Living in an apartment at the end of Weng Nakorn Kasem. But I can’t act on impulse. I’m too heavily involved in the Asia Pacific Police Union, and that already involves too many variables, too many unknowns."

A sense of foreboding settles over you as you listen to his words, the weight of his burdens pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. "What do you mean?" you press, your voice barely a whisper.

Agust D sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't move against him yet," he admits, his tone laced with resignation. "Not until I know how many people are on my side. There are spies within the organization. If I act too quickly, I could end up getting myself killed…"

The gravity of his words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the fragile truce that exists between you. And yet, despite the dangers that lurk in the darkness, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. If you help him in capturing Suga, then maybe you’ll be able to piece your own puzzle together.

But would that even be a good idea?

"Agust D," you say softly, smiling gently at him, "you know you don't have to face this alone. Whatever happens, I'll stand by your side. Not like I have much of a choice anyway." Your words trail off at the end. He doesn’t comment on it though.

For a moment, there's a vulnerability in Agust D's gaze, a fleeting glimpse of the man beneath the mask. He reaches out to take your hand, his expression softening ever so slightly at your words. "Thanks," he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dimly lit restaurant.

“It’s my job after all.”

––––––

After finishing dinner, the two of you begin to walk out of the restaurant, entering a long hallway that leads to large red sliding doors that exit. Your eyes drift toward the grand wall aquarium positioned near the exit, its towering glass panels reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights.

The aquarium is a masterpiece of design, housing a diverse array of aquatic life within its transparent confines. Colorful coral reefs sway gently in the water, their vibrant hues casting mesmerizing patterns of light and shadow across the sandy substrate below.

But amidst the bustling underwater ecosystem, your gaze fixates on a lone goldfish, its sleek form gliding gracefully through the water. Its vibrant orange scales shimmer in the ambient light, a stark contrast to the subdued colors of its surroundings.

A pang of concern tugs at your heart as you watch the solitary fish navigate its artificial habitat. Don't goldfish typically reside in tranquil ponds, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature? Is it even safe for them to be confined within the confines of this glass enclosure?

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Agust D's departure until you feel a gentle tug on your arm. Startled, you turn to find him regarding you with a curious expression, his gaze flickering between you and the aquarium.

"What's on your mind?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing display before you, your thoughts still lingering on the lone koi fish. "I was just...thinking about that fish," you admit, gesturing toward the aquarium.

“The goldfish?”

“Mhm,” As you stand there, watching the solitary koi fish swim about, a wistful sigh escapes your lips. "I wish I were a fish sometimes," you murmur.

As funny as your sentence sounds, you thought the older man would laugh at you for making a comment like that. However, Agust D's gaze flickers at you, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"Why's that?" he asks, his voice soft with intrigue.

You pause, contemplating your answer as you watch the graceful movements of the fish. "Uh, well they seem so free," you explain, your voice tinged with longing. “They get to go wherever they want. move through life with such ease in the water, not burdened by the weight of the world.”

As you continue to watch the fish, a sense of yearning wells up within you—a desire to shed the constraints of your human existence. "Sometimes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "I wish I could trade places with that fish just so I could be able to live freely, to live without my own burdens."

Agust D nods in understanding, a silent reassurance amid your musings. "But you know, even fish have their own struggles. I mean, look at it, it’s trapped in this Chinese restaurant’s aquarium as entertainment for guests, fighting to survive in a place it doesn’t belong,”

Sigh.

He’s right. But you hate the fact that he’s right.

“That still doesn’t change what I said. Plus, I don't want to be that fish.” you interject, your voice laced with a hint of sadness. "Slowly destroyed by its surroundings… not belonging there."

Agust D's brow furrows in contemplation, his gaze returning to the small goldfish. "So what are you trying to say?"

"I don't want to feel like that," you admit. "Trapped in a world that doesn't feel like home, constantly struggling to find where I belong!"

And you hate it because that is exactly how you’ve been feeling right now. You’re living with a man several years older than you, who is probably the most dangerous man in Thailand, maybe even all of Asia. And you have no idea why you stuck here with him, but where could you really go? Where are you actually from? Where is home?

Agust D's expression hardens slightly, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Life isn't always about feeling at home," he counters. "Sometimes it's about surviving where you are and making the best of it."

No! He doesn’t get it.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his words, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. "That's easy for you to say," you retort, tone sharp. "You're not the one who's been confined to that mansion, to these guarding duties, waiting for memories to come back."

His eyes narrow slightly, a spark of challenge igniting in them. "You think I don't have my own battles?" he snaps back. "I'm out there every day, dealing with threats you can't even imagine."

