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mirahuyooo · 2 years ago

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Stranded (I) | jhs

— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.

word count: 10,458 (PART I) contents: ANGST, fLUff, drAMa, Theseus, stages of grief but its kinda all over the place, rUNAWAY PRINCESS!!! yikes, betrayal yIKES, implied drugging, hEARTBREAK, you have a sucky sucky childhood, daddy issues, a lot of artistic interpretation but I think this is my most favorite one AAAAAA, not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, Greek Mythology AU pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Inspired by Dionysus and Ariadne

[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!

A/N: HeRE iT ISSS! I HAVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO FINISH THIS LIL SHIT Hobi’s story is an ABSOLUTE favorite 😭💖

P.S. i've divided these into three due to limit issues so stay tune for the next part! ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

START. | ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

A heavy feeling rests in the pit of your stomach, as the ship continues to sail away from the land that birthed and raised you. That island was all you had ever known and yet there it was, having gone much smaller as time progressed—even the grand palace is now barely visible from such a distance, much more the people trying to pursue you.

You have committed treason—something you were well aware of. You had betrayed your father as an accomplice to your monster of a half-brother’s murder and had eloped with the very man who took its life.

A large part of you argues that you had done the right thing. Your half-brother was a vicious monster, who had slaughtered innocents in the maze you were forced to represent. He was an accursed reminder of the atrocity your late mother had done. Before his death, you had witnessed first hand the people being fed into the labyrinth as some sickening game guised as a sacrifice.

You, as your father's daughter, had been made mistress of the labyrinth as soon as you came of age—subjected to all sorts of pleas, cursing, and threats that its victims had thrown at you. Their voices echo hauntingly in your head, as the memory of people walking into that dark pit and never returning constantly mar your mind. It is a nightmare you cannot escape from.

But that, now, has changed.

You, as princess of your people, have done justly to assist a foreigner in ending such pandemonium. The Minotaur is dead and with that, you have greatly helped in ending your father’s cruelty. You are a hero.

So, why does it feel like something’s amiss?

“Princess?”

A voice greets you from behind, startling you into staring away from the kingdom you were leaving behind. Butterflies erupt as you see Theseus before you with the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his striking features. You smile softly as he lightly bows to you. “Theseus,” your voice radiates adoration as you say his name. “What brings you here?”

The chill wind of early autumn tousles his dark brown locks as he stares towards the fading form of Crete with you. “We will be stopping at the island of Naxos in a few hours,” he tells you with a side glance your way. “The captain and I deemed it best to rest there for a while and replenish any supplies we lost.”

“Of course. That seems sound,” you could only nod, not knowing much of maritime welfare after all. What you do know, however, was that the sea was as fickle as the god that reigned over it. You supposed that it was better to prepare for any catastrophe, than to expect everything to be smooth sailing.

Feeling a hand on the small of your back, you come back to your senses, only to see Theseus waiting for you. Only then did you also realize that on your shoulders was his cloak. It envelops you with warmth. “It’s late, princess,” he nods towards the quarters. “It’s been a long day, too. You must sleep.”

Words coming out a stammer, you clutch the cloak in your hands. “Yes,” you shyly blush as your heart hammers in your chest, “You too.”

The hero beside you smiled kindly, gesturing with his hand this time. “Let us go then,” he invites you, warmly—and for someone so used to the dark, cold walls of Crete, you couldn’t help but swoon.

What a blessed woman you are.

You arrive at Naxos around late in the afternoon, taking a small boat or two with Theseus and a few members of the ship to a secluded part of the island while the rest stay to man the ship at a distance. Docking a great distance away from a small town, the land that greets you and takes you away from the roughhousing of the waves greatly comforts you. There were big rocks surrounding the little beach—something Theseus thought would do well to hide and border the camp.

A group began laying out the tents for the night, many hands trying to make quick work. You did your best to assist them in any way, but you were met either with cold glares or dismissive waves. You then attempted to help a frail boy struggling to carry a crate, but he, too, doesn't seem so fond of you. "I'll be fine in the hands of my people, princess," said the boy, voice calm but eyes failing to hide his contempt, as another fellow came to help him instead.

It was clear to you.

You may have aided their hero in slaying the Minotaur, but your conscience and reputation was still drenched by the blood of their people—the people that you couldn't save any sooner. In their eyes, you were still a princess of Crete—still the mistress of the maze that brought them before the gates of the Underworld.

And so, you endure their unwelcoming gaze, looking for something else to make yourself useful—for something else to prove you worthy of their trust.

While the experienced went to hunt animals for a meal tonight and the journey ahead, there were others that were tasked to retrieve some supplies from the local town. You decide to join them, but, in an instant, you are pulled aside by Theseus, who was already dressed for the hunt. "Where are you going?" he asks, voice hushed but with a little panic.

Furrows form between your brows as his sudden interruption holds you aback. "I want to help," you earnestly declare, but the conviction wasn't quite present, so you clarify yourself further. "I will accompany them to town an—"

"We cannot risk you to be seen in town, (Y/N)," Theseus exasperates, harsh tone taking you aback. "It'll bring us more trouble than we already have."

Your hastening heart seemed to stop altogether. "Ah… right…"

How come you never thought of that, (Y/N)?

He sharply inhales, breathing almost stopping altogether, upon seeing the flash of hurt in your eyes, your determination faltering. Theseus eases a little then, lacing a hand in yours while the other caresses your cheek. "Why don't you…" his mind reels as he thinks of a compromise, "why don't you help gather some wood for the fire later?"

Your eyes lit for a moment, but soon began to contemplate. Wood for the fire—yes. That seems accomplishable.

"Alright," you say, mustering a meek smile as you did.

With that Theseus called forth a young man. Andreas, he addressed him—the same boy that had refused your help with the crate earlier. "Take her with you to fetch some firewood," he tells him, and while the boy nods, you could tell he was hesitant.

Theseus turns back to you with a smile, happy to have settled this. The fabric that embraced your shoulders was moved to shield your face, his careful touch tingling against your skin. "Be careful," Theseus then instructs, urging you to still keep your identity secret, lest your father had sent out soldiers for either of your capture.

"You, too," you attempt to smile, a hand gently squeezing his own before the two of you part, worried but hopeful.

Andreas never spoke a word with you as the both of you gathered what you needed from the forest. In your arms were a bundle of sticks you thought were similar to what you saw him pick up. You couldn't really find it within you to ask, for fear of being seen bothersome by the lad.

"Why help us now?"

You nearly jump at the sudden words that reach you. Looking up, the young boy was standing a few feet ahead of you, his back turned as he did. "I'm sorry?" You stammer, unsure of what he meant. "What do you mean to say?"

You were greeted by a ferocious glare. "You let us suffer for years, but now you helped our people escape," Andreas sneered, "why?"

Tears sting your eyes but you blink them back. "I…" you began, but your mind seemed to run blank. "I needed strength," you say, mustering enough words to express your thoughts, "and a chance to go against my father..."

"Your prince is both," you give the boy a soft smile, hoping it would ease him.

Theseus was your key—not only to freedom, but also for repentance.

Still, the young boy scowls, brows furrowing so deep together that you fear they might never go back to normal. "I know my sins cannot be absolved for doing this," you plead, taking a step forth, "but I swear, I never found any joy in your suffering."

Andreas scoffs, but says nothing. He, instead, goes back to his task of collecting firewood and ignoring your existence. A shaky outbreath escapes you along with a few tears running down your cheeks but you wipe them away and focus on your task, too.

Idly tying the bundle with a rope, you began to think of your future.

Theseus had promised to make you his queen upon returning to Athens, but how easy would that flow, if your history as mistress of the labyrinth remained in their minds? What queen would be welcomed and loved that way?

You sigh and push such thoughts away. You'll deal with it when it comes, you tell yourself. A long journey awaits you, and you haven't even made it to Athens yet. Surely, a time will come for you to show your promising prowess to the people.

With that hope, you were a little more resolved and ready to return to reality, taking more time in indulging yourself with your surroundings.

The island was very much smaller than the kingdom you were accustomed to, but it certainly felt much more welcoming. Nature surrounded you as leaves crunched at each step beneath you. The sky in a blur of warm colors being tainted with the impending night.

It felt oddly serene—more soothing than you have been treated at the camp. A part of you was tempted to stay here instead.

Then, it came to you.

You were alone.

Heart shattering just a little, you stood up from where you were crouching. All around you was darkness. "A-Andreas?" you call out, voice shaking as you look into the expanse of the forest. "Where are you?"

Instead of a response, your ears pick up the sound of music instead—a flute perhaps, being played somewhere, but the direction seemed to lead further into the forest rather than out. Goosebumps littered your skin from the cold and the shiver that ran down your spine. It may be someone from the town, or a group of travellers like your own, you reason, but such news would either be bad for someone in hiding like you.

"Lost, are we?"

There was a sudden voice that filled the air—slurred but mischievous—rendering you to drop a few sticks as you whirl around like a fool looking for the source.

Who was that?

"Up here, dear."

The voice says again, the sound luring your eyes towards a tree nearby. Splayed across a big branch above was a dashing man—ethereal, really—looking down at you through barely opened eyes, as the early autumn wind gently blew on the part of his robe that dangled from the tree. He gives you a lazed grin as he pulls out a small flask from somewhere behind him. "Would you like some?" he then asks as he takes a generous swig of the drink, thin droplets of watery red running down his chin and onto his collarbone.

Is that wine?

Taken aback by his presence, you tear your eyes away from the stranger and gather what had escaped from your grasp moments before. He's inviting—tempting—but you mustn't stray. "No need, sir," you politely tell him, "I'm not thirsty."

No less from a stranger.

The young man nonchalantly shrugs. "Shame," he says, taking another swig as he makes no further comment.

You couldn't bear to dilly dally any further either—no, not with the darkened sky already upon you. Wait… a dark sky?!

With the realization that the night was settling in, panic settled in you. "Oh no," you huff, hurriedly gathering the ends of your dress to ready yourself to bolt back to the camp. "You should get down there before you fall, sir," you give the stranger a hastened smile. "Farewell!"

Not waiting for his response, you ran.

—and run you did.

It was ungraceful—something your late governess would've greatly frowned upon—but you make it back with only a few moments of getting lost. Your chest heaved as sweat ran down your skin, but the proud look you had on your face for coming back soon fell.

There was a bonfire already lit in the center of the camp, bright as could be.

The chatter lessens at your arrival, a few looking at your disheveled state, while Theseus approaches you. "What happened?" he asks, brows furrowed. "Andreas said you walked off on your own."

You glanced at the boy, who immediately avoided your eyes, almost sorry for what he did. Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to Theseus and give him the bundles you gathered as you went along with the boy’s narrative so he wouldn’t be in trouble. "Yes, well," you cleared your throat, "I thought I saw something, and became distracted. I'm sorry."

Theseus doesn't question you any further, only nodding as he looks at the wood you gave him. "Ah…" he then grins, throwing a stick or two into the already roaring flames. "Thank you for these," he says in an attempt to assure you, "it'll keep the fire alive tonight."

You muster a smile back, nodding as you watch the fire crackle strongly before you. "Ah…" you idly hum, "you're welcome."

A nasty bout of hurt and irk began to bubble within you at how effectively useless your help was. You see the amount of wood Andreas gathered, realizing that, with how many they were, they only made your meager bundle useless. You could've easily not accompanied him and the group would've been fine for the night. Your effort and time was wasted, and yet remembering the weight of the situation is the water that douses your fury.

The people here have been hurt by your kingdom, and Theseus was the one that came to save them from their terrible fate.

Even if you are to have Theseus by your side, it comes to you very well that you are the foreigner amongst them—one against many, with no favors amidst your graces other than Theseus' gratitude and affections. You cannot give them your fury—not fully at the very least.

And so, you sat idly by the fire, listening to their merry chatter in your silence. The fire began to seem like images at some point—people dancing, twinkling stars, a merriment unlike any other—and it coaxes the beginnings of a smile out of you.

"Here."

Knocked out of your stupor, you look up at whoever sat beside you and see Theseus with a bowl of some soup. You gingerly take it from his hands. "Thank you," you meekly say, taking an idle spoonful to your mouth.

All the while, Theseus makes an attempt to salvage the silence between you both. "We caught two boars in the forest," he began, nodding towards the canopy of trees surrounding the camp. "A few of the others took one of the boats back to the ship to give the meat of one boar to the rest there."

You hum, scooping one of the meat chunks in your bowl. "Sounds wonderful," you tell him politely as you chew, "the cook did great work with the soup, as well."

Such words were a bit coated with sugar. No one will like the salt of the thoughts sitting in the back of your mind—not when any of you are in a position to complain when survival is essential. It wasn't the tastiest of meals you've ever had—the flavors clash at some bites—but it should fill the belly just enough.

Next to you, the Athenian hero nods thoughtfully. “Ah, yes, Leda managed to make a meal out of what little we had,” he hums, “I’ll let her know you liked it.”

With nothing more to say, you only nod, not forcing yourself in engaging idle chatter with him. You didn't have it in you to. You suppose that after the journey you feel… tired? despondent?

Either way, your lack of motivation easily lets silence conquer the air between you and Theseus. He didn't seem to mind, spending time conversing with the captain about the boat and the travel ahead—a talk which easily slips past your head as you lose your train of thought in a daze looking at the racking fire ahead.

Your bowl lasts a little under half-filled in your hands by the time you decide on the last spoonful for your fill of dinner. A light chill of the sea breeze comes and goes, making you take your shawl off your head and wrap it around your shoulders once more.

The stretch of standing up bears a light grunt from your lips, catching Theseus' attention. "I think I'd like to go and rest now," you softly declared with a tired, tight-lipped smile—an excuse really but it wasn't a complete lie.

Theseus looks quite surprised by your announcement. "Already?" he says, almost to himself, "but you haven't finished the bowl…"

You fluster, but hand him the bowl nonetheless. "I apologize for wasting, but I really am full," you say. “The day has been… eventful. I think some shut eye would be good."

A furrow forms between Theseus’ brows, but he questions you no further. "Alright…" he sighs, pointing to a tent ahead. “That tent, over there, is yours,” he tells you, watching as you nod and smooth out your dress.

He, too, soon stands up, but he offers you a smile instead of walking you to your tent. "Sleep well, princess.”

Eyelids already growing heavy, you could only hum as you tread through the sand. "Good night."

The dream that Morpheus brings you that night was bizarre for someone who has lived the way you have.

You were in a palace of sorts, though you hadn't any idea where and why.

Around you were drunken bodies who surrendered to the feel of the music that clouded the entire room. The melody of a flute lingers in the air and though you can't quite tell where you've heard it from, it’s somewhat familiar.

You, yourself, were feeling light-headed, swaying to the music. Someone brings a chalice to your lips and you let them.

The wine dances along your tongue—so addicting that you couldn't help but gulp more.

"That’s right, drink," said a soft voice in your head, encouraging you further. "Ease yourself from your worries."

You almost do.

—but someone in the distance catches your eye. Standing in the midst of the sea of people, he stares at you relentlessly, and your heartbeat races and the haze in your head wears itself down. You forget whoever it was that handed you the chalice, forget them as you continue to look in the distance.

He's gone.

Where is he?

The world begins to spin around you—so dizzying that it makes you clutch your head.

Still, you try to reach where your eyes last saw him.

"Theseus?"

Your eyes had trouble fluttering open, but as soon as you did you were stricken with a pounding in your head. Was it possible for a dream to have such an effect? What was the dream even trying to say?

A groan leaves your lips, eyebrows scrunched together at the unpleasant feeling. The pain doesn't ease soon, and you attempt to massage it away, but as you move your hand, you become aware of the emptiness at your side. All of a sudden, it became so easy to forget the dream that you had.

Brows knitting much closer in confusion, you will yourself to get up and look around.

The tent is empty—almost untouched.

Has Theseus and the others gotten up already?

There was an attempt to stand and look around even more, your legs shaking as you do so. The clay pitcher on a nearby crate leads you to become aware of just how much your throat feels parched. Paradoxically, you also have the urge to vomit.

Nonetheless, you made a grab for the pitcher. The water flows down your throat in greedy gulps as you shakily hold it in your hands. Your headache slightly eases, but it's inconvenience is still there to torment you.

What did you eat last night to upset your head and stomach so?

Crawling out of the tent, the striking sun glared down at you so much that another hiss leaves your lips. You were only plunged further into bafflement, shielding your face from the heat. Seeing the sun so high up in the sky could only mean that it's well around noon alre—

Where's everyone?

All too suddenly, you were wide awake. Your hand falls to your side, letting the blistering heat of the sun strike down onto you. The deafening silence around you mirrors your thoughts as you try to take in what was going on.

The fire had long extinguished, leaving only charred wood and ashes.

There were no longer other tents but your own.

Most hauntingly, the ship was no longer at the visible distance as it was before.

At that moment, you couldn't breathe.

It takes everything in you to will yourself to move, carefully walking around what used to be the camp the crew had set up not more than half a day ago. There had been three or four more tents set alongside yours. There had been a large cauldron for the soup over the fire. There had been crates of supplies gathered from their hunt and travel around the nearest town.

All of that, gone.

Your eyes were frantically scanning for answers—anything to make sense of it all. There were marks in the sand—movement, many of them, leading to where the boats used to be. These were the telltale signs that you refused to believe.

Your heart pounded against your chest, and even as the wind blew your hair over your face, you didn't move an inch—couldn't—in your disbelief. "No," the word crawls out of your lips, hoarse from both sleep and hurt. You rub at your teary eyes furiously—even as they hurt.

"Wake up, (Y/N)," you tell yourself, "Wake up."

In the distance, you see the rocks that surround the beach, and an idea immediately comes to you. With barely any hesitation, you run—stumble—towards them, all as pebbles, shells, coarse sand, and force make your feet hurt instantly, but the panic in your veins rendered you reckless and desperate.

The struggle in climbing the harsh terrain was immediate for someone like you, who was taught to never do such rowdy, unladylike activities, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a damn at that moment. It could be the very key to the answer you were looking for.

And, unfortunately, it was.

The sea breeze blew the strands of your (h/c) hair to and fro, as wisps of the sea trickled onto your skin. You looked over towards the horizon, staring at what used to be the ticket to your freedom. The ship has sailed so far away that it was barely the size of the pebbles that stung your feet. It would be a futile attempt to try and swim towards it.

(Gods, with what offense your father had done to Poseidon, you never even learned how to swim.)

You hope it to be a terrible mistake—perhaps, some sorcery from a witch or the exhaustion from yesterday's voyage making their heads weary. You don’t know how any of those could be, but you would take anything other than the dread looming over you.

“Theseus!!!”

You cry out his name, desperate, your hold on the boulder only tightening, hurting your palms and heels. “Theseus!” you sob, your entire body shaking as your head pounds yet again at the volume and force of your yelling. The backlash of your brain sends you faltering—and, eventually, falling off of the rocks.

A voiceless cry and a hiss forces tears to fall from your eyes as you land harshly on your back. It hurts. Everything hurts.

You could feel the sand flitting onto the gashes that undoubtedly would’ve been all over your skin. The sea—that damned sea—nips at your bottom half where it reached you and makes your damned wounds sting even more.

This is just a dream. It can’t possibly be real, can it?

You rack your brain for memories of the warm light that had come in the form of Theseus—he who had come to you for help and promised help in return.

Yes, of course it isn’t. This is just a dream.

Theseus swore he would bring you to Athens with him, where you would be away from the clutches of your father’s wrath. He swore to protect you. He swore to introduce you to Athens as his accomplice and that you would spend a great life together. Together—that’s what he had promised you.

Forcibly, you fluttered your eyes shut.

This is just a dream—a nightmare.

You’ll soon awake to the real world, awake by Theseus' side. You’ll both go on into the ship and the voyage will continue until Athens comes to the horizon. He’ll protect you. He’ll come back. He'll—

You open your eyes again, ribs hurting as you take a greedy intake of air. You weren’t at all back inside the tent next to your hero. No laughter or chatter to be heard around you.

You were still at the shore, helpless and away from a ship that only navigated further from you.

You were alone on an island with a few supplies at your call, but little to no experience of surviving in such a cruel world.

Theseus was gone. He had deserted you.

Your fists clenched at the blurred image of the ship’s massive white mast engraved in your head. It was taunting you.

Relentless tears streamed down the curves of your cheeks, and you found it hard to get yourself up from the grainy ground beneath you. The very man you decided to trust with your life had now left you for death. Was this what you get for betraying your father? Had you not done the right thing after all?

“THESEUS!!!”

His name rips through your throat raw, as if he could hear you—as if it would've mattered.

"Theseus!" You scream again into the sky, your entire body aching from the fall and the heartache all the same. Your hands bury themselves in the sand underneath you, crushing whatever sand they could hold in order to try and satiate some of your anger. "How could you do this to me?!" you wail, bringing your good arm over your face to shield yourself from the blinding sunlight—from the world in general.