"At least you have control over these things. You have the entirety of this city wrapped around your finger," you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. "At least you know who you are and what you're fighting for!”

The tension between you two shifts. Agust D steps closer, his presence looming, but you refuse to back down, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

Inside, you're a storm of emotions—anger, confusion, and a touch of desperation. How can he be so dense and unreadable, yet so annoyingly calm? It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes. Every word you say seems to bounce off him while his expression remaining infuriatingly stoic. You want to scream, to make him understand just how much this is tearing you apart, but he stands there, unmoved, as if your turmoil is nothing more than a slight breeze in his world.

“Agust, you–”

"Fuck…you're so hot when you're upset, doll," he murmurs, interrupting you with a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. Before you can react, he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the exit.

Huh?

"Hey!" you protest, your frustration mingling with a surge of adrenaline. But Agust D doesn't relent, his grip firm as he guides you out of the restaurant and into the elevator.

As the elevator doors slide shut, sealing you both inside the confined space, the tension between you reaches a boiling point. "What are you doing?" you demand, your voice a mix of anger and confusion.

Instead of answering, Agust D pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with a fierce intensity. Your initial resistance melts away as the kiss deepens, the heat between you igniting into a blazing inferno powered by unknown frustrations beneath the surface.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you glare at him. "You can't just—" you start, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

"I can and I will," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a husky whisper. "Because right now, all I can think about is you."

Your frustration mingles with a heady mix of desire, the lines between anger and passion blurring as you give in to the moment. As the elevator ascends, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you.

When the elevator dings softly, signaling its arrival on your floor, you find yourselves in a private hallway in the hotel building, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the intensity of your kiss. Agust D pulls back, his eyes dark with desire and determination.

"We're not done talking," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through you. "But right now, I need you."

Your eyes are left wide open, feeling hormones coursing through you.

This can’t be happening. Is this all a dream? Yes, this has to be. And what’s with the scenario? Are you that sexually frustrated? You admit you’ve never done this sort of thing and have only spent your free time reading erotica for entertainment.

But to dream about fucking the very man keeping you captive within his mansion and living as a bodyguard. There has got to be something wrong with you. Maybe you’re experiencing Stockholm syndrome? But you’ve not once felt emotionally attached to this man.

Though there have been times you’ve looked at him and thought about how beautiful he looked.

Shit.

Maybe you’ll go along with this. Everything else be damned, for now.

“Show me then,” You word out, which only fires him up more.

Agust D’s grip on your arm is firm but not painful as he leads you down the luxurious hallway to a penthouse suite, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. Your thoughts are a chaotic jumble, torn between the logical part of your brain screaming at you to stop and the primal part urging you to give in.

As soon as the door to a suite clicks shut behind you, he’s on you again, pushed against a wall, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. You respond in kind, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Every touch, every kiss feels electric, igniting a fire within you that you didn’t know existed.

In the back of your mind, you know this is wrong. You know you should be resisting, should be fighting against the pull he has on you. But right now, in this moment, all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his lips move against yours, the way his presence consumes you.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, showcasing his possessive nature. “I refuse to let you go.”

His hands start to inch up under your dress until he reaches your core and starts flicking at your clit. You gasp, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. He watches your reaction with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “To feel me, to know that you’re mine?”

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can do is nod, your body arching toward his touch, craving more.

“Good,” he says, his fingers moving with a deft precision that has you teetering on the edge. “Because I’m not stopping until you know that you belong to me.”

He continues his ministrations, his touch driving you wild with need. The logical part of your brain has long since surrendered, leaving only the raw, primal desire that burns within you.

His fingers slide below your black lace underwear until he inserts them inside you with a sly grin. You can't help but moan at the invasion, your body trembling with anticipation. He moves them in and out, hitting just the right spot, causing you to writhe beneath him.

"This is what you get," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "For. every. time. you. talked. back. to. me. today." He growls, punctuating every word with a thrust inside your pussy.

“F-Fuck A-Agust!” And holy shit does it feel so good.

As lust starts to fog your mind and the air fills with moans, you don't know what's happening to you. But you don't care. The fire inside you is burning brighter by the second, and you can't get enough of the man who's taken control of your body and mind at this moment

Yoongi places his thumb on your nub and plays with it, squishing it in circular motions, then using his finger to rub it a little faster then slowing down only to fasten the pace again. You felt a very familiar feeling boiling up in your lower belly threatening to unleash itself.

“I’m not gonna let you reach your high yet.”

Suddenly, he removes all his fingers from you and you whimper immediately, the absence of his touch leaving you desperate for more.