You remember seeing his face as that of a stranger—of how you saw him walk in with the new line of sacrifice, of how he told you of your kingdom’s terrifying reputation, of how he emboldened you to join his cause.

I trusted you.

Your heart aches, remembering his smile, his touch, his words—all of which had deceived you in turn. Theseus was the warm light gracing your life—the one that guided you out of that wretched place.

I loved you.

In the end, he was but a flame that scorched you.

You would rather die than bear a torture like this. At the very least with death, the pain ends. Your soul would reach the other side, crossing over to the Underworld where you could drown yourself in the Lethe River and forget.

Forget the humiliation, the betrayal, and the foolish endeavor your life has become.

Forget the kingdom that made you and the kingdom promised to you.

Forget the man you gave your all to—your honor, your heart, your life.

As it seems to you, the gods plan to do nothing—perhaps, it is a punishment in and of itself to forsake you, to let you rot away. You could hardly lift a finger in your state of mind and body—could barely breathe without a sob slipping past your lips.

Eyes fluttering close, you settle for the next best thing to death—sleep.

Maybe then, you will never awake.

However rare such times would be, he would often go looking for places if he wanted to spend some time alone for himself. Naxos, being a land where he is most welcomed to call his domain, seems to have a lot of such places for him, which is why he wanders off around here as often as he does.

This time, the faint sound of waves began to reach his ears as he treaded the forest. Another beach but he doesn’t at all feel like going for a swim out in the open—not when the sea reminds him of the many times sailors have tried to kidnap him and sell him for a price.

However, Agrios, beside him, seems keen on the idea, halting and staring intently towards the direction of the beach. “Do you want to go on a swim?” he asks, nonetheless following him out of the forest line. “Perhaps I should’ve brought your siblings along…”

The beach was relatively peaceful, beautiful for a little gathering too. It'd do well to tell his people of this, but, as of the moment, it was still too open for his liking. He might be seen by someone he doesn't know or someone he does know and ruin his time alone.

Perhaps, he'll instead go to that little cavern he found a fortnight ago. It should be around here, somewhere…

"Oh?"

Something catches his eyes, stopping him from his thoughts—a lone tent sits amongst the sand with a bonfire long dead and out. A curious case, he thinks. Many travel through Naxos in their journey, but what's a camp like this doing so far away from any of the towns?

Just as he came to snoop inside the tent, something from the corner of his eyes caught his attention as well. In the distance, he sees something by the rocks, Agrios already ahead of him and inspecting whatever it was. He walks closer, curiosity getting the best of him—as it always does.

A woman.

As it had turned out, the very same one he faintly recalls meeting in the forest last night. The sunlight grazing the beach certainly makes her beauty much more apparent than the previous night where he had only spared it a glance beneath the darkness of the eve. "Oh my," he clicks his tongue, as his eyes flit over her sorry state and a frown unconsciously settles on his lips.

He wasn’t one to be too nosy, but he feels immensely compelled to look her over. Carefully leaning his ear against her chest, a faint heartbeat confirms that she was still alive. At a closer glance, he sees the tear stains that mar her cheeks and also takes note of how the pesky sun had left her skin a bit dry and sunburnt. Down the line, inspecting the wounds that ran down her arm, the frown upon his lips running deeper. So much pain, he thinks, shaking his head.

Above all, she shouldn't be left out in the open like this. "This is no place to sleep in," he tuts, looking expectantly at Agrios. “Don’t you think?”

The animal merely blinks back, eventually forcing a sigh from his lips. “Fine,” he grumbles, gathering her in his arms as he lifts and heaves with a grunt. He hasn't been doing much else other than drink, dance, and sleep, so this may indeed be an unfortunate downside of his reckless living. (Still, it somehow feels nice to carry her like this.)

Assuming that the tent nearby was hers for the taking, he carries her towards it, and places her onto the haphazardly assembled sheets and pillows. Her hair splays out and over her face and neck, but he soon makes sure she is in a comfortable position. Sleep, after all, is a great pleasure to have just as any.

As he dries the sea-soaken parts of her, the woman still shows no signs of regaining consciousness, her chest softly heaving in a slow and steady pace, and leaving him in silence. He doesn't worry himself just yet, however—after all, why would he?—knowing well he could call upon a certain someone for a little favor if he really needed to.

And so, he looks around the small tent, taking note of the sparse decor and the mere two piles of crates that Agrios has decided to sniff and inspect. Curious, he gets up and opens the top crate, seeing some clothes, blankets, and other trinkets along with a piece of paper.

Take care of yourself.

Another piece of the puzzle lays itself before him, and he doesn't like it one bit. He places it back in and sets the first crate down to gain access to the second one. Were these all that was left for her?

The next crate, as it turns out, were some rations good enough for a week or so. This makes an idea pop in his head, realizing that the young woman will most likely wake up hungry. He smiles softly at Agrios who has taken place near the makeshift bed. “Come on," he ushers the large cat to leave the unconscious woman alone. "Why don't we play chef, hm?”

The moment you came to, you were made aware of the ache in your head, along with the way your eyes could barely open when you will yourself to. All too suddenly, the lack of warmth by your side gives you flashes of what took place, but, for a moment, you think it to be a dream.

Some sort of commotion reaches you as you gain more hold of your consciousness. Incomprehensible mumbling turned into faint bits of a conversation.

"—ow could you be so cruel to me? I raised you!"

You could see a faint form of two shapes outside your tent, and yet the ruckus only seems to come from one voice.

"Don't you dare use that attitude on me, you little brat."

Getting up was a feat in and of itself, your muscles ached as you put all of your strength into just sitting up alone. Biting back a grunt, you do your best to crawl toward the opening—

"AHHHH!"

The scream that ripples from your mouth hurt your throat, but you could hardly think. In fact, you could hardly move.

A beast peers it's spotted head through the opening of the tent, large golden eyes boring a hole through you in alarm as if you, too, had shocked him. You could only stare back, paralyzed in fear with tears stinging your eyes.

"What happened?!"

All of a sudden, the tent opens further, moved by a man who reveals himself to you, not at all alarmed by the beast, but alarmed by you.

A moment of silence passes and it soon comes to you that this man seems to be the same stranger dangling from the tree last night. You crawl away from the tent opening—away from them. "Who are you?" you sneer, "and what is that?"

The man, himself, seems to snap out of his own stupor at the realization that you were talking to him. He scoots himself inside a little, not too close to you, but within the tent nonetheless. "I'm…" he pauses, "Hoseok, and he is my companion, Agrios."

Companion? That beast is his companion?

Another thing from his response soon also confuses you. Oddly enough, he didn’t answer your question readily—as if he had to think of it. "You don't seem certain of your name, sir," you raised your brow at him, defenses still up against the stranger and his companion.

Not at all bothered by the harsh edge of your words, however, he chuckles at the slip up you had pointed out to him. "I'm Hoseok," he repeats with more conviction, but the seriousness your glare bore didn’t impede his lollygagging. "Now," he instead pipes, turning around for a moment—only to reveal a bowl of fruits. "Are you hungry?"

You may have had no intention answering his invitation, but your stomach answers for you—a shamelessly loud grumble that renders your cheeks ablaze in embarrassment. The stranger laughs, but doesn’t tease further, only taking your hand to place the bowl in its care. “Feel free to nibble,” he urges you, “if you want more, you need only to ask. I caught some fish and roasted them outside.”

His excitement and openness truly takes you aback. Does this Hoseok not have suspicions against a stranger like yourself?

You raise the bowl back to him. “No ne—”

Your words fall short, slain by a gasp at the sight of your hands and arms—clean and free of the gashes you could've sworn marred your skin just hours ago. What’s left of them were faint red lines that tingled if you look or think about them too much. "My wounds…" you stammer, as you gawk at them in disbelief. "H-how?"

Hoseok doesn’t at all bother to take the bowl of fruits from you. "I know of a good healer," he simply tells you, getting up but sweeping the tent entrance open and tying them to the side so that your eyes could catch a glimpse of the little bonfire he had brought back to life from the previous night. Fortunately, his companion also follows him outside.

Though hesitant, you shakily push yourself up, cautiously crawling over to stop by the entrance. "Wounds don't heal in an instant," you call out to him, "for how long have I been unconscious?"

The stranger crouches by the bonfire, eyeing the fishes he had over the fire. "For about an hour or so now, and, as I have said," he turns to flash you a grin and a wink. "I know a really good healer."

In spite of your doubt, something else pulls you away from the situation as your stomach begins to churn at the sight of the fish cooking and make you salivate. Tempted, you were, you relent to a grape from the bowl he had given you. Some juice dribbles down your lips, but it quenches some of your hunger and thirst.

Looking back up, you see him and the spotted beast patiently waiting for you by the fire. Hoseok grabs one of the cooked fish skewered with a stick, offering it to you in case you prefer the distance from them.

Eyes flitting from the smoking fish and him, you hold yourself back for yet another question. "What exactly are your intentions with me?"

“None,” he assures you with a shrug, looking around the beach. “I was simply strolling through and saw you,” he then says, “thought you might need the help.”

I didn't need help. Stubborn, you were, but still, you eye the fish that was roasting over the fire.

The stranger seems to take note of this. “There’s nothing funny with it,” he then assures you, chuckling a little as he nods to his companion, who was now chewing on something. “You can eat over there, if you’d like.”

Finally, you idly take hold of the stick—you swear, your stomach let out a cry of relief. “Thank you,” your manners compel you to timidly tell him this as you take a bite out of the fish’s flesh.

Hoseok smiles warmly, the sight and feeling of it making your heart clench. “You’re welcome.”

For the hour that followed, Hoseok and Agrios stayed with you as they ate, and as some subtle form of gratitude, you let them. You kept your distance, stayed by that little tent of yours as Hoseok tells you of the towns he knew around the island and the general path towards them.

Whether he knew your tragic case of abandonment or not, he makes no mention nor pry of it, and you don't tell him of your wanted status either. It would be best to stay away from strangers.

And so, well into the afternoon, you usher them away after falsely promising to remember his guidance, the man and the beast disappearing into the forest with no more than themselves with them. (The fishes he caught but didn't cook, he gave to you for dinner, and this notion guilts you inside for being so cold to them all along.)

Here you were, once again left alone by the sea.

By this point, you have gained some strength—enough to leave the shell that is your tent to finally gaze at the waves you've been hearing ever since you woke. The golden sun sits amidst a sky of oranges and pinks, its light sending the sea glittering as it's readying to leave its throne for the nightfall.

It was a taunting sight—beautiful, but taunting.

Yet, a voice in your head murmurs a treacherous thought to soil the fragile peace you were in.

Have they reached Athens by now?

Your lip trembles but you trample it beneath your teeth, hoping to kill the incoming tears. It's successful—to some degree. Though the pain in your heart hasn't at all gone away, the streams that ran down your cheeks were not as fierce as before.

In the silence, you were left to wonder what had transpired in the hours you were unconscious. You have reason in you to believe the key that had led Theseus to leave you were his people—they were, after all, the very reason he had snuck into Crete in the first place.

Had they convinced Theseus to leave you?

Had he been tricked by them in some way?

Or, had he no problem agreeing with them at all?

Your heart shatters at the thought of the latter, but your mind soon drifts to what Andreas had said in the woods.

You let us suffer for years…

There’s reason and right in his anger—in their anger—this you knew well. They do not owe you forgiveness nor forgetfulness for the cowardice you’ve done to them in the years before.

If you had been a braver person against your father’s harsh reign, would they have found you befitting to take the place next to their hero?

If you had tried a little harder to be of help during the travel, would they have had a change of heart and taken you with them?

If you had—

Nonsense, there’s nothing you can do about the could-have-beens. You've already betrayed your people. You've already left. You've already messed up.

At the end of the day, the bitter truth now is that you’ve been stranded here—already alone and away from Crete and Athens all the same. Mayhaps, that is why you’ve been left like this—your salvation and your price to pay, your escape from Crete and banishment from Athens altogether.

You will belong nowhere else.

With not much left to do nor care for the view, you crawl your way back into the tent where it's a little more quiet. The immediate thought of sleep comes to you as your eyes land on the makeshift cushions, and the same thought as before crosses your mind.

Sleep. Let’s sleep.

It was then your train of thought stops. An animal pelt cloak—one from a dark grey wolf, you think—had been near the bedding, something you vaguely remember taking off of you when you woke earlier. Theseus doesn't have one—you would know—which can only mean that it was another token left by that stranger earlier.

A part of you is irked to be left with this, as it's a reminder of yet another man who entered your life unannounced. Such things aside, you were reasonably grateful too, as it's something you can make use of.

Enough thinking, another part of you insists, reminding you of what you had thought to do in the first place. Sleep.

A sigh leaves you as you lay yourself down, and with no other warmth to encase you, you relent in reaching for the cloak, curling within its hold and fluttering your eyes closed.

A sense of unease blossoms within you, forcing you away from the realm of Morpheus. It's dark, even after you awoke from the abyss of your slumber. It must be nighttime already then. Have you slept for that long?

Another thing registers in your head as you regain more of your consciousness. You become aware of the damp walls of the tent and bedding, of the chill in the air, of the sound of rain.

What on Earth—

The row rumble from the sky sounds like that of a beast, freezing you in an instant with the wolf pelt tightly clutched in your hold. A bright strike of lightning across the sky faintly illuminates the tent, squeezing a screech from your lips at the deafening thunder that follows it.

You could tell that the rain has no plans of surrendering any time soon. The waves themselves are getting angrier by the minute, crashing against the shore and rocks as if to give them a beating.

Zeus and Poseidon must be furious.

A curse leaves your lips as you see more of the rain soaking the tent, droplets already forming to come down at you. The howling winds aren't showing much kindness either. You don't know for much longer your tent can hold. At this rate, you'll be drenched, too.

Gathering your bearings, you sit up and push aside the discomfort of being in slightly damp clothes, and heave the cloak over your head. You give yourself a moment to think of where to get yourself a better shelter from the storm.

The forest might do well to aid you, but it'll also house other creatures—some of which may have the capabilities to kill someone as defenseless as you. Perhaps, you can find a large, pointed stick to us—

"Hey!"

You jolt as you hear a voice outside. Is that…?

The tent flaps pry open under someone's urgent grip, and you see the person you had suspected it to be. As he tries to catch his breath, Hoseok looks you over with a dismayed shake of his head. "I knew you'd still be here."

You look at him with your mouth agape. “What brings you here?” you question over the downpour, brows furrowing together.

The man adjusts an umbrella over his head, promptly leaving your query unanswered. “Come along,” he instead tuts as he urges you out of the tent. "This is no place to be in the middle of a storm."

The tent shakes as yet another thunder booms across the sky, causing the two of you to flinch. “Now,” he says, “will you be stubborn or will you let me help you?"

The umbrella he's carrying struggles against the wind, what with it being made from only wood and leaves. The gentle curls of his black hair cling onto his forehead, forcing him to swipe them back. "I think it’s a great time to accept, hm?” he says, an uneasy chuckle forced past his lips as he tries to secure a better grip on the umbrella.

With a deep intake of air, you push yourself up and come out of the tent. This brings a smile to his face, one that you choose to ignore. “Fantastic,” he muses, as you duck beneath the struggling shade of his umbrella. "Nothing else?"

"None," you curtly tell him. I have nothing left.

The stranger was caught off guard for a moment, but he soon nods and gestures to the dark forest ahead. "Come," he says, "I know a place."

Although the trees keep most of the howling winds at bay, the mud cakes the ends of the worn dress you were wearing, turning the faint pink an ugly brown. The rough ground makes you walk carefully too, lest you step on anything that can make your bare feet hurt any more than it already is. The darkness of the forest terrifies you, and a part of you urges you to cling onto the stranger lest you get lost in the midst of the storm on your own.

Doubt, however, gnaws away at you at the same time, making you keep a little of your distance. You steal glances in between calculating your steps and following his lead. Can I truly trust this man?

The possibility of his betrayal makes you spiral into multiple other possibilities. If he dares to do anything, then I can shove him or hit him with something, and make a run for it.

As this plan for a what-if forms in your head, Hoseok takes note of your wariness—of how you cocooned yourself within his old wolf cloak, of how you gingerly inched away from him, and of how guarded your face is even as you were occupied with your thoughts. Understandable, he thinks, but it won't do her well to be sick because of the rain.

Leaning the umbrella over to your side, he once again thinks of the quickest path to a shelter he knows of. It’s around here somewhere.

Still, that won't seem to make the journey any less difficult. The rain was stubborn—as stubborn and proud as a man he knows—the thunder bellowing every once in a while to scare the daylights out of you. Though the forest was easier to navigate for the likes of him, it definitely doesn’t make it any less pleasant to tread through. He, himself, feels unpleasant walking through the forest in a state like this.

A surprise, however, soon comes to the young man. It appears that, at some point, you have noticed the position of the umbrella, and your conscience couldn't seem to take the unfairness for his side, because you had let your bodies huddle a little closer. Your hand even lightly holds onto his tunic as you look elsewhere.

Hoseok hides a smile at all of this. How sweet of her to care.

It was fortunate for the both of you that it didn't take too long for you to have reached your destination—just as the umbrella was about to give up, too. He steps under the stone roofing, arm gesturing with a welcome. "Here we are," he sings, tossing the umbrella aside and wringing out the rainwater from his clothes.

You gawk at the structure of the building as you step under its shade, the frown and furrow between your brows deepening. It was dark—especially with much of the moon obscured by heavy rain clouds—but you could make some sense of your surroundings. “This is a shrine,” you tell him, matter-of-factly, staying put where you were.

Hoseok stifles a chuckle. “And?”

A frantic trace of panic besets your face at his lack of concern. “We may offend the deity that reigns over this place,” you scold him, crossing your arms across your chest.

This refusal comes across as puzzling for him. He supposed all mortals are devoted in some sense of respect and fear for the gods, but you were walking too carefully on eggshells—driven mostly in fear. Have you or your family offended a god before?

Hoseok doesn't linger on the thought any longer, giving you an assuring smile instead. “It’ll be alright,” he tells you, “Trust me.”

It’s my shrine after all.

Still, doubt mars your expression, your mind being too stubborn to give in to his assurances. "We mean no disrespect here, after all," he attempts to reason, "just shelter from the storm, yes?"

You give it a few seconds, eventually nodding timidly. "Right," you say, almost as if you were still trying to convince yourself that this won't incur divine wrath. You shed the cloak from your shoulders as you take your first steps to follow him into the shrine.

Inside, a few torches persevered, showing a myriad of offerings laid out on an altar. Something else, however, draws Hoseok's attention elsewhere. Prayers and offerings to gods in a shrine were obvious, of course, but one of those in the altar held a prayer stronger than the others.

The young god turned his focus into hearing whatever words were left by whoever made them. Multiple voices echo through his head…

Lord Dionysus, we thank you and this island for becoming a brief respite for our weary travels. As told, to you, we leave a maiden of fair beauty and heart. May she make wonderful company.

His eyes widened, coming to a stop. A maiden? Who—

“Are you a follower?” you ask him out of the blue, having noted his ease in navigating through the premises. “Whose shrine is this?”

Hoseok, knocked out of his stupor, was startled for a moment, looking back at you as you continued to take in your environment. Nonetheless, once he gets a hold of himself, he doesn't answer the first of your questions, simply the "who" of it. “Dionysus,” he tells you, watching as a hint of recognition sparks in your eyes.

“The wine god?”

Hearing this, something warm flutters within his chest. Recognition feels quite nice, he thinks, as he doesn't hold back the grin that comes to his lips. “You know of him,” he muses, quite pleased. “Not many do.”

Hoseok hasn't been here in a while, as he isn't one to be too zealous in his duties in the first place, but this shrine is one of the first ever built for him by his followers—proof that he's made some sort of path to the pantheon. Even then, he has a long way to go. He's a wandering new god, not at all embraced by many, when they view wine, frenzy, and pleasure as things that get in the way of the philosophy and intellect that many Greeks praised.

As he takes off his own rain-sodden cloak, you tuck the fur cloak onto your arm and idly look around. “I’ve heard tales from my brothers’ teachers in passing,” you tell him, gazing at the art carved into the wall of a merry feast. “He brought wine to the world, yes?”

A part of him is tempted to swipe the wine from the offerings and chug it, but decides against it, lest it sends you in a panic over discourtesy to the gods and whatnot. “Mhm,” he instead happily hums, “a marvellous invention, isn’t it?”

My magnum opus.

Fiddling with the fabric of your dress, you purse your lips together at the thought of the wine this stranger seems to be so proud of. You’re not quite sure of how to respond to him. On one hand, you have lived to understand the perils of losing oneself to wine—how they can turn the angry, angrier and the sensible, nonsensical. On the contraire, the notion of losing yourself to wine and forgetting all else tempts you. “I haven’t tasted much of it,” you simply go on to say, “but I suppose it is.”

At this, Hoseok whips his head towards you. “You suppose?” he repeats, eyes starting to glint at the prospect of challenge. “Please do remind me to bring you all the wine in the world to taste.”

You lightly scoff at his musings. “Well it’s certainly not appropriate to do so now,” you gesture to the rain outside and the state of you both. “We’ll wake up with a fever otherwise.”

Those words take a few seconds to register in the man’s head. “Oh, right,” Hoseok quips, fiddling with his ear as he thinks to himself. I forgot about that. Humans and their fickle bodies.

Looking around his shrine for something that could be a change of clothes for you, he soon returns to you with a colorful fabric. “It's not the most fashionable," he chuckles, "but it’s the best I could find."

The gesture seems to have taken you aback. "Oh—You didn't have t—" the words were a scrambled mess on your lips, but ultimately ended with, "Thank you."

Hoseok gingerly places the fabric into your hands, his own brushing against your skin. Her hands are cold. "Most welcome," he hums thoughtfully, “I will leave you to change then, yes?”

With the chill in the air, Hoseok had deemed it good to light a small fire to bring some warmth inside for you as you change. Though raised by satyrs in the wilderness, foraging, unfortunately, truly wasn't his strongest suit—this he knew well as he had struggled to find some decent kindling for the both of you.

Eventually, he had managed to come back to the shrine with the wood, and some fruits for the two of you to nibble on. The fire was born from one of the torches still lit. It crackles before you both, very much alive since he had imbued it with his power to not perish so easily.

Between the both of you was silence, a little bit more comfortable than before—one you, surprisingly, break.

“Why did you come back for me?”

Hoseok stops chewing on a wild berry midway, brows rising for a moment when the sound of your soft voice takes him aback. “Come again?”

Deep in thought, it takes you a while to turn to him, brows furrowed with genuine confusion. “We’re strangers to one another,” you tell him, “and yet you would come for me in the midst of a storm and help me find shelter…”

You ask him the summary of all the inquiries in your head. “Why help me?”

Truthfully, Hoseok doesn’t have an answer to that himself. It had been a spontaneous feat, taking you back to your tent, but something in him told him to take it a step further—to tuck you in with his fur cloak, to fetch you something to eat, and to call upon his half-brother for a favor to tend to your wounds.

When the rain began, he had pushed back the thought of coming to check on you, telling himself that you could’ve found yourself shelter already—that you’d be fine on your own—and yet, here he was.

A shrug of his shoulders was all he could do. “I suppose…” he murmurs, mulling over his words. “You reminded me of myself, in some way or another…”

When Hoseok was born yet another bastard of Zeus, he lived most of his life in the wilderness, constantly having to flee from the wrath of Hera and other such threats to his life. Even before he had discovered his divine potential, he wasn’t quite welcomed in either Earth nor Olympus.

Lost and helpless—that’s what you two are.

“Why not help?” he simply muses in some sense of kindred.

It felt foreign for him to participate in such soft conversation. He had been so used to nonsensical, slurred discussions that lead to nowhere, or recklessly screaming to song and dance alike.

The silence that follows makes him—a god—squirm as you stare into the fire, lost somewhere in your head. You made no rebuttal against his statement, which only makes him even more antsy.

In spite of his impatience, however, he could tell you were hesitating to speak of something, and so, he lets you simmer in your thoughts just a bit more. It takes another moment of silence before you break it yet again. “I committed treason by helping someone escape with their people. I fled with them,” you confess, voice shaking, “but they all left me while I was sleeping.”

His brows knit together, envisioning the gist of the events that had taken place. Though he had spent most of yesterday in a drunken haze, he had heard the nymphs talk of a group of travellers in passing through the—

Wait a minute.

The prayer earlier rings in his head, and he soon gawks at you, who continues to gaze into the fire in solitude. You can't possibly be the maiden, right?

Well, you are of fair beauty, but no, no, no. If you were, surely you would've been left in better conditions.

Either way, Hoseok thinks betrayal is such an ugly thing that neither god nor mortal likes the notion of. He knows not what led you to commit treason, but to have forsaken your people to join others, only to have them forsake you is a terrible thing. “What a load of bastards,” he abhors, before partly jesting. “Shall we ask the gods that their ship sinks?”

A light scoff leaves your lips as you shake your head at him. Hoseok watches as you say nothing more of the tale, and he knew it well not to pry any longer.

The wine god finds it astonishing how similar yet different the two of you are. Both cast aside in some way or another, and yet the two of you walk different paths. While he ventures recklessly, you tread the same, paved path you’ve ever known, too scared to break away lest you get your heart broken again.

You should learn to let go every once in a while.

“My name is (Y/N)...” you tell him, knocking him out of his little reverie. Your voice was quiet and hesitant, but you still willed yourself to look at him properly, eyes carrying sheepish guilt. “I apologize if I was rude to you.”

Hoseok couldn’t help the smile on his face as he realized that he had earned enough of your trust to know your name. “Glad to finally put a name to a face,” he muses, “and, rest assured, I hadn’t taken any offense, at all.”

A soft, grateful smile blooms on your lips, illuminated beautifully by the golden glow of the fire. This hint of happiness instantly makes Hoseok wonder what pure bliss would look like for you. He hardly holds back his mischief, as he tilts his head with a teasing grin.

“Does this mean to say we’ve become friends?”

At this, you roll your eyes. (But you smile all the same.)

START. | ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @park-jimin-isnt-real

#bts au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts writings #bts greek myth au #bts greek mythology au #bts gods au #bts imagines #jung hoseok imagines #bts jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #bts jhope x reader #jhope x reader #jhope imagines

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downbad4yoongi · 2 years ago

Text

Seeds

🥀Seeds🥀

Hades!Hoseok x Persephone!Yoongi

⟢ Rating: MA

⟢ WC: 7.919

⟢ AU: type: Give it to Me

⟢ Theme: Betrayal, crime/mafia

⟢ Inclusions: creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, hidden secrets, long-haired yoongi, kissing, angst/hurst

Summary:

“Yes, Sweet Pea?” Hoseok cuts in.

Yoongi’s scowl deepens, “This is not a date. Also, don’t call me that. Actually, why would you call me that?”

Hoseok shakes his head at Yoongi as if he is being ridiculous. “Because, just like the flower, you draw me in with your beauty. Similarly, I would surmise that you also have a bit of a bite to you just like the toxicity of a sweet pea.”

Part One

Yoongi looks up from where he is trimming the stems on a bouquet that a customer will pick up later as the bell sounds above the shop’s door when it swings open. Seeing that it is only Namjoon, he looks back down and keeps trimming.

“Namjoon, this is a surprise. How did we get so lucky to be graced with your presence?”

Namjoon scoffs and places a hand flat on the glass countertop that divides the shop, “Could I not want just to come and visit my friends?” Yoongi sets down his trimming shears and gives Namjoon his full attention. He gets more suspicious as he takes in the bespoke gray suit draping Namjoon’s frame.

His eyes narrow. “Namjoon, you only visit Bloomin’ Cakes when you need something. What is it this time?”

Namjoon attempts to stare him down, nostrils flaring with a deep breath. Yoongi remains steadfast and refuses to back down. A smirk pulls at his lips as Namjoon’s shoulders deflate with a sigh.

“Fine. I’m here for both. I haven’t seen you or Jinnie-hyung in a while, and I need a favor.” Reaching into his suit jacket pocket pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I need a few floral arrangements.”

Yoongi rounds the work table he was at and moves to face Namjoon across the countertop. Yoongi picks up the folded paper and opens it. Yoongi’s brows raise, pushing into his hairline, his eyes flitting back and forth between the paper and Namjoon.

“Joon, this is more than a few floral arrangements. This is a request for fifty funeral wreaths by Monday. What do you even need that many wreaths for anyways?”

“My friend needs a favor, and I told him I knew the best florist in town and that you’d be more than willing to help. He’s willing to pay twice your usual fee.”

Yoongi huffs, “I don’t have the time to make that many arrangements in four days, Joon-ah.” He pushes the paper back across the clear surface. “Sorry, but you’ll have to tell your friend you lied.”

Namjoon taps a finger against the counter's cool surface, leveling a look at him. “Yoongi, you know this isn’t a request. I need you to do this. I owe this friend a lot; he helped me get to where I am now.” Yoongi holds Namjoon’s steady gaze, the silence yawning between them.

Yoongi snatches the paper. “Fine, Mr. Mayor. But you owe me.”

Namjoon grins so wide his cheeks dimple. “I knew I could count on you.”

Yoongi glowers at him. “Fuck off.”

Seokjin shuffles in through the shop's back door, wiping his shoes off on the mat, and is immediately assaulted by thrumming bass vibrating through the entire building. He quickly strips off his rain jacket, hanging it by the door, and maneuvers through the kitchen to push into the storefront, wincing as the harsh cacophony of sound increases when the door swings open.

Seokjin quickly turns down the speaker, his ears ringing in the echoing silence. “What’s with the mosh pit?”

Flowers and discarded stems surround Yoongi, his head snapping up at the sudden silence, a scowl already on his face. “What are you doing?” he snaps.

Seokjin shakes his head. “I don’t know about you, but I value my eardrums and not shattering our front windows.”

“Stop being fucking dramatic.”

“Yoongi, my bones, and the windows were literally vibrating with the level of the bass. What’s going on? You only blast the music that loud when you are pissed.”

Yoongi looks down at the arrangement in front of him, going back to work. “And if I am?”

A guffaw leaves Seokjin, his eyes widening. “What happened? I was only gone for a day.”

“Namjoon happened, and now I have an impossible order to complete in three days.” Yoongi drops his shears and shoves the order slip at Seokjin, who picks up the crumpled paper to look at it.

“Fifty! Why would he–” Seokjin’s voice abruptly cuts off, his body stiffening.

It is so sudden that it draws Yoongi’s attention. “Why would he? What? Ask for such a ridiculous thing on short notice? I don’t know Jinnie-hyung, you tell me.”

Jin’s usually loud tenor is missing with his following words, “Yoongi, you can’t do this order.”

Yoongi scoffs, “Try telling Namjoon that.”

“I’m not joking. You can’t do this order.” The finality of his stance rings through his voice.

“Hyung…we’re family, and I know I let you get away with your big brothering, but you aren’t actually allowed to dictate what I do and do not do.”

Jin’s nostrils flare with his sharp inhale, “Yoongs, this is not a situation where I am being overbearing. I am serious. You can’t fulfill this. I– I can’t go into it, but it’s in your best interests that you back out of this.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, “No.”

Jin’s hand flexes, crumpling the order form in his fist. “Yoongi, just fucking listen to me for once!”

“Until you give a legitimate reason, I am finishing this order. So either help or leave me alone.”

Jin is left standing there for several minutes, his neck and cheeks flushed with anger, desperately hoping Yoongi will change his mind.

Groaning, Yoongi curls further around his pillow, his hand blindly searching for his phone to shut off the annoying bleating of his alarm; he rolls onto his back, stretching his stiff limbs. Every fiber of his being is exhausted from spending the past few days carrying out the ridiculous order Namjoon submitted. Now, after being up late into the night, he’s being pulled out of the comfort of his bed to deliver said order.

“Namjoon fucking owes me for this bullshit,” he mumbles as he shuffles into the bathroom to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, he grimaces at his reflection as he rolls up the sleeves of his black oxford shirt and fastens the platinum watch around his wrist. Grabbing his phone, he slips into his shiny, black loafers and leaves the serenity of his home to go to the shop. Since it is so early in the morning, Yoongi is able to enjoy the silence that wraps around him as he walks the few blocks to the store that he co-owns with Jin.

Navigating around the rear of the building, he starts up the delivery van and backs it up to the backdoor to begin loading the order. He had figured it would take closer to an hour to transfer and store the wreaths in the back of the van. However, time seems to be on his side and he has them loaded and secure well before that. Now, there’s only one thing left to do: deliver them to the address Namjoon provided. Which, according to the GPS, is well on the outskirts of the city. Cranking the radio, Yoongi loses himself in the miles and thoughts of just how much Namjoon owes him.

Yoongi slows down as he drives the van through the industrial park looking for the specific delivery address. The GPS guides him through the maze of buildings and warehouses until he is at the last block of buildings, right against the river. He glances at the delivery slip, not fully understanding why he is delivering funeral wreaths to a building by the docks, and turns down the access road next to a large black warehouse. So far, the drive through the industrial park has been a ghost town, it startles Yoongi slightly to see a crowd of people as he eases around the back of the building.

He catches sight of a burly man dressed in an all-black suit flagging him down and maneuvers the van in the direction of the parking space the man is gesturing to. Putting the van in park, he slips out of the driver’s seat as the burly man rounds the hood with a clipboard.

“Name?”

“Min Yoongi with Bloomin’ Cakes.”

The man grunts as he scribbles on the clipboard. “You got the order?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he says sardonically.

The man lowers his clipboard. “You gettin’ smart with me?”

With a hand to his chest, Yoongi deadpans, “I would never.”

It’s fascinating how the henchman’s face mottles as he steps forward to tower over Yoongi. Yoongi just cocks his head slightly and blinks innocently up at his red face, hands behind his back.

“KYUNG!” The hulk's eyes flick over Yoongi’s head as his frame stills. “Why are you about to crush one of our guests?”

Kyung’s voice is like gravel as it rumbles out of his throat, “He’s not a guest.”

The newcomer draws to a stop just behind Yoongi. “Oh?” Before Yoongi can turn fully to face the newest stranger, he can feel the weight of his gaze running down his frame. “Then what is he doing here?”

Yoongi’s shoulders press lightly to the cool surface of the van as he positions himself to keep both men in sight. Beyond the slight twitching of his fingers, Yoongi manages to keep control of his reaction to the handsome stranger that has joined them. He can’t stop his gaze from raking over the other man. His eyes rove from the slick, black hair styled back off of his forehead, perfectly exposing the sides of his undercut to the strands of hair that stop at his nape. His eyes bounce back up once they hit the shiny loafers that are such a deep shade of blue you’d think they were black. The impeccable suit is nothing compared to the sheer force of his aura. It feels like it is pulsing around him, making it impossible to ignore the shiver that roams down Yoongi’s spine.

“You ordered flowers. I’m here to deliver them.” Yoongi finally finds his voice under the weight of the man’s gaze.

The corner of his lips tip up slightly. “I did?”

Yoongi can’t help the frown that pulls his brows together. “Yes. You sent Namjoon into my shop a few days ago and placed a ridiculous order at the last minute.”

Yoongi hears the sharp inhales of the men that surround them when Yoongi is unable to keep the irritation from seeping into his words. From their reactions, Yoongi is expecting a harsher reaction than the slick smile that parts the man’s lips.

“Oh, yes. I did ask him to do that.” He tilts his head forward in a small bow. “Apologies. I am a very busy man and the minutiae often evade me. I have many people I delegate to. Let me introduce myself, I am Jung Hoseok.”

The scowl on Yoongi’s face eases up slightly. “Well, if we can get these wreaths unloaded, I can be on my way.”

“So soon?” Hoseok steps forward, just short of invading Yoongi’s personal space. He runs one slim finger lightly along the buttons of Yoongi’s shirt. “You’re more than welcome to stay and join us. Maybe we can get drinks later?”

Yoongi swallows thickly as Hoseok trails that thin finger over his exposed clavicle. “That is very gracious of you Mr. Jung, but really unnecessary. I need to be on my way anyways, I still have a lot of work to complete.”

Hoseok’s hand trails across Yoongi’s chest and shoulder as he eases away and moves to the back of the van.

Yoongi slips away, rounding the back of the van to the sound of Hoseok tsking under his breath. He yanks the doors open and climbs into the rear of the vehicle. “No need for the formalities. You can call me Hoseok or Hope.”

Yoongi glances behind him before starting to position the arrangements closer to the opening to be unloaded. “Why Hope?”

Hoseok is leaning casually against the propped door. “It’s a name I was given. Hope; as in people tend to hope I will put them out of their misery sooner rather than later.”

Yoongi navigates back to the store on autopilot, pulling around and parking near the rear entrance unable to remember how he got there. He needs to get that man out of his mind, but no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts continue to wander back to the interaction that happened between him and Hoseok.

Most interactions that Yoongi has with other people usually go without significant notice; Yoongi forgets them before the day is done. From the moment he met Hoseok, call me Hope, he knew that wouldn’t be the case here. Yoongi wishes he could put his finger on what exactly it is about this man that keeps ensnaring his focus. While in front of Hoseok, it was easy to attribute it to his looks and style, but what is the reason now? It’s not like he will ever interact with him again.

Yoongi hangs the van keys on the hook by the door and moves into the kitchen, taking note of Jin and the aggravated atmosphere that seems to surround him. Jin is so intently mixing a batch of frosting in a large steel bowl that he hasn’t even noticed that Yoongi is there.

“What did that frosting do to you?” Yoongi speaks just loud enough to be heard over the low thrumming of the instrumental music playing through the mounted Bluetooth speaker.

Jin whips around with the spatula in his hand lofted, the abrupt movement sending frosting flying, some of which lands on Yoongi’s cheek. Seokjin has varying levels of anger, easily gauged by how flushed his skin is and how stilted his movements become. At this point, Yoongi would probably put him at a two out of five on the ‘Seokjin’s Going to Blow a Gasket’ scale.

Leveling a weighted glare at Yoongi, Jin finally speaks up, “Well, at least you appear as if you made it out unscathed.”

Yoongi shakes his head bewildered by Jin’s sharp tone. “What does that mean? Was I not supposed to come back in one piece?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t,” Jin snaps.

Yoongi’s eyes widened. “What the hell, Jin! What does that even mean?” Yoongi watches Jin roll his eyes, his chest puffing up. “And don’t give me an excuse or try to redirect the conversation. What is your issue with Jung Hoseok?”

It’s always fascinating to watch Jin move through his scale. Currently, Yoongi is observing Jin go from a two to a four. Jin spins back around and shoves the spatula back into the bowl, his chest heaving as he grips the edge of the countertop.

“He’s bad news, Yoongi. People who get involved with him, even tangentially, don’t always come out on the other side unscathed.” Jin’s shoulders curl inward from whatever weight he won’t share. “Please Yoongi just stay out of his orbit. I can’t lose you.”

Yoongi softens at the vulnerability Jin is revealing. It’s that vulnerability that draws him across the kitchen to Jin’s side. He rubs his hand soothingly across Jin’s back. “I’m not planning to interact with Mr. Jung again. Don’t get me wrong, I am still irritated that you are keeping things from me, but you don’t need to keep worrying about me.”

Yoongi stretches as he walks back into the store, his back aching from carting four cakes with varying tier levels into the delivery van for Jin. Grabbing the broom from the stockroom as he moves into the kitchen, he begins to sweep after turning on a lo-fi rap playlist. He lets himself get lost in the music as he gathers the debris into one spot and disposes of it.

He backs into the storefront, keeping up with the beat letting the words flow from his lips as he drags the broom across the tile floor. Easily adapting to each new flow as the songs change. It’s in the brief pause between songs that someone else makes their presence known with a soft clearing of their throat.

Yoongi jerks around, an apology to the customer poised on his lips; those words wilt before they can sprout as his gaze lands on Hoseok.

“Why are you here?” Yoongi doesn’t hold back the suspicious undercurrent in his voice as he tosses the question out easily recalling Jin’s warnings about the man.

His hands held behind him, Hoseok cocks his head to the side. “You have an interesting method of greeting customers.”

Yoongi stands there and blinks at him, outwardly maintaining his standoffish vibe but inwardly his mind is a tumbling mess that is struggling to settle. He promised Jin that he would stay away from Jung Hoseok but it’s not really his fault that Hoseok came into their store. Maybe Hoseok was just in the neighborhood? He still didn’t understand why Jin despises the gorgeous man in front of him.

Damn, this man really knows how to wear an outfit; Yoongi can’t even stop himself from openly admiring him. Hoseok’s ability to awe completely in monochrome, this time a slate gray suit, is admirable.

Hoseok smirks, silently waiting as Yoongi’s eyes trail back up to meet his own. A rush of pink perfuses over his cheeks as he is caught ogling Hoseok. Yoongi looks away to set aside the broom, buying time to gather his wits before responding.

“Is that why you’re here? To place an order?” Yoongi presses his palms to the glass case between them.

Hoseok gives a sharp shake of his head, stepping forward and bringing out what he was hiding behind his back and setting it between them. “No. I could lie and say I was, but let’s not start off this relationship that way.”

Yoongi’s eyes drop down to look at the two rocks glasses and the decanter of dark brown liquor in front of him. “There is no relationship. And what is this for?”

“These are the drinks I said we would be getting later. I would have come sooner, but some business got in the way.”

“And again, I said no to getting drinks.”