Yoongi bites down against his lips, eyes quickly traveling from your face and down your body, “Huh…W-Wait..P-Please…” You pant heavily, trying to rub your thighs together to pick back up the pace that was headed toward your release

“I thought you wanted to leave me, doll?” He leans in closer, chuckling in your face, and you shake your head. At this moment, you realize that he’s hard under his dress pants. “Are you sure? I don’t give orgasms to people that won’t obey me.”

“I-I’ll prove it to you!” You drop to your knees quickly, placing your hands on both of his sides. “Oh? And how will you do that?” He gives you a curious look, already knowing what to expect from your sudden submissive behavior. While he spoke, you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling it down along with his boxers to reveal his cock.

“Oh fuck…” You let out in the smallest whisper. He wasn’t long per se, but more than average. But the girth… holy shit. Will it even fit in any of your holes? And the way his precum is already pearling on his tip just from what you two did earlier? You swallow nervously, but you’re not one to back away from a challenge. “Like this.”

You hold his cock gently from the base, proceeding to gather spit from your mouth and letting it drop on it. You proceed to move your hand, spreading his precum and your saliva on his dick, managing to get a good slide and starting to move your hand quicker. You looked up innocently, already noticing a flicker of Agust’s facade fade as he felt himself slipping away in pleasure. In his mind, he was tempted to say fuck it all and let himself fuck against your hand, but he knew better than just to let himself become an animal. After the prep, you part your mouth and slowly take him in, the stretch already starting to hurt your jaw from his wide size. In the meantime, you just suck around his head and use your hand to deliver pleasure to the rest of his shaft, earning deep-sounding curses and moans while your tongue swirled around him.

His eyes are glued to you, watching you work his cock with your kitten-like licks. Though, this isn’t enough for him. He wants to thrust up down your throat so bad and fuck you until your voice was sore. He wants to see how much you’re willing to take in that small mouth of yours.

And that’s exactly what he does. He places his hand on your head, giving you small pats and rubs disguised as encouragement for your efforts. Then his hand starts inching towards the back of your head until he suddenly grabs a handful of your hair and forcibly pushes his dick further until your smacked against his pelvis.

“Seems like you still need practice. Don’t worry, I’ll train you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on your hair as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag reflexively, but he doesn't let up, pushing deeper with each thrust. Your eyes start to water, now holding onto his sides for dear life, but you force yourself to take it, willing your throat to open up and accommodate his girth. His palm comes up to your cheek to rub your cheek, feeling himself on the other side enter in and out of you.

He grunts with each deep thrust, his hips pistoning in and out of your mouth as you struggle to keep up with his rhythm. You feel like you're choking, but you don't want to disappoint him and prevent you from reaching your orgasm after. However, it doesn’t take long for him to come undone, swallowing saliva and cum down your throat. He removes himself and you begin to cough erratically. You have never deep-throated before, so it’s a miracle you didn’t throw up or die from this. It’s definitely not as easy as porn makes it seem. You’ve been lied to by the media! “Haah… Holy shit…” You groan, trying to catch your breath and stabilize your heart rate.

“You alright?” He questions, voice tinged with slight worry as he fixes his pants and underwear back up and leans down towards your face. “I lost myself for a bit…”

“It’s okay–” You pause, shocked for a moment to hear your voice sound hoarse. Despite that, Agust chuckles, using his palm once again to rub against your cheek to comfort you, smiling softly. “Good girl. Now you’ll get your reward.” With this, he guides you to the master bedroom, his grip on your arms firm yet careful, leading you through the opulent suite. The room is a testament to luxury, with rich, dark wood furniture that you knew Agust requested in the hotels he invests in and soft, ambient lighting that casts a warm glow over everything. The large windows offer a stunning view of the Bangkok city skyline, but your focus is solely on him.

He pushes you gently onto the king-sized bed, the plush mattress sinking beneath your weight. The silk sheets feel cool against your skin, starkly contrasting the heat building between you. Agust D stands over you, his eyes dark with desire, a predator savoring his prey.

He slowly removes his jacket, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching as he unbuttons his suit vest, followed by his shirt, revealing his semi-muscular and beefy figure beneath. You’ve never seen him like this before, as he’s a very reserved man when it comes to his body. But each inch of exposed skin sends a fresh wave of anticipation through you.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Now, let me take care of you.”

He climbs onto the bed, sitting between your legs where his hands start trailing up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. His touch is electrifying, each caress igniting a fire in your core. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of burning kisses from your collarbone to your ear.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

“Good,” he says, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Because once I start, I won’t be able to get enough of you.”