Hoseok tsks under his breath, “No, you said you couldn’t that day because you had work to finish. So, I have decided to bring the drinks to you.” He looks around, eyes perusing the store. “Although, I would have chosen somewhere with a bit more of an intimate ambiance for our first date.”

Yoongi scowls, “Mr. Jung, this is not a date–”

Yoongi’s words are cut short as Hoseok places a slender finger against his lips, silencing him. “I already told you to call me Hope or Hoseok, if you must.”

Yoongi swallows hard as he removes Hoseok’s finger from his mouth. “Hope–”

“Yes, Sweet Pea?” Hoseok cuts in.

Yoongi’s scowl deepens, “This is not a date. Also, don’t call me that. Actually, why would you call me that?”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth at a loss for words. Eventually, he finds them, “Well that is an interesting perspective, but again this is not a date. In fact, I think it’s time for you to go now. For some reason, my older brother dislikes you, and I have promised him I’d steer clear of you.”

Hoseok’s eyes narrow, the angles of his face sharpening. “And do you always do what you are told?”

Yoongi straightens as Hoseok glowers across the counter from him, “That’s neither here nor there. Thanks for stopping by. Have a nice day, Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s jaw ticks, his stare unyielding, before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop. It is only after he is finally gone, Yoongi is able to release the tension that had crept into his muscles.

If anything, no one can doubt Hoseok’s persistence; since the encounter at Bloomin’ Cakes a few weeks ago, Hoseok has placed orders twice a week for delivery. Yoongi knows he should reject the order requests as gods know if Jin found out, the man would lose his mind. He still doesn’t understand the hatred Jin holds for Hoseok.

Yoongi’s interactions with Hoseok have been nothing less than charming, and he finds his resistance to his charms weakening with each interaction. With each delivery, Hoseok has found a reason to have Yoongi linger, and honestly, Yoongi has enjoyed his flirting.

Nibbling on his lip, he navigates the delivery truck across town to the address Yoongi has now become familiar with as being Hoseok’s home. He is pretty sure the next time Hoseok asks him out he’ll say yes and deal with the Jin fallout later. Yoongi knows Jin cares, but honestly the man is overreacting. Hoseok has been the perfect gentleman, and Yoongi can’t see a reason to resist anymore.

Yoongi shifts the van into park at the top of the circle driveway out in front of Hoseok’s ostentatious mansion. Slipping into the back, Yoongi gathers Hoseok’s order, three bouquets of calla lilies, and carries them to the front door. Preparing to use the brass knocker, Yoongi grips the cool metal lifting it but before he can release it the large black door shifts open.

Odd. Hoseok is usually very meticulous about his security, Yoongi has previously had to go through several layers when he has delivered here before. He nudges the door open wider, sticking his head inside to view the vast empty marble of the foyer. He licks his lips nervously, stepping inside and fully expecting someone to stop him from entering further. None of Hoseok’s many overbearing staff appear, so Yoongi circles the towering, black marble statue of a three-headed dog in the center of the room and heads toward the open archway on the other side.

Yoongi's eyes widen as every muscle in his body freezes at the sight before him. Hoseok is standing with his back to him, one hand casually thrust into his slack’s pocket and the other steadily holding a gun that is leveled at the man kneeling in front of him. The man’s face is bloody and bruised as he cowers in front of Hoseok, pleas for mercy spilling from his split lips.

Yoongi starts to back out of the room, his head shaking slowly in disbelief. His mind is swarming with incomplete, confused thoughts, but the loudest one is yelling at him to get out now. He only makes it two steps before his back hits something, startling him into dropping the vases of lilies. The crystal smashes onto the marble floor and the gun that was previously leveled at the poor man is now being leveled at Yoongi.

Hoseok eyes Yoongi, head tilting to the side as he holds the gun steady on him. “You’re not supposed to see this.” He sighs, shaking his head, “But, now that you have…” Large hands grip Yoongi’s upper arms holding him in place, preventing him from escaping as Hoseok turns his attention back to his victim. “As you can see, I now have other matters to attend to.” Yoongi jumps as the sound of the gun firing reverberates through the room followed by the thud of the body hitting the floor.

Hoseok’s arm falls to his side as he shifts his attention back to Yoongi. Slow, deliberate steps close the gap between them; Yoongi goes to speak but is abruptly cut off by the tap of the cold metal of the firearm tapping underneath his chin as Hoseok’s gaze holds his. “Now, what to do with you?”

Part Two

Yoongi has lost track of the amount of time he has been held captive in this lavish prison. At this point, he is positive he could describe in excruciating detail the Aubusson rug that spans the room's length. If he was honest, he was losing steam and motivation to try and escape. He figured out the hard way that the windows were bulletproof and has the sore shoulder to prove it, sneaking out of the only door was scratched as it is never left unguarded, and so far none of the guards seem like good candidates to aid in liberating him.

The thud of the rubber ball echoes through the room as it sails from Yoongi’s hand, bounces off the carpeted floor, and rebounds off the wall to land back in his hand. Frankly, this is the only thing breaking up the monotony of being trapped inside this gilded prison, aside from the silent intrusions from the rotating guards shoving food into the room. It’s been two weeks since he learned first-hand why he’s known as Hope.

The ball sails more forcefully out of his hand as the images from that day flash through his mind; the look of terror on the man’s face, the ringing echo of the gunshot, and the chilling indifference on Hoseok’s face. The ball stings as it smacks back into his palm, his fingers clenching as he recalls the sensation of cold metal against his face as Hoseok brushed their lips together. He still can’t fully process why he returned the kiss; his mind went into shock after witnessing the brutal act committed by someone he was growing to like and the next thing he knew, soft lips were pressed to his.

The next toss of the ball is just as forceful as the last, but this time instead of ricocheting off the wall, it rebounds off a solid wall of muscle. Yoongi cocks his head as the resonance of the ball pattern changes, and the ball fails to return to his outstretched hand. His head rolls on his neck to look across the room to see a glowering Kyung staring him down, the ball resting at his feet.

Before Yoongi can make a snarky comment, Kyung steps to the side and holds the door open for Hoseok.

Hoseok steps into the room and flicks his hand over his shoulder, “Leave us.”

Yoongi straightens from his slouched position on the chaise lounge and watches Hoseok bend down to pick up the stray ball. He refuses to speak, just eyeing Hoseok with suspicion as the man tosses the ball casually in the air and catches it again.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting for so long before checking in on you.”

Yoongi scoffs, “You say that as if I am a willing visitor.”

With a nonchalant shrug, “Let’s not quibble over the details. I would have come to you sooner, but I have been tied up ensuring your safety.”

Yoongi feels like his eyes are bugging out. “I was safe before I ever had the misfortune of meeting you!”

“Oh, Sweet Pea, that is far from the truth. There are some truly unsavory people out there, and they will do terrible things to get what is mine.”

Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief, “You! You are those people! You murdered that poor man without any remorse.”

Hoseok stills, “Is that what you truly think? That I felt nothing for that man?”

“You didn’t leave me any room to think otherwise.”

Hoseok looks away from him, his jaw clenched; the silence stretches between them long enough that Yoongi is nearly moved to break the tension when Hoseok faces him again. Yoongi is taken aback as he watches undecipherable emotions flash across Hoseok’s face. It is enough to plant seeds of doubt within Yoongi as a pang of concern flashes through him.

Hoseok’s expression and posture settle into one of weary resignation, “Yoongi, I am a man who does what needs to be done. Even if that task would be deemed as morally reprehensible. I go to great lengths to get what I want, and once I have it, nothing will keep me from protecting what is mine.”

Yoongi swallows thickly as Hoseok crosses the room toward him. “I’m not yours,” Yoongi whispers weakly.

A wry smile twists Hoseok’s lips as he stops in front of him. Hoseok’s hand cups his jaw, “Yes, you are. You have been since the moment I saw you.”

He wrenches away from Hoseok and glares at him. “I am not yours. Whatever could have been died along with that poor man; now let me out of here,” Yoongi spits at Hoseok.

“It’s not that simple, Sweet Pea; you’re now in my orbit, and those who would see me fail have noticed.” Hoseok circles Yoongi slowly, “It has become apparent to me that grander measures need to be taken to prevent others from fucking with me and mine.”

Yoongi huffs out a frustrated sigh, “Listen, I have no idea of what you are talking about, and, you know what, I don’t want to know. Just let me go home. I swear never to speak to anyone about what I saw.”

“You still don’t get it.” Hoseok rounds Yoongi again to face him, pulling a slim phone from his pocket. Yoongi watches as he taps away at it for a moment before turning the screen toward him. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus, but when they do he snatches the phone from the outstretched hand. His heart rate speeds up as he stares at the grainy image of Jin slumped against the alley wall behind their shop, face clearly bruised as he curls in on himself as the assailant, only a black blur, sprints away.

“What the fuck is this? I need to go!” Yoongi shoves the phone at Hoseok and darts around him toward the door. He doesn’t make it very far before Hoseok’s grip on his bicep pulls him to a stop.

Yoongi yanks on his arm, but Hoseok’s grip just tightens. “This is what happens when I let my guard down. Someone is out there trying to get to me through any means possible. They started with you; the man you say I so callously murdered was stalking you. I found out and was trying to get him to tell me who he was working for when you interrupted. I felt it was best to keep you hidden until I figured it all out.” Hoseok glances at the phone in his hand, “ I guess they moved on to your brother when they couldn’t find you anymore.”

“If there is someone dangerous out there who is after my brother, you need to help him. You’re the cause of all this!”

A tight smile pulls at Hoseok’s lips, “You’re right. I am, and I have the perfect solution.”

“Which is?”

“Marry me.”

Yoongi guffaws. He’s at a complete loss for words, he is sure Hoseok is joking, but the longer he looks at Hoseok, the heavier the knot of dread in his chest grows. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, Sweet Pea, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“While I’m sure you are equally gorgeous without hair as you are with it, you should stop yanking at it like that.”

Yoongi’s finger tangle in the strands even tighter, whirling around fully prepared to lash out when the bedroom door opens. The words choke up his throat as Namjoon steps through the door.

“Joon?” Yoongi’s voice squeaks out. He stumbles forward to embrace his saving grace. Burying his face into Namjoon’s lapel, Yoongi desperately clings to Namjoon’s shoulders, “Holy shit, you found me. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Namjoon is slow to return the embrace, looking over his shoulder at Hoseok lounging on the bed behind them. Joon awkwardly pats Yoongi’s back, “I’m happy to see you well, too.”

Mind still racing, Yoongi pulls back and starts pulling Namjoon back toward the closing door. “Let’s get out of here. I need to see Jin.” Yoongi’s rush toward the exit is stopped short as Namjoon resists his pull, not moving along with his urgency. Yoongi looks back at him, “What the fuck? Let’s go, Joon!”

Namjoon’s feet remain planted as he shakes his head. “Yoongi, we’re not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Yoongi stops pulling at Namjoon’s arm as his eyes bounce between Namjoon and Hoseok. Hoseok lounges back on the bed propped up on his elbows, his foot bouncing idly as he watches Yoongi’s futile attempt to escape. Namjoon’s expression is nearly the opposite, a grimace twisting his lips as he watches Yoongi, eyes full of pity.

“What do you mean? Why aren’t we leaving, Joon?”

Namjoon avoids Yoongi’s pleading eyes as he frees his arm from his grasp. “I am here as a favor to Hope.”

Hoseok sits up, clapping his hands, “Now we can get this show on the road. Did you bring the certificates?”

Namjoon gives a sharp nod, pulling a sheaf of papers out of his inner jacket pocket and offers them to Hoseok. Hoseok unfolds them, eyes skimming the documents, humming under his breath here and there.

Hoseok refolds the papers, smacking the stack against his palm, “Lovely. I thought we could do the ceremony in the gardens.”

Yoongi snaps out of his stupor, stepping forward to snatch the sheaf of papers from Hoseok’s hand. He glances at them, scowling at the bold certificate of marriage script emblazoned across the top. “This is not happening. There has to be another way to fix this mess. I am not marrying you!”

“Oh, I’m sure there probably is another solution, but I am satisfied with this one,” Hoseok smirks, rocking back on his heels. “See, when we are married, what is yours is mine. And you know what happens when someone tries to harm what is mine.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to attach myself to someone who casually defaults to violence.” Yoongi motions between them, “This– we are not compatible; our values just don’t align.”

Hoseok hums under his breath and closes the gap between them. Eyes hooded, lips slightly parted, Hoseok trails his fingers down the center of Yoongi’s chest. Those lithe fingers tease along the waistband of Yoongi’s slacks, the back of his hand close enough to feel the muscles of Yoongi’s abdomen tremble from the touch. Leaning in even further, Hoseok noses along Yoongi’s cheek until his lips are at Yoongi’s ear, “I’m sure we align in more ways than you think. After all, we both want to protect dear Jinnie.”

Yoongi’s breath shudders out of him as he internally processes, struggling with what to do. He can feel his resolve weakening and the echo of Jin's warning to stay away fading in his memory.

"Say I marry you, what happens next? Am I really to believe that just because we sign a piece of paper that we’re suddenly safe?"

Hoseok runs his nose along Yoongi's, " Of course not, but there are consequences to fucking with me and mine."

"What happens after?"

"What do you mean what happens after? We keep living our lives, but now we do it together. It won't be too much change at all. Well, your commute will be longer."

Yoongi's brow furrows, " My commute?"

"Mhmm, your commute to work once you move into my house."

Yoongi pulls back, head shaking. "I can't move in here and live with you."

The soft smile that was playing across Hoseok's lips falls. " I don't believe I'm giving you an option. You will live with me as my husband. Our union will be real in every sense of the word."

Yoongi shakes his head hard, “Jin would never allow it. This is supposed to be just for convenience for the mess you made.”

Sparks ignite in Hoseok’s eyes as he fists the front of Yoongi’s shirt, pulling him even closer, “Nothing about this is convenient. You are marrying me and not Jin; it’s about what we want, not him. I want you and will have you.” Hoseok’s lips crash against Yoongi’s. A beat barely passes before Yoongi is melting against Hoseok, lips melding with his as they kiss fiercely. Lips and teeth fight for dominance, but soon Yoongi acquiesces and yields to the control Hoseok is wielding. Yoongi’s lips part even further for Hoseok’s probing tongue, his hands sliding to hold Hoseok’s hips as the kiss deepens. The kiss is intoxicating and has Yoongi chasing after Hoseok when he pulls back. “And you clearly want me, too.”

Yoongi’s lashes flutter as words fail him, leaving him bereft of any denial, as he sways on the spot.

“Perhaps a compromise is in order?” Yoongi’s eyes snap open, cheeks warming; he’d forgotten that Namjoon was still in the room with them.

Yoongi clears his throat, “A compromise?”

“Yes. A union, in more than just name, and unfettered access to come and go as you please, including staying with Jin if that is what you want.”

Hoseok scoffs, “My husband belongs at my side…always.”

Yoongi starts to protest but is interrupted by Namjoon’s noisy exhale of annoyance. “Hope, you have to give somewhere. I’m trying to help. I’m in your debt but I’d rather not force marriage on a friend if we can convince him to join with you willingly.”

Hoseok falls silent, a pinched expression on his face, as he contemplates Namjoon’s words.

“Three months.”

“Am I supposed to understand what you mean?” Yoongi challenges.

“You are mine and will be at my side at all times, but I will give you three months a year. Three months where you are free to do as you please, and I will not interfere.”

“None? At all?”

Hoseok nods, “Every spring. That’s a good time for your business, too, no?”

Yoongi can’t help the warmth that perfuses through his chest at Hoseok’s consideration. He gives a small nod, “Yes, it is always the time when we are busiest…Hope.”

The intensity of Hoseok’s gaze has not lessened in the time it has taken for the both of them to change and then meet in the sprawling gardens. The gardens are impressive; Yoongi would love nothing more than to explore every square inch, but he’s currently struggling with not gawking at Hoseok with his mouth wide open.

Hoseok’s all-white attire is beautiful, but the white bejeweled harness takes it up several layers to breathtaking. Ever since he gave in, Hoseok’s eyes have been filled with an intensity that drives his allure off the Richter scale. The intensity of his attention has remained steadily focused on him ever since Yoongi willingly referred to him as Hope.

The off-white outfit that he was styled in is nothing compared to the exquiteness of Hoseok’s. He is absolutely certain of that, but the way Hoseok roams him from head to toe is almost convincing that he is equallng as breath stealing as Hoseok is.

Namjoon clears his throat, and the couple’s attention is finally pulled away from staring at each other to the man standing between them.

Namjoon ducks his head with a shy smile, “Well, we all know why we are here, so I will cut to the chase…” Namjoon’s tenor flows around them as he reads their vows, and they each parrot them back to the other. Sooner than Yoongi would have expected, the ceremony is over, and he is officially Hoseok’s husband. His mind starts to run away from him, filling with anxious, intrusive thoughts that are soon to send him into a tailspin.

Abruptly they are cut off as warm lips meld to his, all thought ceases, and he is melting into Hoseok’s hold. Hoseok’s lips smoothly glide against his as Hoseok pulls him even closer, the kiss gaining momentum as their lips part.

By the time they part, Yoongi is breathlessly clinging to his new spouse. His forehead presses to Hoseok’s temple as the man dismisses Namjoon. Their words filtering into his consciousness slowly as he tries to regain control of himself.

The crunch of Namjoon’s retreating steps are what snaps him back to the presence. “Wait– now you’ll get those thugs to back off?” He steps back fingers unfurling from Hope’s shirt, “I need to go check on Jin. Tell him what has happened, and we’re okay.”

Yoongi doesn’t make it very far before his wrists are shackled in the other man’s grip. “Shhh, Sweet Pea, it is all being taken care of. Joon can check in with Jin and my men will take care of the rest.” He tugs firmly on Yoongi’s wrist, pulling him back toward him, “We have far more important things to take care of.”

The intensity of Hoseok’s gaze as Yoongi turns back to him steals his breath. Any protest dies on his lips as warmth blooms low in his abdomen. He lets the other man guide him back through the garden and into the house. They move swiftly across the marble floors to Hoseok’s bedroom upstairs.

Yoongi has merely a moment to catch his breath before Hoseok’s lips are on his again. At the flick of the other man’s tongue, Yoongi’s lips are parting for him. The strokes of Hoseok’s tongue are sure and measured as they navigate blindly across the room to the opulent bed in the center.

Time slips away from Yoongi as their lips and tongues slip in and out of each other’s as clothes are stripped and littered across the floor. He is breathless as Hoseok pulls back and pushes him onto the bed, the soft, silk sheets caressing his bare skin.

Hoseok stands over him, his presence even more domineering stripped of all the fine threads. His torso is long and trim drawing Yoongi’s eyes directly to the hard length of his cock straining toward his belly button. Yoongi starts to sit up, reaching for the other man, needing to feel every inch of his skin against the other’s.

He doesn’t make it far, collapsing back down onto the bed when Hoseok’s slender fingers wrap around his own turgid length. His head is thrown back as the other man’s hand strokes him, slowly increasing the pressure with each pass of his hand. Yoongi rocks his hips upward, thrusting into Hoseok’s fist, moans and whimpers begging for more spill from his lips.

More is what Hoseok eventually gives him, Yoongi’s hips jerk as the slickened tip of a finger teases his rim. He opens his eyes and catches the smirk playing across the other man’s lips as that teasing finger presses in, working slowly inside him.

Hoseok bends over him, trailing his tongue along Yoongi’s jaw to his ear. He circles the digit inside the prone man, “Oh, I can’t wait to ruin you.” His finger draws back slowly and returns with two, drawing a loud moan from Yoongi as the fingers scissor inside him, slowly working him open.

Yoongi rocks his hips between Hoseok’s hands chasing the pleasure that he is being promised. He is overwhelmed with sensation between his husband spreading stinging kisses across his chest to the tight grip of the fist twisting around his throbbing cock to the deliberate way his three slender fingers manipulate that spot inside him just right. Yoongi is ready to combust.

Without warning, it all disappears, wrenching a sob from Yoongi’s chest. He opens his eyes and all the tears that were being held back, flow down his cheeks, “Why did you stop?”

Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly, “Because I could.”

Wet lashes cling to each other as Yoongi blinks up at the other man momentarily at a loss for words. Hoseok towers over him, looking very calm and self-assured as he leisurely strokes his own cock with long, sure strokes.

“Pl-please, please don’t stop. I need more. Please, please, please, please,” Yoongi’s voice cracks as he begs but he is so desperate to come he doesn’t care.

Hoseok runs his hands down the length of Yoongi’s thighs. “You have to be more specific than that,” Hoseok teases, his hands cupping the back of the prostrate man’s knees lifting and folding the legs back until Yoongi’s thighs are touching his chest.

Yoongi tosses his head back in frustration, his hands cover his face struggling internally on whether to give in or to push his husband’s limits by teasing back. The incessant throbbing of his cock has him folding to the other man’s silent demand. “Please, I need you.”

The last word has barely left his lips when he feels Hoseok’s cock catch his rim and press inward. Both men groan loudly as Hoseok steadily pushes in, the liberal application of lube easing the glide.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Hoseok bites out, his fingers flexing repeatedly on the back of Yoongi’s thighs as he pauses waiting for the other to acclimate.

Yoongi bucks his hips up, “Move.”

The simple demand ignites something inside Hoseok. He draws back slowly, pulling little whimpers from the man under him. Tightening his grip on his folded legs, Hoseok snaps his hips forward thrusting deep into the tight heat waiting for him. Yoongi’s hands scramble desparate to hold onto something as Hoseok doesn’t hold back. Hips smacking against round, ass cheeks with each deep plunge inside.

Each cry from Yoongi drives Hoseok to increase his pace, he wraps his fist around the dripping length pressed to Yoongi’s belly and starts stroking it in time to his cock pushing into Yoongi’s clenching hole. Hoseok shifts just slightly, using his free hand to push Yoongi’s legs toward his chest just a little further, and is rewarded as a scream is ripped from Yoongi’s lips. Each stroke of Hoseok’s length now nailing Yoongi’s prostate directly.

Hoseok maintains that angle, tears leak down his lover’s face as he adds a deliberate twist of his wrist with each upstroke of his hand around Yoongi’s angry, red cock. Between one thrust and the next, Yoongi is arching off the bed, screaming silently into the pillows as he spills across Hoseok’s hand and his own chest.

Hoseok keeps pistoning his length in and out of Yoongi, working him through the orgasm. The vice-like grip of Yoongi’s hole around his cock has him chasing his own orgasm moments later. His hips stutter against the other man’s ass before stiling and spilling deep inside.

After pulling out, they both collapse onto damp sheets to catch their breath, riding out the post-orgasmic glow. Hoseok is the first to move, slipping off the bed and into the en suite to clean up. Yoongi lays there, eyes closed, listening to the other man moving around in the bathroom.

His mind drifts to contemplate if he made the right choice, will Jin and he be okay? Will he need to constantly be on alert from now on? He was so deep in his thoughts, he missed the sound of Hoseok returning. So when the warm washcloth strokes across his messy chest, it startles him and he reaches out gripping the other wrist, preparing to push it away.

Hoseok arches a brow and silently waits. His look says it all and Yoongi fingers pull back quickly. Hoseok finishes wiping him down before he tosses the spoiled cloth and slides them both under the covers.”

Yoongi curls onto his side facing Hoseok trying to ignore the distracting way Hoseok’s fingers run through his hair. Yoongi clears his throat, “So what now? When will we know when Jin and I are really safe?”

Hoseok brushes the concern away, stroking Yoongi’s temple, “Oh you are perfectly safe. No need to worry at all.”

Yoongi’s brow furrows, “How can you possibly know that already?”

A truly wicked smile spreads the lips Yoongi was just kissing earlier, “Because I called my men off.”

Confused, Yoongi shakes his head not wanting to believe what is being laid out before him. “You…you did all this?” he asks, referring to allegations of stalking and the attack on Jin.

Hoseok pats Yoongi’s cheek condescendingly, “I always get what I want.”

#mythology au #fanfic #bts #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #hades!hoseok #persephone!yoongi #bangtanwhq #sope #enemies to lovers #manipulation

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cherrysoulth · 10 months ago

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READY OR NOT

💕Pairing: Hoseok/Reader

📝Summary:

When the god of death gets bored of waiting for things to happen in the underworld, he decides to take matters in his own hands and walks the earth once more with a long list in his head and all the time of the world. Fated to repeat the same story, will this time things finally work out?

✏️Genre: Horror, Jack in the box/Mythology AU

✏️Rating: PG-18

📝Word count: Unknown

⚠️Warning︎: Mentions of dead, descriptive horror (additional tags to be added with the chapters)

Hii! Second work here, I hope it's interesting to someone. English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1: ORACLE

CHAPTER 2:

CHAPTER 3:

CHAPTER 4:

CHAPTER 5:

CHAPTER 6:

CHAPTER 7:

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I really appreciate if you let me know if you liked it, either with a kudo or a comment. It encourages me to keep writing!

#bts au fic #hoseok x reader #jack in the box #hobi x reader #roman mythology inspired #horror

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violetsiren90 · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday

Here's a lil baby excerpt from a Norse mythology AU I have on like, the backburner's backburner:

Basic premise - rapline as the Three Norns; reader as a thwarter of fate (blurb warnings: feeling breathless, being held captive, brandishing of a sword)

Most of the excerpt will be under the cut. 😊

"I found her in the Forests of Memory," he sneered, tossing you forward so that your knees hit the cold stone. You looked up through defiant eyes to take in two figures occupying the rocky crags which had been carved into three thrones. One figure had leapt to its feet.

"How are you touching her?!" he asked in a voice as bright and lusty as his features, staring down at you through splendid, glinting eyes. His body was clad in a warrior's garb, and his hand on the hilt of a massive sword.

"I don't know, Hoseok," the dark one answered, casting a withering glance over your prone form. The sword-bearer trotted quickly and nimbly down the stone steps and stood before you. He reached out his hand and you thought he might touch your face when his arm was suddenly batted away.

"Yoongi!" he protested in a laughing whine, as he drew the great sword from its sheath and levelled it at the dark one's throat. The sharp eyes under the cloak's hood registered as little fear as they did amusement, languidly blinking as they directed their gaze to the figure on the stony pedestal who had not moved. You followed his eyes to where they were trained on a large form, draped in enigmatic elegance, his face covered by a thin veil through which you could but glimpse his strong and gentle features.

"He is wise to deter you, Hoseok," his deep voice resonated, as certain and soft as the recollection of a dream, "We do not yet know what know what may come of this." He descended, coming to stand before you, awe-striking in his height, even as he genuflected to regard you.

"Namjoon," came the low, cold voice of your captor, "She has no thread." A large, beautiful hand drew back the veil to reveal piercing blue eyes, the color of ice. The eyes gazed intently and unmovingly into your own until they had seemed to draw the very breath from your lungs, and you dropped your head to sag between your shoulders as you panted for air. Your chest burned with a searing sensation that made you want to run toward something at full speed, though you had no concept of the direction. He stood, letting the veil fall back over his face.

"But her name is on the scroll," he posited, thoughtfully. Only then did you notice, in his left hand, an unopened scroll, with a blood-red seal and golden cornua protruding from each end.

The one called Hoseok scoffed.

"That's impossible. How could she be on the scroll if she has no thread? She is not, how could she then be? Were you born of a woman, mortal?" He boomed, suddenly shifting his sword in your direction, whether in indication or threat you were not sure.

"Yes," you replied sitting back on your knees and clutching your chest from where you had been gasping for breath, "of course I was." You cast a haughty gaze up at the sword-bearer, who looked with surprise at the other two. You would have been certain you caught a quirk of the lips from under the dark one's cloak, had you thought him capable of any sort of mirth.

"Let us take her before the Tapestry," said Namjoon, still regarding you from his obscurity, "Perhaps she is the answer we have sought."

#wip wednesday #fic excerpt #yoongi fic #namjoon fic #hoseok fic #rapline #rapline fic #bts reader insert #mythology au #norse mythology au

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hellbornsworld · 1 year ago

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JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(4)๑‿︵‿୨

.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺ ⋆ ୭ .⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹༺⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺ ع˖⁺

✿ When She Loved Me | CEO!JK X Reader | One-Shot | @jungkookstatts

✿ Sleepaway | Yandere!JK X Reader | Series | @flowesona

✿ Mine | Jungkook x Demon! Female Reader | One-shot | @playmetheclassics

✿ Your eyes tell | Yandere!JK X Reader | Twins AU | @angellgguk

✿ Noir | Daddy!JK x Little!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

✿ Love Is a Game: For Political Enemies | JK X Reader | @lleldey

✿ petals with luv | Emporer!Jungkook x PalaceWoman!Reader | Hanahaki AU | @hisunshiine

✿ a lover’s bond | jungkook x female reader | greek mythology! AU | @latetaektalk

✿ love in the dark | Ceo!JK X Reader | One-Shot | @spideyjimin

✿ Like I’m Famous | Idol!JK X Reader | One-Shot | long distance au | @softyoongiionly

✿ I’ll Be Home for Christmas | Pilot Jungkook x female OC | One-Shot | @bluewhale52

✿ Falling | jungkook x female reader | Soulmate AU | @starshapedkookie

✿ Pick Your Fighter | gamer!jk X gamer!reader | @jikookiekosmos

✿ angels like you | Jungkook X Reader | S2L | One-Shot | @aquagustd

✿ Killing me softly with his touch | JK X Reader | One-Shot | @borathae

✿ Bad Man | Badboy!JK X Reader | @bonny-kookoo

✿ The Monster in the Dark | yandere!sleep paralysisdemon!jjk X fem!Reader | One-Shot | @themochiverse

✿ S O U L M A T E S | Crackhead!Jk X Reader | Series | @smaubts

✿ bad romance | badboy!jungkook x goodgirl!reader | One-Shot | @noteguk

✿ No Guardian Angel | The Crow!Jungkook X Reader | @jiminstonic

✿ Love Letters | Prince!Jungkook × Maid!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

✿ LESSON I | YandereTeacher!jungkook x bully student fem!reader | Three-Shot | @redsaurrce

✿ RED | demon!jk x fem!reader | Series | @armpirate

✿ Follow the White Rabbit | idol! jungkook x idol! reader | @youthguk

✿ ＮｕｍｂｔｏＴｈｅＦｅｅｌｉｎｇ | Dark! Shitty! Yandere! Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader | One-Shot | @pynkgothicka

✿ Delivery Date | pizzadeliveryboy!jungkook x reader | One-Shot | @dntaewithluv

✿ Who is in control? | jk x reader | Drabble AU | @ctrlsht

✿ sweetest apparition | nerd!jungkook x popular!female reader | @jeonfiles

✿ m y s t r a n g e a d d i c t i o n | professor!jk X student!Reader | One-Shot | @joonberriess

✿ to err is to love | dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader | Series | @jungkookschin

✿ polarity | BestFriendBF!JK X Reader | Series | @darkestcorners

✿ KILL TO KISS YOU | Yandere!Jungkook x Prostitute!Reader | One-Shot | @chummywchimmy

✿ Ode To The Nature Of Romance | Jungkook x Reader | @yeoldontknow

✿ Cabin in The Woods | Werewolf!Jungkook x Human!Reader | One-Shot | @girl8890

✿ Nothing was gonna stop me | Jeon Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot | @wildestdreamsblog

✿ Teacher’s Pet | professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader | Series | @axigailxo

✿ prima nocta | king!jungkook, virgin!reader | royalty au | One-Shot | @yoon2k

✿ End of Time | Jungkook x Reader | Series | @deepdarkdelights

✿ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 | Yandere!JK X Reader | @euphoricfilter

✿ Paint | painter!jungkookxassistant!reader | @hongjoongscafe

✿ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 | environmentalist! jungkook x college student! reader | @miraclesatnightfall

✿ The Broken Vow | Husband!JK X Reader | One-Shot | @lleldey

✿ Euphoria | bad boy jungkook x librarian yn | @btsydtrash

✿ White Pearl | CEO Sugar daddy Jungkook x stripper sugar baby reader | @lovelyspring7

✿ just a little bit of your heart | JK X Reader | @chemicalpink

✿ imminent danger | jungkook x reader | @whatifyoulivelikethat

✿ Knockout | boxer!dad!jungkook x pregnant!reader | Drabble | @jvngkook97

✿ Please Love Me! | Frat President Jungkook x Succubus Reader | @icedmatchatae

✿ The Boyfriend Experience | Escort!Jungkook x Fem!Reader | @shina913

.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺ ☁⋆ ୭ .⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹༺⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹.⋆｡⋆ ༶ ⋆˙⊹ع˖⁺

OTHER POSTS:

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(1)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(2)

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(3)

ALL BTS MEMBERS WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(1)

BTS X READER WATTPAD RECOMMENDATIONS(2)

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spookyserenades · 1 month ago

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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!

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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kinktober 2023 masterlist || disclaimer: will obviously contain nsfw content. be aware of this.

🎃˚˖੭ I love when you're submissive, love it when I break skin, you feel pain without flinchin', so say it...🎃˚˖੭

❝day one: vampire/bloody sex with Klaus Mikaelson❞

❝day two: praise kink with Apollo❞

❝day three: breeding kink with Alexander the Great❞

❝day four: daddy kink with Elijah Mikaelson❞

❝day five: degradation with Ares❞

❝day six: bondage with Aphrodite❞

❝day seven: somnophilia with Hypnos❞

❝day eight: threesome with Apollo and Eros❞

❝day nine: overstimulation with Damon Salvatore❞

❝day ten: voyeurism with Taehyung❞

❝day eleven: shadow play with Azriel❞

❝day twelve: exhibitionism with Dionysus❞

❝day thirteen: rough sex with Tom Riddle❞

❝day fourteen: romantic sex/making love with Eros❞

❝day fifteen: first time with Jungkook❞

❝day sixteen: wax play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day seventeen: roleplay with Achilles❞

❝day eighteen: public sex with Hades❞

❝day nineteen: thigh riding with Sirius Black❞

❝day twenty: lactation kink with Robb Stark❞

❝day twenty-one: edging with Ares❞

❝day twenty-two: threesome with Achilles and Patroclus❞

❝day twenty-three: wing play with Lucifer Morningstar❞

❝day twenty-four: temperature play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day twenty-five: dacryphilia with Jin❞

❝day twenty-six: wedding night with Apollo❞

❝day twenty-seven: size kink with Achilles❞

❝day twenty-eight: shower sex with Poseidon❞

❝day twenty-nine: cockwarming with Anakin Skywalker❞

❝day thirty: spanking with Eros❞

❝day thirty-one: non-con/dub-con elements with Apollo❞

🎃˚˖੭ Give me tough love, leave me with nothin' when I come down, my kinda love; push me and choke me till I pass out... 🎃˚˖੭

⤷ cited song: One Of The Girls - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp and Jennie.❝

❝ 🎃 — 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒍: if you want to be tagged for future updates, comment or send a DM.

⤷ tagging: @krismikaelson, @compulsiivedreamer, @legendarydefendorkitty

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winter-dayz · 1 year ago

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Reclamation

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader Dryad AU; Greek Mythology AU Genre: Fluff; Horror Words: 2070 Warnings: dead dove: do not eat; gore; minor character description; murder; violence

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist: @soobin-chois

The Greeks once believed that every tree had a spirit. The dryads. They were beautiful nymphs, yet shy, avoiding many of the major gods and humans alike. Although, many were quite fond of dancing and could be a bit wild, some going so far as to wander to the revelries of Dionysus. Others remained steadfast in their forests, only befriending Artemis, as she often protected them from unwanted advances. One thing in common, the dryads were fragile, relying on their bonded tree for life. If their tree died, so did the dryad perish.

Thus, as human civilization expanded and the power of the gods—even Artemis—dwindled with man’s lessening belief, the dryads’ forests became exposed and unprotected. They were destroyed and paved over in favor of cities and suburbs.

Humans planted new trees, but they held no spirit. No soul. Just as the humans held no care for the gods or spirits themselves.

Soon enough, there were so few dryads it was a blessing if a forest even had one. They had to become reclusive, not just shy. Alluring and entrancing, not just beautiful. Vicious, not fragile.

In a kill-or-be-killed world, the remaining dryads chose to protect their trees. Even at the cost of spilling mortal blood.

🎃

“Authorities puzzled: unexplained phenomena or foul play?” “Activists call for project closure.” “Investigators remain baffled by strange disappearances; Development to move forward.”

The headlines surrounding the project were all the same, and the public was becoming increasingly worried. Thus, the real estate development company was forced to send out an environmental inspector to properly survey the land and wildlife.

Something was causing those people and machinery to go missing. It needed to be dealt with, quickly and quietly.

Enter Kim Namjoon.

He’d always dreamed of helping save the environment. And yet, somehow, he’d gotten roped into a corporate world that couldn’t care less about it. His job had simply become a way to placate others that the capitalist greed was justified, that of course the land and animals weren’t necessary and there was no chemical factor that could harm precious human lives.

He felt so dead inside. But he would do his job regardless… He would march into that forest and, regardless of what he found, he would do as the company ordered him and report everything fine to continue on. Because it was his job, and he had no other option.

🎃

He hadn’t noticed the woman yet. Namjoon was too busy picking through the rubble and destruction of the survey equipment, puzzled by how quickly the brush and flowers had grown over it, to notice her.

She watched silently, sitting on a low tree branch with her legs swinging playfully. Her head was tilted in contemplation.

He was quite pretty.

He also didn’t feel like the others had. This man, tall and golden with broad shoulders but a careful, gentle disposition was special.

He wouldn’t hurt the forest. She could tell.

As he went to pluck one of the wildflowers, she spoke up, “You shouldn’t do that.”

The man jolted, falling backwards onto his butt and whipping his head around to find the voice. She giggled at his unintentional silliness.

She hopped down gracefully from the tree branch and approached the man. “The flowers have feelings. If you pick it, you’re hurting it. You shouldn’t do that.” She reiterated.

Namjoon nodded wordlessly, stuck in a daze as he gazed upon the strange woman.

She was tall, not because of her stature, but the way she carried herself. Sure and confident. She didn’t seem to walk, but rather glided along the grass, while flowers parted for her bare feet. Her skin was just barely tinted green with dark, swirled patterns like vines creeping around her bare arms and legs. She tilted her head at his mute response, hair—dark and rich like the earth—falling to the side to reveal long pointed ears, and narrowed her golden eyes on him.

While Namjoon should’ve been terrified of the alienesque woman, he couldn’t find it in him to be anything other than intrigued. She was so striking and beautiful; her aura felt warm like the summer sun, and she seemed to glow with that same brightness too.

“I– I’m sorry…” He finally whispered, bowing his head slightly in apology at the seemingly goddess in front of him.

She hummed in acceptance. “Who are you?” It was less of a question and more of a demand; her tone was firm and steady.

“I’m Kim Namjoon…” He breathed out, coming to stand on his feet, although shakily. “My company has been trying to develop this land and everything keeps being destroyed… everyone keeps going missing.” “Ah. The trespassers.”

She said nothing further, yet motioned for him to follow her. He doesn’t know why, but he did.

She led him through the underbrush of the forest, once again the plants seemed to part for her, until they arrived at a semi-clearing. The area was dark, the trees and surrounding bushes blotting out the sun and providing secret coverage.

“I gave them proper burials.” She explained simply, motioning to the sticks and bundles of flowers arranged as if the area was a graveyard.

Namjoon swallowed thickly, realizing it was a graveyard.

“Wh– Why?”

“It’s a sacred duty to bury the dead, and without a proper burial, their souls would not be able to rest. They would haunt the forest.”

“No!” Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he gasped, “I meant why did you kill them!” Fear struck his heart at the thought, and the feeling pushed against another strange unidentified sense.

Her head tilted again. She seemed to do that every time she considered something, tossing the idea around. “I didn’t… not directly.”

“What do you mean…” Namjoon hesitated to ask.

“The earth reclaimed them.” Her eyebrows rose, expecting him to question her again.

When he nodded for her to go on, she rolled her eyes playfully before the seriousness returned. She began to walk away, and Namjoon scrambled to follow. Soon enough they arrived at a massive ash tree, much larger than he’d ever seen them grow with blooms of beautiful white flowers.

“This is my tree,” the strange woman explained simply.

“Your tree? So do you own the land? It’d be illegal for us to–” Namjoon rambled as he made notes in his journal.

She giggled. “One does not own land. The land belongs to itself. But, I am a dryad, and this tree is my life force. If it is cut down or destroyed, so will I.”

“A… dryad…” Namjoon had heard mythology referencing the creatures but never believed any of it was real. Now that he was face to face with such a mystical being, he couldn’t not believe.

“Yes, my name is Y/N, and for thousands of years this has been my home.”

🎃

Namjoon spent several days going back to the forest and getting to know Y/N. His bosses had hounded him after the first excursion for information and clearance, but he told them his findings were inconclusive and he’d need more time.

In reality, he was trying to come up with a plan to derail the project. He had grown to like Y/N and didn’t want to see her die, especially after hearing about her past.

“The grove was beautiful,” Y/N sighed, combing her hands through Namjoon’s fluffy strands. “There were dozens of us here, and we just lived so freely. So peacefully. Dionysus would bring wine to those of us too shy to attend his parties, and Artemis provided us friendship and protection. You would’ve loved it, I think.”

“Do you miss your family?” Namjoon leaned his head back into her lap, catching the glimmer in her eye before she masked it again. “You must’ve been lonely…”

She shrugged. “It’s been so long that I can barely remember not being alone.”