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, and driving you to the brink of madness. He slips the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall away completely, leaving your body exposed and vulnerable beneath him. His eyes rake over your body, a dark hunger in his gaze.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “My doll.”

He lowers himself, his mouth finding your breast, sucking and nibbling until you’re arching into him, your fingers tangled in his slick black hair. He trails kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself between your legs.

You gasp as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. “Ready for your reward?” he asks, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Mm..” You only make a sound and nod due to the lust clouding your mind. How do you say words? Do words matter?

He pinches your clit slightly which makes you jump and arc your body a little.

“Words, doll.”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to finally speak out, your body wiggling around close to his face eager for him to move.

He doesn’t hesitate after your verbal consent, his tongue flicking out to taste you from your clit down to your entrance, drawing a cry of pleasure from your lips. He works you expertly, starting with his tongue sucking against your clit, then eating you out in your entrance.

And holy fuck does he have you wrapped around his finger with these ministrations. You had heard rumors of him being good at oral sex from the women at the events you would accompany him to, but fuck, the actual thing doesn’t compare to their mere descriptions.

His tongue soon returns to nibble and suck at your aching bud, with his fingers replacing his place inside you. And before you know it, you’re lost in the sensation again, body jerking as every nerve ending is set aflame as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

And Agust D knows it, smirking against your pussy as he feels you tighten against his fingers. “Come for me,” he growls against your skin, his voice a command that you can’t resist.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you fall apart, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. He holds you through it, his hands and mouth coaxing every last bit of ecstasy from your body until you’re left trembling and spent beneath him.

He pulls back, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watches you recover. “Such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. “But we’re not done.”

He stands up and swiftly pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his cock, red and eager. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, your mind racing.

Oh? Is he going to put it in?!

“Huh? W-Wait you–”

Before you can finish speaking, he puts your legs on his shoulder and aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes locking with yours. The heat and intensity of his gaze make your heart race.

“You’re on birth control, correct?”

“Yes…”

You’d be surprised that he knows this fact, but he does look over your medical records after all. You’d also question the ethics of this, but not now.

“Then we can go all out,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “And I’ll show you that you’re truly mine.”

He pushes into you, his cock stretching and filling you completely.

“F-Fuck!” You gasp, the sensation is overwhelming, fueled with pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. He pauses movements for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your eyes close as you try to focus on relaxing your body.

“Look at me,” he commands suddenly, his voice low and firm as he holds your chin. “I want to see your face when I take you.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” You meet his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. There’s a primal hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up with the intensity of his pace. The feeling of him inside you is overwhelming and does not compare to his or your own fingers pleasuring you.

“Do you feel that?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper. “Do you feel how your pussy is being molded by my cock?”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling. “I feel it!”

“Good,” he says, his thrusts becoming faster, more intense. “Because you won’t ever be able to be pleased by another cock as long as I live,”

His movements are relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slap of skin against skin, and the ragged gasps and moans that escape your lips.

As your eyes meet his, he suddenly wraps his hand around your neck, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. His grip is firm but not painful, sending a rush of adrenaline and arousal coursing through your veins.

“Doll, you like being choked while I fuck you? Having you wrapped around my fingers now.”

“F-Feels so mmh good!” You mumble, your breath hitching as his grip tightens slightly, the sensation heightening the pleasure coursing through your body.

You never thought you’d be so turned on by choking. You don’t know if it’s you getting high off the lack of oxygen and feeling pleasure, or giving up your life’s control to this man before you that has your toes curling.

The pleasure builds up to an unbearable peak once more, but this time, you know that he is feeling the same thing too. His thrusts become harder, more forceful, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hand on your neck adds an edge to the sensation od dominance and possessiveness that leaves you breathless.

“Come for me, doll,” he growls, his voice a command that you can’t ignore. “I want to feel you come around me as I do at the same time.”

With a final, shuddering cry, your orgasm crashes down, your body convulsing in pleasure. He follows you soon after, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills into you, his own release mingling with yours. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless, clinging to each other as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looks down at you with a smile that exposes his gums. He lays down next to you and pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a tender, possessive kiss.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, the words a promise and a declaration.

“You’re mine,” he repeats. “I’ll never let you leave.”

At that moment, as you lie there in his arms, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t want him to. The world outside may be complicated and uncertain, but here, with him, everything feels right.

This is your home.

All you want is for this man to be infatuated with you for the rest of your life.

This is how things should be. Right?

–

– tbc?

✨ let me know ur thoughts! how are you feeling?! ✉️

#AGUSTDVERSE #Prequel #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts reactions #bts reader insert #haegeum #agust d #THE WORLD IS BACK!

743 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 9 months ago

Text

Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

479 notes · View notes