And, although he’d prefer if he could save her and the land, he didn’t want anyone else to die either. But unfortunately, Namjoon’s boss’s boss—the head of the development project—had run out of patience and decided to take matters into his own hands. Despite Namjoon having put in for a temporary protective order of the forest.

He arrived with a small group: half a dozen demolition crew, the foreman, and a few big machinery trucks.

Amidst their discussion and commotion, driving the trucks in and marking off where to start clearing, Y/N had extricated herself from where Namjoon had been laid over her lap.

“Stay here.” She commanded. Namjoon’s brows furrowed, and he sleepily rose to his feet.

“What’s wrong?”

“There are trespassers. I will handle it. Stay here.” She was stern, and when Namjoon moved to follow her anyway, vines rapidly grew from the earth and restrained him.

As Y/N moved through the brush, staying hidden from view of the humans, the trees came to life.

Their branches began twisting, their snaps resembling the sound of bones cracking as they contorted into unnatural shapes. The gnarled twigs reached towards the trespassers like skeletal fingers, and the roots ripped through the earth like writhing snacks, poised to attack.

The air of the usually very beautiful, peaceful forest became thick, and the sweet smell of wildflowers became cloying. As the humans exclaimed their confusion, they gagged and choked on poisonous herbaceous fumes, making them weak.

Those that fell to their knees easily were bound by vines, ensnaring them rapidly in a web, and the earth seemed to open up and swallow them alive.

Those that tried to fight, tried to run found the wind whipping around them, blowing razor-sharp leaves across their skin and lacerating layer upon layer away. When they fell in a heap of bloody flesh, the earth too swallowed their cries and screams.

Only the big boss remained, having watched the nightmarish plants come to life and destroy his men. Even the trucks and machines had been wrapped in vines, roots piercing through the metal, and sinking into the dirt.

The grotesque branches surged at him and wrapped around his extremities. He was choking, begging for air, while being pulled ruthlessly in four directions. His torment ended as a final branch pierced into his stomach, snaking up and back out his open mouth.

Blood dripped to the ground from the corpse, left on display at the entrance to the forest. A warning. A deadly promise.

🎃

Namjoon never witnessed the horrific murders. He had remained tied up near her ash tree. That doesn’t mean he was blissfully unaware of what occurred. No, he heard the screams, the begs for mercy from an unseen demon. Prayers to a vengeful god.

And yet, Namjoon couldn’t find it in himself to be too disturbed.

Maybe he had been hypnotized by the strange, dryad woman, but every day that he spent with her, he felt she was more and more justified in her response.

It was just self-defense, after all.

Eventually Namjoon was able to push through the proper paperwork to protect the land. With the head of development out of the way, it was actually rather easy…

He quit shortly after, becoming a certified park ranger and specially requesting the forest. His new bosses thought him insane for wanting to patrol the area where so many had gone missing, but no one else wanted that shift so they gladly gave him free reign of it.

Y/N, as thanks for helping to protect her and her home, had the trees craft a home around her ash tree. Their home.

“What made me so special?” Namjoon smiled softly, hands caressing the sides of his little nymph.

She beamed up at him, “You didn’t look at the forest with greed in your soul. You looked at it like it was living and breathing.”

“Can I finally kiss you?” He asked, lips already a hair’s breadth away.

Barely a nod, and she felt his lips meet hers. It was gentle and careful, just as Y/N originally thought he would be. His palm slowly traced up her side to cradle her cheek; her own hands slid from their resting spot on his broad chest to tangle in his hair.

As they part, Y/N grinned sneakily, mischief in her eyes, while she plucked a baby leaf from his tresses. Her finger traced down his ears, already beginning to point, and moved to caress his own cheek.

“You are most definitely special.”

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts #kim namjoon #reader #kim namjoon x reader #bangtan sonyeondan x reader #bts x reader #fluff #horror #dryad au #greek mythology au #oneshot #fictober

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captain-joongz · 10 months ago

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fanfiction recommendations/my favourite reads in 2023

ot8/multiple members

♤ in the same class as ateez by @essenteez

◇ murphy's law by @atzfilm

alien!ateez, soulmate au

♧ into the aurora by @honeyhotteoks

idol!ateez x non-idol!reader

☆ inception by @remedyx

dragon!ateez, kings!ateez

♤ hotel california + paradise gardens by @mint-yooxgi

demon!ateez, yandere, supernatural au

◇ morning mist by @mint-yooxgi

dragon au, fated lovers

♧ deep down. by @seventhcallisto

a/b/o, idol au, 9th member au

☆ in love and lore by @shadowynn

demon!ateez, soulmates au, supernatural au

♤ dew drops at dawn by @sunmoonjune

demon!ateez, soulmates

◇ breed by @sanjoongie

alien!ateez, sexual experiments

♧ oh my *** by @ohmyamor

guardian angel!ateez

☆ first flight to hong kong by @byuntrash101

flight attendant!reader, kind of sex work, since reader gets paid

♤ circus by @lani-heart

hybrid!ateez, writer!journalist!reader

◇ wider by @seventhcallisto

9th member au, bf!ateez

♧ the best friend's code by @tenelkadjowrites

hongjoong, seonghwa x reader, best friends to lovers

☆ we ransacked the city by @tenelkadjowrites

hongjoong, seonghwa x reader, rich kids au, menaces to society united

♤ be the light by @written-in-flowers

seonghwa, hongjoong x reader, historical au, royalty au

◇ sex and embers and frost by @sanjoongie

dragon!seonghwa, san x bunny!reader

♧ between friends by @anyamaris

seonghwa, hongjoong x reader, best friends au

☆ my filthy boy by @potatomountain

bf!woo x reader x witch/hybrid!ateez, coven shenanigans

♤ compromise by @cyberpxnk

bf!seonghwa x reader x footballer!yunho, infidelity with a twist

◇ it's you by @holybibly

best friends to lovers, threesome

♧ sharing is caring by @ja3hwa

seonghwa, hongjoong, san x reader

☆ ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line) + (maknae line) by @eightmakesonebraincell

♤ five for five by @bh-archive

hongjoong x san x chan x hyunjin x juyeon x reader

kim hongjoong

◇ red by @nateezfics

established relationship, public sex, bathroom sex

♧ forbidden fruit by @nateezfics

greek mythology au, hades!hongjoong

☆ deal by @hongism

roommates to lovers, sassy joong

♤ marigold by @yoongiseesawmp3

frat boy!hongjoong, best friends to lovers

◇ tell me to stop by @tenelkadjowrites

best friends to lovers

♧ declaration by @tenelkadjowrites

virgin!hongjoong, roommates to lovers

☆ shells by @last-words-ofashootingstar

mermaid!hongjoong, yandere

♤ project d by @setsugekka

exes to lovers, infidelity, racing au

◇ off the table by @setsugekka

established relationship, morning sex

♧ the dressing room by @imaginidol

idol!hongjoong, best friends to fucking (?) for "stress relief"

☆ paint me yours by @moonseonghwa

artist!hongjoong, fwb au

♤ ohmami by @bambikisss

bad boy!hongjoong, racer au (mentioned), best friends to lovers

◇ hideaway by @minisugakoobies

stoner!frat boy!hongjoong, strangers to lovers

♧ what lies beneath by @noramoons

siren!hongjoong, a little angsty but wholesome

park seonghwa

☆ better check twice by @essenteez

accidental nude au, brother's best friend!seonghwa

♤ attention by @tenelkadjowrites

camboy!seonghwa x inexperienced reader

◇ essence by @whatudowhennooneseesyou

siren!seonghwa, dark, yandere, mommy!seonghwa

♧ the thing about pretty boys by @wonusite

friends to lovers, seonghwa proving he got it

ATEEZ rec list pt.2 BTS, TxT, Stray Kids, Seventeen, NCT rec list

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lilprincegoo · 2 years ago

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the art of loving by pomegranitemilk

yoongi/jungkook

Alternate Universe - Mythology, Magical Realism, Pygmalion & Galatea Retelling, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hate to Love

17.7k words

rating: G

yoongi thinks he might hate his art, but if that's true then that means he has to hate jeongguk too. (the one when the artist's art comes to life.)

#yoonkook #sugakookie #ship: yoonkook #au: mythology #magical realism #angst #hate to love #enemies to lovers #kinda i guess #yoongi ship #jungkook ship #ao3 #bts ficrec #bts fic rec

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mirahuyooo · 2 years ago

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Stranded (II) | jhs

— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.

word count: 11,730 (PART II) contents: FLUFF, domestic things, ✨revalations✨, drinking (duh), getting drunk (duh pt 2), hangovers (duh pt 3), yn and hobi being wholesome uwu, people teasing the shit out of them, someone caught the feels 👀💕💖💞, not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, Greek Mythology AU pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Inspired by Dionysus and Ariadne

[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!

A/N: I forgot to release a teaser for this lmao but here's part two! hAVE FLUFF BC THE LAST PART IS GONNA BE A ROLLERCOASTER MWAHAHAHA I won't hold you guys back for long 💖 hope you guys enjoyed this! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Stay tuned for the last part next week!~

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ || ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

If you must admit, it’s not so bad to be in the company of the trickster stranger and his spotted beast.

In the weeks that followed, the two of them had helped you make a home for yourself, especially as the quiet decay of nature marks the eventual coming of full autumn and winter. Upon finding a little cave near the beach, you have since made turns fortifying it against nature and wild animals. Neither of you were good carpenters, but it was surely an adventure attempting to build makeshift furniture and decor. It cannot compare to the palace you grew up in, but you find yourself not minding the clutter and mess.

(There exists traces of them both around your little cave—fruits and fishes that Hoseok brings with him in his visits for you to eat, that wolf pelt cloak he let you keep, a makeshift bed on the ground for Agrios to lay on, three sets of wooden plates that you and Hoseok tried your hand at crafting.)

Though he no longer has practical reasons to do so—what with you somewhat now settled well in this corner of the island—Hoseok still visits you in your cave, at times, bringing Agrios with him. Sometimes it's a walk along the beach, other times it’s some random trinket he wanted to give you, but most times it’s endless idle chatting.

“I’m beginning to think I’ve seen that face of yours before,” you muse to him one day as the two of you sit on a blanket by the beach, watching the sun set. Next to you, Agrios naps with his tail swinging leisurely against your arm. The seabreeze blows fresh against your face, as you take in the timeless view.

Today’s a beautiful day, you think. Especially with good company.

Beside you, Hoseok seemed surprised himself. “You have?” he murmurs at your sudden thought, but his eyes soon twinkle. “And where might have you seen my dashing looks, princess?”

(He knows of your true identity by now—of your being a princess on the run for a treason committed—and has sworn to not tell a soul of your whereabouts to anyone, but something tells you he calls you princess simply to tease.)

You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I said ‘I think’, did I not?” you huff, gently running your hand through Agrios’ fur and earning purrs of approval from the beast. “It may have been in one of the palace celebrations, I’m not really sure, but I think I’ve already heard of that boisterous laugh of yours.”

Memories of your time in Crete have become so distant the more you spend your time here. Though a part of you doesn't really mind, you are sometimes reminded of certain moments, and recently, a vague sensation rings through your head of a time where you may or may not have caught a glimpse of him.

“Well,” Hoseok muses with a shrug, catching you off guard. “You might be correct on that one.”

You didn’t quite think your assumption was true. “Oh?” you ask, a surprise now putting you in his initial position. “How so?”

Hoseok eases back, looking at the sky as if it would make him remember previous events more. “I have been to Crete before during my travels,” he hums, tapping his chin as he thought, “though I was most likely drunk off my wits, I think I can recall being in Crete around five summers ago.”

Your eyes are rounded in shock as the notion jogs your memory.

You recall sneaking out of your room, only to see chaos in the palace grounds because your older brother perched himself atop the statue of a stallion in the gardens and slurring nonsense. “Were you the one that got Catreus drunk senseless?” you gasped, scandalized but also very much amused remembering the utter mess your usually stoic and uptight brother had turned into.

Had he been there to spread the influence of his god?

It takes him a minute, but Hoseok seems to remember pulling such a stunt on a young man he came across in the garden, what with the proud grin that takes over his lips. “He seemed to need it,” he shrugs, devilish as he then goes to nudge you. “So do you.”

Though the thought of wine yet again tempts you, you go pale for a moment at the thought of the embarrassing chaos he’ll get you into if you get drunk in his presence. “I refuse to drink anything that comes from the likes of you,” you claim, a laugh leaving your lips nonetheless.

Hoseok drapes an arm over your shoulder, leaning some of his weight on you as he does. “Once you set your soul free,” he mischievously tells you, “you’ll know how fun these sorts of adventures can be.”

Pushing him off of you with a playful squint, you cross your arms. “Nonsense,” you playfully retorted, “one of us has to be the serious one around here, don’t we?”

A dramatic gasp comes to you as a response, along with a poke to the side that makes you giggle. The young man soon throws his full weight all over you, sending you both laying back onto the sand with an ‘oof!’ from your end.

Hoseok simply continues his dramatics. “You wound me, (Y/N)!” he cried, “how could you?”

Your laugh merrily fills the air as Hoseok feigns limp against you, playing to be slain by your words. His upper half intersects over your stomach, forcing you to lay on your back. “Get off of me, you oaf,” you half-heartedly whine as you try and wriggle your way out of his grasp.

His black tresses tickle your arm as he shakes his head. “No,” he childishly insists, as you turn your attention to his old companion for some help. The spotted beast simply stares back in disdain, as if the two of you were rowdy children he was tasked to watch over.

“Agrios,” you call out for the leopard in the midst of your struggle, “help me here, won’t you?”

A second or two passes before the beast trudges forth to nudge at Hoseok’s head, signaling him to get off of you. “You’re such a traitor, Agrios,” Hoseok grumbles, nonetheless shifting his weight a little, so that the only weight on you would be his head resting against your stomach. “No fun, at all.”

A breathless chuckle leaves your lips as you relent with where he settled with, the two of you now staring at the clouds overhead. A comfortable silence settles between you both, but your mind ruins it soon enough.

All so suddenly, you come to think of how different you and Hoseok are—of how you pale in comparison to him. The way he grins and laughs about his adventures brews a conscious jealousy in you. His experiences have made him so happy and carefree—something you wish to be, if it were only that easy.

“Having fun isn’t good,” you murmur underneath your breath—a reminder reigning yourself in. You’ll get ahead of yourself again and get yourself hurt for the umpteenth time.

Suddenly, Hoseok straightened from his laidback bearing, and gawked at you. Sitting up along with him, you realized he had heard you, and, to your shock, he almost looked offended by your statement. “What makes you think so?” he questioned, somewhere in between confused and concerned.

Feeling embarrassed at the realization you’ve said such a thing aloud, you turned your eyes towards the sea as the waves rushed to kiss the sand. “Not to disparage you, Hoseok, but,” you bit your lip as you struggled to put your thoughts into words. “I simply am not one for merrymakings.”

You feel Hoseok shift next to you. From the corner of your eyes, you see him lean over to get a good look at you. His face bared no hint of the anger you expected from him. He, instead, was simply just interested in knowing the reason as to why a person such as yourself wouldn’t be fond of parties. “Again,” he manages a chuckle, “May I ask why?”

Your life was a stark contrast to his colorful escapades. A part of you wanted to have the hunger he has for having fun and wreaking havoc, but in your bones was the foreign princess raised to be obedient and compliant. “I’m not fit for it like you are, Hoseok,” you tell him, “I’m quiet and unfun—”

“Well—”

“—I’ve never even been to a lot of parties,” you cut any of his rebuttals out. “It’s why I don’t have fun in the ones I do attend.”

Hoseok blinks—once, twice—his head taking in your words upon closer inspection. Soon, he jolted to his feet and clapped his hands together in some 'eureka!' moment. “Well that simply cannot do!” he then exclaims with a determined look branding his face.

At his words, your eyebrows furrowed together as you cast a glance at the leopard beside you for any telling sign of his companion's reaction. “What are you planning?” you questioned Hoseok, your voice swimming with suspicion. (You liked to think you were rightfully being so. The last time you allowed yourself to do something bold, you had gotten yourself stranded on this very island.)

Hoseok opens his arms with a grand gesture, as if you could see what he was envisioning. “We’ll go around the island for celebrations!” he boldly declares. "A festival for Demeter and Persephone will be coming soon! A lot of gatherings are bound to take place!"

The big grin that seized his face unflinchingly remained, tempting you to agree with his plans so as to make him happy. Alas, your mind demanded to see reason. Your arms crossed as you defiantly questioned him. “Not possible. I'll be seen by the townsfolk if we do such a thing,” you countered, gesturing to yourself. “I'm a fugitive, remember?”

Hoseok grins still, so bright that it rivals the sun itself. “That is not a problem at all, my dear,” he assures you with a wink. “You have me.”

Your heart swells but your mind scoffs. “That’s hardly any consolation,” you lightly grimace as you idly run a hand through Agrios' fur, thinking of the shenaniganry Hoseok pulls and will pull.

Hoseok, ever brazen, doesn't, at all, seem to take offense in your honest doubt. "Hush now," he all but tuts before beckoning you to follow him. "Come with me, dearest (Y/N)!~"

Your friend stands there, a few feet away from you, waiting so excitedly that a traitorous part of you has already started to give in to his ideas. "Hoseok…" you sigh as you stand on your feet, Agrios following suit. "I really don't think it'd be a good idea for me to be anywhere else…"

For a moment, Hoseok turns somber, taking a step towards you to hold you by the shoulders. "It'll be alright," he assures you, voice as comforting as the squeeze he gives you. "I'll be there and we'll have fun. You don't have to drink if you'd like, but there'll be a feast. I'm sure you'd like to eat something else other than fish and fruits for a change."

A smile is nearly coaxed out of you at the thought.

It took a hint of that intrigue and a second for Hoseok's excited grin to resurface. "There'll be music, storytelling, dancing—it'll be grand!" he says, circling you as he excitedly lists off some ideas off his head. "We can all don on masks if you truly want to keep your identity secret, though I truly doubt anyone would care."

That traitorous part of you grows ever curious the more those gorgeous eyes of his sparkle with delight.

Hoseok half-heartedly rests his hand upon his heart as he lays the last of his assurances. "I'll lead you out of it if it ever gets too much for you. You needn't worry."

At this point, your mind is scrambling for an excuse to keep itself atop your reckless urge for such pleasures. Stay hidden!—your paranoia screeches, thrashing about and clinging onto any bit of sense it could grab ahold of.

Yet, you sigh and sink into the abyss. "You're a man of many words," you tell him as you nonetheless let your arms be linked with his.

The hint of your surrender writes satisfaction all over Hoseok's face. "I intend to keep them," he then croons, hips coyly nudging yours as the three of you make your way out of the beachline. "You'll have the time of your life, I promise."

Hoseok was surprisingly diligent when he wanted to, eagerly at your door (cave?) and ushering you awake in the early hours of the morrow. "Time to rise and shine! I have a lot planned for you today!" he gleefully rips away your bedding and, in spite of your half-awake protests, you are carried out of your abode over the shoulder of your dearest menace.

Eyelids heavier still, you could hardly figure out what on earth your friend was up to. By some degree of capability, you resorted to grasping at whatever slumber was left in you as Hoseok carried you to gods know where.

"Still sleeping, princess?"

You only grunt in response.

In hindsight, you should've been more attentive—should've heard the sound of running water and pulled yourself out of a sleepy haze then and there. Maybe then, you wouldn't have suffered the heart attack of having your legs plunged into cold waters out of nowhere. "Hoseok!" you screech as you jump back into his hold, suddenly very much awake.

Miraculously, he doesn't lose his balance, saving the both of you from instant, wet damnation. "Good morning," the menace grins as he sets you down once again—this time gentler as you become more aware of where he had taken you.

It was another cavern—one larger and more open than the one you made your home. The sunlight peaks through a sizable gap between the rocks above, allowing it to grace a little light inside. In the middle of the cave was a pool, one that likely has a tunnel beneath that leads to the sea outside, considering the faint sound of crashing waves in the distance reaching your ears.

"It's beautiful," you say with barely any thought as you gather the ends of your dress while you peer at the crystal clear water that reaches just below your knees. You stand on somewhat smooth stone, painstakingly carved by the sea through millions of years. It's beautiful.

"It is, isn't it?" Hoseok thoughtfully hums beside you.

Alas, you must put a hold on marvelling at the scenery to kick some water his way. "What did you dip me in here for then?" you grumble and glare—a chance to question why he dragged you out so early in the day for his antics.

Hoseok gasps, scandalized by your stunt in exaggeration. You paid his dramatics no heed, arms by your hips as you continued to squint until he gave you his answers. "I simply wanted to show you this haven of mine!"

You agreeably hum, understanding well how this makes a fine little hideout, but still. You try and pry more out of him, your questioning gaze not dropping.

As you suspected, the mischief returns to Hoseok's face. "That, and the fact that this is where my plans for the day will first take shape."

Taken aback, your arms fall to your sides. "What?"

He all but clapped his hands, gesturing grandly. "You can come out now, ladies," he calls out, his voice lightly echoing back at him.

From the gap above the cavern, two figures came flying in. They gracefully circle you both, and all you could do is gawk.

You could hardly believe your eyes. "Nymphs? How—"

"I have my ways," Hoseok gloats, beaming proudly as your wide eyes follow the nymphs who gave you amicable smiles. You turn back towards him, still incredulous.

"What's that supposed to m—"

There was no one there. That sneaky bastard. Where did he—

"My lady?"

You look back and see the nymphs excitedly awaiting your next move. "I'm (Y/N)," you bashfully say with a little courtesy, earning a delighted laugh from the two of them.

"We know," said the one with the dress adorned with pink and purple petals, her kind green eyes disappearing from her smile. "I'm Alenka," she says, she and the other nymph mirroring your courtesy from earlier.

"I'm Aldora," the more timid of the pair then said, dressed in blue as light as the sky sparkling like scales when the sunlight hit them.

Why would they waste their time here?

Unable to withstand your curiosity any longer, you ask the two beauties. "I'm so sorry," you shyly grimace, "but what exactly did my friend put you up to?"

For a moment, the two exchange a look of shock and intrigue at your words. Alenka speaks to answer your question. "We're here to help you get ready for the festival of course!" she tells you as Aldora nods along. "His hi—Hoseok, asked us to make you the prettiest we possibly can."

Her slip of the tongue doesn't escape you, but at the moment, the notion of your bare body being seen makes you fluster. "I can bathe by myself," you were quick to stammer out. "You needn't worry about that part."

Though hesitant, the two of them eventually nod. "We'll wait for you outside, Lady (Y/N)," Aldora says with the ghost of a smile. "Call for us when you're finished."

A nod from you and you're left to your own devices, water lapping at the ends of your dress as you stand idly. With a sigh, you reach to unravel your dress and shiver as you take a step deeper into the pool, deep enough for the water to rest at your collarbones.

Best to get this over with. Wouldn't want to keep the nymphs waiting…

The silence allows your thoughts to voice themselves to you, and with no one else to keep you company, you find yourself entertaining them. What Hoseok has planned for the day, you have no idea, but it seems more questions than answers reveal themselves before you.

How did he manage to make contact with nymphs and make them serve you, no less?

What lies behind their behavior at the mention of Hoseok?

Why on earth is there so much effort for a damn party?

Hoseok had a bizarre flair to him, one that reeked of chaos and mischief, but your mind itches to know how on Earth he's managed to pull all of his stunts. Followers of Dionysus would be fond of parties—that you anticipated much—but you never thought they'd be able to get the willing participation of nymphs.

From what you've heard, nymphs often prefer the company of their own kin—too many mortals having tried to take their sisters as brides to not meet with other kinds without caution. Outside of that, they'd be in the company of heroes and demigods—even the gods themselves, too.

You freeze out of your own making, almost choking on air.

Does this mean Hoseok is something akin to the likes of those?

Heart racing, you try and put the pieces together.

He doesn't seem to carry himself as a hero—you've seen first hand what one is like.

Would he be a demigod then? Or a lover of a god?

Such were the likeliest of cases, you thought to yourself, but then you harken to the nymphs' behavior—their courteousness, their eagerness to serve, Alenka's slip of the tongue…

What could it have been?

His hi… his highness?

Your fingers pull to free your lips from your teeth, only to have them be chewed at.

Is Hoseok royalty then? What else would 'his highness' impl—no, it can't be…

Becoming a melting pot of emotions nearly turns you crazy, heart racing and unsure of what to do. "Enough," you tell yourself this with a staggering breath, pushing the questions over Hoseok's nature down the recesses of your mind. "Just bathe and meet with the nymphs, (Y/N). Just bathe."

Hoseok can be patient when he wants to, especially for something as near and dear to his heart as this. His unruly dark locks were combed, for once, and swept away from his face. He was dressed in his finest tunic that was a deep wine red with golden thread embroidery around the hem. Not that he needed it, but he also brought along a fur cloak in case the winds decided to blow colder.

Waiting an hour or so was a battlefield of boredom he was willing to march through, slicing through the drawn out hands of time by idly talking with Agrios or going through his plans for the day for the umpteenth time.

In time, he got the just rewards he was waiting for.

“Hoseok?”

There you come in, walking towards the edge of the treeline where he and Agrios waited. Hours of biding his time for this, and all he does is gawk. The sunlight, ever the blessing in his life, has allowed him to take the sight of you in.

The nymphs had dressed you in a gown of deep red that turned purple in some trick of the eye, flowing gracefully where the wind willed it to. The fabric fittingly wrapped around your frame, the neckline dipping to show just the right amount of your decolletage and give space for the necklace he gave them to put on you. Flowers of the same colors were braided into your hair as the rest of your locks were kept to fall behind you, leaving only gentle curls to frame your face.

There was a stupid grin that seized control over his lips. All good things do come to those who wait.

A shy smile rests on your berry-stained lips, nervously chewed on by your teeth as you await his response. The sheer burgundy shawl that was draped over your shoulders also gave itself to be fiddled with by your fingers.

Agrios nudges his calf to knock him out of his stupor. “Is the first of your plans successful enough?” you try and jest upon seeing him break out of his trance, head tilted to the side in what Hoseok could tell was both teasing yet genuinely asking.

Having recovered enough sobriety, Hoseok opens his arms to welcome you. “Very much so,” he muses, as he offers an arm for you to take. A shiver of delight runs down his spine as you take his invitation and link your arm with his as your other hand gathers the ends of your skirt when the three of you begin to walk through the forest. "You look beautiful, princess," he gladly says, voice soft in spite of him mischievously leaning close to nudge your side.

Hoseok's compliment goes responseless, but the telling reddened ears and cheeks you bore was enough to satiate the pleasures he was fishing for. “Where to then?” you instead ask him, looking around at the trees and trying to familiarize yourself with this side of the forest. “Or will that have to be a secret too?”

A chuckle escaped his lips as you came back to look at him with a quirked brow. “I’m afraid so, princess,” Hoseok teasingly lilts, “but if I must admit, seeing as the first of the plan went well, I have gained high hopes for the next one.”

You reply with a mere hum, but your curiosity doesn’t elude Hoseok and it all the more leaves him giddy to see your reaction to the rest of his plans for the day.

Sunlight through trees left a pattern of light dancing across your skin, one that constantly tempted him to steal glances your way. Idle conversation flows between you both with Hoseok being in the middle of telling you the time Silenus, the one who raised him, got so knackered from wine that he went missing for a couple of days and Hoseok had to look everywhere for him.

However much of a chatterbox he may be, Hoseok wasn’t one to keep on talking if his company wasn't at all present with him. He looks at you, furrowed brows and all, clearly thinking of something else. “Is something the matter?” he asks with a light tug of the arm linked with yours.

For a moment, you were startled, looking up at him with your cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, but he insists.

“Nonsense,” he says, circling around you to hold both of your hands in his as he continues to walk backwards. “It matters if it’s clearly occupying your mind.”

Your furrowed brows persist in your worry of him and his reckless abandon. “It’s silly, Hoseok,” you tell him with a shake of your head, trying to stop him from walking like this.

Hoseok obliges your silent request, opting to stand there before you and idly swing your arms together. Agrios, too, stopping to look at you both. “Try me,” the man before you daringly grins.

Berry-stained lips draw into a pout as you think of his challenge. There is much hesitation in your eyes, stirring more grounds within him for actual concern. Hoseok waits patiently for you to find the courage to tell him what plagues you. For a while, nothing but the faint rushing of a creek nearby filled the air.

"You're not human, are you?"

The swinging hands come to a halt and his very being froze all over. "What?" he all but says, truly not expecting such a question out of you. To know that the very answer of it will upset you dreads him even more, but he decides to conceal any more of what could give himself away and wait for you to elaborate further.

"All of this," you say as your fingers slip from his grasp—a warmth which he instantly misses—and you gesture to yourself. "All of what you've been doing for me. They are not what mere mortals can accomplish."

Hoseok wields his casual and careless shrug. "I have my ways—"

Alas, you were ready with your own points all along. "My wounds were healed in an instant because of you," you say, showing him the skin he had asked his half-brother, Yoongi, to heal.

"Yes, but that wasn't exactly me," he reasons with a nervous chuckle. A half-truth.

You go on to gesture at his leopard. "You tamed a beast like Agrios."

"I raised him!" Hoseok exasperatedly claims, looking at Agrios expectantly as if the beast could speak to confirm support of him. Another half-truth.

Still, you were stubborn. "And you've even called upon nymphs to dress me."

A damning choice, he agrees, but one he still carries to his defense. "They owed me a favor," he says, shrugging it off. And another half-truth.

Guilt bubbles within him as he continues his deceit of you. It’s in good intentions, he tells himself. "These things hardly warrant an interrogation like this, princess," he tells you, almost pleading, really. "I'm simply being a man of my word."

Alas, you could see through him—through the way he couldn't meet your eyes for too long, through the way he was overly sweeping the topic under the rug.

"And a liar," you retort, crossing your arms as you point a finger accusingly. "You're keeping something from me. Are we not friends enough for me to deserve the truth of who you are?"

Such a tone of hurt was an unfair spear to use against him and his heart. "No," he sighs, turning away from you to run a hand through his hair. "I simply think it's of no importance, alright?"

You inch just a tad bit closer—mayhaps you were dreading this too. "It's who you are," you say, ever insistent but in a gentler manner. "Of course it would be important to me."

The wine god nearly buckles, tired with the charades anyways, but every time he’s reminded of your fear of the gods, he’s reminded of why he’s hidden this truth to you in the first place. Hoseok would never want you to look at him that way—that rigid formality and careful walking on eggshells.

"Are you a demigod?" you continue to ask, resorting to listing off prompts of what you suspected. "A god?"

Hoseok curses the way he knocked out of his stupor upon hearing that word—at how it instantly pulled the truth to light, and at how it earned him a shocked gasp from you.

"You are…"

The moment he raised his gaze to yours, he saw the panic flashing in your eyes. With what he had known of you, you were likely frantic of possibly offending or disrespecting a god. Even if you were a bit snarky at times, Hoseok really didn't mind—hardly felt irked at all. He had long understood that there were personal reasons with which your walls were built on.

"(Y/N)—"

Your instincts urge you to take a step back—keep a respectful distance between you both! He's a god!—but you root yourself to your spot. "Who?" you manage to ask, voice trembling and barely above a whisper.

No. No. No.

The confidence he’s been wielding all but escapes his grasp the moment he needed it to cool his nerves. It’s all falling apart. "(Y/N)..." Hoseok says, though his words fall short of anything else.

"Please," your voice pulls him back to you. "Tell me who you are."

Despair fills him as he realizes this has passed a point of denying, the last of his chances at redemption only being him finally telling you the truth. "Dionysus," he says, a name that’s become so foreign in your light. "I'm Dionysus."

Shock befalls you even more, your mind reeling to take the truth in.

The thought of it had existed in your mind, but you were still not prepared for it to have been the truth. You had figured there must've been something different about Hoseok, but to think the endearing menace you've been bickering with was a god all along.

“Is that really the truth?”

The wine god lightly scoffs. "No one would dare lie about such a thing," he says what you both know aloud. No mortal would dare to, lest they intend to be struck down by the gods for their fraudulence on purpose.

Tentatively reaching forth, certain relief passes through him when you let him take your hands into his, and form them into a cupping motion. He anticipates your reaction as he fills your palms with wine out of thin air, watching the way your breath hitches at the sensation in your hands.

Hoseok finds himself grasping at straws. He’s no mighty god of Olympus—just another child of his father, born with divinity more than some heroic brute strength like the rest of Zeus’ bastards. He was just a relatively unknown god cast away from the pantheon because his divinity wasn’t worthy enough to grant him a place there and cast away by many mortals for representing insanity and lack of control.

Perhaps, that would be enough to satiate your worries—enough to make you let him stay.

Rivulets of wine drip from the crevices of your fingers, emptying from your grasp just as Hoseok attempts to empty out his heart. “I’m no great god. Just one that fancies wine and shenanigans,” he weakly jests to you, leaving no room for any of your upcoming protests as he gets to his main point. “I’d like it very much if I remained as Hoseok to you.”

It was almost hilarious to see you more upset and frantic about all of this than he was. “I can’t possibly just—”

“It wouldn’t be any different from before,” he told you so carelessly that you would’ve thought him a fibbing mortal had it not been for what you’ve seen him capable of doing.

You look at him, incredulous still.

“You’re a god,” you remind him, fumbling with your wine-stained hands as you willed yourself to not lean any more into his warmth. He’s the god of wine—naturally bound to be more chaotic than others, but he was a god, nonetheless. Surely, there must be lines that a mortal like you cannot cross.

The wine god shook his head. Here on this island—with you—he was free to be no one else but himself. “I’m Hoseok,” he ardently insists, “I’m your friend.”

Your silence from a loss for words he took as hesitation that needed more assurance. "No curse or anything of that sort will come upon you," he reassures. "If you had done me any great offense, I would've already done something about it before."

The thought of yet another divine curse plaguing your life sends shivers down your spine, but the better part of you knows he tells the truth. He may be a god, but this was the same man who passionately guided you through making wine, regaled you with his travels, and encouraged you to share your mundane palace life.

This was the same man who you’ve bickered with to and fro, rough-housed with more times than you could count, and bemoaned about tackling you in hugs.

Gods! This was the same man who saved you from the beach, helped you make a home for yourself, and have nymphs dress you for some merry-making he had planned out for you.

He is Hoseok—always will be Hoseok to you, no matter how hard you can try to deny yourself otherwise and paint him in the divinity all the gods have. This notion elates yet dreads you all the same.

What will become of you?

Compared to him, you were a mere mortal—a princess, yes, but a princess on the run.

You are feeble—easily hurt, easily damaged, easily slain. If he or any of the gods so pleases, your life could be over in an instant for mere amusement. Will you be cursed like your mother? Will your life be taken for angering a god?

Perhaps, what truly terrifies you is that you are nothing—no hero, no favored child, nor a wife to one. No one knows where you are. No one would know what becomes of you. No one would mourn.

You have nothing to your name, even at this very moment. The fabric that's draped over your body, the flowers woven into your hair, and the remnants of wine that drips from your fingertips—all of them were courtesy of Hoseok; of the wine god, Dionysus.

In a brighter light, you suppose this might just be your new purpose in life—to be in his company, not simply because he was a god, but because he himself had done you great favors and changed your life for the better. Fear mustn't take hold on the foundation of what you and Hoseok have built, because it shouldn't have any foundation for itself in the first place.

Hoseok has nothing to gain from a runaway princess like you, and yet here he was, afraid of what will change with the truth. A god begging a mortal—what on Earth have you done?

You turn your back to the wine god, walking towards the creek to carefully crouch and wash your hands anew—free of the stains the wine left on you. The fresh start to your bond with the no-great-god friend of yours begins here and now.

A soft nudge to your arm demands your attention—Agrios, as it turns out, softly noses your side, eventually willing you to pet him in assurance. Right. You, too, have gotten used to the spotted beast, one of the many things that made Hoseok so bizarre.

Behind you awaits the young man—young god—so tensely eyeing your every move, heart racing a mile a minute. His lip might as well bleed with ichor from how hard he bites it. However, the moment you come back to face him with a smile on your lips, Hoseok felt he could breathe again.

“Well," you gingerly begin, feet taking steps towards him and stopping at an arm's length. "What are we going to do now, Hoseok?”

You still worry, he notes, remnants of your hesitation bleed in the way you anticipate his next move. Nonetheless, warmth begins to bloom in his heart once more, hearing his true name from your lips a bliss to bask in.

“Follow me,” he warmly invites, opening a hand for you to take. The plan may have gone through drastic changes, but it's salvageable, he thinks—he hopes. At the very least he wouldn't have to hide the strings he intended to pull.

A moment passes and an outbreath escapes your lips. You take his hand once again, unsure of where he’d take you.

As it turns out, Hoseok planned to take you to the nearest town. There were a lot of people, their distant chattering and regaling was loud to you in spite of the distance. The town is more colorful than you had thought, a celebration clearly happening—a harvest festival in honor of Demeter and Persephone, just as Hoseok had told you.

Still, that doesn't explain everything.

In an instant, you drape the shawl overhead and shrink into the obscurity of the forest, hoping it would mask your identity. "Hoseok, what is the meaning of this?" you squeak in a panic, stepping back into the treeline where Agrios remained. The wine god, on the other hand, excitedly steps out towards the festivities and waits for you to join him. "I told you," the man sweetly beams, walking back to you to place an assuring squeeze on your shoulders. "We're here to have fun."

The fabric atop your head slips away at Hoseok's will, his careful touch tingling against your skin. "Let's not hide such beauty, hm?" He coyly chastises, earning a nudge to the rib and an eye roll from you. His laugh comes out stifled, looking down at you still amused.

"Insufferable," you half-heartedly grumble under your breath as you dare to walk into the paved road that led to the town, tightly gripping Hoseok's arm in some attempt to soothe your nerves.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

The two of you have been having your fair share of escapades all day—spectating games and sports, sneaking around to watch the enactment of Persephone's abduction, going around stalls of food—and a big grin takes its place on your lips, delighting the wine god. Throughout all of that, however, you were constantly moving and fairly hidden amongst the crowd, which is why the next of his plans earned yet another skeptic frown from you.

The night had fallen and as the wind became chillier, Hoseok had draped his fur cloak over you, laughing as it swallowed you whole. The three of you—Agrios having his own fun time strolling about in the forest while you and Hoseok were in town—walked into the forest, and to your surprise, Hoseok had brought you to a clearing in the woods, with many people, a small feast, and a bonfire—another gathering.

And so here you were, standing at the outskirts of the merrymaking and clutching Hoseok's fur cloak around you tighter, unsure and hesitant as always. Jolly music fills the air as you follow Hoseok's figure going around. He holds a goblet in one hand as the other animatedly moves along with his dramatic gestures.

"Have fun!" he had urged you earlier before he greeted the welcoming crowd, introducing you to some of them as his good friend—but, in spite of assuring him you would, "have fun" you did not.

Disappointment of yourself clashes with the paranoia gnawing away at your brain. When you two were in town earlier, you were constantly moving from one place to the next, and so, for you, the chances of getting discovered would've been slim then. You feel bad for wasting part of Hoseok's plan, but at the same time, you fear lingering among the crowd for too long and leaving an impression on them enough to recognize you as the runaway princess of Crete.

"I thought you were a giant bush for a moment."

You jolt at the sound of the wine god's voice, but soon grumble when you process his words. Hoseok stands there with an amicable grin, still nursing a goblet of wine. You, on the other hand, had been cocooning yourself in his cloak like it'd make you disappear from this place. "You take your cloak then," you snippily say, shrugging the mass of fur off only to earn yourself a chuckle from the wine god.

Hoseok shakes his head, hands guiding the cloak back over your shoulders before he goes to assess your expression. "Shall we get you home?" he kindly asks, and it makes you feel worse, because you didn’t quite know what you wanted.

"No! I—"

The wine god's brows raise at your hesitation to leave, brows knitted together in your torn sentiments while a frown rests on your lips. Hoseok resides himself to stand closer next to you and wait for you to compose yourself. "What troubles you, hm?" he asks, the thumb of his free hand easing the crease between your brows.

With a sigh, you look towards the merrymaking, the beginnings of envy blooming from within you. "I'd really hate for this to go awry in the end," you admit to him, "in case someone from here recognizes me."

Hoseok tuts, half-heartedly shaking his head. "Look at them," he tells you, gesturing to the crowd before you both. "They're all lost in their own worlds."

All around you were people lost in the music of the bard, dancing and drinking to their heart's content. "No one here knows who you are right now, princess," Hoseok urged like a demon on your shoulder—all in good intentions, of course. "What else is there to hold you back?"

You can't help but digest his words from where you stand.

You were forcibly shaped into the mold of a perfect, obedient princess for your kingdom. You were a scapegoat. You were a tool.

Then, you became an accomplice to a murder, an enemy on the runfrom your own kingdom, and a forsaken bride, too.

And now… Now what?

You have nothing but yourself to your name—no more titles, no more labyrinths needing sacrifices, and no more promised marriages. You are no one in this sea of strangers—of people looking to festivities to forget their troubles.

Dare you say it, Hoseok is right.

What need did you have to be who you were before?

A wave of spirit emboldens you to take hold of the goblet Hoseok was about to put to his lips, your fingers grasping his wrist to guide the drink in his hand to your mouth. Gulp after gulp, you down the whole chalice before a wide-eyed wine god, shivering a little at the foreign taste you've subjected your palate to. You've never tasted wine quite like Hoseok's before.

You finally turn your attention to your dear friend, somewhere between coy and sheepish. "Dance with me?" you ask, taking a hold of his other hand.

Such words pull Hoseok back to the waking world. He grins as his finger wipes at the corner of your mouth. "I'd be delighted to," he merrily muses, letting you drag him into the circle gathering around the bonfire.

Around you, people cheer, welcoming the both of you to the joyous dance.

The party's just begun.

Many often get themselves into trouble when drunk, their inhibitions set loose by the wine pumping in their veins. It loosens lips and control—reveals one's nature in some shape or form—which was why Hoseok adored the unpredictable madness of it all.

He's seen the many ways people behave when under the influence of his creation, and many were like you, who have the drink open the heart and unleash rivers of tears.

First, you had just been humming—a folk song from Crete, if he understood your garbled notes correctly—but then you had started nuzzling your head into his neck. The motion tickles him, makes him chuckle, but it was the sound of sniffling that followed that made him stop in his tracks.

See, by now he had been carrying you in his arms back to your little cavern, the stench of wine mixed with your floral scent hitting his nostrils. The wine god, for once, had controlled his drinking to ensure he could get you home safely. With your arms wrapped around his neck and your face buried into the crook of it, however, it was easier to hear your crying—easier to feel the wetness of your tears on his skin.

"Why the tears, princess?" He dares to ask, continuing his trek.

This was followed by a tighter hold, and another sniffle. "'m nothing without you," you all but whimper, voice small and meek but enough to grab his heart by the neck and squeeze it.

Hoseok tuts, chastising you like a child in the hopes you would hear it and scold him about that instead. "Nonsense, princess," he says, "That's not true at al—"

"'Tis true!" you whine and insist, shaking him by the shoulders as if it'd knock sense into him. It almost makes him laugh—had it not been for your next (drunken) choice of words. "I'd be dead by now."

Hoseok's frown was instant, but he waited for the rest of your words to pour in, walking down a path he’s gotten so familiar with in the past few weeks. The wine god doesn’t quite know if he’d want to hear this or not—if he’s worthy enough to hear it.

Nonetheless, he’s subjected to hearing it anyway. "Would'a gotten myself killed," you blubber, tears endless as you whimper, "but now I have wine, and a cave, and a pretty dress!"

Part of Hoseok beams with pride to have been able to bring such things into your life, to know that you found joy in the chaotic moments you’ve trudged through together, but a part of him also boils in a flurry of heartache and rage to have heard of this from you. Something in Hoseok burns.

The two of you arrive at your cave, the wine god intending to lay you down on your bed before lighting a fire to keep you warm through the night. Alas, your arms around his neck don’t let go, forcing him to hover over you with his hands on either side of you to keep himself up. “(Y/N),” Hoseok quietly whispers, one hand lightly tapping at your arm and the other guiding the back of your head. “We’re home.”

A hum comes to him as a response, you shifting only to press a sloppy, barely there kiss on the corner of his lips, catching the wine god off his guard. “Hobi?” your lips move against his skin as you speak, sending his very being ablaze all the same.

Hobi? The wine god thinks to himself in confusion. Is that meant to be me?

“Yes?” he dares to respond anyway.

Just as Hoseok thought his mind wouldn’t get any worse, your words strike him through the heart yet again. "You 'n Agrios," you sniff, voice falling softer and softer, "mean so much to me… Don' leave me, alright?"

You pull away from him, noses merely inches apart as you were looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes that shone like gemstones with tears. There's a furrow in your brows as you struggle keeping your consciousness just to wait for his answer.

Hoseok could only smile, mustering the courage to plant a kiss onto your forehead, your worried brows unknitting themselves at the sensation of his wordless assurance. With that, you drift off to Morpheus’ realm, head finally falling back onto your pillow and leaving the wine god alone to his loud, frazzled thoughts.

You mean so much to me, too.

The next morn comes and you awake to an outstanding pounding in your head, a hiss slithering past your lips as you try to recollect yourself. It's a near similar ache to when you woke up at the—no, this is different.

At the very least, this one didn't have the dread and confusion seizing your entire being—just hilarious regret that you, at the same time, don't regret.

As your reason slowly but surely comes back to you, you become aware of a weight in your right hand. With one eye open, you peek around to see the familiar rocky walls of your abode, and looking some more, you see a hand from the bottom of your bed intertwined with yours—a sight that very much wakes you.

Beneath a familiar old fur pelt, you were lying on your side, curled up near the end of the bed much like you would as a child. You muster the strength to lean over, your left arm coming over in front of you to serve as a resting place for your chin as you look at the person attached to the hand in yours.

Hoseok, the wine god and absolute menace, sleeps on the cold, rocky earth next to your bed with nothing but his cloak from last night to give him some sort of cushion. Like you, he slept on his side, curled towards you with a hint of a pout on his lips that almost tempts a giggle out of you.

The sight shocks you, really, and for a few minutes you can't help but stare, unmoving and unknowing of what to do. His touch sends tingles up your arm and all throughout your body. Your headache doesn't do much to help you either.

How does one wake a god that also happens to be their friend?

You settled for a squeeze and a light shake to the hand in your hold, his fingers tightening around your hand little in response. His dark curls, which frame his face and brush over his eyes, tousle as he shifts into consciousness. With a groan, he squints up at you, eyes adjusting as he wakes.

"Morning," you idly greet, the first to speak between you both. "Comfortable?"

It takes a second or two for your lighthearted sarcasm to register in his head, the wine god's hand slipping from yours as he stretches from his place on the floor with a groan, the motion showing you a sliver of his naked chest. "My back hurts," he whines in a mumble as he sits himself up, your eyes following him as he did even as you remain in your position. His voice is deeper, you note, and a bit hoarse.

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves you. "Why'd you sleep on the floor then?"

Still drowsy, Hoseok rubs the sleep from his eyes as he grumbles. "You wouldn't let go of my hand when I tried to leave," he tells you, playfully squinting at you with an accusatory glare as his statement sends a furious blush across your cheeks.

"Oh."

You did what?!

Truth be told, you don't recall much of the night that transpired after you brazenly chose to forgo all your inhibitions and join the fray in the dancing and drinking. What sort of ridiculous things did you get yourself into?!

The wine god watched as a flurry of confusion, mortification, and embarrassment passed through your face in a matter of seconds. A part of him, he must admit, is disappointed you don't remember the words you told him last night on your way home—of the kiss you planted on the corner of his lips that still lingers if he lets his thoughts wander too far.

For his sake and yours, Hoseok directs the conversation forward. "So," he quips, leaning in as if to gossip. "Did you enjoy the merrymaking, princess?"

He watched as a smile instantly made it to your face, one you try and fail to bite back. Your hand reaches to cover your mouth as if it'd fare against the grin that was hurting your cheeks. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” you eventually admit, the words as shy yet elated as the giggle that stifles through your lips. You recall the addicting feeling of thrill—the carefree laughter, the silly dancing, and the sweet, sweet wine.

Hoseok's grin is instant, his heart full and beating quickly at the successful fruits of his labor. He is right after all. Happiness looks gorgeous on you. “Oh, look at you, you poor thing,” he jests as he beams. "I told you we would have fun and you wouldn’t believe me!"

You roll your eyes at his teasing, sitting up from the bed. “Here I was,” you jokingly sigh and shake your head, “about to thank you for what you did.”

The wine god crosses his arms over your knees, leaning forward to comically wiggle his brows at you. “I don’t need a thank you,” he coos in a ridiculously suave manner. “Your smile is enough.”

Biting back a grin, you resort to pinching his cheeks. “You’re such a sap,” you tell him, pushing him off your knees and falling back to the sheets as you feel another wave of headache coming to hit you.

Hoseok only grins, lifting himself up to take a seat on the bed next to you. Without much thought, he reaches forth to brush away the stray hairs that flew over your face when you laid back.

Whether or not you minded his gesture, you don’t make note of it, simply letting a quiet groan past your lips. "My head hurts though," you whine, eyes falling shut.

"It happens," Hoseok hums, partly apologetic. Mortals get drunk more easily than gods, and you were drinking enough to be slurring confessions to him in the late hours of the night.

For your sake, the wine god decidedly stands to help you with your hangover, hands brushing down your arms to seize your hands and encourage you to get up along with him. "Fortunately for you," he sings, pulling you up onto your feet—only to have you crash onto his chest. "I know someone who has a remedy for that."

You squint at him, somewhat suspicious, but nonetheless loop your arm around his, heavily leaning against his side as the two of you leave. Anything to gladly get the headache over with.

As it always is with Hoseok, this was another surprise.

(You suppose it’d be best for you to get used to such things, now that Hoseok has revealed his true nature to you. This, undoubtedly, would only be the beginning.)

Someone begrudgingly opens the door to a dwelling carved into the mountain, quite a bit far from your cave which led to Hoseok carrying you on his back halfway through. Peculiarly, faint yet janky music comes from inside, but even more peculiar is the pale man before you.

His presence definitely sobers you just a little bit more. He has the same ethereal, otherworldly glow as Hoseok tends to pose, and yet also different. His golden locks nearly shine in the sunlight—almost as if the sun focused solely on him.

Next to you, however, Hoseok also seems to be taken aback, but his was more so a bewildered shock. "Yoongi?"

Feline eyes that had been drenched with sleepy exhaustion and glaring at Hoseok turned confused and alarmed at the name used to address him. It was only when the stranger's eyes landed a good look at you as you stepped down from the wine god's hold that a flicker of understanding crossed his face. “Got yourself drunk again, hm?” Yoongi then amusingly says, “and with a friend too.”

Hoseok simply grins, so amicable with the stranger that it eases you enough to give him a timid smile and a small bow in greeting. "You seem a little intoxicated yourself," the wine god muses as you bashfully address his friend. "I suppose that means the remedy is at hand already?"

Yoongi simply sighs in defeat and wordlessly invites the two of you in, leaving the door open for Hoseok to guide you inside. The inside is definitely much better than your measly little cave with the house carved deeper into the mountain than you initially thought. Intricately chiseled furniture and decor fill the spaces in between, and before a fireplace lay… a satyr fiddling with a pan flute?

Suddenly, your headache was the last thing on your mind.

"Silenus!" Hoseok's gleeful laughter booms and startles you out of your stupor, watching as the wine god opens his arms wide to the delirious satyr. Silenus, finally registering the wine god's presence, grins and gets up, nearly stumbling over himself.

"My boy, welcome!"

It was only a matter of time before the satyr's eyes landed on you—they twinkle with mischief and amusement.

"Good morning," you could only greet, standing idly.

You couldn't help the fidgeting brought by your awkward and wary nature, doing your best not to rudely stare at the hooves he had for feet. Like the nymphs, you've never seen such creatures in person before, only heard of them from the stories of servants, or from the scholars in the palace who frowned upon the wild and lustful life these beings lived.

"She's the princess," a voice from behind you knowingly informs him. Yoongi, you realize, stands not far from you, leaning against a wall as he watches the whole scene unfold.

You can't help the startled confusion. How does he know you?

The words, however, do click in Silenus' head. "Ah! The one you've been blabbering about?" he smugly jests with a nudge to Hoseok's side, earning a flustered look of shock from you as he offers you a nod of acknowledgement. "You are a pretty one, if I must say, my lady."

You nearly choke on your own spit. "Thank you," you stammer, as you steal a glance at the wine god next to him. Hoseok speaks of you in such a way?

Hoseok gladly took over the conversation then, not meeting your eyes as a blush came to his cheeks. "Alright, that's enough," he hurriedly grumbles, pulling out one of the nearby chairs of a table as he addresses the blond. "Yoongi, you know well what we're all in need of, yes?"

Silenus simply chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender as Hoseok gently ushers you to sit on the chair. "It's quite fortunate Yoongi here is around for us, aye?" he boisterously laughs, ushering Yoongi to follow him. "Come along, boy. Let us make breakfast, too."

You watch as the old satyr and the pale stranger moves about into the makeshift kitchen of his abode. "He's the one that raised me," Hoseok, next to you, leans in and whispers as he takes his seat at the table. "Don't mind him and his silly teasing. He simply wants to embarrass me."

A hum leaves your lips as you nod, faintly recalling the tale he shared with you yesterday. Silenus took the wine god in as a babe and raised him to be the rambunctious man he is today. You certainly see the resemblance between them action-wise.

In spite of the satyr's sleazy mannerisms and faint stench of wine and ale, you see the hints of his fatherly care in the way he brought out barley bread, cheese, fruits, and leftover meat for breakfast onto the table. He places a kind, grateful pat on Hoseok's back as the wine god lays out plates, and thanks Yoongi when he comes to the table with the remedy you've been hearing so much about.

(Envy festers within you. You were used to a different sort of a father.)

Even in the way he gingerly hands you three your respective wooden chalices, did you feel soft yet numb. "Here you go, princess," Silenus grins at you, "Yoongi's specialty."

"Thank you," you say as you gratefully take the cup from him, still timid as you look over to Hoseok for some guidance on what to do next. With everyone now sat at the table, the wine god simply downs the cup he was given, grimacing a little as he does, but ultimately finishes it all.

Silenus notices your reserved nature. "No need to act stiff, princess," he warmly assures you, "Yoongi here is a skilled healer that works wonders."

The words catch your attention, eyes flitting to the blond next to Silenus who simply acknowledges you with a small nod—just as reserved as you, it seems.

Healer? Is he the one Hoseok asked to heal me?

Nonetheless, you simply give them a bashful smile, finally bringing the cup closer to inspect it. The smell of it is an odd mix of spices and things you can't quite put your finger on, and, frankly, you think it better for you to not know. Brazenly, you bring it to your lips and—finally—drink. Like Hoseok, you wince at the strange concoction, but eventually manage to gulp it down.

Oddly, you do feel a bit better already. You take a sip of some more, eyeing the reclusive blond quietly making himself a sandwich. A skilled healer, hm?

"So," Silenus suddenly claps his hands together, knocking you out of your stupor as the satyr addresses both you and his fostered son. "When are you two getting married?"

You sputter out some of the tonic in your shock, and in panic of that, you almost choke trying to salvage any more of the drinks from falling from your lips. Hoseok, too, panics, handing you a nearby towel to wipe your lips with as he rubs circles onto your back.

"Silenus!"

The blond stranger and the old satyr only laugh and smile.

Silenus turned out to be a cheeky man fond of jokes, teasing, and drinking—one with a booming laughter that you've now known very well to hear and always seen with a smile on that bearded face of his. Perhaps, that is where Hoseok got his mischievous nature from, after all.

Yet, the old geezer also has a penchant for wisdom from his long years—a comfort, really, as his words of optimism do away with your worries the same way Hoseok's does. Silenus also tends to regale with stories, especially that of a young wine god under his care—much to the chagrin of Hoseok, himself.

You find yourself fortunate to have met him, even if it had been under hungover circumstances.

As with Yoongi—or should you say Apollo?

(The gods have many names, but only one remains precious to them—or so you were told.)

You didn't think you would ever live to witness the presence of two gods, and yet you've dined with the sun god, danced with Hoseok to his music, and passed out drunk with him and the others at some parties. When Hoseok confirmed that it was indeedYoongi who healed you that day, you truly began to ponder whether there was something in your bloodline that gave you and your family such an affinity to gods.

Yoongi was quiet—similar to you, in a way—but brilliant as a god of music and arts like him is meant to be. The harmony he produces is unlike any other, and the words he writes for his verses drip with so much soul and heart that it makes you weep.

He would often complain that Hoseok was often a child he had to look out for, but you knew better than to only see those grumbles and not his genuine fondness for his half-brother's bright, carefree nature.

Hoseok is a stark difference from the rest of the pantheon, he once told you—being a relatively minor deity frees him from the heavy burdens and responsibilities a fully-fledged god is bound to, even if it does deprive him of his full potential to power and prestige.

The sun god continues his visits once in a while, sometimes to drink away his heartache or exhaustion with you, Hoseok, and Silenus, but sometimes to simply idle around the fireplace and bask in the small, hush conversations of travels, memories, and tales.

You, yourself, have taken to setting loose along with them—making wine with Hoseok and Silenus, attending more gatherings in the woods and towns, meeting Agrios' sisters and brothers, and befriending nymphs, satyrs, and followers alike. Every night leaves you tired yet blissful, while every morn begins with you waking next to the wine god that brought you along these merriments.

Something, too, seems to have changed with Hoseok.

Though you can pretend not to notice, you are not saved from the restless nights you spend lying awake in bed thinking of the wine god’s lingering touches—of how he constantly treads the line between innocent and intimate. Hands on your waist as you two dance, a guiding hand on the small of your back, a passing brush of fingertips to your arms—such instances occupy your thoughts, making your heart skip a beat and leaving your senses to fixate on everything else he does.

Unwavering attention to your talking, a gaze feeling like they linger on your lips.

Fingertips always unconsciously reaching out for yours whenever you’re close by.

Eyes almost instantly searching for yours once you lose one another in the crowd.

You find yourself liking this game, letting him come closer and anticipating the next of his actions, in spite of knowing how easily you can be cast aside by someone like him, a god who can get everything he wants. You indulge in this delusion every once in a while, but ultimately leave it to Hoseok's unpredictable chaos.

As winter approached and the days got colder, however, most of the adrenaline died down as you and Hoseok forgo the gatherings to prepare for the harshest days. Silenus had welcomed you and Hoseok to his home during the season, which was definitely much better for the harsh cold than the cave you and Hoseok tried to make use of. (Though you don’t exactly know why a god like him would want to bear the brunt of winter when he can easily go to Olympus or elsewhere.)

“There.”

Broken away from your reveries, you come to see Hoseok inspecting the thick wool scarf he had wound around you. There’s a concentrated furrow in his brows as he thinks whether the knot was secure or satisfactory enough.

“She won't die so easily in the cold, boy,” Silenus, who had been occupied with cleaning his pan flute, mused from his seat before the fireplace. A giggle escapes your lips as Hoseok half-heartedly rolls his eyes at his mentor’s words.

The two of you plan to gather firewood on your way back after visiting Aldora and Alenka in their part of the woods, and Hoseok insisted on the thick scarf. “It’s better to be safe,” he murmurs under his breath, as you roll your eyes and grab his arm to head out the door, ushering Agrios to follow suit.

“We’ll be back soon, Silenus!” you bid goodbye, waving warmly as you’re greeted by a cold gust of wind. Your breath forms a faint smoke of air as the icy sensation tickles your exposed skin. At the shiver that seizes you, Hoseok smiles as you bury your face into the thick scarf. “As I’ve told you,” he says as he lingers closer, “you needn’t accompany me.”

Stubborn, you tighten your hold around his arm, playfully glaring up at his smug grin. “And as I’ve told you, I want to go out and see Alenka and Aldora,” you quip, pushing him slightly as you turn your attention to the forest you’ve become accustomed to. The towering trees that had been a canopy of greens and oranges were now barren, their dark bark and branches a stark contrast against the snow and the blue sky.

There are moments where you’ve quietly reflected on the months you’ve been here, on how much things have changed since Theseus le—

Something cold hits the back of your head, a shocked gasp leaving your lips as you whip around to see where on Earth that came from. The culprit, of course, is Hoseok, who was forming balls of snow in his hands. “I’m hurt, princess,” he dramatically sighs despite his eyes glinting with mischief. “Here I thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

You dodge his next snowball in time, wide eyes now squinting at him. “Insufferable,” you grumble, taking a quick duck behind a tree and gathering your own projectile, landing a hit on his shoulder as he was trying to flee for cover. “Aha!”

An unamused leopard stares at the two of you, waiting for the two of you to quit giggling and running around with eyes of judgment. “Agrios, help!” you squeal, squealing as one of Hoseok’s snowballs struck your leg.

“Don’t you dare, traitor!” the wine god immediately retaliates.

You look over your shoulder and see him fully running after you at this point, and just as you are about to strike back, a root ensnares your foot, sending you crashing forth. Arms wound around your waist, pulling you back in time for Hoseok, who caught you at the last minute, to take most of the fall.

The two of you fall on your knees, a grunt and a hiss leaving you both as you recoil from the impact and the cold ground. You look at your companion, his dark curls much more unruly and his tunic and cloak disheveled from all the running you two did. In spite of that, he was looking over at you and assessing your state, adjusting your scarf yet again. “Are you alright?”

Hoseok watched as you started breathlessly chuckling and failing miserably at hiding it. This, however, was a sign to him that you were alright, beginning to smile, himself. “Truce?” he asks, watching as you grin back at him.

Your hands were cold with what remained of your previous snowball as you grabbed at his cheeks, doing well to squeeze it about as he gasps and shrieks at the icy touch. “Truce,” you finally affirm, laughing at his dramatic pout of defeat.

Funnily, even in the chill of the winter morn, all you could feel throughout was warmth.

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ || ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @park-jimin-isnt-real

#bts au #bts greek myth au #bts greek mythology au #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts writing #jung hoseok imagines #jung hoseok fluff #bts jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #jhope imagines

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